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Here you'll find
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Mount Robillard
21. A ReunionThe room was blank. Just the walls, a bed, a couple of chairs, a small table. Lights in the ceiling, slightly dimmed illumination flooding every corner. Two doors, one appearing very solid and obviously leading out, the other looking like a bathroom door. The bed, comfortable enough but not overly so. The quiet hiss of ventilation. A blank terminal incorporated to a wall, easily visible from the bed.The man looked around, frowning. Slowly he sat up, raised a large hand to rub gingerly the back of his aching neck. He observed that the walls were an indeterminate pale green, the chairs and bedcover a darker shade. What the hell was this place? He stretched his arms, trying to loosen the painful knots that radiated sharp needles into his shoulders and back. His head was buzzing, but at least his legs bore his weight when he pushed himself from the bed and stood up. He frowned deeper. An unpleasant feeling in the back of his head and neck, not quite a headache but something akin to it, made him slightly wobbly. He took a couple of tentative steps and was satisfied to find out that nothing major seemed to be wrong. A few more steps, and he had effectively checked the whole room. The sturdy door was definitely locked, but the smaller one opened to reveal a compact bathroom with all the essentials. A couple of rounds more, and he was thoroughly familiar with his surroundings. Well, that only left him with a whole handful of questions that he couldn't answer. Such as, where the hell was he? He could remember the slim blond man who had so ludicrously glued himself on him at the spaceport. What had happened after that? There was the van, and a gun in the blond man's hand. Shit. But before that, something significant had happened... oh yes, there had been the other, younger, dark-haired man. With a T-clone. He sat heavily back on the bed. That was it. The T-clone that had walked out of the arrivals gate and gone to meet the dark man. They had embraced briefly, then proceeded to fetch some luggage. And not a sight of his guardian anywhere. A T-clone traveling interplanetary, on his own. There was something very very suspicious about the whole affair. He had just been about to call the base and inquire about it when that accursed blond His head snapped towards the door when he heard it hum to life. It opened with an electric sigh to reveal a tall figure who stepped into the room and closed the door behind it. The man sitting on the bed looked the newcomer in his graphite-black suit up and down and a snarl distorted his face. "You goddamn fucking bastard." "Oh, the extents of brotherly love." Osip crossed his arms on his chest and leaned against the doorjamb with a wry smile. "Good morning to you, too." Two pairs of black-brown eyes locked, one nakedly hostile, the other reflecting something like dry sarcasm. The younger of the men snorted. "Figures. Of course it would be you behind this." "You're jumping to conclusions," Osip chided. "Actually, the deplorable fact that you're here right now is just the result of an unfortunate coincidence. If you need to blame something, then blame your bad luck." "As if!" Orwel huffed. "What coincidence?" "You were in the wrong place at the wrong time," Osip said with a shrug. "You saw something you shouldn't have, and of course the guys couldn't let you blow the whole thing. They didn't really believe that people would fail to pay attention if a guy was shot dead right outside the spaceport, so they opted for more stealth and simply made you disappear as inconspicuously as they could. I did congratulate them on an excellent example of quick thinking." "No doubt." The words were nothing short of a growl, and Osip smirked. "I hope you don't feel the aftereffects of the stunner pad too badly?" he asked. "Though I'm sure that was a much more merciful way of ensuring your ahh cooperation than, say, hitting you on the head with something hard?" His brother merely shot him an angry look. "What the hell are you doing to the T-clone?" he asked. "And where's his guardian?" "We're doing nothing to him," Osip said casually and sat down by the door. "Just trying to help him. But he's doing just swell, I tell you. Had a long good night's sleep, some breakfast, and is currently getting over the strain of the past few days." "Do you expect me to believe you?" "Not really, but that doesn't stop me from telling you the truth." Osip shifted a little, found a more comfortable position and stretched his long legs. "As for his guardian, well, he's not faring quite so good. In fact, he's sort of dead." "Dead?" Orwel's jaw dropped. "What've you done to him?" "Correction: we didn't do anything to him. Adrien killed him." "Adrien?" "The T-clone you saw," Osip clarified. "His passport identifies him as Adrien Wennedeck, so that's what we're calling him." "Killed his guardian?" Orwel was totally dumbfounded. He shook his head vehemently. "Now I know for sure you're lying. That's impossible." "And yet that's exactly what happened, I assure you. They had a disagreement, and obviously the man tried to forcibly restrain Adrien. Who proceeded to grab his guardian's gun in self-defense and shoot him." Orwel slumped a little, unable to comprehend it. "No way. That is absolutely impossible." "Believe it or not, it's true nevertheless." "A T-clone, or any clone, is simply unable to do anything like that! And why would he get into an argument with his guardian?" Orwel was practically shouting, fists tight. "You haven't dealt directly with the T-clones, have you?" Osip asked. "No, I didn't think you have. Apparently their relationship with their guardians is pretty close, so when a T-clone feels that the implicit trust he's invested in the guardian has been severely breached, he might get a bit out of hand." "I repeat, what did you do to him to make him freak out like that?" Orwel's eyes narrowed. "And, for that matter, how come you're so knowledgeable about the T-clones anyway? You seem to know an awful lot about them." "Courtesy of André Lemotte, whom you might better recognize as TC-023," Osip replied easily. "He's been in our custody for some months now." Orwel's brow creased and then realization made him blink. "The one sent to Maurice's... the one who disappeared, and the man had the balls to actually blow up on his guardian's face and blame the whole thing on him?" "The very same." Osip nodded. "Our guys saw him there and realized our good friend Maurice was in real danger. So they absconded with the beauty." "But I still don't understand." Orwel rubbed again his neck. "What does seeing him matter? How did your guys know there was anything wrong?" "Seeing him wouldn't indeed have told them anything, if one of the people in question hadn't been an S-clone." Osip suppressed a chuckle. Man, did he enjoy seeing the utter astonishment on his brother's face. For a good minute Orwel was totally unable to do anything but gape, mouth opening and closing again without a sound coming out. "S-clone?" he croaked finally. "That is impossible." "Brother, you keep repeating yourself," Osip pointed out with a snicker. "But again I have to tell you that it's just the plain truth. One of us is a very live S-clone, nowadays better known as Scott." Orwel tried to pick up the pieces of his shattered composure and put them back in place. He didn't feel he was succeeding very well, though, and that only irritated him more. "Well, you sure are full of surprises, brother dear. What really surprises me is that somehow I'd have expected a rebel to be a little more tight-lipped about this all. Even considering that I'm obviously your prisoner, I still find it somewhat disconcerting." "Eloquent as always! But then you always were the more smooth-talking of the two of us." Osip laughed a little, finding himself at the receiving end of a murderous glance. "But quite seriously, Orwel, I can't see much harm in telling you exactly what your situation is. Yeah, you are our prisoner, and likely to remain so for an indeterminate time. And I want you to be aware of the whys and wherefores, so that you don't get any silly ideas, such as trying to wiggle yourself out of here." "Why not try to convince me a little more? You might start by telling me exactly where 'here' is." "In Mount Robillard." Orwel could have kicked himself for answering this piece of information with yet another blank stare. "In?" "Yup. In, as in 'inside'. So trying to dig yourself an escape tunnel with a plastic spoon really won't work too well." Osip snickered. "Might offer you a nice pastime for the next few hundred years, though, provided that we'd be willing to come up with an endless supply of plastic utensils, because I think they'd be used up pretty quickly." Orwel closed his eyes and his jaw clenched. He was furious, seething, he seriously wanted to hurt somebody, he felt betrayed and the back of his skull was aching dully, and he felt a crazy laughter welling up at his brother's inane joking. Always the same, Osip. It made him remember rather too well the time when they still were little boys, then a lot bigger boys, and finally two smart young brothers who'd entered the Academy side by side. He'd whipped himself to excel in everything, so that he was finally well ahead of his age group in basic education and able to apply at the same time with his brother. And Osip had refused to apply right after graduating, choosing instead to do a little work and slack some, so that they could do it together. Osip, always cheerful, a little reckless, a little rascally, and always with a little too smart a mouth. Osip, who'd adored his little brother, and the little brother repaying it by unrestrained worship. Orwel tried to kick the memories away, with little success. He saw himself, a chubby boy tucked in bed, cheeks burning with fever due to some childhood bug or other, and Osip patiently carrying toys back and forth between his bed and the toy box, talking and reading and playing games with him, keeping him entertained for hours on end. He remembered himself hauling his lanky, too quickly grown sixteen-year-old brother to their scooter, Osip leaning heavily on his shoulder and throwing anxious glances back towards the house. Oh yes, that was when the idiot had managed to break a leg and they had to sneak out without their parents noticing, because their favorite band was playing in town and under-sixteens were not allowed in without somebody older... "OK, so you're with this band of goddamn moles." His voice was ragged. "What are you doing with the clones? How the hell have you got your hands on them? And what are you going to do to me?" "So belligerent, little brother, though I suppose I can't really blame you for it!" Osip shook his head. "Well, do you mind if I start from the easiest question? We are going to keep you here. No further plans for the moment." "Well isn't that a relief," Orwel sighed sarcastically. "Somehow I feel so much better hearing that. Although I wouldn't have expected such noble attitudes from a bunch of rebels." "Don't talk about things you know nothing about." Osip looked instantly serious. "But let's leave philosophical discussions till later, all right? I think you wanted to know about the clones. Well, Scott's our first one. The S-clone, SC-077 he was. His plane was shot down in battle, on 22/10, and he was unconscious when our trash patrols found him." "Trash patrols?" "Materials recycling team. Scavengers. Whatever you want to call them," Osip explained. "Anyway, to cut a long story short, they found him. Brought him here. We disarmed him, observed him, and one of us took upon himself the task of finding out as much as he could from and about him. Now he's one of us, a nice young man, superb pilot, fantastic trainer and whatnot. Incidentally, he's also the very possessive lover of the same guy who started working with him." "I can't believe what I'm hearing." Orwel shook his head. "What about the T's then?" "I already told you about Maurice and his supposed new prodigy." Osip sat up a bit; his still sensitive back had begun to chafe unpleasantly against the chair. "Scott was in town with two others, saw André, recognized him for a T-clone, they snatched him and took him here. Poor thing." Osip sighed. "He's had quite a lot of problems coming to terms with everything, but Rori that's the dark-haired man you saw at the spaceport he's has helped him through. He's a highly qualified mentalist." "And what about this uhh Adrien?" A billion questions and doubts were making a whirlwind inside Orwel's head, but he was determined to get the basics of the story first. Maybe that would help him find the gaps in such a fantastic fabrication. "You said he killed his guardian, and that the other T-clone had something to do with it? But I saw him coming from an interplanetary flight!" "From Jehan." Osip nodded. "He was on Jehan, apparently on his way to being primed for a new mission there. André was rather baffled as to why he hadn't been primed before they left, but that's not our main concern here. André contacted him and told him a few facts. Adrien didn't really want to believe them, so he had a talk with his guardian. Who obviously saw this as a sign of insubordination and tried to force him, with unfavorable results to his own wellbeing." "André contacted him exactly how?" "I suppose you know what the T comes from?" Osip asked patiently. His brother rolled his eyes. "Of course telepathic. But surely you're not trying to make me believe..." "Rori was absolutely right then." Osip stared right back, eyes challenging. "The Union really has created something that even you, somebody closely involved with one type of clones, don't know a rat's ass about." "What're you talking about?" "André contacted Adrien telepathically. Mind to mind. One of them being here, on Jainah, inside Mount Robillard, and the other in the city of Rhodium, on Jehan. Yes, you can argue with me as much as you want but that's a fact." Orwel put his elbows on his knees and lowered his head in his hands, shoving long fingers through short black hair. The story was absolutely ludicrous, and yet his brother was looking at him with the air of somebody trying to explain the simpler facts of life to a backward child. He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed them with the heels of his hand, willing the rising headache away. Probably a residue from that blast with the stunner pad, that. He remembered the guardians of the T's, a secretive lot, people whom the S-clone keepers had always considered rather too conceited about their elite position, working as they were with the pride of the Union's clone program. They hadn't socialized much with each other, but of course one couldn't help overhearing snippets. Such as, how troublesome the T's could be, especially the younger ones, although to him they'd never sounded much worse than playful youngsters. Of course he also knew the basics about 'priming' and 'wiping', procedures that sounded altogether unpleasant to him. A couple of times he had even caught glimpses of T-clones who had been left to recuperate after a wipe, and a shudder passed through him as he remembered the pale faces, hollow eyes radiating nothing but profound pain, listless and barely controlled movements. That sight had always made his stomach roil in revolt. Which brought to mind another, even more disturbing thought. "Oh fuck!" Orwel's head jerked up and he fixed his brother with a glare that could have detonated a bomb. "You goddamn son of a bitch... you and your righteous bunch..." "Hey, hey, don't boil over!" Osip spread his hands in a placating gesture but the other man jumped on his feet and began to pace around, ignoring him completely. He let out such a string of imaginative profanities that even Osip, who was first to admit that his swearing might occasionally get a bit excessive, found himself blinking. "What bit you?" "My kids!" Orwel's fist banged into the wall with such force that Osip instinctively winced in sympathy. "This means they're there on their own. I've been working with them for years, and now they'll be assigned a new keeper. Goddamn you, I hate you all!" "Your kids?" "My young S's!" Orwel roared. He stopped in the middle of the room, took a deep breath and slowly let it out before turning sharply to face Osip again. The fury on his face morphed into something close to despair. "Look. Look. Osip, couldn't we make a deal? You let me go, and I promise, I swear I won't know anything about you, nothing at all. Not a single thing. I saw this T-clone at the spaceport, then I was stunned and left somewhere, and I know nothing about what's happened in the meantime. I'll keep my end of the bargain, if you just let me go back there." Osip eyed him measuringly. Orwel looked sincere enough, and even though Osip had no intention to comply with the request, this sudden about-face intrigued him. "Are you trying to tell me that you actually care for them? Clones?" "Of course I do!" Orwel waved his arms in exasperation. "I told you, I've worked with them for so long, and now I'm here, cut off, out of it. I have to get back to them!" "Sorry, brother, but that's out of the question." Osip firmly shook his head. "Even if we all decided that we can trust you, do you really think that the Union would buy that story? They might choose to apply some of their more elaborate questioning methods on you, and then what? I'm willing to bet that whatever you decided, they'd get the truth out." Orwel's shoulders slumped and indignant rage welled up once more inside him. Of course Osip was right, curse him to the deepest pits of hell. "You..." he pointed an accusing finger at his brother. "To think that once I looked up to you! You, who have spoiled everything for me twice! Can you imagine how long it took me to convince everybody at the Academy that even if you were a rotten egg, I was different? Years, I tell you. Years! I could sense it all around me, people looking at me and thinking about you, the deserter, waiting when I'd slip too. Wondering whether I really was as completely ignorant of your scheming as I claimed. Wondering if I wasn't, after all, the same as you. I'm sure it still stands in my records, that I'm someone to be watched because of you, my dear big brother. And now this..." "Ouch." Osip grimaced. "Harsh, but I'm sure you're absolutely right. Though, if I follow you correctly, you agree with me that it would be patently unwise to return there. So I'm afraid you'll just have to be content sitting here for the time being. That is, unless you decide to be cooperative enough to be allowed out of this room." "Cooperative." Orwel sank on the bed once more, feeling absolutely drained. "So you want me to be cooperative, you bastard?" "Brother dear, we look far too much alike for me to be a bastard," Osip sighed. "But whatever you say, I sincerely wish you'd " He dug a squeaking comm out of his breast pocket and punched it to life. "Yes, loverboy?" "I'll show you 'loverboy', smartass." Arria's voice was steady on the line. "Have you already run your errand? How's he?" "Just fine," Osip assured the little thing and nodded to his brother whose eyes had widened. "I'll be right back in a moment." "Make sure you are, Commander. Don't forget we still have a few things to look at this morning." "I won't. Gimme a few minutes and I'll kiss you breathless again." "I'm dying of laughter here. Get moving, Osip!" "Your wish is my desire, Commander." Osip flipped the device off and raised an eyebrow at his brother who was looking at him in disbelief. "Commander? So you're their commander?" "Indeed I have the honor." Osip made a formal bow. "But not alone. The dashing blond you were pawing at the spaceport was my other half. No, wait, you weren't pawing him, rather it was the other way round. Anyway, you've met my fellow Commander and, I'm proud to say, my lover, Arria Hamidha." Orwel merely shook his head. "You're only getting crazier as you grow older, Osip." "Have to. Otherwise I'll run out of time before I've realized even one half of my inherent craziness. But as I have to trot off now, maybe I should finally do what I came here for. I've already seen that you've come around and don't seem much worse for wear. So then, would you like to have something to eat or drink?" "Drink, yes. Food, I'm not sure. Maybe after a while." "All right. I'll send somebody over in a moment. But now I really have to get going." Osip glanced once more at his brother and a genuine smile lightened his face. "Orwel?" "Yeah?" The younger man looked at him wearily. "I already told the guys that I'm seriously considering whether it's wise to let anyone go to town anymore. I mean, recently it seems that only Corinn is able to go there and come back without bringing strays home." Osip grinned more broadly. "But heaven help me, but it feels good to see you again." The Union officer stared dully at the closing door for a good while, then stretched himself on the bed and flung an arm over his face. He hoped that the entire mountain would be obliging enough to fall down upon him. Maybe that would be enough of a shock to quell the turmoil inside his head.
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