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Here you'll find
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Mount Robillard
25. A PartnerHe tried to keep his breathing quiet, pressed his lips together not to pant too loudly, but the truth was he was really out of breath. Not so much for the exertion, this was more because of the excitement. His nostrils flared as he strained his ears. There, to his left, there definitely was something.He pressed closer to the stone, flattened himself still lower to ground, began to move one leg forward, ready to dash. Eyes squinted to catch the smallest movement in the dusky twilight, he shifted his weight on one knee and peered cautiously over the boulder and caught a glimpse of a shape moving stealthily towards him. He waited, counted to five and, still hearing nothing, dove to the deeper shadow that marked a recess on one side of the large stone he was using as protection. A light rapping sound made him spin around, he threw himself backwards and in a blinding flash his gun was in his hand and fired at his opponent who let out a yelp and fell on his knees on the mossy ground. "Goddamn it, you're fast!" Glynn rubbed gingerly his collarbone and grimaced. Lancer pushed himself up to lean on his elbows, breathing irregularly. "Did I hurt you?" His mouth was so dry that he had to try a couple of times before he managed to croak anything. Glynn shook his head. "No, just a nick. I told you, the power's set low enough not to hurt really, just to let you feel if you're hit or not." Lancer nodded, sat back on his haunches and pulled a small bottle from his belt. The acid-tasting drink was mercifully cool and, best of all, extremely wet on his sticky tongue. "But I'm still not awfully fit," he pointed out miserably. "It's not as if I'd been running on the treadmill every day. Like I no doubt should have." "That's something we can't remedy very quickly," Glynn shrugged. "And you'd better not exercise too much all of a sudden. In the worst case you might actually hurt yourself, or at least get some muscles so sore that your performance will be affected. Besides, it's not like you'd be running long distances in one go. More likely you'll be spurting and dashing and then hiding again." Lancer grimaced and straightened his shaking legs in front of himself as he sat on the soft ground, not caring about the moisture that began to seep through his clothes. His muscles made token protests about the stress they'd been made to endure over the past few days, but he ignored them. He'd been far too lazy far too long anyway. Glynn still rubbed his chest around the left collarbone, and Lancer suspected that the shot had felt considerably worse than the man claimed. He didn't know. During the mock missions they'd staged with Glynn, Lancer had yet to be hit. He fingered absently the power setting dial of his gun and turned it a little lower, hardly more than a hair's width away from being completely off. Glynn glanced at him and grinned appreciatively, sat somewhat stiffly on a moss-covered stone and tore his coat half open. Lancer had to agree, it was definitely hot. The scarf around his head was soaked with sweat, and in his long-sleeved overall he suspected he'd a pretty good idea of what wearing a wet suit might feel like. The humid, too warm air hung around them and made him feel dull and sluggish. His head was aching a little, and he gulped down another swig from the bottle. Too little to drink, he reminded himself, sweat like this and don't drink and you're dehydrated before too long. Glynn dug out his own bottle, raked his dark hair with his fingers making it stand up, and smiled wistfully. "Damn, I really wish I could join you on this mission," he grunted. Lancer's eyes flickered involuntarily to the tall man's left leg before turning away in shame. Glynn noticed and chuckled mirthlessly. "Yeah, running around here for a while is all very well, but I can't come along and just hope and pray the drugs' effects last all the way through it." He absently massaged his left thigh above the knee and sighed. Neither of them spoke of the other reasons that prevented it. Of course, under normal circumstances Glynn's badly mangled left leg would've been reason enough to stop him. Back at the time when he'd joined the rebels, they hadn't been able to do very much about it except try to keep the healing process as painless as possible. Correcting everything that was still wrong with the limb would've required equipment and specialists far beyond anything they could get their hands on. As a result it only worked tolerably well when he was properly drugged with painkillers, but he couldn't possibly be included on a mission the duration of which was anybody's guess. Of course, them being as short of hit forces as they were, he might've still been considered a possible member of the team, if he hadn't sustained those injuries as a prisoner of the Union. Glynn never spoke about his experiences and nobody asked him, but his occasional mental instability under stress was a given. Lancer didn't feel in any way threatened or uncertain training with him, but he was secretly relieved that Glynn hadn't tried too strongly to argue himself a place in the team. That would've definitely made him uneasy. Lancer tilted his head back and closed his eyes, feeling a warm breeze caress the drying sweat and muck on his face. He leaned back on his elbows and let his drenched hair fall away from his neck. For the umpteenth time he wondered what the hell he'd got himself into, and how the hell he'd managed to land here, on the lower slopes of Mount Robillard, a gun resting next to him on the ground, engaged in last-minute training to prepare for a commando mission into a Ziroshel Union military base? He, Robin Lancer, the somewhat too pretty and always more than a little gay small town boy whose great dream had been to go to the enticing city of Trelissac and become a drag artist. Who'd achieved precisely that. And then, classically and maybe even predictably, he'd fallen in love with the handsome dark-haired pilot with this distinct aura of something mysterious about him. Lancer felt a small smile tugging his lips at the memory of Turner. Well, if someone had told him then what that infatuation would end in, he'd have fallen on his ass laughing. Right now he didn't see anything to laugh at. Of course the whole notion of him going on a commando mission was absolutely hilarious, if only it weren't so chillingly real. Even though he tried to concentrate on the plain mission objectives and facts, the enormity of the task ahead just kept creeping on him. It made him feel like choking. No denying it, he was plain afraid, very much afraid. Afraid of what he was about to be involved in, afraid of being hurt. Afraid of dying. Even more than that, he was afraid of failing. The trust of the others was overwhelming and he felt altogether too small, too inexperienced, too amateur for it. Tears threatened to well in his eyes. He lifted a hand to wipe them off, pretending it was just sweat or maybe even the rays of the sun filtered through the foliage, then stopped and squinted up when a darker shadow passed over him. "Hiya, honey!" Vanya grinned and stepped over Lancer's legs to sit on the same rock with Glynn. He threw them both fresh, blissfully chilled cans and chuckled at their greedy expressions. "Worked up a nice sweat, I see. How's your leg doing, pal?" "Could be better," Glynn admitted and wiped his mouth. "You're a lifesaver!" "Wait till you hear the rest," Vanya said. "I came down with a scooter. Thought you might appreciate not having to hike back up, I guess you need to be recharged pretty soon?" "I really do appreciate it," Glynn said and stood up. "But are you sure you'll be OK walking up? Lancer?" "I'll be just fine," Lancer assured him. "Go right ahead. It's my fault anyway we took so long, sorry for getting carried away." "No apologies." Glynn limped in the direction Vanya's lazy wave indicated and disappeared behind the bushes. His voice carried over the rustle of fallen leaves. "Thanks, man. And I mean it." The quiet whooshing sound of the scooter vanished. Vanya sat in silence, ice-blue gaze resting on Lancer who was savoring the rest of the cold drink and cradling the can in his hand. "What's wrong?" Vanya's voice startled Lancer. He took another swig from the can and looked sharply up. Vanya was resting both elbows on his knees, darkly tanned face relaxed. His customary smirk was nowhere to be seen, and Lancer realized with some surprise that this had become a far more frequent sight ever since the pivotal discussion in the common room. He'd recently seen more of an unleering Vanya than he'd ever thought possible, and that was very strange because at the same time the man and his partner had also stepped up their open flirting and horseplay. If that was even possible. "What do you mean, wrong?" he said, not liking how defensive he sounded. "I'm just tired, that's all." "No, it's not that." Vanya studied him for a moment. "I'm betting it's this mission. It really puts you off. Look, maybe I was wrong to pick you out like I did then, but I honestly think you're the ideal partner for that stunt. But if you don't want to " "I'm not backing off!" Lancer hissed vehemently, pushing himself on his knees to face Vanya. "Do you think I'm such a coward that " "You're many things, Lancer, but you're not a coward," Vanya interrupted him. "I can understand if you feel a bit overwhelmed, though. After all, you're not trained for this sort of thing." Lancer slumped back on the ground. "Thanks for reminding me," he grunted. "I bet you forgot about that for a moment when you chose me in the first place." "I did," Vanya admitted and raised a hand to stop Lancer before he had time to spit out a reply. "Because I've been around for a while now and seen you work with the others. And I've been really, truly amazed. I don't care if you're trained or not, I simply think you've got what this takes. I'd be real glad if you'd partner up with me for this thing." "Why?" Lancer asked weakly. Vanya smiled a little. "Because I'd really feel secure knowing it's you watching my back while I'm setting up the explosives and seeing and hearing nothing about what happens around me. And I'd feel a lot better being headed for a base swarming with clones if I knew you're there to think quickly and find just the right way to deal with them." He flashed a broad grin. "Plus, I'm sure that you and me walking around arm in arm are about the size of your average adult male kangaroo. Whereas if the perimeter alarms got a reading of me and Gorgeous, or me and the younger Captain Dahomey, the guards would sure come running, 'cause they'd think we're a particularly fat and juicy specimen to be shot for dinner." Lancer couldn't help laughing. For a while he felt better, but only marginally, and soon fell into a desperate silence again, plucking absently at a tuft of grass next to him. "Hey." Vanya's bare arm slunk around his shoulders and squeezed lightly as the man settled his muscular body next to Lancer. "I mean what I said. I trust you." "But I don't!" It sounded suspiciously like a sob and Lancer pressed his lips together to stop them from trembling. "What if I let you all down? I'm so damn afraid..." "So am I," Vanya said and smiled wryly as Lancer shot him an incredulous glance. "Fucking afraid. I sure don't want to get caught by the Union, or blast myself into atoms, or get caught in a crossfire and bleed slowly to death." His jaw clenched as he remembered the fellow who'd been training in explosives with him. The guy's nerves had betrayed him at the worst possible moment during a mission, making him detonate the charges too early. It hadn't been supposed to be a suicide bombing. He also remembered the stealth specialist who'd been his trusted backup on a number of successful missions, until he'd taken a shot meant for Vanya and died within five minutes of a massive arterial hemorrhage. He swallowed to steady his voice. "But so far I've been lucky, and I'm willing to try my luck yet another time." "Why do you do this?" Lancer asked quietly. Vanya gave a slight chuckle; it was a joyless sound. "I want to do what I can to bring the Union down," he said. "Simple as that." "Maybe that's just it." Lancer leaned into the reassuring embrace and sighed. "Of course I'm all for the rebellion and against the Union. I know enough of what's been going on, and what's going on right now, and I know I want the same things as you. But you know, I didn't come here because I fervently, passionately believed in some Big Cause and wanted to give my everything for it. I just happened to go to bed with the wrong guy." His voice dripped irony. "And when the Union was about to snatch him I had no choice but come along. Nobody wanted me here, no one but Turner. Seranno, who was commander then, he positively hated me. Couldn't stand queers." Vanya's arm tightened around his shoulders as he snorted quietly at the memory. "Turner was too good a pilot, too important. God, Seranno probably would've given just about anything to be able to kick both of us out of here. But he couldn't lose Turner, and Turner refused to discuss me with him. And no one dared really go against the old bastard. How I hated him... I was here, and yet I really wasn't. Turner was the only one for whom I existed." "But he loved you," Vanya said quietly. "Yeah, at least that didn't go sour." Lancer's voice was ragged. "Then, more or less exactly a year after I'd come here, Turner died. Seranno, too, and great many others. I thought I'd go crazy, I really did. I wanted to die. But they wouldn't let me, Corinn and Fonzo and the guys. And then came Scott, and and miracles really started to happen... I'm sure you've heard it all... oh fuck, what am I actually babbling here?" He wiped angrily his eyes but Vanya just squeezed him a little closer, one hand rubbing Lancer's upper arm. "You're telling me why you're afraid," he said softly. "You never really wanted to come here and be part of this in the first place, but here you are anyway. You've been through a lot of shit, you've found yourself a place here, and now that you're at last feeling all right about it, we're expecting you to risk all that and just grin." Lancer blinked at Vanya whose eyes were surprisingly warm. The body heat radiating from the man made Lancer press a little closer, and he suddenly realized that he was shivering. The air was still stuffy and hot, but sitting in one place wearing a mostly wet overall nevertheless made him feel chilled. "You understand." It was a statement, an expression of wonder. "But I can't back out. I'm in this already, because I'm with Scott. He's flying out and putting his life on the line, just like Turner did. I was afraid for him, but it always felt somehow unreal to think that he wouldn't come back. And then he really truly didn't. He died out there. But I can't tell Scott not to go, and I can't say I won't do it. Because... because I could never forgive myself if I did." Lancer stared at the patiently listening Vanya for a good while, brows crunched together. "I have a feeling that I'm not making an awful lot of sense now," he said finally, and then burst into a tired giggle. "Oh boy... I sound like Scott. That's what he often says when he's trying to analyze his own feelings. But do you understand what I'm trying to say, Vanya? 'Cause I'm not sure I do. I don't like the idea, not one little bit, but I'll do it. I'll do my goddamn best, and I hope you're right and I'm wrong and I really am as good as you all believe." "I copy that loud and clear, partner!" Vanya said. For a moment they looked at each other in silence, Lancer huddled next to him, and then the man broke into a grin. "Now get up from your ass before your teeth start chattering," he ordered. "And let's try out that running arm in arm stunt. You know, once we get to the real thing I'll have enough to carry even without having to haul you around in a pouch like a mother kangaroo." "Now listen you certainly won't have to carry me around, I'm going to use my own legs!" Lancer retorted, grateful for the distraction, and got on his feet. "Besides, I really don't want to be shaken around in the same pouch as all those nice little thingies of yours that go kaboom!" "Which reminds me." Vanya frowned and jumped up as well. "Gorgeous hadn't returned from the city yet by the time I left to check on you." "Didn't he go to fetch those " "Thingies that go kaboom, yeah he did." Suddenly Vanya seemed more than a little worried. "I sure hope he's had no problems along the way. I did warn him to be careful with them..." "Relax," Lancer ordered and ran after the man who'd turned around and was striding uphill, long legs working like the pistons of a big machine. "Don't you think Corinn knows what he's doing? He's been transporting the oddest things for years." "Sure, sure." Lancer followed the anxious-looking man towards the well-hidden entry chutes and told his protesting leg muscles to stop whining. He kept his eyes on Vanya's broad back, looking at the batch of sweat that darkened the green sleeveless top, at the bulging muscles of his arms and neck, at the gun holster strapped on his right hip and thigh. Vanya glanced to the side, frowning, and Lancer caught a glimpse of a bruised bite on the side of his neck. He could almost hear Corinn growling when he had left that mark on his lover. This man wanted him as his partner on the mission. Lancer inhaled deep the stuffy forest air that tasted like soggy soup, and forced more length into his stride.
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