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Here you'll find
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Mount Robillard
27. An EntryBreathing, Lancer decided, was extremely important in order to stay alive and functional. So why was it so hard to remember to keep doing it? A quick glance at the quiet man crouched in the little hollow behind him, broad back bent and large hands expertly working on something with astonishing nimbleness, reminded him that being extremely nervous was at least partly responsible for such memory lapses.Lancer himself was sprawled between two tufts of protruding grass, gun in hand, keeping watch. The blade-shaped leaves were extremely hard and had nastily serrated edges, as he had witnessed just a moment ago. A sound from the side had made him turn his head a little too quickly, and now he had an insane urge to rub the smarting cut on his jaw. It probably bled, too, but he could consider himself lucky if that was the biggest injury he'd get today. Though of course he should've been worried for his face... Lancer grinned darkly to himself. Well, that was reason enough to keep his gloved, soiled hands away from any abrasions. Judging by the number of kangaroos roaming idly about and pointedly ignoring their presence, the sandy ground arround them probably consisted of at least one third of dried, powdered kangaroo dung. They were far closer to the Plains Base than Lancer would've liked, and certainly far closer than he could've ever imagined himself to get, but the way Vanya kept glancing at the fence looming in the murky twilight suggested that he'd have preferred to be closer still. That made Lancer feel very itchy. He'd promised Corinn to keep his partner safe for him, but a gun wasn't much use against scanners and alarm systems. Lancer peered again towards the base through the special goggles and saw some movement. He perked up, then relaxed again. No reason to get paranoid, the movement was nowhere near the fence and there was absolutely nothing to get alarmed about. Apparently their presence so close to the base had not been observed; the kangaroos sure had done a good job in wearing out the security. He looked almost fondly at the extended family of marsupials that kept them company near the front gate. After noticing the human intruders they'd granted the approaching duo some indifferent, mildly inquisitive glances from big eyes surrounded by thick lashes, and then continued their gradual waking up and grooming activities. At least this group seemed to be so very used to humans that they weren't in the least disturbed by the antics of some less furry bipeds creeping in their midst. Once the two had reached a suitably concealed spot, Vanya had whispered in Lancer's ear that they should've made things simple and just worn kangaroo suits and hopped to the right place. Vanya glanced up and Lancer crawled closer to him. He looked in trepidation at the thing on the man's palm. Such a small and innocent little gadget... "What?" "I need to get this closer," Vanya said quietly. "You take these on your back and keep watch." "Closer? Are you crazy?" Lancer hissed. "Yeah," Vanya replied and pushed the pack into Lancer's arms. "Don't worry, they won't explode just like that even if you bump them a bit. Just look out." In the sparse light Vanya quickly disappeared from sight. Lancer could only look anxiously in the direction where the man had vanished in a low crouch, holding the precious thing in one hand. Seconds ticked past. Lancer held his breath and tried to catch even the smallest sound in the wind that rustled the grass and howled faintly as it flowed over the gently undulating plain. Just as it occurred to him that Vanya might've trouble finding back to the spot, he spotted movement and something blacker than twilight approaching. Vanya's teeth flashed white as he grinned broadly and lifted a hand, thumb up. "Now let's get out of here!" The trek back to the transport felt so much shorter than it'd seemed when they'd set out to approach the gate, and Lancer blinked in surprise when he detected the shadow huddled behind a hillock. No, it hadn't been moved closer, this was the same place where they'd parted. Corinn raised a hand in silent greeting and they slipped into the vehicle, its gun-toting driver the last to enter. "Everything all right?" Orwel asked tersely and Vanya saluted him. "Aye aye, Captain, no problems. The first charge is set." Vanya swung his pack off of his shoulders and placed it lovingly next to the door before waving his hand in mock nonchalance. "Drive on, my good man!" "Yes sir," Corinn grinned and sat behind the controls. The transport began to crawl forward. "You are bleeding, Lancer," André observed and Lancer turned to smile at the blond clone. "Just a scratch," he said. Rori shook his head, opened their box of medical supplies, and stepped closer to wipe the small wound clean. "No reason to get in infected, anyway," he said. "And now that I still have the time and opportunity to take care of any injuries, I'll certainly do it." A quick spray of wound glue left half of Lancer's face pleasantly cool and numb, and he relaxed in his seat. Orwel looked across the narrow aisle at his profile, almost reached out to touch his arm and then pulled his hand back. No use putting Lancer any more on edge than he already was, and any unnecessary questions would surely do just that. The man turned his head to try and peer out at the dusky landscape rolling around them, failed to see anything even mildly interesting, and drifted into yet another chaotic replay of what they were intending to do, what he expected to encounter during the course of the day, and in how many different ways their mission could be hopelessly and spectacularly thwarted. The drive to their second destination took quite a while, as they had to keep enough distance between their transport and the base. To avoid accidents in the rough terrain and poor light, Corinn kept their speed moderate but brisk, and finally they felt the vehicle slow down again and then crawl to a stop in a suitably concealed location. Orwel and Vanya looked at each other, then Vanya grabbed once more his pack from the floor and flung it over his shoulder. "You know the drill, Captain," he said. "Not an inch closer than we agreed. And make sure you're behind and preferably under something solid enough until the debris stops raining down." Orwel nodded grimly. "I remember. Take care and good luck." "The fighters are on their way," André said from the back of the vehicle. "They'll soon reach the B-point." "Already?" Orwel looked at the time and frowned. "I know they'll take their time to get close enough to attack, but we still don't know exactly how early on the base is able to detect their arrival! And I definitely don't want the base in full alert too early." "But Arria says they need to be close enough to attack immediately after the explosions," André said nervously. "He thinks it's definitely bad for you if the base has time to concentrate on only one thing at a time." "Well, we're going right now, anyway," Vanya said grimly. "We still might have to crawl on our bellies to get close enough, so better not waste precious time. C'mon, Lancer, let's go set the second charge." "Lead the way!" Lancer hopped out of the vehicle after the big man, and they soon disappeared from sight. Orwel growled to himself and checked his gun, then gave André a slanted look. "Did they hold any pilots back in standby?" "No. Everybody's in the air, though part of the fleet will stay at a distance, in readiness. They'll attack in waves." "Right." Orwel bit his lip and shook his head to clear it. Of course he'd known that it'd be impossible to keep his kids in the base when fighters were shooting up from the forest and making the whole mountain tremble. And of course he'd agreed that they'd be part of the assault forces, knowing that if he didn't go along, then they'd damn well join in even without his permission. His babies, the amazing trio of even more diminutive and even less lethal looking dark-haired fairies than Shaun had ever been they were now flying their fully charged planes towards the Plains Base, probably in a crisp formation headed by Shaun and Scott. He closed his eyes for a moment and pictured them in his mind: Scharm's eternally inquisitive eyes, Sharon and her lovely sharp expression, and the wild and reckless Sholiss. Were the others of his group still alive? How many of them? Was Blaine still their guardian? Would he find answers once they got inside the Base if they ever did... Orwel pushed his gun back into its holster. Of course they would, and once there, he'd find out. Corinn, armed with a heavy-duty blaster that looked powerful enough to shoot through solid stone, slipped out and stood a few steps away from the transport, eyes scanning the landscape around them. Rori looked nervous beside André who sat in his seat, back straight and hands in his lap, lids slightly lowered communicating with Adrien, Orwel thought. The expectant silence weighed heavy on him, as he was all the time waiting to hear a too-early explosion or, worse still, the din made by dozens and dozens of Union fighters taking off. The maddening silence stretched, minutes ticked by, until suddenly André's eyes opened into huge pools of blue. "They've set the charge!" he breathed. "They're running, it's going to explode soon, very soon..." "Corinn!" Orwel all but yelled at the door and the man burst into the vehicle. "Get ready, Vanya has " An enormous explosion turned the sky bright white, and the accompanying pressure wave rocked the transport. A couple of seconds later, just like Vanya had promised, it was followed by another, even bigger blast further away, as the charge at the front gate was triggered by the other. Corinn let out a florid curse and grabbed the controls, waited a few more seconds until the worst clatter of falling debris passed, then the vehicle roared over the low hill, into full sight of the Plains Base. "Can you read Vanya and Lancer, too?" Rori shouted to André who held with both hands to the seat in front of him for dear life. The clone shook his head. "Usually not, but I was trying to keep tabs on them and their thoughts were real loud!" He stared at the rapidly approaching fence and swallowed. "We're here..." "And so are they!" Corinn hooted and punched a fist into the air. A small group of fighters soared down, fired a series towards the base and then took a rapid turn just before they'd have flown straight into air defense fire. "Perfect timing, flyboys!" Lancer slowly lifted his nose from his sleeve where he'd instinctively pressed it, decided that his eardrums were probably still intact, and tried to get his bearings back. He could see the prone form of Vanya a few meters away, suspiciously still. Lancer's stomach lurched. "Vanya? Vanya! Are you all right?" he hissed frantically, crawling closer on all fours and stretching a shaking hand to touch the man. Before his gloved fingers landed on a muscular shoulder, the blond head rose slowly and slightly confused eyes blinked at Lancer who could have wept for relief. "Shit, I thought we're Vanya? Everything okay?" "Yeah," Vanya grunted and pushed himself slowly to sitting position. "I think. Look, they're coming! Hurry up, get going!" "I'm not leaving you behind!" Lancer jumped on his feet and winced as the move jarred his left side; so he'd hurt it a little more than the rest when Vanya had half pushed, half thrown him behind a large rock. He gave his hand to the man. "C'mon, get up, you've got to be all right or Corinn's going to skin me alive!" "Mustn't disappoint Gorgeous." Vanya nodded dazedly, took the offered hand and struggled to his feet. "Don't worry, baby, I'll be all right. Let's go." Lancer started towards the base in a slow run, wary of the uneven ground, glancing every few seconds at the hardly visible figure trudging after him. Vanya's movements were determined but sluggish and the distance between them grew steadily. Oh god, André, I wish I were like you, Lancer prayed feverishly, then his heart nearly stopped when he saw the vehicle that had been approaching the badly damaged gate. It lurched dangerously and then veered towards them. He stopped, and so did the transport. "Lancer, what's wrong? Where's Vanya?" It was Orwel, hanging half outside the door. He jumped down at Lancer's wild gesturing, ran after him to the blond man who was barely able to stand up any more, and threw one of Vanya's arms around his own shoulders to support him. Together they dragged the unprotesting man to the transport and pushed him in. Lancer didn't look at the sticky wetness that he could feel on his arm, concentrating instead on Orwel who turned around and put a hand on his shoulder. "How're you?" "Nothing wrong with me," Lancer panted. "A few bruises, that's all. But how why " "André practically jumped out of his suit and said that you were calling," Orwel said. "We must go, Lancer. Right now. The fence is broken but it'll be a matter of minutes before they get the systems up again." Inside the transport Corinn took one glance over his shoulder at Vanya who was stretched on his stomach on the aisle in the middle, back covered in blood. He silently mouthed something that looked like 'oh fuck', then turned back to the controls, face setting into a grim mask. The vehicle dashed forwards once more. "There's a mission going on, guys," he said gritting his teeth. "You've got to go after them right now, or you might be separated." "Just a second," Rori mumbled, frowning in concentration as he hastily dug supplies from the box. "There's very little I can do right now... get somewhere safe, Corinn, and try to stop this bleeding. And he probably has a major concussion, so for heaven's sake don't let him sleep, or whatever, for more than thirty minutes at a time." "Yeah, yeah, Doc." Corinn stopped the transport, eyes flashing. "This is your stop, folks! Get out now, I'll look after him!" André dove into the dusky morning, Rori jumped up from his crouch on the floor and followed suit. Corinn shut the door after them and zoomed away from the fence, towards the agreed rendezvous point. He'd be staying there and watching the transport anyway, just in case the vehicle was needed or there was some kind of trouble. Of course it was a very fragile last thread, but he'd be doing according to plan. The only deviation from plan was that now he also needed to take care of Vanya. Corinn's thoughts were interrupted by a muffled groan from behind him. He kicked the van into one last crazy dash before stopping, slap in the middle of the creek they'd picked as the suitable place for waiting. He activated the brakes before squeezing his hulk between the seats and bending over his lover's broad back. Rori had been pressing a handful of gauze on the bleeding bruises on the man's neck. Corinn gingerly lifted the soaked bundle, saw the mess and quickly pressed it back, fighting to keep his breakfast still inside. Stop the bleeding, Rori said, so that was what he'd do. And keep Vanya awake, by whatever means. "You hear me, Mr. Blowjobman?" His voice was suspiciously raspy, but at least it made Vanya stir a little. "Yeah, Gorgeous." Not surprisingly, the blond sounded even more ragged. "Sorry 'bout the mess... had to hurry, I was sure I triggered th' perimeter 'larms..." "You did a super job," Corinn assured him and swallowed another lump from his throat. "Now just don't you dare die on me, man, or I'll kick you from here to Trelissac when we get away from this tin can." "Heh.. sure'd like t'see you try." The corner of Vanya's mouth curled upwards into a ghost of a grin, his eyes flickered upwards to look at Corinn and then pinched closed with a quiet hiss of pain. "Dontcha worry, lover, I'm made of tough materials." "I hope they're tough enough," Corinn muttered and tore open a fresh packet of gauze. He knew he was leaving bloody fingerprints all over the vehicle but couldn't make himself care. Orwel ran towards the fence, Lancer close on his heels. They reached the bare zone right outside the fence, crossed it, jumped over pieces of stone and concrete and twisted metal, crouched to pass through a respectably sized hole in the actual construction, crept another few meters, and were inside the Plains Base. Orwel stood up slowly, gun in hand, wary eyes darting back and forth for any sign of people. Lancer followed suit, feeling nearly anticlimactic. They were inside the base, in the middle of enormous wreckage caused by the small but powerful charge Vanya had tossed at the foot of the fence, but nobody was holding them at gunpoint. They could see activity all right, but it all seemed to be in the direction where Lancer's memory placed the aircraft hangars. Something moved behind them, he whirled around and then sighed, seeing Rori and André peer cautiously from the shelter of the rubble. "Nobody in sight," he said in a low voice. Then he froze as Orwel took a deep breath and just stood there, transfixed. Lancer gestured to the two men to stay hidden, stepped cautiously closer to Orwel, and only then realized that he was probably being extremely foolish. Even though Orwel wasn't brandishing his gun at whatever he was looking at, it didn't necessarily mean that there was no danger maybe Orwel had simply decided that it was safer not to point a gun at what he was facing. It was too late to retreat, though, and as Lancer stopped beside Orwel, he too was completely taken aback by the sight that greeted him. In front of them was standing a group of men, all in simple, identical uniforms and carrying toolkits in their hands. They stared at Orwel and Lancer blankly, with surprised dark eyes. Every one of them had dark brown, curly hair that had been clipped short, a slightly angular but strikingly regular face, the same athletic build, and they all looked to be about twenty-five years old. Lancer had a highly disturbingly feeling that Baris and Merez Ney-Spaak had suddenly and most inconsiderately gone and quadrupled themselves. Orwel knew that M-clones were not in any way inclined to fighting or violence, but he also knew that they could very quickly alert the base to intruders if they got alarmed. Besides, if they were to get the MC's under control, gaining their trust would be the first step, and injuring even one of them would be disastrously bad policy. He slowly slid his gun back into the holster and let go of the handle. "M-clones," he said levelly. "There is no emergency to repair this section of the fence." The clones looked baffled. "We were given orders to repair the fence," one of them said. He wasn't contradicting, Orwel could hear it, merely acknowledging the existence of two conflicting sets of orders. "We need further instructions," continued another. "There is no need for that," Orwel repeated with slightly more emphasis. To his immense surprise the M-clones seemed even more hesitant and merely stood as if rooted in place, faces reflecting distress. He quickly double-checked his memory for any information on the MC's, then frowned. They shouldn't have had any problem obeying a command given to negate an earlier one. They shouldn't have been able to stop and think over a command given to them. In fact their repertoire of cognitive functions was not supposed to include the ability to consider anything as abstract as the current situation; their first priority in every situation was to follow commands. And yet, what Orwel saw on their faces amounted to nothing short of thoughtfulness, and that was a bad thing. Luckily, though, it hadn't yet occurred to the maintenance clones that they should report this unusual occurrence to somebody. "M-clones, I am Captain Dahomey," he said firmly. "I am commanding you to return to your other duties immediately." "It is broken, sir!" three clones said in near unison, eyes large and horrified. "We must repair the fence. It is broken." Orwel understood and cursed internally. Apparently he'd underestimated the strength of the need for order that was a fundamental part of an MC. The clones' attention was straying to the gaping hole in the fence, they were nervously fingering the handles of their toolkits. They were literally aching to correct such a shocking crack in their well-ordered universe. Suddenly their staring match was interrupted by a thunderous roar that drowned the steady background noise made by AD cannons. Orwel realized in a flash what it was: very many fighter engines being started simultaneously. Lancer recognized the sound as well. "The planes! They're launching the fighters!" Lancer nearly screamed, fingers digging into the captain's arm. "Orwel, we've got to get to the hangars and stop them somehow, or everything's lost!" The M-clones stared at him and Lancer turned to them in open desperation. "You must help us please! We need to stop the S-clones from flying into battle, or they will all be destroyed! We mean no harm to you or the SC's, but we need your help, quickly!" The men surrounding them looked confused, and Orwel thought in passing that now he knew what 'totally nonplussed' looked like. He took a deep breath and told his brain to please come up with a quick way out of this deadlock. He knew that they couldn't have been standing there for more than maybe a minute, but precious seconds were ticking mercilessly by and the S-clone planes were undergoing the last preparations before launch. "Look, we must " he began, but one of the clones fixed him with a determined pair of eyes, hand pushing something small back into a breast pocket. "I called Adam," the clone said, and the others relaxed visibly. "He will be here soon. We must wait now." Lancer shot an imploring glance at Orwel who merely shrugged. He had the strongest feeling that it was best to do exactly as the M-clones said. After all, he had already found himself mistaken about them once.
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