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Here you'll find
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Mount Robillard
29. A Little Action"We detect suspiciously little activity."In the tense, almost eerie silence of the Control room, Osip's deep voice sounded oddly calm. The loudspeakers carried his words for once clearly and crisply, not punctuated by the familiar background noise of engines and firing guns. Everybody was waiting anxiously, the handful of people working at the communications and all the others packed inside the common room. Not a single soul could've been found anywhere else. Every pair of eyes was fixed on the screen that looked absolutely surreal: only white dots, lots of them, hovering around. That was a sight no one had expected to see that day. "All of the fighters that took off have now been destroyed, and after that initial wave not a single plane has left the base." "What about the AD?" Arria was studying their detector readings with a puzzled frown. "Be careful, they might be just trying to lure you into proper range." "Doesn't appear so," Osip replied. "We're making swipes over it every few minutes, but there's been no response whatsoever. The place looks totally dead." "Sounds bad," Arria muttered. "According to Adrien, there's been a red alert in the base. André and Rori are separated from the others, they're in the T-clone building and there's been a bloodbath inside, but they're holed up in there and can't tell anything about what's happening elsewhere." "Too bad," Osip grunted. "But then that was to be expected. The T's were André's first priority all along." "Yeah." Arria tried once again to get something intelligible out of their scanners, then gave up with an annoyed huff. "But even if it looks dead, at least their scramblers seem to be working with enhanced efficiency. We're having real trouble reading even you. Keep your eyes open." "Will do, but that won't be easy. Visibility is getting steadily poorer, and it's definitely beginning to look like rain." Osip sighed theatrically. "Isn't this typical? These plains don't get that many rainy days per year, and of course today would have to be one of those. There's pretty massive clouds rolling down from the uplands, and they are hanging low, I tell you! Okay, folks, time to 'fess up. Who's behind this sabotage attempt? Whoever has angered the mountain spirits? Who's peed on the slopes? You should know better than that wait, hold on, now there's something going on. Wilson, you're closest. Take a low dive over it, but look out for AD fire." "Yessiree, Osip, captain, sir!" They could almost hear Wilson's smart salute, and in the Control room Adrien's lips drew into a smile as he was sitting by a desk, eyes closed. "Though the AD's been real quiet for, what, at least for a quarter of an hour now?" "Got to be more," Osip said. "Okay, down you go, and keep talking!" "Rightiho, here goes!" The line carried the roar of the plane's engines as Wilson tilted its nose downwards to take a closer look. "Man, it sure looks quiet down there, there's a little group of people running but they dashed into a building as they heard my plane. Must've thought I was going to shoot. Otherwise, nothing seems to be moving at the moment." Adam, and the dozen other MC's following him, instinctively glanced up when the plane soared over them, even though they were already under the roof of the hangar. The others turned to Adam. "That plane is piloted by one of the degenerates. They do not want to harm the clones. Therefore they will not shoot at us. There is no need to be afraid of them." Adam looked at his boys who nodded, relieved. "But now we must act quickly. We heard that the Union masters have given a command to terminate all SC's. The black Captain and the silver-haired one are in the dormitories. They help the SC's who are there. But many SC's are still in the hangars. The degenerates are too busy to come here now. So we must help them." "What do we do?" one of the clones asked. "Union masters never come to our dormitories," Adam stated. "Therefore we must take the SC's to our dormitories." The other M-clones stared at him in mute incomprehension. "But how do we take them there?" asked another. "We must speak to them," Adam replied. His companions' eyes widened and they all gasped. "We cannot speak to SC's if they do not speak to us first!" three M-clones said in unison. Adam regarded them gravely. "It is against the Code!" "I know," Adam nodded. "But I understand this is more important than the Code. If we follow the Code, the Union masters may come here and terminate the SC's. If we do this thing against the Code, the SC's are not terminated. Therefore I will not follow the Code. Come." He spun around and marched towards the hangars, followed by his silent but obedient troops. Lancer stood tense, back against the wall, gun in hand, and tried to breathe more slowly. He hated the way his own breathing and the adrenalin rushing in his veins made his ears ring, ears that were pricked to pick up the slightest sound that might indicate danger steps, shuffling, shots, anything. He heard Orwel's voice through the door: inside yet another dorm room, the man was placating S-clones who were about to be sealed inside for an indeterminate length of time. Lancer didn't know how many rooms they'd already gone through in their systematic search, he'd lost count somewhere along the way from one room to the completely identical one next to it. He didn't like the feeling, because he was sure that if Orwel suddenly decided to desert him now, he'd have trouble even finding out of the building by himself. Every one of the crisscrossing corridors looked the same in his eyes, exact replicas of each other. Turn left or right, the same sight greeted his eyes. And yet somehow Orwel seemed to know exactly where they were coming from, where they were at the moment, and where they were going to head next. Apparently the Union's executioners had entered the S-clone building through another entrance than the one Orwel and Lancer had used, which meant they had no way of finding out exactly how many men they were up against. The building was full of doors and rooms and corridors, all of which could of course be remote-controlled to lock themselves until further notice, and this was exactly what they were asking the M-clones to do right now. However, a forced closure of the entire building might've meant that they were locking the killers in the same rooms with their quarry and making the S-clones impossible to escape, even in theory. It was indeed pure theory, Orwel had said grimly. They'd already seen it several times: when faced with Union men with guns, the SC's were completely paralyzed. They couldn't comprehend that the men who dealt with them on a daily basis could point guns at them, and were unable to react in any way. No appropriate reaction had been drilled into them for this kind of situations, and that meant that Orwel and Lancer had already seen far too many dead S-clones. Worse, they'd seen too many wounded S-clones and their dazed companions who were totally incapable of doing anything to help them, and had been forced to just leave them like that when the M-clones sealed off yet another dorm room. Listening to the doors that shut the pained, scared, shocked voices behind them had made all of Lancer's insides compress into a ragged knot. It felt like a clump of ice wrapped in molten lava, it burned under his heart and made breathing hard. He wanted to go and help them, but the only thing he could do was follow Orwel and keep using his gun. Don't mess up, he repeated to himself. You've got this far, just keep it up and think later. Orwel stepped out of the room, glanced to both sides and lifted his comm to his lips. "Adam, do you copy?" The reply was slow in coming and the man's brow furrowed. "Adam? You copy me?" "Yes, Captain." The clone was clearly out of breath. "There is another room that is ready to be sealed off now?" "That's right." Orwel looked up and gave the room code shown above the door. "Is everything all right there? What is happening, Adam?" "We are taking the S-clones from plane hangars to our dormitories," Adam said after a few seconds' pause, during which the door in front of Orwel closed with a decisive grunt. "We think they are safer there than in the S-dormitories." "All right. We'll go on here." Orwel stared at the comm in his hand for a moment and shook his head. "I can't even begin to figure out how M-clones are doing anything to S-clones, apart from getting their planes ready to fly..." he muttered, long legs already taking him towards yet another corner in the corridor. "But I guess we'll have to wait until later to find out." "Are there many dorms left?" Lancer trotted after him. "Please tell me we haven't only just started..." "No, in fact oh fuck!" Catching sight of a door sliding open ahead of them, Orwel whirled around and sprinted back to the crossing they'd seen a few seconds earlier. Lancer made the mistake of glancing over his shoulder when a small team of executioners strode out of the room, and tripped on something just as three guns turned towards him. Orwel grabbed his upper arm and wrenched him into the smaller connecting corridor, a mere fraction of a second before the men fired. Lancer let out a quiet 'oof' when the impact against a wall forced all air out of his lungs, but pushed himself upright again and checked the power level of his gun. With shaking fingers he eased a fresh power pack from his belt and slipped it into the gun, eyes darting around the corridor to spot anything that could be used as a shield. Judging from the sounds, the three-man team was headed steadily towards them, filling the entire corridor with murderously powerful gunfire. When they reached the crossing, the two rebels would hardly stand any chance against them, as was becoming increasingly obvious. Orwel began to back towards the other corridor that ran longitudinally through the building, Lancer by his side. Suddenly he stopped and pointed up. Lancer gasped as he saw the sturdy girders close to the ceiling, with pipes and cables running on top of them. "Quick!" Orwel hissed, laced his fingers together and bent down. "Up!" "But you " Lancer still needed to protest, even though he automatically slipped his foot into the offered step and braced himself with one hand against Orwel's shoulder, eyes trained towards the now suspiciously quiet end of the corridors. Then he was already hoisted, or rather flung, high up in the air, and hastily tucked his gun into its holster to get both his hands free. He grabbed the lattice, chided himself yet again because he'd never before realized how wonderfully useful some gymnastics practice might have been, felt Orwel jolt him still a little higher, and then he was on his hands and knees on the girders that didn't even whimper under his weight. Lancer pulled out the gun once again, eased himself on his stomach on the cables and gulped. He was now so high up that he wasn't readily noticeable, but the structures underneath offered only moderate protection against shots from below. Besides, a couple of good shots at those cables would probably instant-fry him into cinders. Better not think about that, though, at least he was now in a good position, with a good aim. He could hear wary steps from the larger corridor. Underneath him, Orwel fired a couple of shots towards the sound, then ran noisily back in the direction where they'd come from a moment earlier. That was all encouragement the trio needed. They barged into sight, guns blaring at the same time, and Lancer fired once, twice, three times. At the shooting range of the Robillard Base he'd have howled with delight at the accuracy of those three shots. Now he nearly threw up as he saw the results from his vantage point, and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. "Lancer!" Orwel was back, standing with upturned face and squinting at him. "C'mon down, we've got to hurry!" "Wait a sec," Lancer replied, swallowed the nausea and forced himself into a crouch. Yes, he could almost stand straight without hitting his head against the ceiling. "There's quite a lot of headroom, and these things feel pretty solid... Maybe it's better if I stay up here for a while, might give us some advantage if we still meet others." "All right." Orwel started once more towards the corridor, listening to the sounds that told him Lancer was following him overhead. He was moving cautiously amidst thick, intertwining cables and treacherous butt ends of trellises that poked out of the other constructions. Those were hard to notice in the dim light and shadows, up so close to the ceiling. He didn't want to look into the room from which the men had emerged. They'd left it because they'd accomplished their task there, and probably they'd been doing exactly the same as the rebels: sticking to a plan, moving systematically from room to room. Only their intentions were the opposite. Fury welled up inside Orwel and his hands balled into fists. The bastards... and he had known quite a few of the men that now lay dead in the rooms and corridors they had passed through. He felt no remorse for their deaths. Not after what they had done, unblinking, unquestioning. Orwel glanced up when he heard a quiet curse, ready to catch Lancer if he happened to fall, but apparently the young man had again found his footing. In his black suit Lancer melted in the shadows completely, and that was just as well, because that was the only real protection he could hope for in case they happened to run into yet another hit team. Orwel wasn't quite sure how many they'd already mowed down along their path, and spared a fleeting thought to marvel at his current partner's performance. Several times Lancer had seemed close to fainting at the dreadful scenes they'd witnessed, but still his reactions were quick, his aim unwavering and lethal. Orwel tried to match the silent killer lurking above him with his mental image of the fabulous drag queen singing her heart out at a Robillard party, and decided to give up. He knew that the haunted darkness in Lancer's eyes only waited for an opportunity to attack with full force, but it'd have to wait until this was all over. Whatever that then meant. After another two shootout sessions they finally reached the other end of the S-clone complex, had the last of the doors closed and locked, and Lancer slid down from his perch. Now, as he ran after Orwel along the endless-looking corridors, he wondered why the place had felt like such a maze to start with. But of course they hadn't been simply going from one place to another; instead they'd progressed from one dorm room to another through a multitude of doors, whereas now their goal seemed to be clear. Orwel stopped and banged his fist on the door of the room where they'd left the blond officer. "Blaine, it's us! Open the door!" The door opened with a hiss and a suspicious-looking man peered at them, gun still in hand. "What's the situation, Dahomey?" "We've been all around this building," Orwel panted. "There's a godawful mess, dead clones and quite of few of your precious colleagues, equally dead. But at least the other SC's are safe for now." "What're you going to do now?" Blaine eyed both of them with deep distrust. Lancer rolled his eyes and pushed his gun into the holster, but before either he or Orwel had time to say anything, the comm in Orwel's pocket bleeped urgently. "What's up, Adam?" Orwel snapped. "Captain, some of the Union masters are trying to get into the T-complex!" Adam sounded extremely distressed. "They are shooting, and somebody is shooting at them from there. And some of the Union masters have taken vehicles out of the garages. They have terminated some of my boys." Lancer cursed loudly and spun around but was stopped by Orwel's hand on his shoulder. "Adam, lock all entrances and exits, and tell your boys to seek cover and keep away from the Union men! Immediately! We'll come to help you!" "What about this place?" Blaine interrupted and Orwel shot him a furious glance. "This place stays sealed," he growled, "with you inside! And heaven help you if you do any more damage here than " "Dahomey!" The blond man glared daggers at Orwel. "I don't know what the hell you're trying to do, but my first priority is to keep the SC's from harm! And that's exactly what I'll do, whether or not " "Blaine." Lancer majestically pulled himself to his entire modest height. "If you're concerned for the safety of the S-clones, then your and our objectives are similar enough right now. You stay here and take care of them. There are quite a few who are badly hurt, and they need you. We're needed elsewhere." Orwel nodded. Lancer was right, they had no choice but ti trust the man with the clones, and his instincts told him that at least Blaine's desire to protect them was genuine. "Adam, you hear me? Have all doors and gates to every possible place locked, and keep the MC's out of sight." "Yes, Captain, but the front gate is very badly damaged. It cannot be fully closed. Some of my boys are there repairing it, but the damage is too extensive." Orwel swore soundly before barking another series of commands to their miracle MC, including the order to allow Captain Blaine and nobody but him full access to every room inside the SC building. The comm once more safely in his pocket, he dashed out of the building with Lancer, then stopped dead in his tracks, totally stunned. Heavy clouds completely obscured the sky, they hung so low that even the Plains Base buildings farthest away from them were enveloped in a thick veil of roiling fog. They could make out the location of the T-clone complex by the sound of rapid gunfire somewhere to their right, but getting a good view of what was happening was a whole different matter. "What're we going to do now?" Lancer moaned. "What're they doing with the vehicles anyway?" "Trying to get away, most probably," Orwel grunted. "And the garages are too damn far away. Even if we did get through to the flyboys somehow, there isn't very much they can do in this weather. Flying low to ground and trying to hit something using only surface scanners isn't easy." "They could do it, if we could alert them!" Lancer said confidently. "That's it if!" Orwel banged his fist on his thigh, then his face brightened. "Oh damn stupid me..." He grabbed his comm and fingered it urgently for a while, voiced a few choice curses and punched it hard. "Adam?" "Yes, Captain?" "Can you get your boys to put me through these goddamn scramblers to the line I've set to my comm? Can you pick it up from me?" "Yes I can, Captain. Just a moment." "What're you doing?" Lancer's eyes widened in realization. "We were supposed to keep strict radio silence!" "To hell with radio silence!" Orwel roared in frustration. "We've got to stop those rats leaving a sinking ship, and Corinn's our only hope right now, before we Corinn? Do you copy? Corinn!" Corinn stumbled on his feet from the floor of the transport and grabbed the comm in a bloody hand. "Yes, Captain?" "There are vehicles trying to escape from here!" Orwel's yell was loud enough to make even the groggy man lying on the floor raise his head slightly. "Can you do anything to stop them?" "In fact I can." Corinn grinned smugly to the mic. "Just before we left for this mission, me and Fonzo had this idea..." "Idea?" "To add this little cannon to our Roadrunner." Corinn chuckled. "So yeah, I guess I can do something about them." "Corinn, I absolutely love you!" "Careful, Captain, you're making a handsome guy over here jealous. I'll be off in a minute." "NOW, Corinn!" "Sir, I can't drive rally with a badly injured guy on the floor!" Corinn growled. "I've got to get him secured in one place so he won't be hurt any more badly than he already is." "Sorry. Of course you're right. But be quick about it! And for your information, the only place they can get out of here is the front gate." Corinn grunted and silenced the comm. He'd already decided to place Vanya in the front seat, should there be any reason to move the vehicle, but hadn't wanted to disturb the man. Now he'd have to do it in a hurry, and moving a dizzy, uncooperative man with the same height and bulk as himself into that seat was going to be a real test even for his pumped-up muscles. Getting it done without hurting him badly was probably too much to ask for. Miraculously, he managed to get Vanya conscious and coherent enough to get some help from that quarter, and after buckling up his lover he dropped into the driver's seat and grabbed the controls. The handy little helmet on, one more anxious glance to the side to make sure that the impromptu neck support was well in place, and the transport rolled up from the creek, ready to join the battle. Corinn uttered silent apologies to the kangaroos that hopped frantically out of his way, left and right, as he sped across the grassy ground towards the main gate of the Base. How lucky that there was only this once passage out, and how unlucky that it should be exactly the one that opened to the broad and smooth main road designed for the plentiful ground transports. That of course meant that once the vehicles were out of the gate, they could rapidly accelerate to their top cruising speed, which most probably was well beyond anything that the Roadrunner was capable of. But a few shots with the cannon just might do the trick... The transport negotiated a large, low mound and Corinn hooted as he saw three vehicles that had just emerged from the Base. Aiming at this distance was no simple trick, but at least he could distract them a little! Corinn slid his left foot to the trigger pedal, activated the sight-controlled aiming helmet, and grinned ferociously to himself. "Here we go!" he hummed, then gasped when he heard the voice from the other front seat. "Kick ass, Gorgeous." "Be sure that I will!" Corinn didn't look to the side. His gaze was firmly locked on the vehicle leading the little group, and he pressed the pedal. The yell of satisfaction that escaped from his throat at the first explosion was totally involuntary, and in a flash he understood the crazy glint that was so slow to leave Lancer's eyes after a hectic time at the AD gun. Addictive. A heady rush flashed through his head, but the other two vehicles were still gaining speed. He had to stop those, too. "Hold on, there's something going on now!" Maschani's shout made the loudspeakers in the Common room crackle. "Some kind of ground vehicles, speeding away from the Base, and an explosion! Going down to investigate..." "Careful, Zdenek!" Osip cautioned. "Visibility is miserable down there!" Arria looked at Adrien's tight, blank face. "What's happening?" "They're under attack," Adrien sighed breathlessly. "All doors are locked but they've driven some kind of a vehicle through a wall. Rori and André are shooting..." "Damn it!" Arria's fist crashed on the desk in front of him. "If only there was something we could do!" "They're Union transports!" Maschani sounded gleeful and incredulous at the same time. "Shit! Leaving before the party's over, are we? And double quick, too what was that? Somebody's really shooting at them from the ground... what the hell? Roadrunner?" In the Common room, several pairs of eyes turned to Fonzo who let out a resounding war cry and pumped his fist into the air. "Go for it, Corinn old pal!" At the moment Corinn was doing exactly that. For a moment his eyes widened in horror when a fighter appeared from the cloud right above his vehicle, so low to ground that its belly seemed to scrape the surface of the highway, and fired a rapid series at the escaping Union vehicles. The resulting explosion made the ground shake and he let out a whoop of triumph, instinctively waving at the plane that dissolved back into the moist fog like a ghost. "Vanya, my man, now we'll make a run for the Base," he announced to his quiet companion and received a grunt by way of a reply. The sound told Corinn that the man was indeed still in the world of the living. "I knew you'd be sorry if we never made it inside, and I thought I'd help you a little. Though," he added with a rueful half-grin, "things might get a bit hot when we get there. But you know, our pals in there just might need some expert help. At least Orwel's still alive and kicking." "I hope he's taken good care of Lancer baby," Vanya rasped out. "I don't want to face Scott if we come back without his sweetheart." "Don't you worry," Corinn drawled. "I bet Lancer baby's been outdoing himself in there... ah-ha, there's another one trying to sneak away! Oh no you won't oh shiiiit!" "Whazzat?" Vanya tried ineffectually to lift his head, eyes squinted to see the small something that was picking its way across the rubble that once had been the main entrance to the Plains Base. "Oh man," Corinn moaned, crosshairs firmly locked on the vehicle and foot hesitating on the pedal, "that's a Martinez! A fucking Martinez Silver Bullet and I've got to destroy it! Oh man, this is not fair!" "Gorgeous..." Vanya managed to turn pained, arctic blue eyes to his darkly frowning lover. "What's a Silver Bullet anyway? If we get out of this alive, I swear I'll buy you a Mustang, even if I have to be someone's sex slave for ten years!" "It's a deal," Corinn snorted and stepped on the pedal, just as the sleek speedster overcame the last obstacle and practically shot into full speed, only to explode into a billion glittering particles that rained down on the red soil. "But no sex slaving, handsome. You'd have too much fun." The slightly choking sound from the other seat told him that Vanya would've laughed, if only it hadn't hurt so goddamn much.
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