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Here you'll find
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Mount Robillard
33. An UprisingArria closed his eyes and massaged his temples with his fingertips. It was getting late, and the slight throbbing of earlier afternoon had finally reached the point where he admitted to having a pounding headache.He was tired, no, totally drained was much closer to the truth. The transfer of operations from Mount Robillard to the Plains Base, deemed the best place for continuing their work, was no small deal. There were transports to schedule so as to avoid unnecessary shuttling back and forth. All the newcomers needed to be accommodated and acquainted with the base and its existing populace enough to start working right away. Decisions had to be made on who and what would be left behind to keep their mountain stronghold up and running in case of extreme emergencies. The organization and management of M-clones and S-clones was no less pressing a matter. The number of people to be taken into account had multiplied overnight, so the problem of supplies required urgent attention as well. Not to mention the problem of security, of the transports as well as both bases. There was more than enough to do to make sure that the three people overseeing the whole operation were three very busy men. The knowledge that Ziroshel Union was definitely not going to sit back and accept the loss of their biggest and strategically most important local base just like that didn't make their load any lighter. The rebels used every trick at their disposal to keep the Union unaware of their activities, and maintained a stubborn silence in the face of furious efforts to contact the base. When the other two bases on Jainah repeatedly failed to hear anything, they were sure to send someone to take a look, and by then, whenever it happened, the Plains Base had to be ready to fight. Supreme Commander Hamidha pressed the heels of his palms on his eyes to ease the pain and groaned a little. He felt somewhat silly to burrow in this small room the way he did, but he liked the place better than any other. He even knew the reason: it was underground. He'd grown so used to the feel of rock all around him, and the peculiar kind of silence and coolness it ensured, that he didn't feel quite at home in the Command Center building. He could hear, or perhaps rather fell, the sounds of transports and planes, the buzz all around even through the thick, shielded, sound-proofed walls. The air felt different, too. Finding the subterranean level right below the ground floor had been a welcome revelation and that's where he was again. Like some mole, but damn, his head was aching and he needed the feeling of peace down here. "There you are." Arria heard the light shuffle of feet and then hands descended on his shoulders. Thumbs rubbed first his nape and then glided higher, to the back of his head, right where his neck muscles attached to the skull. He moaned when sparkles shot all around from the tight small knots there, and pressed greedily into those big hands. "Have you eaten anything today?" Osip hummed into his ear. Arria half-opened his eyes and pondered the question for a while. "I'm not sure," he confessed at last. "Can't remember." "I sort of thought so," Osip sighed, fingers still working wonders on his partner's neck. "You tend to get so carried away that you forget such mundane things completely. But, you know, even though you're slim and therefore function with less food than for example me, that still doesn't mean you can do altogether without it. Even more important, you should remember to drink. We can't help it that it's warmer here than in Robillard, and you'll be having a hell of a headache every day if you don't look after yourself a little." "Thanks for the lecture, daddy," Arria murmured. "God, that feels good..." "Come, let's go to our room," Osip coaxed and pulled his hands away despite a grumbled protest. "Tonight's schedule is done, things will run perfectly well even if you sit down to eat something and then sleep for a few hours." Arria followed his dark lover to their rooms. That particular building adjoining the Command Center had housed the higher officers of the Base before, and they'd quickly appropriated one pleasantly-sized apartment for themselves, not least because of the bed it contained. It was so large that Arria couldn't help wondering what kind of activities its previous occupant had indulged in his spare time, but seeing his partner sprawled to his full length in the middle of the bed, purring with pleasure, had convinced Arria that this was indeed the room for them. When they entered the room, Arria was surprised to observe that a meal was being neatly laid on the table by a young female M-clone. "Wonderful, Chrissy, you're a treasure! Thank you so much." Osip grinned to the girl after a quick, surreptitious glance at the name neatly marked on her breast pocket a novelty they'd suggested to Adam after hearing that each of the clones had a name. It had been implemented within the space of a few hours, and it made life so much easier. "So the food is in that rack, right?" "Yes, sir. The table is now ready." Her answering smile was nothing short of enthusiastic. "I will now go back to the kitchen, sir." "Do that, Chrissy, and thank you once more," Arria said. Despite his fatigue he found it at the same time endearing and disturbing how talkative and eager to communicate the MC's had become within the short space of time that the Base had been held by the rebels. They'd been encouraged to speak to the 'random' humans a slightly more flattering name that they had chosen over 'degenerates' whenever they felt the need to, and some of them were downright garrulous. Eager to exercise their new rights, of course, Arria thought and sat down with a grunt. After some food and plenty to drink he felt considerably better. The headache had simmered down into a mildly unpleasant feeling somewhere in the background, soon to be banished for good by Osip's surprisingly gentle fingers on his neck and shoulders. "How's the head?" "Clearing at last," Arria muttered. "You're pushing yourself too hard," Osip said with a slight shake of his head. "Really, the world won't come to an end if you rest a little every now and then." "This is too important..." "I know. This is frantic, because we don't know what will happen next and when. We're all pushing ourselves to the limit," Osip said and kissed his ear. "But it seems to me you're the only one whose programming lacks the part required to keep your own system okay." "That's an old complaint," Arria grumbled. "But yeah, I know you're right." "Occasionally." Osip was clearly smiling. "And this happens to be one of those occasions. But now, Arria, want to hear really good news?" "Sure I do. What's it?" "Vanya's conscious." "Thank goodness for that!" Arria let out a heartfelt sigh. "What's even better, Edmé confirmed that his brain hasn't been damaged. He should be making a full recovery, though it will still take some time." Arria slumped a little where he was sitting on the carpeted floor, upper body wedged between Osip's legs. "That's really good news. Have you seen him?" "Yep, for a couple of minutes just before I came to look for you." Osip chuckled. "He's definitely himself. Groggy, under medication nearly enough to turn his hair green, but joking. Told me that he'd do his best to be in working order again, 'cause he wants to be standing up when asking for a raise." "Raise?" Arria peered curiously over his shoulder, frowning. "Are you sure he, uh, knew what he's talking about?" "Yeah. Said he'd promised to buy Corinn a Martinez Mustang if they both get out of this alive." Osip sighed and eased his arms on Arria's shoulders. "For your information, it's the biggest and brawniest model of those very showy custom-made cruiser bikes. Expensive as hell, too." "Well, you would know about cruiser bikes and such," Arria said and yawned. "Now to bed, or I'm afraid I'll nod off right here." "Oh no, not on the floor, lover. C'mon," Osip clasped his wrist and pulled him on his feet. "Isn't it nice that the bathroom has two showers?" "Indeed," Arria mumbled stifling another yawn. Osip shook his head. "You are hopeless... come now, I'll make sure you don't fall asleep there and drown yourself!" The suns had shifted considerably by the following morning, and the air didn't feel nearly as suffocating any more when Arria, woken up after sleeping cuddled in Osip's arms, took a stroll outside. Osip was once again somewhere being busy with the older SC's, and Arria was happy to greet every M-clone who beamed their 'good mornings' to him along his path. He wanted to go and see the awoken Vanya for himself, but was efficiently distracted even before he reached the former T-clone building, when a chorus of bright voices erupted from behind a corner and rushed towards him. He whirled around to meet the onslaught face to face, and had barely time to grin before it hit with full force. "Commander Arria!" "Good morning!" "We have been out for a walk!" "Good morning, angels, please don't you trample me!" Arria laughed and tried to embrace all of the boisterous young TC's at once. Their scrawny arms embraced him from all sides, unbelievably pretty faces peering up at him from a whirl of golden curls. André shook his head as he strolled closer, followed by two replicas of himself, both with considerably more moderate hairstyles. Adrien laughed aloud as he looked at the affectionate kids surrounding the blond commander, but Arria's eyes widened as he took in the too bony figure and gaunt face of the third man. So this was the only surviving adult TC left in the base? Blue eyes measured him with a hint of weariness and then smiled warmly. "You must be Terry," Arria said and reached out a hand. The clone nodded and shook it briefly. "Yes, I'm Terry. Pleased to meet you, Commander Arria, sorry I haven't been really up to meeting you before." His voice was equally pleasant as the others', though slightly deeper. "That's all right, I know it takes time to get over those wipes." Arria studied the T-clone with interest and noticed to his great relief that, despite the identical features, the man somehow managed to look different from the other two. Slightly taller, much skinnier but with a little more athletic build than even Adrien, who already cut a far more masculine figure than the lithe, androgynous André. "Terry's okay now," Adrien assured. "And he's already shown that he's a real computer whiz kid. Isn't it funny how we've got such different talents, even though we're supposed to be the same?" "We've found it really curious," André added. "But we've talked some, and Terry suspects it's some kind of residue from his previous mission. Even though he's been wiped. We're going to try digging into the databases and find out more. It's just possible that everything hasn't been deleted, and we're hoping to find out some clues to what's been happening lately." "That sounds highly interesting," Arria nodded. "Oh, hey, my darling angels, I absolutely love you but please don't topple me!" André scowled at the fabulous five, no doubt directing a flood of mental communication to them as well, and they quickly checked themselves with sunny smiles. "We just like Commander Arria so much," they declared eagerly. "Enough to be all over him, that's right." Adrien shot an apologetic look at Arria who merely shrugged. "Okay, now we go back inside and go on with the lessons, right?" The grown-ups herded their wildly chatting charges into the wing of the Command Center that had been assigned to them, and vanished from sight. Arria turned to continue on his previous course, but he didn't get ten steps closer before seeing something else that made him forget his original intention. A tall, burly man was walking slowly towards the long, low building that ran along the outer fence of the Base. He was accompanied by another, much smaller figure that moved with a pronounced limp and sported a head of pearl-blond, ragged hair that reflected the rays of the sun. Arria gasped. "Fonzo and Lancer?" He ran to the others who stopped to wait for him. Fonzo smiled to the slightly breathless Arria, who looked incredulously at the young man standing somewhat unsteadily beside his formidable companion. "Lancer, should you be running around yet on that leg?" "It's all right, I'm being careful not to overstrain it." Lancer looked a little defiant. "It's getting better all the time, beginning to obey me again." "Well, that's good. I just know, though not from own experience, that those gunshots can be terribly painful." Arria observed Lancer's somewhat hazy eyes and slightly flushed face but decided not to press his point further. "Looks like the cooler weather has drawn out just about everybody. Did you see the TC's?" "Sure did!" Fonzo laughed. "Those kids are just incredible. Cute as anything. Hey, Lancer baby, you all right?" "Of course," Lancer grunted but didn't remove his hand that had sought support from Fonzo's arm. "It's just acting up again, going numb all of a sudden. Don't worry, Commander," he added when Arria frowned in consternation, "I'm high as a kite on painkillers, on Doc's orders, but he said it's all right for me to give it some exercise." "But where exactly are you going?" Arria asked. "Surely not the " "Yeah, the AD building." Fonzo's dark eyes warned him to pick his words carefully. "Lancer wanted to see the cannon banks." "I need to know if they're very much different from those we have in Robillard." Lancer slapped his injured thigh a couple of times with a grimace. "Shit, come in... your boss is calling you! Damn leg..." Arria tried to find something to say but was silenced by the look in those greenish eyes, anguished and yet burning with determination. "Hey, I don't want to have another crash course and then be pushed slap into the middle of action when we're again under attack!" Lancer's nonchalant tone vibrated with something much darker, and a muscle in his cheek tightened perceptibly. "At least I want to be familiar with the controls well in advance, and to know which station I'll be manning." "I'm sure that's a good idea," Arria nodded, even though a voice inside his head was screaming exactly the contrary. Lancer was having the hardest time anyway dealing with the aftereffects of the stress he'd endured. How would being involved in the turmoil of a battle affect him now? And, on the other hand, how would he feel about being excluded from it? The current lull was not going to last indefinitely. Yet another decision to make, and such a sensitive one, Arria sighed inwardly. How to protect from further damage one of the people he so much cared for, without wounding him at the same time? He knew that Lancer's apparently bravery mostly arose from a desperate desire to prove, to himself and everybody else, that he could do it. That he wasn't as fragile and vulnerable and downright scared as he probably felt at the moment. But no, there was no way they could forbid him from taking part in what was likely to come next. "You'll need AD gunners, and I'm one of the best," Lancer said a little more weakly but forced a smile on his face. "I won't let you down, Commander." "Wouldn't we know that," Arria said. "Okay, go to see the cannons, but Fonzo you'll be the judge. If you think that leg's had enough for the day, I hereby authorize you to throw this stubborn young man over your shoulder and tuck him to bed!" "Thanks, Commander, I promise I'll exercise that right if need be!" Fonzo saluted with a grin. "Now we'll trot off, kid. C'mon, you can lean on my arm if it's being difficult." "Stop calling me kid," Lancer groaned but followed the advice gladly enough. Arria looked after them for a moment, deep in thought, but before he even remembered where he had been going in the first place, his comm alerted. Orwel, by the sound of it. "Arria, I'd be grateful if you could come to the Command Center. No emergency, but I'd like you to hear this communication." "I'll be right over." The blond commander turned on his heels and headed for the building that had already become very familiar to him over the past couple of days. He effortlessly navigated to the big Control Room they'd taken over, and had no trouble finding the tall, dark Base Commander among the M-clones and controllers busily monitoring the surroundings and airspace. "I called Osip as well, but he's coming a bit later. Said he's busy with the older SC's at the moment." Orwel activated a screen. "This arrived a moment ago." Arria's breath caught at the wording. The president of the Planetary Council of Jainah was in very plain terms requesting their support in the case that Jainah decided to sever its ties to the Ziroshel Union and claim independence. Everything in the message and the way it was delivered spoke the same language: the President was very determined to implement exactly what she was proposing, she was no less confident that the proposition would receive the unconditional support of both the Council and the general population, and fully convinced that the planet would manage on its own. She was being very frank, speaking of the 'crucial impetus' that the rebels' capture of the Plains Base had given, and the widespread support for the rebel cause and dislike of the Union. She even went as far as to promise all the necessary material and financial support the rebels might possibly need, as soon as the Council got its lines straight and everything sorted out. "Seems that we sure have given them an ego boost," Arria breathed at last. "So it seems," Orwel admitted. "And before you now wonder aloud how the hell they've got wind of what's happened here, I'll make a clean breast of it. She's been trying to contact us for a while now, and I finally decided to respond. She asked me point blank whether or not I am one of the rebels, and when I admitted to that, her next question concerned our control over the base. When I told her that yes, it's ours, she went straight on to deliver that message. I wouldn't have acknowledged the efforts to get through to us, though, if I hadn't known that she's never been exactly happy to smile prettily to visiting Union dignitaries." Arria stifled a laughter at the thought of the tallish, hawk-featured Council President trying to smile prettily. "Yes, I know. I believe that's a big reason why she's been steadily rising through the ranks the way she has never kept her anti-Union leanings a secret, and the people have been voting for her out of sheer spite. And I'm tempted to believe her, politician or not." "Me too." Orwel crunched his eyebrows together. "Well, let's still hear what the bigger Dahomey has got to say to this. If we agree, though and I can't really see how we could do anything but it means we'll probably have to fight some more, and pretty soon. Ready or not." "There's no way around it," Arria said, eyes suddenly focusing on a monitor screen to his right. "And we'd better be ready damn quick, because we're under surveillance right now. Willing to bet who it is?" "No need to make bets, thanks." Orwel had turned to follow his gaze, and they both saw the unmistakable signal indicating the presence of a very high-flying object almost directly above the Base. "I don't think there are very many alternatives." "Shields to max minus one," Arria said sternly. "Signal scramblers, up status to yellow. Increase the level of readiness by two." "Yes, Commander." Arria looked at Orwel, smooth face and warm brown eyes morphing into a grimly determined mask. He almost smiled. "Let them try to surprise us now. The Union would do wisely to remember that even without nearly the same level of personnel and equipment, we still managed to kick them out of this base." Orwel felt his spirits soaring and flashed a feral grin. "Well, as things stand now, we just might be able to kick them out of the whole planet." Arria laughed quietly, sounding very unlike his usual soft-spoken self.
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