|
|||
 |
|||
Here you'll find
|
Mount Robillard
34. A PromiseOsip had to try several times before he managed to hit the right button, and the cockpit of his fighter slid open with a slightly rasping hum. His hands shook, hard enough to make it difficult to fumble the seatbelts loose and pull himself out of the snugly fitting seat, and he took his time to climb down from the mighty machine that had been so gleaming and smooth only a few hours back. Now its surface was marred by innumerous bumps, stains and bruises which the M-clones gathered around it were eyeing in clear dismay.Osip took a deep breath and realized that his legs were not quite steady, either. He pushed sweat-drenched hair away from his forehead, grateful for the breeze sweeping through the hangars, and forced his feet forward. He had no idea how long the battle had raged on, but was willing to bet it had been several hours. He'd even been forced to land for refueling once, something he'd never experienced before in a real-life combat situation, and even though they hadn't deployed all their air forces at once, he hadn't been the only one who'd at some point run out of fuel. Soon after taking off again, he'd seen one particularly callous enemy fighter somehow weave its way through the seemingly solid wall of AD fire and manage a few shots at the Command Center before it was shot down at last. Direct hit, by the look of it. And he couldn't be sure, caught as he'd been in the roiling hurricane of an air battle, whether or not he'd heard Arria's flowing baritone after that. He was not sure. Osip reached the runways and stopped to catch his breath. The Command Center didn't look too good, but it wasn't as bad as he'd feared. He wanted to run but his legs refused to cooperate. Walking straight was the most they were willing to do, so walk he did. One of the doors had been jammed shut by debris, so he chose another entrance and ducked in, picking his way from a damaged corridor to a more intact-looking one. He had to get to the Control Room. He needed to get the final score from the Base Control, he needed to hear the dismal account of lost lives and machinery and to see for himself their situation. Most of all, right now he needed to know where Arria was. Osip could've kicked himself, the Commander of Pilots, for such selfish thoughts, but he simply had to know. "Arria!" Osip's shoulders sagged from sheer relief when he saw the blond head in the middle of the room. "Thank all the powers that be... Where's Orwel? Was there much damage here anyone got hurt?" "None dead, seven wounded." Arria smiled a little. "We were lucky. Orwel's gone to check the situation with Adam, but it doesn't promise to be too bad. Apparently this building is just about as bomb-proof as they get." "Status?" Osip inquired and let himself sink into a chair. "How do we stand? All I know any more is that we managed to beat them back. Lost count of everything else up there. Let me know the worst." "Osip, we're the luckiest bunch alive!" Arria slouched to sit on the edge of the big table and shook his head, as if not fully believing his own words. "We've lost some pilots and a few are still unaccounted for, but on the whole our losses are small. Materially as well. And I have to say that even though you performed fabulously up there, the AD really saved the day." Osip nodded wearily. "Good to hear," he muttered indistinctly. "Maybe I'd better head for the shower, though. I feel like death twice warmed over." "You're probably dehydrated," Arria realized after eyeing the man critically for a few moments. He couldn't remember ever before seeing Osip so physically exhausted after piloting, but then, this certainly hadn't been their typical battle, either. The tenacity of the attackers, not to mention their numbers, had been simply staggering. "I'm not even going to tell you how long you were up there at one go." "I don't want to know," Osip grunted and stumbled on his feet, needing both of his tottery arms for help. For a moment he leaned heavily on the table, then pulled himself up and left without another word. Arria frowned, watching his rigid back until it vanished from sight, and took his comm. "Orwel, do you copy?" "Yes, Commander, what's the matter?" "I suppose you're with Adam... make sure that the MC's in hangar duty know how to act in case there are more pilots than just Osip who are ready to keel over after landing." "Oh, right. I'll see to it. Doesn't look too bad over here, by the way. We'll go check the AD banks next for damages." "Okay. I'll be here supervising things. Keep me updated." "Will do." Arria knew from long experience that the battle fever took its time to dissipate from his veins, and decided to use the resulting bout of energy usefully: sorting out information, cataloging damages, being the Supreme Commander. However, he was not prepared for the other Commander-type responsibility that forced itself upon him about half an hour later, when his trusted Lindell came rather wide-eyed to tell that there was a call waiting for him. "Supreme Commander Hamidha?" Arria instinctively straightened his back when he saw the heart-shaped face and enormously thick, practically bobbed dark hair of Council President Nowen. She looked grim, and also surprisingly disheveled to be obviously calling on important business. "Madam President," Arria nodded. "Has something happened?" "You could say so." The woman's lips drew into a sneer. "I suppose you have been under attack as well? I have been trying to establish contact with you for a while already." "We have," Arria said, then the words penetrated fully. "Did you say as well? What " "Ziroshel Union in its infinite wisdom has decided to give us a warning, it seems. The Planetary Council Building has been bombed." Arria found himself speechless. Nowen nodded to him. "Yes, it is true. By sheer luck nobody has been killed, as far as we know at the moment. But don't you think they've made their point rather clear? Our decision has not been much appreciated." "Could hardly be any clearer," Arria muttered. "Has the Council any plans for such contingencies?" "Nothing official, but from our previous meeting I can tell what it will be. If the Union thinks we are going to back down, they are mistaken. This means war, Commander. They've treated the Planetary Council of Jainah as another rebel group very well, we will indeed become one. If the Union prefers a confrontation to just peacefully leaving us to our own devices, they will have it." "Madam President, I'm sure you understand that even though our strength has greatly increased after the capture of this base, we cannot provide very extensive military " "We are not expecting that," she waved a dismissive hand. "The Council understands that at the moment you probably have your hands full repelling attacks by the still existing Union bases. We only request you to take care of those remaining bases." When the transmission ended, Arria sank slowly into a chair and rubbed his face with his palms. This is it now. This is getting truly big. The whole of Jainah is openly behind us. I dread what is still to come... but at least it shows that we haven't been fighting for nothing. And at least he could guess, by the number of enemy craft they'd managed to annihilate during the hours-long battle, that the two bases still facing them were now severely weakened. It had been a vicious show of concentrated will, launched a few days after they'd first spotted the stealth planes trying to glean out some information of their activities. Their glaringly obvious intention had been to wipe the Plains Base out of existence. No sneaking, no hurting or playing with strategies. Just go there and do as much damage as you only can. Considering their damages and the losses of their enemy, the plan had backfired spectacularly, Arria hoped. Corinn squeezed his big form out of the AD gun cockpit and flashed a grin at Orwel and Adam who looked relieved seeing him emerge, sweaty but triumphant. Reed's swarthy face behind them was grinning ferociously as well, and Corinn gave him a thumbs-up. "Not too bad, was I?" "Not bad at all, that for sure," Reed acknowledged. "Good shooting, man. I'm sure to add you on my list of regulars from now on." Corinn inhaled deep and stretched his arms. "It sure felt good to be doing something useful also during a battle. Everybody okay?" "So far so good," Orwel nodded. "Only one gunner is slightly wounded from a near hit, but not severely. The entire AD team performed superbly." Reed had already marched forward and was now peering into the cannon bank next to Corinn, eyebrows crumpled together. "Kid? Hey, pretty boy, you all right?" Corinn darted forward and made to push past Reed, but he was greeted by a slim figure that crept out of the cockpit without a word. Lancer's hair dangled limply over his face and his hands trembled, but at least he was on his feet. Reed grabbed him gently by the elbow. "How're you feeling?" the man inquired in a surprisingly soft tone. Orwel observed in passing that Lancer seemed to coax out the softer side of just about everybody, then sighed in relief when Lancer lifted his head and managed a little smile. It was a weak smile that hardly convinced anyone, but it was his eyes that loosened the tight knots of anxiety inside Orwel. Lancer looked tired, haunted by the destruction and loss of life he had been contributing to, but in control. "I'm feeling absolutely awful," he said. "But I'll be all right after a while." Corinn opened his mouth to say something, then glanced over his shoulder instead and grinned as he heard the sound of running feet. It was a flustered Scott, barging into the building like a flash. "Lancer, Lancer, are you here?" "Right here," Lancer wheezed when the dark boy grabbed him into a rib-cracking embrace. "Let's go rest a little. And I think we both could use a shower." Scott, looking remarkably fit after such a grueling day, nodded to him with a determined pout. "Yes, we will do that. The battle is over for now." "Scott hardly seems worse for wear," Orwel observed as the two stepped out, arms around each other. "According to Arria, even Osip was ready to drop. Must be part of the genetic engineering... probably they've been rigged to endure much higher stress levels with less effect on their metabolism, or something." "You're talking gibberish, Commander," Corinn grumbled and Reed nodded firmly in affirmation. "Probably makes sense to somebody in the know, but plain gibberish to me. Right, I'll be off as well. Might go check how my hunk is doing and then head to the canteen. I suppose that hasn't suffered any?" "Don't worry, you did a good job protecting it!" Orwel chuckled. "Go right ahead... ah, Arria wants me. I'd better be going as well." Lancer numbly let Scott walk him into the long, low building where they were housed, along a corridor to their own door, and inside. All his thoughts and feelings were rolling over each other inside him, but he felt his grip of sanity returning. It had been slipping during the days that had passed since their mission, he'd known it and been horrified but helpless to stop himself. But now, after being thrown into battle again, or rather forcing himself into it, he thought he was beginning to sort things out. He didn't like what he was doing, but at least he knew where his priorities lay. And inside this room, their own den, he could feel safe for a while. In the sanctuary he shared with Scott. They didn't say a word as they peeled off their clothes and stood for a long time under the shower, washing each other. Silence still reigned while they dried themselves and slipped into some fresh clothes. Lancer didn't feel like talking, and Scott never was one for idle chatter. It was a comfortable silence in which they dressed up enough to have dinner with the others. Scott looked at Lancer from under his brows and frowned. They were not in a hurry, and he knew what his blond love needed right now. He grinned a little to himself, sat on the bed and backed to lean his shoulders against the wall. Lancer glanced at him in surprise, then slipped out his shirt and toed off his shoes. A seductive smile began to hover on his lips as he knelt on the bed and crawled on all fours to slither between Scott's legs. "Off," he ordered but didn't wait for action and instead started to open the zipper of Scott's jacket. Scott arched his back obligingly and let him throw the piece of clothing away, then settled back with a little smirk. Lancer kissed his navel and trailed up, kiss after kiss, to nib at his nipples. Scott wriggled a little and pulled him closer, raised his knees to gently squeeze the slim waist between his thighs, pleasantly aroused. And, just as pleasantly, a little embarrassed after all it wasn't nearly evening yet but here they were, half naked on their bed. Lancer nuzzled his face on Scott's chest, wrapped his arms around the wiry body and turned his head to press his cheek against warm, bare skin. Scott's heartbeat was a steady, strong rhythm in his ear, so loud when so close. One firm hand was rubbing his back in idle circles, the other toyed with his hair, and Lancer smiled, eyes closing. This was a moment of bliss, he decided. Pure bliss. Scott felt the smile on his chest and lifted a wisp of hair to smell it. He couldn't identify the smell, but somehow it made him think of green. He blinked. Green? Yes, green, the green of the forest covering the lower slopes of Mount Robillard. And maybe a little like the green that grew in certain parts of Trelissac. A green smell. Lancer's eyes were green, too, in bright light. "Lancer?" "Yeah?" "I love you." "I love you, Scott." The arms around Scott tightened, he ghosted a hand under that silky hair and let it caress the side of Lancer's face. "We should be going to eat soon," Scott said aloud to remind himself of the fact. "Mmh..." Lancer let the gentle rise and fall of Scott's chest lull himself into a light doze. He felt the hardness against his belly and the way his own body responded to it, but they were a promise, not a demand. Scott was so relaxed underneath him, fingers tracing the curve of his ear, steady breath tickling a little on the top of his head. "Sure, soon... Corinn will probably call when they're going..." As if on cue, his comm buzzed. Lancer squirmed a little and snaked a hand under himself to fish the tiny thing out of the hip pocket of his tight trousers. Scott frowned a little at the unfamiliar call signal but Lancer, still rather drowsy, merely activated it and pulled it closer. "Yeah?" "Rob?" Lancer's eyes snapped open. A soft male voice, tentative tone, one single word. His throat went dry, fingers curled around the comm almost painfully. Scott felt him freeze and looked down in alarm, but that hair hid the face from his eyes. He raised his hand to push it back and saw Lancer's lips trembling in an effort to reply. "Rob, I hope you don't mind my calling you, but I finally dared contact Maurice and he told me how to reach you." "Daddy," Lancer managed at last. "Dad, no, I don't mind that you called. I'm so glad that you did. I I'm sorry I haven't..." "It's all right, Rob, I think I can understand." His father was smiling, probably through tears, but clearly relieved. "Of course Maurice couldn't tell us much, but I know you're involved in the rebellion. It's the main thing to hear at least something, to know at last that you're all right. We're not asking you to tell anything more than you feel you can. But Rob, it's so good to know you're alive..." Now his father definitely was crying. Lancer felt Scott's finger touch his cheek and brush off a tear, and he swallowed to clear his voice again. "Daddy..." Like a little kid he was, still calling his father that, but it'd always been the running joke in their family. "Daddy, I'm fine. And I'm happy. Very happy. There's no need to worry about me. I mean it. And maybe I'll be able to come and visit you. It might take a while, seeing as things are, but I promise to come some day." "Sorry about this." His silly father was actually sounding contrite. "I'm just so relieved. I guess I couldn't fully believe it, even though Maurice assured me he's seen you and all." "Don't apologize." Lancer smiled to the comm. Scott's body had relaxed once more and was now cradling him gently, the fingers once more playing in his hair. Scott was curious, he could feel it. "Let me guess, Mum doesn't know you've got my contact, right? You're being the brave one and only telling her if the news is good?" "You know me too well!" God, it was good to hear that chuckle. "Look, we'll call you together later, okay? Or maybe you could call us when you have time?" "I will," Lancer promised. "I'm sure to save this link info, now that I've got it." "Good. Rob..." Hesitation, then decision. "How how did you get involved? Did that crush of yours have something to do with it?" "Dad, you really know me too well!" Lancer almost grinned. "Yes he did. I didn't know it to start with, but he was a rebel and then uh, let's say that he got in trouble and I happened to be present at the time. That's how I landed with the rebels in the first place." "Right... and now?" Careful, again. Not wanting to hurt, just in case. "You said he 'was' a rebel. What happened?" "He was killed in action. It was tough, but I had good friends who helped me get over it." Lancer sighed a little. "But that's all in the past. I've got a place, now, where I belong." "I'm sorry, Rob. Wish I could've been there to help you. But I'm happy to hear you're doing well now. Do you have you got someone again?" "Yes." Lancer raised his face to give Scott a radiant smile. "In fact he's holding me right now. His name is Scott, and he's the most wonderful person in the world." "Say hi to him from me. I hope we get to meet him sometimes. And... sorry if I interrupted something." "Daddy!" Lancer tried to sound scandalized. "If you had, I wouldn't have answered. And no, we're in fact just being lazy for a moment before going to grab something to eat." "All right, just wanted to make sure!" Lancer could practically see the boyish grin on his father's face. "And please call us soon, Rob. I'll tell your mother the good news, but I'm sure to end up in the doghouse because I didn't tell her in advance that I'd be trying to call you." "I know, Daddy, and I will call you soon. Tell Mum that I love her." Lancer's fist closed around the comm and he leaned his chin gently on Scott's chest, eyes shining. Scott looked down at him, feeling a strange tightness inside himself. "You look happy, Lancer," he said quietly. "Do you miss them?" "A little." Lancer crossed his ankles and hugged him. "One day, we'll go to see them. You and me. When things have calmed down again." "You think they will calm down?" "They'll have to, eventually. We'll make them." Lancer settled down once more, cheek pressed on Scott's warm skin. He felt the muscles bundling under him as Scott leaned closer to hug him. "And then we go to Sanherno to see my parents." "Funny. I have never met anybody's parents before," Scott mused. "What will they say of me?" "They'll love you." Lancer's arms tightened around him. "I know it. And you'll like them." "Are you sure they will like me?" Scott sounded dubious. "I am a clone, after all." "That doesn't mean anything," Lancer mumbled. "Clone, random, it doesn't matter. You're the man that I love, and that's what counts. They'll love you, you'll see." "Is that a promise?" Scott inquired, and Lancer lifted his head to smile to him. "Yes. And you know I tend to keep my promises."
| ||
 |
|||
