Night at Carpentaria Base – Author's Note.
This is just a bit of fluff really, to help me get back into writing after a long busy spell with other things. It is a side story to "On Earth" and fits into the timeline between chapters 9 and 10. It can however be read as a stand alone item. It takes place on the night Athrun is 'missing' out in the Pacific. The ZAFT team stays at the Carpentaria Base before starting the search for him the next morning. Dearka and Yzak have a relationship but each perceives it differently. Dearka thinks they are friends who have sex and Yzak has realised that he is in love with Dearka but will settle for what the other boy is willing to give him. Their night together is restless, with memories of Rusty somehow coming to the fore….
Night at Carpentaria Base
Dearka stood looking out at the sprawling runways and hangar buildings gleaming in the harsh lights of Carpentaria Base. He turned as a puff of warm damp air signalled Yzak's entrance from the bathroom.
"This is pretty impressive, you know, considering it all started from a cluster of prefabricated buildings and components dropped from space last year."
Yzak grunted. "Yeah. But it's only ours for as long as the treaty with the Oceania Union holds up. I don't trust those Natural bastards in the long term. We shouldn't put too many resources into this place."
Dearka looked thoughtfully at him. Sometimes Yzak was privy to inside information from his mother, who served on the Supreme Council's National Defence Committee. They were close, and Yzak had grown into a political confidante, maybe even something of an informal advisor to her, as he got older.
Dearka would bet that had accelerated since the war started and Yzak was able to pick up a lot of front-line military gossip through serving in ZAFT, which his mother might not otherwise hear. No doubt he gleaned information about high-level ZAFT attitudes in return. Was his comment about Carpentaria Base simply his personal opinion, or did he know something?
Dearka shrugged mentally. There was no way he could ask. Yzak was pretty close-mouthed about anything he learned from his mother. Sometimes Dearka just had to connect the dots for himself. He certainly wasn't going to ask his own father for information about Supreme Council business.
Leaving aside the fact that Tad Elsman was only a member of the less high-powered Administrative Committee, they weren't really close enough to have that kind of conversation, anyway. His mother had been his father's only emotional link to the rest of the world, including Dearka. When she died seven years before, they were left with a gulf between them neither had ever learned how to cross….and both had long ago given up any attempt.
Dismissing his thoughts, he smiled at Yzak who had joined him at the window. "Nicol doesn't share your views of the local Naturals. He was here while you were in the shower. Told me he'd actually bumped into one of their pilots while he was checking on the Blitz. The guy saluted and they had a nice friendly chat."
Yzak snarled, "What the hell was a Natural doing wandering around in one of the hangars? Haven't the bastards on this base heard of security? That's absolutely insane!"
Dearka shrugged. "Apparently a few of their mobile suits come through here from time to time, on their routine patrols. Part of the liaison with our Oceanic Union allies, I suppose, however strange it seems."
"Hmmph! I hope that idiot didn't go and blurt out any information to the bloody Natural. Did he say what they talked about?"
"Not in any detail. Just a brief exchange of pleasantries, I think. Nicol said the guy kept staring at his hair."
"At his hair!"
"Yeah, I guess the colour had him wondering. You'll probably be equally fascinating to the locals," said Dearka, with false sweetness and a sly smile at the boy standing beside him.
"Bastards! I have no intention of giving them the opportunity to stare at my hair. We're not going to be around here long enough to socialize with any bloody Naturals, either. And I'm going to have a word with Nicol about his little encounter!"
Yzak half turned as if to make for the door on this mission immediately. Dearka instantly looped an arm around his waist and pulled him to his side, a move only briefly resisted by his silver-haired companion, despite his protest.
"Let go of me, you arsehole!"
"Aw, you don't want to waste time on Nicol tonight, do you? We've only got this night together, and fuck knows when we'll get another chance like this! Besides, Nicol came to say that he was turning in early for the night. He's arranged with the Transport Command Office to take out a helicopter at first light. He asked me to tell you that he's plotted what he thinks is the best search pattern given what we know about Athrun's last position. He logged the data and a copy of his own flight plan on the terminal here, while you were in the shower."
Dearka squeezed Yzak closer to him and chuckled. "I got the distinct impression that he was damned glad to find that you were unavailable when he knocked at the door. I think you've got him intimidated, Yzak."
Yzak grunted. "Bloody little coward." But his voice sounded rather distracted as he leaned closer into the warmth of the lithe muscled body pressed against his own.
"I suppose I can always talk to him tomorrow," said Yzak huskily.
Then there were no more words for a long time as the two boys melted into each other in a long hungry kiss….
Later that night….
Dearka suddenly awoke. He and Yzak lay side by side, just where they had dropped asleep, sated and exhausted after their wild lovemaking hours before. He tried to stretch and ease his muscles, without disturbing Yzak. The bed was really only designed for one occupant. The proximity of their bodies made for an uncomfortable level of shared heat, despite the valiant efforts of the air conditioning.
Was that what woke me up? Dearka wondered fuzzily to himself.
He inched himself away from Yzak and then silently slid out of the bed. He stood quietly, hands lax at his sides, watching the sleeping form of his lover. He was waiting to see if his departure woke the other up. After frowning briefly in his sleep, Yzak's face relaxed again. His body seemed to instinctively know that there was now more space available, as his legs stretched out across the bed. Dearka gazed down with pensive tenderness at the damp tendrils of silver hair sticking to Yzak's brow, his face peaceful in sleep.
Hell, Yzak's a great fuck! Who would ever have thought he'd turn out like this? Such an emotionally uptight bastard, in so many ways unable to express feelings... Except for his lousy temper, of course. Maybe it's the same energy inside that makes him so good at sex?
The strangeness of what their relationship had become, washed over Dearka afresh at that moment. Not that he regretted anything. But sometimes the idea that he and Yzak were now lovers rather than best friends, or more accurately, lovers as well as best friends, had an unreal dream-like quality.
It was the war that had done it…so many lives had been bent out of shape…twisted and changed by the war. They were just two of many who had been swept out of their original paths into new and untried territory. And they were among the lucky ones at that. The image of Rusty's smiling face floated vividly through his mind…
If there hadn't been a war, they'd have been enrolled at university by now. Yzak had been going to study law, Cosmic Era history and political science. All nicely planned out to the fine detail, for that future political career of his that Ezalia Joule was so set on for him.
Dearka grimaced. At least his own busy and mildly disinterested father hadn't tried to push any particular career at him. There was something to be said for having a distracted parent who just let you get on with things. Of course, Dearka had still been wrestling with the question of what he wanted to study, to do with his life, when the war had broken out. Joining ZAFT had removed the necessity of that decision.
Dearka smiled with dark humour. If he went the same way as Rusty, it would never be something he'd ever have to worry about again….
Deep in his own thoughts, he had not taken in the small flutter of Yzak's eyelashes that betrayed his wakening state. Suddenly he found himself impaled by two fierce blue eyes staring up into his own.
"What the fuck are you grinning at, Elsman? Do you find something funny about me when I sleep, or do you usually stand around in the middle of the night smirking about nothing?"
Dearka grinned down at his peppery lover. "I got up because I was hot. I wasn't laughing at you, Yzak. I was just thinking how the war has changed everything. We would have been at university by now, if it hadn't happened."
"Hmmph! You've got a weird sense of humour if you think that's funny."
Dearka smirked. "I guess it's just my warped mind showing."
"You mean it saved you the trouble of having to actually make up your warped mind! The only thing at school you ever showed any enthusiasm for was the Japanese dance club. And they damn well don't offer that as a university course!"
Dearka trailed his knuckles down the curve of Yzak's jaw and smiled down into those intense blue eyes. "Did you ever consider anything other than a career in politics, Yzak?"
Yzak blinked and frowned up at his questioner. "No. It's what Mother's always wanted for me. And as I have no burning ambitions about anything else….. Why the hell are we having this conversation, anyway? There are damn better things to do with our time, as you pointed out yourself, earlier."
He's right. Discussion of a future that we might never have is a waste of time.
Dearka grinned. "So you're ready for another round?"
Whatever Yzak started to say in reply was lost in the roar of a flight of DINNs taking off from somewhere close by. He slipped out of bed and joined Dearka who had quickly moved to the window. The lights of support vehicles and the headlamps of ground crew moved in the darkness outside; there was no sign of dawn yet.
Yzak glanced at the time on the com-unit which confirmed that they still had an hour. He had set it to wake them some 30 minutes before dawn. And then the search for bloody Zala would begin. He felt the usual surge of irritation at the thought of his rival, the tensing of the muscles at the back of his neck, bringing a familiar ache.
He looked out at the scene of lights and hangars, seeking distraction before the anger grew great enough to destroy the sense of well-being that sex with Dearka always brought him.
No he corrected himself, not sex, love-making. If I can't at least be honest in my own mind about how I feel about Dearka, I'm really lost. The thought was tinged with a strange mixture of wistfulness and anger at himself. He was glad to find something outside to take his attention.
A bank of floodlights was switched on in front of one of the more distant hangars, allowing Yzak to pick out the details of a mobile suit standing in the doorway. He frowned in surprised recognition, stepping closer to the window to stare at it.
It was a GINN; an old YMF-01B. A type that was obsolete well before the war even started. ZAFT used them for training purposes only. What could it possibly being doing here? This was an active base, not a training facility.
Yzak's fists clenched as memory stirred. Some of his worst experiences at the ZAFT Academy had taken place in that type of old GINN. The scent memory alone made his stomach feel queasy.
"What the hell is that doing here?" Yzak growled.
"Huh, what are you looking at?" asked Dearka.
"Down there. Can't you see it? An old trainer-type GINN like the ones at the Academy."
Dearka peered down. "Shit! You're right. I never thought I'd see another of those old monstrosities again." He turned to Yzak with a grin. "Bet that brings back memories of dear old 31, eh?"
Yzak turned away from the window with a sour look on his face. "I don't know what you mean."
"Oh, come on, Yzak. That literally stinking machine that the flight training sergeant saddled you with time after time? The one that smelled so bad that ground crew sometimes had to leave to puke when they did maintenance on its interior systems?"
It was a fact of life that all mobile suits smelled pretty ripe, despite their air scrubbers and the efforts of ground crew to clean them. A human body shed sweat and skin cells in the close confines of a mobile suit even in quiet conditions. In combat, blood, vomit, and other body wastes eventually made it into the system. The difficulty was in removing all the fine particles from such incidents. The banks of complex controls with their tiny nooks and crannies, none of which could be exposed to water, trapped the smell and resisted all efforts to eliminate it. One of the perks of becoming a top pilot in ZAFT was getting one's own new mobile suit. Sure, the fancy personalised exterior finish that such pilots were allowed to choose for themselves was the outward and visible sign of their status. But all pilots knew that one of the biggest advantages was starting with a clean-smelling machine. The odour of such a suit would gradually worsen, true, but at least the stink was all one's own. Not the mingled smells of other bodies, of the previous pilots who had fought and sweated, puked and bled, and maybe died, at those controls.
All the old GINNs used by the ZAFT Academy had smelled pretty funky, but number 31 had a well-deserved reputation as being the worst of the lot. Normally cadets were issued suits randomly by their numbers for flight training, but for some reason, towards the end of their course, Yzak had found himself saddled time after time, with the rotten-smelling 31. He had suspected that the training sergeant had it in for him, though he had done nothing to the man. Perhaps he supported a different political faction from that of Yzak's high profile mother? Or maybe he was a big fan of Zala, and wanted to make life difficult for the only real rival that Athrun Zala had among the cadets. Yzak had gritted his teeth and endured, unwilling to give the man the satisfaction of objecting. He knew nothing would be done, and complaining about a seemingly little thing like a smell would hardly look good on his record.
Yzak glared at Dearka. "It was nothing I couldn't cope with. I'm not a weakling."
Dearka turned back to gaze at the mobile suit but the smile lingered on his lips.
"Yeah, I never said you were, Yzak. But you must admit, it wasn't the best of experiences for you. Hey – I just had a thought! I wonder if that old suit belongs to the pilot that Nicol met? Maybe ZAFT has given some of its old GINNs to beef up the suit numbers of the Oceania Union?"
Yzak's eyebrows rose in surprise, and forgetting his angry disgust, he stepped back to the window to see if he could make out any identity markings on the suit.
"They're not the wealthiest block on Earth, so that would make sense," he agreed thoughtfully, peering down.
Just at that moment, the hangar lights went out, and their view of the suit was cut off.
"Fuck, it's gone! Could you make out anything, Yzak?"
Yzak shook his head and grimaced. "No, and I don't think I'll go looking when it's light out, either. We've got more important things to think about today."
"You don't want to make a visit for old time's sake then?" asked Dearka mischievously.
"No, I don't." said Yzak coldly.
Dearka didn't say anything further, but smiled quietly to himself. He remembered the suit in question vividly. He'd been issued with it on a few occasions before the random scheduling of suits mysteriously broke down and it became Yzak's virtually all the time. He had watched Yzak struggle through flight training, sometimes so nauseated after flying sessions that he had to sit with his head between his knees for a while before he could move on to their next class. Dearka knew better than to offer sympathy – that never went down well with Yzak, ever. Dearka had half-jokingly suggested that they do something to sabotage the suit, to get Yzak out of the problem. That had not been appreciated either, he recalled.
Weeks went by and the situation didn't change. Yzak's appetite, never huge, became worse and Dearka's concern increased. At length, he decided to have his own private word with the flight sergeant, but before he could do so, fate in the shape of Rusty McKenzie had intervened. He'd never told Yzak about that, and wondered if he should. Not as if it mattered much now. Rusty, again. Funny how he keeps coming to mind, he mused.
"What are you smirking about, Elsman?"
"Just remembering old 31 and thinking of Rusty. One kind of led to the other."
Yzak frowned. "I don't get the connection. What did it have to do with Rusty?"
Dearka decided to spill the beans. He sauntered back to the bed and sat down, with his legs stretched out and his back propped against the wall. He grinned over at Yzak, never the most patient of people, who was now glaring at him, hands on hips in a familiar pose. Dearka resisted the temptation to tell him that the effect was much less intimidating when he was naked.
"Did you ever wonder, Yzak, why you stopped getting 'old stinky' with such monotonous regularity? Rusty got along well with people, and he had friends all over the Academy. Not just among the cadets but among the support staff, too. He learned from one of his contacts about the big wager that lay behind what was happening with you and the suit."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Yzak snarled.
"Some of the staff were betting on the results of the competition between you and Athrun…"
Yzak strode over to the bed and looked down at Dearka, glaring with anger. "You mean to say they were making bets on who would win between Athrun and me and you knew about it and never said anything to me, you bastard?"
Unimpressed with the show of rage, Dearka calmly gazed back.
"Um, no," he smiled apologetically. "That wasn't the nature of the bet. The bet was on how big a margin there would be between you and Athrun when you came second. Nobody felt like betting against Athrun."
Dearka shrugged apologetically. "I knew you wouldn't be too happy about that, so that's why I didn't tell you at the time."
Two bright red spots blossomed over Yzak's cheekbones but he clamped his jaws together, visibly restraining himself.
Oh brother, why the hell did I open my big mouth, thought Dearka and hurried to explain: "The flight training sergeant had bet heavily on you coming second by quite a wide margin and he was trying to skew things in his favour by making your life difficult. He was hoping to lower your overall score sufficiently to win."
"The bastard! When I get a chance to go back to the Academy I'm going to—"
Dearka stretched up a hand to grasp Yzak's forearm, shaking his head.
"No need to, Yzak. It got done already. After Rusty passed the information to me about the bet I made sure that a couple of staff who were betting against him learned about his little scheme. You remember he wound up in the infirmary for a while with a broken arm and other injuries?
"Yeah. I remember they said the bastard fell from a suit while inspecting the hydraulics in one of the arms. He forgot to wear his safety harness…supposedly."
Dearka grinned. "Safety harness, my arse. They beat the crap out of him for trying to cheat on the bet. And after that he didn't dare do anything underhand about rotating the suits."
Yzak ground out: "So everybody but me knew about this, did they?"
Dearka shook his head, solemn now as he looked up into Yzak's stormy eyes. "No, it was just me and Rusty, among the cadets. I never spoke of it to anyone and I never saw any evidence that Rusty had either."
Yzak frowned. "I don't understand…why did he do that? It was clearly to his advantage for my score to go down; he was competing like the rest of us for one of the redcoats. Why didn't he just go along with it?"
Dearka ran a hand through his hair sheepishly. "He didn't say anything at the time and I didn't ask, but I found out something later that might explain his motivation. It was kind of said to me in confidence though…"
Yzak sat down on the foot of the bed with his arms folded, glaring at Dearka. "Spill what you know, Elsman, or there is going to be trouble. I don't like people keeping secrets from me."
Well, it couldn't really make any difference to Rusty now, thought Dearka sadly. And Yzak would never give him a moment's peace till he spilled his guts.
"Ok, ok. I'll tell you…but it stays between us, all right? It was something about Rusty's family that they wouldn't want generally known."
Yzak's eyebrows shot up but with only a moment's hesitation he nodded. "Ok, as long as it is nothing illegal that should be reported, I'll keep silent."
"No, nothing like that. In fact, the authorities know all about it; that was really part of the problem for Rusty."
"Would you mind not being so bloody cryptic and explaining this crap? We only have so much time left till sunrise!"
"Do you remember meeting Rusty's parents at the Academy graduation?"
"Yeah, so?"
"Did anything odd strike you about his mother?"
Yzak frowned with the effort of memory. He recalled Rusty's father; he had the same distinctive-coloured hair which made him somewhat memorable, but the woman….she had never spoken a word. A nod and a smile, then just stood with her husband; he kept his arm linked with hers the whole time; that was the only even slightly odd thing that he could recall. He shrugged. "She just stood there with her husband while he talked and then they went away again. Big deal."
"She's a Natural."
"Shit! And they let her into the Academy complex? Why isn't she in quarantine with the rest of them on Armoury One?"
Everybody knew there had been a round up of the few Naturals who were still living in the PLANTs when war broke out. They had all been put into preventive custody on Armoury One.
"Rusty's older brother has got influence. He kept her out."
Yzak glared in exasperation. "We seem to be getting deeper into the crap here, Elsman. What older brother? And what the fuck does this have to do with anything? Talk! Now, damn you!"
Rapid fire to get it over with, because he didn't like the dangerous gleam in Yzak's eyes or the way his fists were clenching, Dearka explained.
"Rusty got drunk one night and spilled his guts to me. He was one of three kids – fertility being a Natural attribute of his mother, I guess. Anyway, his older brother is a leading member of the team of scientists who produced the N-Jammers. He's a genius, even by our standards, and the authorities value his work so much, they knuckled under when he demanded that they leave his mother free. Well, technically free. She's kept under close observation, of course."
"And what has this got to do with Rusty helping me?"
"Ever wondered why Rusty did so well at the Academy when he didn't come from an elite background like the rest of us who got the redcoats? We all had something to prove, but what was driving him?"
Yzak's eyes narrowed. "You mean he did have something to prove…"
"Yeah, he wanted to show the authorities that his brother's superiority wasn't just a fluke – that having a Natural parent didn't make for a lesser Coordinator. He wanted to prove himself."
Dearka shrugged. "I think he helped because he wanted you to be treated fairly, just as he wanted that desperately for himself and his siblings."
Yzak's anger drained away, leaving a sombre annoyance in his face as he thought over what he had learned.
"I'm still pissed with you for not telling me about all this, Dearka."
"I'm sorry, Yzak, but it was one of those situations…I felt I owed Rusty for what he did. Don't be mad at me…the sun will be up soon now."
Yzak released a long slow breath He felt…not sad because that was weakness. Annoyed…yes that was it, annoyed with Rusty for being dead. Of cheating Yzak of a chance to talk with him face to face. Not to thank him, because that would be weakness too, but to show some… acknowledgment…that would have been fitting.
"I feel cheated," he said flatly to Dearka. "And I'm pissed with you for treating me like a fool."
"Can I make it up to you?" Dearka asked silkily, as he leaned forward to thread his fingers through dishevelled silver hair.
A wordless growl was Yak's response as he launched himself on top of the other boy.
Together they sought to blot out the memory of Rusty and thoughts of the war that was lying in wait for them with the sun.
For this little time they had respite in each other's arms. It would have to be enough; it was all they had.
Meanwhile, in the pre-dawn darkness, a small red-coated figure trudged with determination towards the hangars on the far side of the base, where the helicopter fleet was housed…
END