DISCLAIMER - I do not own Advance Wars or anything copyrightedly relating
to within, which is copyrighted and owned by Nintendo, although I do happen
to like this piece of work I've written and if I ever discover some random
lamer forging it in their name I will be substantially cheesed off, and
nasty letters from me will commence bombardment on said lamer. So don't
even bother stealing it. However, you MAY place this on your website
without my consent should it have an Advance Wars fanfiction section. If
that happened and I discovered such a thing has occured, I'd actually be
quite flattered. Thank you, and enjoy.
______________
The Fighters - Part II
By RustyD
______________
~----~
~Mission Thirteen: To Die in Vain~
~----~
There was nothing but darkness.
It had consumed him, had completely taken over his soul. Though not concious of where he was, he felt fearful - Yet at the same time, relaxed. It was a very soothing darkness, one that he didn't want to come out of. He wanted it to take him in and grasp him tightly, to not let him go. He would be safe as long as he was here, surrounded by nothing.
But for some reason, there was something wrong with the darkness. Something out of tune. He didn't feel as though he were dead, he just felt like his mind was suspended somehow, here in the midst of this mysterious blackness. There was pain in him, and as the minutes passed, he felt his mind growing weaker, as though it were losing something. What was wrong?
Well, he'd figure it all later. For the time being, he relaxed in the comfort of the blackness, happily content with nothing in particular.
Suddenly, he felt pain in his ears. They rang horribly, as though banshees were singing their highest notes as loud as they could. And there were terrible booms as well, coursing through him, his mind. He couldn't decipher where they were coming from, but they seemed so far away, as though they weren't even in this same universe. Even still, they annoyed him. Why wouldn't they stop?
"I can't get the bullet out while we're under attack!" he suddenly heard a frantic voice say. But like the booms, the voice sounded tizzy, distant. He tried to ignore it, but it left a bad first impression on him.
"Then we need to get him to the basement!" This voice, though it was as far away as the first, was recognizable. Yet he couldn't get a bead on its origin. It confused him, but it didn't matter much now. He was perfectly fine with staying here in his pleasant little black place.
But then, he heard something that startled him a great deal. "Glenn, wake up!"
Glenn? Yes, that's right. His name was Glenn. Glenn something. He'd try and remember later.
"Come on, Glenn! Wake up!" No. Leave Glenn alone. But the voice was getting closer, and he realized that it sounded terrified, as though it were being accompanied by tears.
"Don't give out on us, Gordon! Don't give out!" This voice was new as well, and it was growing much closer now. He felt as though he could now reach out and touch them if he tried, but he didn't feel it necessary to bother to. These voices certainly sounded concerned, and his wonderful dark place suddenly didn't seem so wonderful anymore. Wherever they were, he wanted to be with them. It was growing lonesome, after all, being by himself.
"Wake up, Glenn, please!" Fine, fine. Maybe he should try and move. He hadn't bothered to give it a shot since entering the darkness, but it seemed like the appropriate thing to do at the moment.
Here went nothing.
Suddenly, without warning, Glenn Meyer Gordon became fully aware of his surroundings. His eyes popped open, blinking a few times. At first, he felt everything was too doggone bright to see anything. Yet his hearing hadn't left him - He heard someone groan loudly in pain. Then he realized it was his own voice.
Disoriented, Glenn squinted and looked at the people surrounding him. One or two, he didn't recognize, but there were three people who seemed familiar. Only a second needed to pass before he remembered who exactly they were. Tuxedo Ral, Fel Banon, and Rainey Banker stood over him.
No, they weren't standing.
They were running. Glenn realized he was being carried along by two of the base's medics, both of them with one arm around his shoulders and the other under his thighs, creating a makeshift chair for him as they rushed him to wherever they were headed. Glenn didn't ask why. He was in too much pain.
He remembered the hideous wound that had created itself thanks to a stray round fired by one of those Black Hole cretins, and he looked down at the hole. They had apparently patched it up as best they could for the time being, but the hole obviously wasn't closed yet. It still hurt like the dickens, and Glenn felt if it became any worse he'd black out again.
The medics and three pilots rushed him towards the long set of stairs that led to the Reagan base's basement, but as soon as they rounded a hall corner, a pair of Black Hole troops became visible to them. Fortunately, their backs were turned, and they were busy firing at something outside near the runways. Glenn realized that the gun battle had not yet ended, and it was still dark as it had been before he'd lost conciousness.
Uttering nothing out of fear for their lives, the medics were forced to change their route, but the place was still full of Black Hole troops. This was getting costly.
"In here!" one of the medics yelled, and he burst into a random office, plowing the door open with his free shoulder.
They carried Glenn over to the desk and lay him down on it as the three Thunderbolts followed them in. Glenn layed there, on the verge of unconciousness again, but he tried to pick out what their expressions were saying anyway. He'd have to fight the darkness if he fell back into it, and he feared that this time, he may not get out once he went back in.
He couldn't remember ever seeing a more worried expression on Tuxedo's face. That was very unlike him, but given the circumstances, it wasn't anything to be ashamed of. Fel Banon had a hard look about him, as though he may actually be worried about what would happen to Glenn. The Thunderbolt leader found that even more appalling. And then there was Rainey, who looked like she would collapse any moment. She certainly looked exhausted, yet tears ran down her cheeks with no sign of stopping.
"Rainey," Glenn grunted, his throat hoarse as the medics proceeded to try and excavate the bullet lodged in his gut once more, "how are you alive?"
She looked confused amidst the terror in her eyes. "What, Glenn?"
Glenn hesitated a moment, taking in some of the more intense pain and waiting for it to subside as best it could. "That trooper killed Cassie. Where were you?"
"I," she stammered, "I hid under the bed."
He stared at her.
"I put my hands over my head and tried to drown out the sounds." She looked at the ground, as though ashamed to look Glenn in the eye, and for a moment she looked as though she'd taken on the part of a scared little girl. "But then I saw you there against the wall, bleeding. I almost screamed. The medics rushed in and grabbed you, then."
She walked up to the desk, looking like she may break out in tears again at any moment. She put a hand on his and stood there next to him, staring down at him and the medics as they worked. "I'm sorry."
Glenn coupled his fingers around her hand. "Don't worry about it."
The medics worked tirelessly as occasional gunfire rang out all around the base. But the gunshots were beginning to subside in numbers slightly. And by now, the base's military police were swarming the halls outside of the lot of them. It was clear who was winning the battle now.
Glenn looked dowards at the medics as they continued, but not five seconds later, as he squinted terribly to try and block out the horrible pain from the sudden dislodging of the bullet, he saw the bloody little leadbolt being taken out of his body, and a great sense of relaxation overcame him. Finally.
The medics proceeded to begin patching up the wound as best they could while Glenn continued talking to his friends warily.
Outside, a group of the base's military police were still engaged in a gun battle with some of the Black Hole troops. The gunshots still raged on full throttle on this side of the base, thankfully far away from where Glenn recieved treatment for his wound. Bullets sprayed all around the lot of them as they returned fire, trying to finally end this battle.
The Black Hole troops they were engaged with suddenly turned tail and bolted out the twin-doors behind them, prompting the military police to race off after them. "Come on!"
Blasting out the door, the base police raised their handguns and opened fire at the troops, but some of the enemy were turning around and firing right back. The problem was that the police didn't have anywhere to really get into cover, and more than a few of them ended up being mown down by the heavy, powerful gun-arms the Black Hole troopers used.
Still, the police were able to get in some good shots of their own. The Black Hole soldiers had become outnumbered, and more losses didn't help anything. The remaining few of them sprinted off from the gun battle and headed directly towards the hills to the north of the base.
But the police didn't pursue. They stood there a moment, wondering what to do. Should they go after them? What if there were more enemy troopers over those hills? The remaining base police would simply get torn apart, and it was still nighttime, it being pitch-black over those hills.
That was when George Beauregard stepped out the door behind them and approached the group. Behind him were three more members of the military police, but they seemed geared up for something, as though they were going on a very, very long walk.
"Okay," he said to the three troops accompanying him as he pointed to the fleeing Black Hole troopers, "I want you all to follow them, and find out where the blue blazes they came from. You've been given enough rations, but remember that you're not carrying much ammunition, since this will be a covert operation."
The three soldiers nodded as they all slipped on sets of nightvision goggles, activating them in unison. They wouldn't have much success if they couldn't see where the pursued was, after all.
"Wait until they're farther over there, you don't want them seeing you." Then Beauregard walked back into the building from whence he'd came. He needed to find out how his pilots were doing, each and every one of them. He certainly couldn't let himself relax until he knew they were all safe and accounted for.
Glenn was still on the desk back on the other side of the base, but he was trying his best to sit upright. It didn't look to be working to well. Waves of nausea kept coming about him, and while he didn't vomit, the feelings were enough to continuously make him lay back down.
"Will you calm down?" one of the medics grumbled. "You were just shot, kid. And we're not done patching the wound."
"I've got to find out," Glenn grunted as he again tried to sit upright though not being overly successful, "if everyone else is alright. What about Bubba and Tristan? And Achmed? I've got to go and find them!"
"Fine, what would I know about your health? I'm only a damned doctor," the medic groused irritatedly as he continued patching the wound whether Glenn liked it or not.
"We'll go and see if they're alright, Gordon. You just take it easy." Fel Banon nodded his head towards the door to Tux, and the two of them proceeded out the door, carefully scanning the dark hallway before they went rushing out of it. They disappeared from Glenn's view, but a very odd expression formed on his face.
He rubbed his head slightly before talking again as he struggled upwards again, not noticing the annoyed look he recieved from the medics when he did so. "Why on Wars World is Banon suddenly being, well, normal?"
Rainey sighed. "He's always been normal, Glenn. He's a little egocentric, yes, but he still cares about his wingmates. And that includes you, no matter what conflict you get into."
Glenn sat there, taking this information in - Trying to believe it. It didn't work. "But he's such a dog sometimes. And he nearly got me killed in all that fog. How am I supposed to believe that at once?"
"Glenn, he's your comrade!" she reasoned, growing upset that Gordon was apparently trying to start an argument right here and now, even if he wasn't. "He cares about you, he told me himself!"
He eyed her strangely. "He did?"
Still finding it hard to believe, Glenn finally seemed capable of sitting upright without any real nagging problems, despite the pain that came from the obvious wound in his gut. That would take some time to heal, but at least having it patched up would keep it from bleeding, and as long as it was so, Glenn felt he had the duty of moving about and checking to see if everyone was alright.
He began to struggle off the desk, but he was instantly stopped by the doctors, who growled insidously at this fool pilot's downright bizarre behavior. Anyone who had just been shot should have been layed up in bed for at least a week, at best. What was this guy thinking? Well, he was a military man, and all these macho dingbats seemed to try and think moving around like an idiot even if they'd had a ligament shot off was the manly thing to do. "Doggone, Gordon, can't you just settle down for a minute?"
"I'll be fine," he grumbled loudly as he staggered over to the door, Rainey trying to help him stay stable and upright without falling over flat on his face.
But just as he got there, the door swung open from the outside and crashed right into Glenn, toppling him instantly. "Accck!"
Rainey, literally gasping until her lungs combusted, dropped to the floor to try and help him up. Commander Beauregard swept in, having thrown the door open far too quickly, though he hadn't necessarily realized he'd done so. The older fellow peeked around the room until he spied Glenn lying there like a sack of mud. "What in blue blazes happened to you, Gordon?"
Glenn glared ion bolts at him.
"Nevermind. I need to go find those wingmates of yours - Just sit tight for a while." And Beauregard flew right out the door as quickly as he'd come in, leaving Glenn to lie there and stare in shock at the absurdity of what had just occured.
"I told you!" one of the medics instantly ravaged. "I told you to just sit down, since you wouldn't be goin' nowhere for a while! But no, couldn't listen to the darn doctor, could you? Had to do the manly thing. . ." And the very annoyed man continued his bantering as Glenn sighed heavily and simply laid his head backwards onto the floor, Rainey still worrying over him like he was some sort of pet of hers.
---
Far away from the base, maybe three hours after the gun battle had finally ended, the Black Hole troopers who had gotten away came across their small convoy that served as their transportation and current base of operations.
A whole slew of similar soldiers came rushing up to their colleagues and wrapped their heavy, armored arms around them, trying to help them over to a medical area of the convoy. Once there, the returning troopers began to recieve treatment for whatever wounds they had recieved during the gun battle at Reagan, but almost immediately, they were approached by a very unfriendly person.
One of the trooper's big, repulsive eyes widened even larger than they already were as it spotted its current commander storming over to it.
The other trooper, sitting down on a table outside the convoy medical truck, didn't seem to notice their commander approaching them at full gait, but as soon as it heard the ominous sound of footsteps on grass, it turned and gasped as best to its ability - Which actually came out as a high- pitched gurgling sound.
"C-Commander," it stuttered fearfully as the figure loomed before them, "you grace us with your presence? We are honored-"
"Dispense with the false gratitude, my little peon. Such words of sincerity are rarely authentic." Lash crossed her thin arms as she raised her eyes at the creature sitting before her. Her black frizzy hair didn't seem to waver in the least, despite the wind was picking up now as stormclouds brewed over them. "Did your platoon successfully eradicate or deracinate the Orange Star squadron Mr. Boldigh is so concerned over?"
The soldier sat there, staring at her, beads of sweat appearing on its bumpy, miserable forehead. The answer was obviously one that Commander Lash would not find terribly amusing. "My apologies, my lady. They had a much more tenacious force than we initially predicted, and we suffered many losses. I fear we are the only survivors from the attack."
She looked down at them for a few seconds, expressionless. Though Lash never conveyed many emotions at one time, it was simple enough to tell right then that she was not pleased, and this worried both of the soldiers. "You did not answer my question."
The trooper cleared its slimy throat.
"I believe only two of the enemy targets were eliminated, though I am not positive about one of them," it gurgled. "Others sustained injuries, but we can't confirm-"
"You are as blunderous as you are incompetent at your duty." Lash's black- outlined eyes narrowed slightly, causing the trooper's eyes to intensify in fear for its life. "What am I supposed to report to Mr. Boldigh and Commander Flak when we return to Fate's Point?"
Realizing the grand mistakes it had committed back at the assaulted Orange Star base, the trooper respectfully bowed towards the ground as it sat there. "Words cannot express my sorrow, my lady, for I have tainted the Black Hole cause. Please forgive me and my colleague."
But Lash was ignoring the soldier and its sympathied bow, talking to another Black Hole officer next to her. "I want these two sent to the front lines. Don't bother with their injuries - Perhaps it will remind them of the consequences that accompany failure."
"Yes, my lady," the officer returned as it gave Lash some very bizarre form of a salute, and it went right up to the two troopers, grabbing them and leading them off towards one of the convoy trucks as they stammered incessently, trying to get their beloved Commander to change her already set-in-stone mind. Neither of them were successful.
Walking away from the medical truck, Lash casually stepped over to a large computer unit in the middle of the largely-black convoy, keying in a few words on the screen. Anyone sitting at the other computers tried their best to ignore her, but it was quite the difficult thing to do with her standing there, eyeing at them as they tried to conduct business. Eventually, everyone near her finally up and left, leaving her in peace to do her work.
The computer's monitor flashed in many different colors repeatedly, but then, the large, looming face of another Black Hole alien officer took up the entire viewing screen. As it spoke, its already repulsive voice sounded distant and scratchy from the poor sound the monitor had enabled. "What is your bidding, my lady?"
Lash responded immediately, getting to business before the officer could even begin to fathom what she wanted from him. "How goes construction of the cannon?"
Hesitating a moment to check a few sheets of paper it held, the officer blinked its large set of red pupils as it scanned the notes. Then it looked back up towards the screen. "Very steady, my lady. We have all available units on construction duty. The cannon itself is not yet operational, but that status will change within approximately seventy-two hours. Construction of the operations dome at the moment is merely cosmetic to add shielding to our officers inside-"
"Cancel all work on construction of the dome's outer hull. I want all units working on the cannon itself." She crossed her arms again, as though it were a done deal. "Carry out the order at once."
Those ominous red eyes blinked again confusedly. "I beg your pardon, my lady?"
"Cancel all work on construction of the dome's outer hull and put those units to work on construction of the cannon," Lash repeated, toneless, expressionless.
The officer looked as though this information was not acceptable. Cancel work on the dome? Preposterous. Even though Fate's Point was the largest Black Hole base in the Macro-Orange Star region, the idea of leaving their own soldiers unguarded simply wasn't a tolerable thought. "Err- My lady, if we abort the dome's construction, that will leave the cannon's operators unshielded, open to attack. Surely you jest."
"The Black Cannon has the power to obliterate any of our foes in the blink of an eye, and you are concerned over whether or not the operations dome has the shielding necessary to prevent their dead carcasses from colliding into it?" Lash glared at the officer, an expression not often used by her, and it sent a chill down the creature's lop-sided spine. "You do not deserve to oversee the construction of such a fine mechanism. You are cowardly - You do not assist the cause that is Black Hole, you merely tardy it like the worthless, ungrateful sack of mesh that you are. It is because of incompetent, blundering worms like yourself that we are being pushed back so greatly in this conflict when we should have already taken control of the entire continent by this time."
The creature's skin shook rapidly, sweat pouring down its gray face. "I- I'm sorry! My lady! Please forgive me! I'll have every available unit put to work on construction of the cannon at once!"
"Good," Lash muttered, her voice still as bland as before, "and see to it that Kailaff Boldigh is notified that the attack on the Orange Star base failed."
"Y-yes, my lady." The officer nodded its head, and quickly closed the video link between them, honestly not wanting to converse with Lash any longer than it needed to.
Lash switched off the computer and picked a radio up off of the table next to her.
"Begin moving the convoy," she stated into it while opening the back doors of one of the many trucks and stepping into it, "we're moving out."
Static came back over the radio, followed by the obvious response. "At once, Commander."
As all of the troops loaded up the equipment, the convoy slowly began to rumble forth, headed back to the Fate's Point base. It would take two days to reach it since they needed to take the long way around Fog Valley, but the journey would likely go undisturbed.
And at that moment, towards the very back of the convoy, the three Orange Star soldiers who had been following the retreating Black Hole troops reached the last truck, an equipment transport, and carefully, stealthily crept into the back of it, not bothering to ask anyone if they had been invited to come along. Fortunately, there was little presence of enemy soldiers back here, so they would presumably have a safe-enough ride to wherever it was they were now headed.
They prayed their own journey wouldn't last very long, and they prayed it would stay a safe one.
--------
Author Notes:
Another chapter, another excuse to stay up into the wee hours of the morning. I'm having trouble figuring out what I'm going to do after this fanfic ends, considering it's beginning to reach the climax now. Maybe I'll take a break from fanfiction for a while. I've been wanting to do something concerning Mobile Suit Gundam, though, but I don't know about that. Who knows? I'd appreciate any Advance Wars fic suggestions, too. Give me some ideas here, folks. In any case, once again, thanks for reading, and all reviews are welcome and appreciated.
______________
The Fighters - Part II
By RustyD
______________
~----~
~Mission Thirteen: To Die in Vain~
~----~
There was nothing but darkness.
It had consumed him, had completely taken over his soul. Though not concious of where he was, he felt fearful - Yet at the same time, relaxed. It was a very soothing darkness, one that he didn't want to come out of. He wanted it to take him in and grasp him tightly, to not let him go. He would be safe as long as he was here, surrounded by nothing.
But for some reason, there was something wrong with the darkness. Something out of tune. He didn't feel as though he were dead, he just felt like his mind was suspended somehow, here in the midst of this mysterious blackness. There was pain in him, and as the minutes passed, he felt his mind growing weaker, as though it were losing something. What was wrong?
Well, he'd figure it all later. For the time being, he relaxed in the comfort of the blackness, happily content with nothing in particular.
Suddenly, he felt pain in his ears. They rang horribly, as though banshees were singing their highest notes as loud as they could. And there were terrible booms as well, coursing through him, his mind. He couldn't decipher where they were coming from, but they seemed so far away, as though they weren't even in this same universe. Even still, they annoyed him. Why wouldn't they stop?
"I can't get the bullet out while we're under attack!" he suddenly heard a frantic voice say. But like the booms, the voice sounded tizzy, distant. He tried to ignore it, but it left a bad first impression on him.
"Then we need to get him to the basement!" This voice, though it was as far away as the first, was recognizable. Yet he couldn't get a bead on its origin. It confused him, but it didn't matter much now. He was perfectly fine with staying here in his pleasant little black place.
But then, he heard something that startled him a great deal. "Glenn, wake up!"
Glenn? Yes, that's right. His name was Glenn. Glenn something. He'd try and remember later.
"Come on, Glenn! Wake up!" No. Leave Glenn alone. But the voice was getting closer, and he realized that it sounded terrified, as though it were being accompanied by tears.
"Don't give out on us, Gordon! Don't give out!" This voice was new as well, and it was growing much closer now. He felt as though he could now reach out and touch them if he tried, but he didn't feel it necessary to bother to. These voices certainly sounded concerned, and his wonderful dark place suddenly didn't seem so wonderful anymore. Wherever they were, he wanted to be with them. It was growing lonesome, after all, being by himself.
"Wake up, Glenn, please!" Fine, fine. Maybe he should try and move. He hadn't bothered to give it a shot since entering the darkness, but it seemed like the appropriate thing to do at the moment.
Here went nothing.
Suddenly, without warning, Glenn Meyer Gordon became fully aware of his surroundings. His eyes popped open, blinking a few times. At first, he felt everything was too doggone bright to see anything. Yet his hearing hadn't left him - He heard someone groan loudly in pain. Then he realized it was his own voice.
Disoriented, Glenn squinted and looked at the people surrounding him. One or two, he didn't recognize, but there were three people who seemed familiar. Only a second needed to pass before he remembered who exactly they were. Tuxedo Ral, Fel Banon, and Rainey Banker stood over him.
No, they weren't standing.
They were running. Glenn realized he was being carried along by two of the base's medics, both of them with one arm around his shoulders and the other under his thighs, creating a makeshift chair for him as they rushed him to wherever they were headed. Glenn didn't ask why. He was in too much pain.
He remembered the hideous wound that had created itself thanks to a stray round fired by one of those Black Hole cretins, and he looked down at the hole. They had apparently patched it up as best they could for the time being, but the hole obviously wasn't closed yet. It still hurt like the dickens, and Glenn felt if it became any worse he'd black out again.
The medics and three pilots rushed him towards the long set of stairs that led to the Reagan base's basement, but as soon as they rounded a hall corner, a pair of Black Hole troops became visible to them. Fortunately, their backs were turned, and they were busy firing at something outside near the runways. Glenn realized that the gun battle had not yet ended, and it was still dark as it had been before he'd lost conciousness.
Uttering nothing out of fear for their lives, the medics were forced to change their route, but the place was still full of Black Hole troops. This was getting costly.
"In here!" one of the medics yelled, and he burst into a random office, plowing the door open with his free shoulder.
They carried Glenn over to the desk and lay him down on it as the three Thunderbolts followed them in. Glenn layed there, on the verge of unconciousness again, but he tried to pick out what their expressions were saying anyway. He'd have to fight the darkness if he fell back into it, and he feared that this time, he may not get out once he went back in.
He couldn't remember ever seeing a more worried expression on Tuxedo's face. That was very unlike him, but given the circumstances, it wasn't anything to be ashamed of. Fel Banon had a hard look about him, as though he may actually be worried about what would happen to Glenn. The Thunderbolt leader found that even more appalling. And then there was Rainey, who looked like she would collapse any moment. She certainly looked exhausted, yet tears ran down her cheeks with no sign of stopping.
"Rainey," Glenn grunted, his throat hoarse as the medics proceeded to try and excavate the bullet lodged in his gut once more, "how are you alive?"
She looked confused amidst the terror in her eyes. "What, Glenn?"
Glenn hesitated a moment, taking in some of the more intense pain and waiting for it to subside as best it could. "That trooper killed Cassie. Where were you?"
"I," she stammered, "I hid under the bed."
He stared at her.
"I put my hands over my head and tried to drown out the sounds." She looked at the ground, as though ashamed to look Glenn in the eye, and for a moment she looked as though she'd taken on the part of a scared little girl. "But then I saw you there against the wall, bleeding. I almost screamed. The medics rushed in and grabbed you, then."
She walked up to the desk, looking like she may break out in tears again at any moment. She put a hand on his and stood there next to him, staring down at him and the medics as they worked. "I'm sorry."
Glenn coupled his fingers around her hand. "Don't worry about it."
The medics worked tirelessly as occasional gunfire rang out all around the base. But the gunshots were beginning to subside in numbers slightly. And by now, the base's military police were swarming the halls outside of the lot of them. It was clear who was winning the battle now.
Glenn looked dowards at the medics as they continued, but not five seconds later, as he squinted terribly to try and block out the horrible pain from the sudden dislodging of the bullet, he saw the bloody little leadbolt being taken out of his body, and a great sense of relaxation overcame him. Finally.
The medics proceeded to begin patching up the wound as best they could while Glenn continued talking to his friends warily.
Outside, a group of the base's military police were still engaged in a gun battle with some of the Black Hole troops. The gunshots still raged on full throttle on this side of the base, thankfully far away from where Glenn recieved treatment for his wound. Bullets sprayed all around the lot of them as they returned fire, trying to finally end this battle.
The Black Hole troops they were engaged with suddenly turned tail and bolted out the twin-doors behind them, prompting the military police to race off after them. "Come on!"
Blasting out the door, the base police raised their handguns and opened fire at the troops, but some of the enemy were turning around and firing right back. The problem was that the police didn't have anywhere to really get into cover, and more than a few of them ended up being mown down by the heavy, powerful gun-arms the Black Hole troopers used.
Still, the police were able to get in some good shots of their own. The Black Hole soldiers had become outnumbered, and more losses didn't help anything. The remaining few of them sprinted off from the gun battle and headed directly towards the hills to the north of the base.
But the police didn't pursue. They stood there a moment, wondering what to do. Should they go after them? What if there were more enemy troopers over those hills? The remaining base police would simply get torn apart, and it was still nighttime, it being pitch-black over those hills.
That was when George Beauregard stepped out the door behind them and approached the group. Behind him were three more members of the military police, but they seemed geared up for something, as though they were going on a very, very long walk.
"Okay," he said to the three troops accompanying him as he pointed to the fleeing Black Hole troopers, "I want you all to follow them, and find out where the blue blazes they came from. You've been given enough rations, but remember that you're not carrying much ammunition, since this will be a covert operation."
The three soldiers nodded as they all slipped on sets of nightvision goggles, activating them in unison. They wouldn't have much success if they couldn't see where the pursued was, after all.
"Wait until they're farther over there, you don't want them seeing you." Then Beauregard walked back into the building from whence he'd came. He needed to find out how his pilots were doing, each and every one of them. He certainly couldn't let himself relax until he knew they were all safe and accounted for.
Glenn was still on the desk back on the other side of the base, but he was trying his best to sit upright. It didn't look to be working to well. Waves of nausea kept coming about him, and while he didn't vomit, the feelings were enough to continuously make him lay back down.
"Will you calm down?" one of the medics grumbled. "You were just shot, kid. And we're not done patching the wound."
"I've got to find out," Glenn grunted as he again tried to sit upright though not being overly successful, "if everyone else is alright. What about Bubba and Tristan? And Achmed? I've got to go and find them!"
"Fine, what would I know about your health? I'm only a damned doctor," the medic groused irritatedly as he continued patching the wound whether Glenn liked it or not.
"We'll go and see if they're alright, Gordon. You just take it easy." Fel Banon nodded his head towards the door to Tux, and the two of them proceeded out the door, carefully scanning the dark hallway before they went rushing out of it. They disappeared from Glenn's view, but a very odd expression formed on his face.
He rubbed his head slightly before talking again as he struggled upwards again, not noticing the annoyed look he recieved from the medics when he did so. "Why on Wars World is Banon suddenly being, well, normal?"
Rainey sighed. "He's always been normal, Glenn. He's a little egocentric, yes, but he still cares about his wingmates. And that includes you, no matter what conflict you get into."
Glenn sat there, taking this information in - Trying to believe it. It didn't work. "But he's such a dog sometimes. And he nearly got me killed in all that fog. How am I supposed to believe that at once?"
"Glenn, he's your comrade!" she reasoned, growing upset that Gordon was apparently trying to start an argument right here and now, even if he wasn't. "He cares about you, he told me himself!"
He eyed her strangely. "He did?"
Still finding it hard to believe, Glenn finally seemed capable of sitting upright without any real nagging problems, despite the pain that came from the obvious wound in his gut. That would take some time to heal, but at least having it patched up would keep it from bleeding, and as long as it was so, Glenn felt he had the duty of moving about and checking to see if everyone was alright.
He began to struggle off the desk, but he was instantly stopped by the doctors, who growled insidously at this fool pilot's downright bizarre behavior. Anyone who had just been shot should have been layed up in bed for at least a week, at best. What was this guy thinking? Well, he was a military man, and all these macho dingbats seemed to try and think moving around like an idiot even if they'd had a ligament shot off was the manly thing to do. "Doggone, Gordon, can't you just settle down for a minute?"
"I'll be fine," he grumbled loudly as he staggered over to the door, Rainey trying to help him stay stable and upright without falling over flat on his face.
But just as he got there, the door swung open from the outside and crashed right into Glenn, toppling him instantly. "Accck!"
Rainey, literally gasping until her lungs combusted, dropped to the floor to try and help him up. Commander Beauregard swept in, having thrown the door open far too quickly, though he hadn't necessarily realized he'd done so. The older fellow peeked around the room until he spied Glenn lying there like a sack of mud. "What in blue blazes happened to you, Gordon?"
Glenn glared ion bolts at him.
"Nevermind. I need to go find those wingmates of yours - Just sit tight for a while." And Beauregard flew right out the door as quickly as he'd come in, leaving Glenn to lie there and stare in shock at the absurdity of what had just occured.
"I told you!" one of the medics instantly ravaged. "I told you to just sit down, since you wouldn't be goin' nowhere for a while! But no, couldn't listen to the darn doctor, could you? Had to do the manly thing. . ." And the very annoyed man continued his bantering as Glenn sighed heavily and simply laid his head backwards onto the floor, Rainey still worrying over him like he was some sort of pet of hers.
---
Far away from the base, maybe three hours after the gun battle had finally ended, the Black Hole troopers who had gotten away came across their small convoy that served as their transportation and current base of operations.
A whole slew of similar soldiers came rushing up to their colleagues and wrapped their heavy, armored arms around them, trying to help them over to a medical area of the convoy. Once there, the returning troopers began to recieve treatment for whatever wounds they had recieved during the gun battle at Reagan, but almost immediately, they were approached by a very unfriendly person.
One of the trooper's big, repulsive eyes widened even larger than they already were as it spotted its current commander storming over to it.
The other trooper, sitting down on a table outside the convoy medical truck, didn't seem to notice their commander approaching them at full gait, but as soon as it heard the ominous sound of footsteps on grass, it turned and gasped as best to its ability - Which actually came out as a high- pitched gurgling sound.
"C-Commander," it stuttered fearfully as the figure loomed before them, "you grace us with your presence? We are honored-"
"Dispense with the false gratitude, my little peon. Such words of sincerity are rarely authentic." Lash crossed her thin arms as she raised her eyes at the creature sitting before her. Her black frizzy hair didn't seem to waver in the least, despite the wind was picking up now as stormclouds brewed over them. "Did your platoon successfully eradicate or deracinate the Orange Star squadron Mr. Boldigh is so concerned over?"
The soldier sat there, staring at her, beads of sweat appearing on its bumpy, miserable forehead. The answer was obviously one that Commander Lash would not find terribly amusing. "My apologies, my lady. They had a much more tenacious force than we initially predicted, and we suffered many losses. I fear we are the only survivors from the attack."
She looked down at them for a few seconds, expressionless. Though Lash never conveyed many emotions at one time, it was simple enough to tell right then that she was not pleased, and this worried both of the soldiers. "You did not answer my question."
The trooper cleared its slimy throat.
"I believe only two of the enemy targets were eliminated, though I am not positive about one of them," it gurgled. "Others sustained injuries, but we can't confirm-"
"You are as blunderous as you are incompetent at your duty." Lash's black- outlined eyes narrowed slightly, causing the trooper's eyes to intensify in fear for its life. "What am I supposed to report to Mr. Boldigh and Commander Flak when we return to Fate's Point?"
Realizing the grand mistakes it had committed back at the assaulted Orange Star base, the trooper respectfully bowed towards the ground as it sat there. "Words cannot express my sorrow, my lady, for I have tainted the Black Hole cause. Please forgive me and my colleague."
But Lash was ignoring the soldier and its sympathied bow, talking to another Black Hole officer next to her. "I want these two sent to the front lines. Don't bother with their injuries - Perhaps it will remind them of the consequences that accompany failure."
"Yes, my lady," the officer returned as it gave Lash some very bizarre form of a salute, and it went right up to the two troopers, grabbing them and leading them off towards one of the convoy trucks as they stammered incessently, trying to get their beloved Commander to change her already set-in-stone mind. Neither of them were successful.
Walking away from the medical truck, Lash casually stepped over to a large computer unit in the middle of the largely-black convoy, keying in a few words on the screen. Anyone sitting at the other computers tried their best to ignore her, but it was quite the difficult thing to do with her standing there, eyeing at them as they tried to conduct business. Eventually, everyone near her finally up and left, leaving her in peace to do her work.
The computer's monitor flashed in many different colors repeatedly, but then, the large, looming face of another Black Hole alien officer took up the entire viewing screen. As it spoke, its already repulsive voice sounded distant and scratchy from the poor sound the monitor had enabled. "What is your bidding, my lady?"
Lash responded immediately, getting to business before the officer could even begin to fathom what she wanted from him. "How goes construction of the cannon?"
Hesitating a moment to check a few sheets of paper it held, the officer blinked its large set of red pupils as it scanned the notes. Then it looked back up towards the screen. "Very steady, my lady. We have all available units on construction duty. The cannon itself is not yet operational, but that status will change within approximately seventy-two hours. Construction of the operations dome at the moment is merely cosmetic to add shielding to our officers inside-"
"Cancel all work on construction of the dome's outer hull. I want all units working on the cannon itself." She crossed her arms again, as though it were a done deal. "Carry out the order at once."
Those ominous red eyes blinked again confusedly. "I beg your pardon, my lady?"
"Cancel all work on construction of the dome's outer hull and put those units to work on construction of the cannon," Lash repeated, toneless, expressionless.
The officer looked as though this information was not acceptable. Cancel work on the dome? Preposterous. Even though Fate's Point was the largest Black Hole base in the Macro-Orange Star region, the idea of leaving their own soldiers unguarded simply wasn't a tolerable thought. "Err- My lady, if we abort the dome's construction, that will leave the cannon's operators unshielded, open to attack. Surely you jest."
"The Black Cannon has the power to obliterate any of our foes in the blink of an eye, and you are concerned over whether or not the operations dome has the shielding necessary to prevent their dead carcasses from colliding into it?" Lash glared at the officer, an expression not often used by her, and it sent a chill down the creature's lop-sided spine. "You do not deserve to oversee the construction of such a fine mechanism. You are cowardly - You do not assist the cause that is Black Hole, you merely tardy it like the worthless, ungrateful sack of mesh that you are. It is because of incompetent, blundering worms like yourself that we are being pushed back so greatly in this conflict when we should have already taken control of the entire continent by this time."
The creature's skin shook rapidly, sweat pouring down its gray face. "I- I'm sorry! My lady! Please forgive me! I'll have every available unit put to work on construction of the cannon at once!"
"Good," Lash muttered, her voice still as bland as before, "and see to it that Kailaff Boldigh is notified that the attack on the Orange Star base failed."
"Y-yes, my lady." The officer nodded its head, and quickly closed the video link between them, honestly not wanting to converse with Lash any longer than it needed to.
Lash switched off the computer and picked a radio up off of the table next to her.
"Begin moving the convoy," she stated into it while opening the back doors of one of the many trucks and stepping into it, "we're moving out."
Static came back over the radio, followed by the obvious response. "At once, Commander."
As all of the troops loaded up the equipment, the convoy slowly began to rumble forth, headed back to the Fate's Point base. It would take two days to reach it since they needed to take the long way around Fog Valley, but the journey would likely go undisturbed.
And at that moment, towards the very back of the convoy, the three Orange Star soldiers who had been following the retreating Black Hole troops reached the last truck, an equipment transport, and carefully, stealthily crept into the back of it, not bothering to ask anyone if they had been invited to come along. Fortunately, there was little presence of enemy soldiers back here, so they would presumably have a safe-enough ride to wherever it was they were now headed.
They prayed their own journey wouldn't last very long, and they prayed it would stay a safe one.
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Author Notes:
Another chapter, another excuse to stay up into the wee hours of the morning. I'm having trouble figuring out what I'm going to do after this fanfic ends, considering it's beginning to reach the climax now. Maybe I'll take a break from fanfiction for a while. I've been wanting to do something concerning Mobile Suit Gundam, though, but I don't know about that. Who knows? I'd appreciate any Advance Wars fic suggestions, too. Give me some ideas here, folks. In any case, once again, thanks for reading, and all reviews are welcome and appreciated.