Battlefield Terra chapter 8, first half

[askerian]

second half is still halfway written. this is still a pretty nice chunk of fic, about 14k.

--

John reached the hangars at a dead run. Marcia was waiting with a pickup truck; he jumped on the open back and she floored the gas. He held onto the roof as she drove through piles of crates and past hurriedly backing off mechanics, riding the bumps and swerves.

"Flight suit!" she snapped, and grabbed a bundle of cloth on the seat beside her to push it through the cab's back window at John. He stuck it under his arm just as she swerved right, almost flinging him off, and then suddenly they were pacing Warhammer's immense, prone shape as it was moved onto rails toward the launch shuttle.

John didn't have time to put his flight suit on. He stuck a corner of it between his teeth, climbed onto the cab's roof; Marcia matched her speed to the flatcar and John jumped to Warhammer's wrist. He was running up the slope of its arm in the next second.

The rails made the whole frame vibrate, but not too badly. John threw himself in a controlled slide along his mech's chest plate, slapped a hand down on the cockpit door lock, and let himself fall backward through the opening, spine first into his seat.

Oof. Still lying on his back, he tucked his legs in the foot well, reached over his head to close the doors, the huge drawbridge-armor one and the slide-locking airtight ones. He spat his mouthful of cloth onto his chest as he started a preflight check. Too many lights showing orange -- not many in the absolute but even one was not so good when going toward a mission instead of back from one.

"Warhammer, do you copy?"

"Copy, flight control. I'm strapped in and ready to go." He strapped himself in quickly so that it wouldn't be too much of a lie, made sure to stick his flight suit under his ass so it would stay put in zero gravity. Marcia hadn't gotten him a helmet so probably he would have one... aha! In the compartment under his seat. Perfect.

He shoved it on. Crap, he was still wearing the telepathic headset underneath. Ow.

The fit was really tight and his skull would be sore and chafed pretty soon. He almost took it off, but then his helmet started to display tactical info and he could not even take the time to blink.

>XCLBR incapacitated, attempting extraction, no pilot response
>ECHDN incapacitated, attempting extraction, intermittent pilot response, possible psychic attack in progress
>MSAMN severe damage to all limbs, down to 35% speed, pilot response erratic, possible psychic attack in progress
>RMGTN possible damage to main reactor, down to 78% speed, 27% ammo
>PSIDN pilot response erratic, possible psychic attack in progress
>MLOTV least concern
>FLTLK ETA 6 min.
>WRHMR ETA 17 min.

Fifteen seconds of video. The alien biomech wasn't moving like anything John had ever seen -- it didn't even have legs, just the four usual arms and a long, eeling tail of a lower body, whose back was edged in serrated black spines all the way down to space-superfluous flukes.

Fish monster maybe, John thought vaguely, and then his cockpit tilted forward and he felt himself rise as the cranes lifted them into a standing position on the launch pad. He let Warhammer's computer handle stepping the rest of the way back into the launch shuttle's docking port.

Clang. Clang.

"Locked in," he confirmed. "All green." At least all the necessary crap for shuttle-assisted flight.

"Warhammer, prepare for launch in five, four, three..."

They were skipping a dozen steps at least. No preflight check. The hangar guys had probably done one in the hangar while someone was summoning Jake; it still wasn't supposed to be enough.

(Excalibur gave no pilot response. Echidna and Masamune were dead in space.)

All the pilot survival stuff like oxygen and heat checked out. He would just wing the rest.

"... one, ignition."

The rocket roared, sound muted by Warhammer's seals, so that John knew more by vibration than noise. A half-second later he didn't need to feel vibrations; he felt the kick in his chest, in his neck, where for a moment it seemed he had left his organs behind, down under.

He went through his instrument checkup routine, now that it was too late to stop.

--

By the time he got there the psychic attack had been moved up from "possible" to "confirmed."

He'd hitched a ride with a light cruiser slingshotting around the moon (the trajectory the Marine was left with afterwards looked really precarious to him. John hoped he could eject in time.) Ten minutes before engaging hostile combatant, codename Capricorn. Rose was down. He'd changed into his flight suit. Jane had lost a leg from the knee down, was shrieking. Eight minutes. He took the headband off, locked it away (he wasn't going into battle against a psychic while wearing a telepathic receiver.) Seven minutes.

Jake was engaging it. Six minutes. Jake had lost a gun. Five minutes. Roxy had landed a hit -- higher caudal area, non fatal. Four minutes.

Last pre-battle check. All weapons online.

"Molotov, do you copy?"

A hitched breath. "Copy, Warhammer!"

"Need you to boost our glasses' chat ability."

He waited as she took another shot at the biomech to get it away from Jade. "You fuckin' kidding? Where do you see a server in space?!"

"Use your mech's computer. Roxy, do it."

He was only three minutes out. Two thirty. He took the time to memorize everyone's positions. Jane was mostly attacking the biomech but she'd take a whack at anything that came close. Rose and Dave were floating (like drowned things -- no, bad thought, dump it.)

Dirk was attacking with relentless intensity, and zero regard for coordinating with others, which was how John could tell he was not himself. He'd managed to get winged by friendly fire several times, and he just ignored it and kept hammering away at the thing's armored arms, using his mech's body like a ram when the limbs failed to respond, until it slapped him away with its tail, stripping several layers of plating with each swipe of the barbed side.

"Got it!"

JH: attn. everyone.
JH: karkat can not read my thoughts when i'm typing.
JH: i repeat, karkat can not read my thoughts when i'm typing.
JH: not the thoughts i'm writing down at least.
JH: we don't know if the hostile can read us but it won't hurt to coordinate using different parts of the brain.
RX: !!!
RX: <3
JD: idk if it can read us, havent seen anything 100% "oh i saw it coming" but the guy is way too good
JK: Not sure i get it but will try!

John wished he could get confirmation that Dirk, Rose and Dave were actively viewing the discussion. There was no "online" list.

One minute.

JH: i have you on visuals.

From the alien's previous tactics, he'd go after -- Jane, John thought, or Jake. Probably Jake, he was fresher. John's intel said he'd tried going after Roxy and she couldn't land a solid hit, but neither could he.

The reaction speed advantage had been their ace in the hole for years. Where did this dude even come from, that he outmatched them all but her?

JH: roxy, grab dirk, arrow for dave.
JH: jade, jake, barrage, plasma guns.
JH: jane?

No response. Okay! Okay. They'd manage around her. He fucking hoped.

He wanted to wade in and go toe to toe with this Capricorn. He wanted to see how well it'd dodge him in Warhammer's namesake's reach.

So far he was the only one who couldn't possibly have been tagged for impending mindfuck.

He reached the battleground and circled wide without slowing down.

"Control, this is Warhammer, do you copy?"

"Copy, Warhammer."

"Need evac ready for Excalibur, Echidna and Masamune. Masamune will be combative. Get ready for emergency shutdown and pilot extraction."

He braked briefly, skidded up to Echidna's limp form, locked Warhammer's arms under her armpits, blasted off again.

JH: rox, shove masamune at excal and go back, jade's plasma pack is almost empty.

She was close enough now, he could see that on her feed; Dirk would have a hell of a time maneuvering with only the back-mounted thrusters, John would snatch him back before he went too far.

RX: hacked his magnets on, HA!

Masamune's revolving frame brushed Excalibur's. Clang. John grinned briefly in his helmet.

Alright. The support teams would be useless in the middle of combat but they wouldn't be far either, he'd be done with evac soon and then he'd--

"JOHN!"

Plasma fire bloomed on his right side rear view, a purple so white at the center it hurt to look at for the flicker of time before the cameras adjusted for the glare.

It was arrowing straight for him.

Roxy shot it twice, hit it twice; the shell went dull, went wet. It didn't care.

John shoved Echidna off him, sent her and Rose tumbling Dave-wards, blasted straight at it as fast as he could. He couldn't afford to lose his support in a chase right now and the son of a bitch was fast in a straight line, so unfair.

He went into a barrel roll as they crossed each other, only barely dodged a set of raking claws, and then he was past it and rushing to form up with the other pilots.

Who could he send in his stead to evac? He was going to need Jade's very last shots -- he did another barrel roll and then reversed the rotation, felt all the blood rush to his brain. A plasma beam roasted Warhammer's left heel, melded circuitry and bearings. John killed the alert. He wasn't going to walk Warhammer under any kind of gravity anytime soon.

The error screen flickered red, orange, settled mostly on orange. Little pinpricks dotted the outline of his mech's spine. Fuck. Yeah, he really wasn't.

He dodged behind Flintlock; its volley of shots would slow Capricorn down for John to grab his--

"Cripes!"

A high-velocity slug from Jake's railgun bore a hole through the thing's upper right shoulder. Its trajectory wobbled from the impact, and then the plasma wings bloomed again. John dodged away from behind Jake, and only barely managed to divert its trajectory enough for Capricorn to rush past Flintlock and not through it.

Okay. Okay. Dude was determined to lay one on John. Okay. He'd been erratic and borderline playful in the reports, lazy on the follow-through. Because he'd hit everyone else once already? -- shit, Immelman to the left. It was gaining.

JH: roxy, jade, i'll lead him in a straight line thirty degrees up from your axis
JH: my leg's fucked from the knee down STRAFE AT WILL!

He did. They did. Five impacts confirmed. Splatters of dark wet blood trailed behind it on Roxy's feed. It didn't even flinch, didn't slow down at all. What the fuck.

(Blood -- it was almost-alive -- the pilot was acting as its brain and telepathy worked two ways, did they kill the pain receptors when they made the biomechs? Why else wouldn't a pilot feel it, without any return how could you fly it right--)

It was on his tail it was on his tail it was swinging down -- he swerved, hard, without warning, crossed Jade's field of fire. He vaguely noticed her jerking her gun up, a bolt going wide at the corner of his eye -- it was close, no time for instruments it was catching up and --

And.

Clammy hands. Heart in his throat. That feeling of impending disaster, that instinct he's always depended on to dodge.

It had anticipated him. It was gaining, oh shit, it was gaining--

Either the instruments were lying to him, or...

JH: hes mindfucking me!!!!

It was -- the distance was shorter now, because goddamn but this had been a stupid maneuver he'd just done, but Capricorn didn't turn as well -- as with most biomechs it was faster on straight lines, John knew, and he'd seen it flip around on a dime, with that tail, but without hands and feet propulsors it couldn't race like a mad hare the way Warhammer could, no matter that his fucked up leg messed with his balance.

It'd made him feel it was closer than it really was. It still did. He blew up the instruments readings across his screens, flashed them red -- barrel-rolled to the side, went around in a curve, shit, the guy was trying to herd him away from his backup. He told his nerves to shove it, his shaky hands, his clenched guts.

"You're cheating!" he yelled to himself. The cockpit was silent save for the thrum of machinery. He should have put on some angry music the way Roxy did; hell, even Dave's retro-coolio hip-hop would be a plus at this point. Drown out all intrusive thoughts, only let through instinct and ingrained trainiiiing Jesus that one had gotten close.

"Did that fucker seriously barf a plasma beam at me oh my god."

Jake barked out an involuntary laugh in his mike. "He seriously did!"

John grinned (or bared his teeth, either or.) The humor put some distance between him and the terror cramping in his guts -- not much, but enough.

It felt the way talking with Karkat felt; he couldn't really tell where the thoughts came from, experienced them inside his own skull in the same place his own thoughts came from, but there was a flavor to them, a shape, a vibration different from his own thoughts, from his own fear.

"I can believe that's not butter, bro," he rasped (his throat was dry.) "I'm not buying,"

JD: jesus fucking GOD john if youre going crazy here i will shoot you in the butt myself!!!

Whoops.

JH: haha no sry thinkin outloud

He wished he would get the three seconds he needed to stabilize his mech and draw out the goddamn hammer it was named for; the damaged leg already caused problems, at this speed the gesture needed to grab the pole from his back would send him spinning in a straight, predictable corkscrew to nowhere.

The herding was getting him pretty far from Jade and Roxy, though they were trying to follow -- but it made it hard for them to maintain their position, or, hell, to find any that they could use without shooting him too. It wasn't like he could send them his flight plan!

It was getting him pretty close to Jane, because she'd been doggedly trying to close in from the start.

He didn't like how she hadn't communicated with him at all, or shown much strategy. The way she swung her trident, she wanted to bash the biomech over the head until it stopped twitching, and then stab it deader for good measure.

JH: sis, i dumped your maltese eaglething book in a mud puddle, it's ruined to hell and back! :B
JH: and the bookmark fell out. whoops.

No response. A sick fear grabbed him by the guts, deeper than the alien's made-up one -- Jane being escorted out of a troop transport, Poseidon-less, face bloodless and eyes blank, Jane pacing and snarling and unable to relax, to rest, unable to look at a Marine's uniform without flinching with devastated guilt.

She'd been getting better.

Claws raked his leg, sent him careening wildly in an entirely unplanned direction. Fuck. He needed to stop running and fight, waiting for it to bleed out was a useless strategy but how the hell was he meant to fight without any good weapon?

JD: sending you a flight plan FOLLOW IT EXACTLY!!!!

John gritted his teeth as another swat sent him whirling in another direction; he couldn't even look at the arrows on his screen before he'd stabilized and fired his leftover foot propulsors straight into one of Capricorn's grasping hands. He went plunging into it at breakneck speed, his instruments beeping mine warnings at him with every turn. Holy crap, the girls and Jake must have dumped all their leftovers, it was like a three-dimensional maze made of small, almost invisible explosions in a can.

He flicked a tab, dropped a bunch of his own mines in his wake to close the path.

Mines detonated, flung Capricorn's length from side to side, a salvo of flashes without sound. John burst out of the minefield and immediately swung the hammer from his back.

Behind him, a shockwave of -- of some kind of energy triggered the mines in a row, glare-blinding his cameras for a second.

Capricorn emerged gleaming wet with blood, black shell cracked and dinged in places.

Roxy was closer. It arrowed straight for John once again.

The whole thing was starting to feel extremely personal.

Especially when he started wanting to throw up once again, when the face of the biomech staring at him with its odd black-light eyes started feeling like it saw him, John inside his cockpit, right through the metal, it saw right through him --

Get the hell out of my skull, asshole! he mind-yelled, hoping it could hear him back.

(Probably not, it hadn't seen some things coming, like the minefield, God he had to believe that--)

The cockpit seemed to close up around him like a fist; he could almost hear the metal crumpling inwards; the screens darkened. His helmet's oxygen didn't seem to be coming out right.

He tried to breathe, even as he desperately jerked his mech onto a new escape trajectory, half at random.

A hard jerk had his body straining against the flight harness; well-padded as it was, the way his head bounced and his guts seemed to lurch and crowd up under his ribs could hardly be faked.

The son of a bitch had him by the leg.

John stared down at it, watched it stare back up, claws slowly digging into the plating; its odd maw was open in an unfriendly rictus. They ate, Karkat had told him they did, they fed.

All those teeth, all those --

Hands clenching hard on the controls, he swung his hammer down.

Red lights bloomed on his instrument control panels -- gyro popped, the load-bearing upper arm support slanted out of alignment. It went by in a flash and yet he knew even as the hammer was coming down that it would miss the head.

It hit hard in the shoulder blade of the already injured upper-arm; black shell plates cracked, knifelike spines broke straight off. The biomech twisted around his leg like a furious eel on a line, shaking Warhammer around. John's head rapped against the side of his seat, against the other side, whiplash, brain shaken even despite all the ways in which he'd been tailor-made to deal with acceleration speeds that would knock a normal human right out.

(His instruments were beeping warnings at him -- torn-off leg plating, fuck, this was the good leg, circuits gone offline, he really wasn't walking Warhammer anywhere after this. His poor buddy.)

The hammer was gone; the locator beacon showed it on a trajectory that right now meant a lot of too damn far. John swung his mech's hands down, rained punches that did jack shit. Capricorn's shell was cracked in so many places John couldn't imagine how it wasn't retreating already, how it wasn't dead.

They'd never fought any alien who could keep it up that long, who'd go up against the eight of them and knock over half of them out.

Jade and Jake were so far away on the other side of the minefield and where the fuck was Roxy, and Jane --

JH: jane, i need you!
JH: i'm fucked if you don't help.

She didn't respond and she wasn't moving, just floating there in space, what the hell was up with her, oh no, no. He was going to die, this thing was going to kill him, he was going to fail and get Jane and his clonesibs killed and then they'd pour down onto Earth, he couldn't breathe over the certainty that he was going to die --

RX: GERONIMO!!!!!!!

Molotov seemed to him to have teleported in, though objectively it had to have been racing at them for a while. It hit, fist first in that odd beast maw, and then as its head flew to the side, its metal arm slipping around the biomech's neck for a haymaker of epic proportions. John and Warhammer were once more sent flying ass over head, plus several other angles of rotations that strained even his augmented stomach and inner ear.

-- Jesus dick, it was still grabbing onto his ankle with one hand. And then two hands, fuck, fuck. Three hands. Both of Warhammer's ankles were caught, one of them hugged even by the secondary arms; that one wasn't about to get freed. Roxy was coming back for another pass but at the speed it crawled, and its mouth coming open with that odd flickering purple light coming from its gullet --

Jade was in position.

But nothing she had left would pierce that shell.

Well, okay.

JH: JADE LEG OFF NOW!

She didn't even need to ask him what he meant, didn't pause to second-guess, on his wavelength exactly. Her last plasma bolt seared through the hole in Warhammer's thigh's plating, the exposed wiring, the underlying struts. A sharp punch of his own, and it was breaking off.

Capricorn's secondary arms twitched open -- startled? -- and with a savage grin John wrenched his mech's severed leg free to backhand the alien with it.

He blasted his back-mounted thrusters the second that last primary-hand loosened on his other ankle, shooting free. Roxy almost goosed him, using his flight to hide her dive until the last possible second.

RX: catch!!!

He let go of the leg, grabbed his hammer as Roxy rammed another fist -- collarbone hit; she'd been aiming for the chest, it had curled up. Still closer to the chest, to the alien pilot's womb-nest, than it had let any of them get so far.

One of its main arms was pretty damaged, though not entirely out. The second one -- John watched it try to rise for a second, the way Capricorn flipped around to follow Roxy, reminded quite sharply that it and John weren't alone on the battlefield.

Maybe it shouldn't have forgotten John was still there.

He braked hard, and plunged, hammer ready. His flight stabilizers were shot, Warhammer's body lopsided; he went into a corkscrew. It didn't matter.

His hammer's thrusters kicked in.

There was no sound in space. He'd have heard that arm break otherwise. The swing took him past the upper body, broke off some more back spine on the way. The alien convulsed, and fell on him like an enraged beast.

It was a blind melee after that, flickers of terror trying to find purchase in his mind but his body was too busy, his hands were too busy commanding his mech for his brain to catch up, reflex after spinal reflex, savage elbows to the face, hard jabs with the handle of his hammer. The tail threw him off -- couldn't swish the handle between legs it didn't have to flip it around. He tried swinging the hammer again, had it grabbed somehow a mere meter before contact with the chest (the force shoved the alien's hand back into its own shell, hard -- not enough to crack the alien's cockpit.) Deadlock.

The alien's snake-fish tail whipped around Warhammer's chest. Started squeezing.

Dark, gloopy blood smeared on a few of his cameras. The hammer was caught between them -- so was the last of the alien's stronger, primary hands. The small ones came up to cup, almost lovingly, John's mech's face, and then started twisting.

It wouldn't kill the mech to have its head broken off, even if there were a ton of sensors in there he'd be miffed to lose. The spine, though, was already beyond fucked -- had started out fucked -- and that was more of a problem.

The real problem was the way Warhammer's frame groaned and sang, the way metal screeched.

His mech was good as dead. Another two minutes.

So.

JH: sis.
JN:nrihbmk&&&
JN:here

He shoved the alien terror to the side and smiled.

Let go of the trapped hammer, freed his hand. Held it out.

JH: weapon plz. sharing is caring.
JH: hey, i love you.

He heard her snarl in her mike, was briefly stunned that all this time he hadn't -- that she'd been silent.

"You shut your fool mouth before I stash a soap in it!" she yelled, and threw her trident out.

It hit and locked in his palm with a clang of electromagnets.

The biomech's armor was cracked to hell and back. Jane's trident's edges were lined with monofilament blades. The only real question was whether its chest would stop the points before they reached John's cockpit. Only one way to find out!

John swung down.

"--John!"

Jade's yell couldn't stop him, he was committed, it was too late.

Jade couldn't, but Karkat could.

The trident glanced off against Cancer's massive, shield-like pincer, skewed hard to the side, and then Cancer impacted the both of them and they went careening into the void.

John couldn't breathe.

That nightmare shape with the red in the cracks screamed enemy, target, but inside was Karkat, Karkat his friend, his prisonbuddy, his -- he couldn't breathe, couldn't, he punched down hard onto Capricorn's broken collarbone, flicked his thrusters on and off to try to sear that tail off him, try to yank free. Battle, he needed to gain ground to swing, ground for his allies not to be scared of joining in, it was Karkat --

Cancer wedged its upper body between Warhammer's chest and Capricorn's bared teeth. Its back was wide open to John, and Warhammer still had the trident in hand, chipped tines or not.

He breathed in, and breathed out, and forced his hand to unclench from the controls to go feeling around the overhead compartment for the telepathic headset.

A desire to destroy so deep it felt like lust slammed into his mind the second it was turned on. Dry-heaving, he jerked his hands off the controls entirely. No, fuck, no, he needed to get to Karkat, not that monster, Karkat --

(Fear-rage) how fucking dare you, you fucking dumbasses I'll kill you both (no I won't, no), stop that, let go let the fuck go already--

Oh.

John went loose in his seat, eyes closing.

Karkat was here to help.

John could feel a strange phantom echo -- Karkat's body, and Cancer's body around him, matching him almost beat for beat. He was slowly, tenaciously wedging himself between the two of them, trying to force Capricorn to let go. Capricorn's tail tightened with a spasm and the lights through John's eyelids turned even redder; his mech shuddered. An alarm was beeping; John cracked an eyelid open to check. Not the cockpit or its life support; nothing to freak out about.

JH: he's here to help.

He said it again, out loud, for the support teams and all the Marines his farthest radars showed him following. "Cancer's trying to help."

Of course I am why the fuck else -- John! You're online/linked/brainbond! (didn't notice too busy shit) don't kill him fuck don't kill him (I'll do anything oh please he came I can't believe he came--)

"I -- think he knows the dude. Could yet end this without bloodshed."

Without any more, at least. God, his friends.

He firmed his voice. "All units hold position, I repeat, all units hold position."

JH: jane, i'm gonna need you to move back a tad.
JH: roxy, if she won't move, please move her.
RX: yeah sur ehting
JN:I can manage.
JD: john, what the fuck is going on!?!!!

The miasma of guts-twisting terror slowly receded; Karkat's own thoughts only seemed to get brighter in contrast, loud and crystal-clear. They weren't turned toward John (John wasn't an asshole-not-listening-damnit.) John thought he was maybe talking to the dude? It felt like that, at least. Turned outwards. He wasn't sure how you could speak in that womb-cockpit full of wet glop, though.

(With my mind stupid, more controlled is all) (don't distract me now)

John tried to follow the conversation; Karkat's thoughts were such a mess it was hard to decide what made it out into the (radio-communicator-farspeaker); even harder to translate what made it back into words.

But you're dead, he caught once, echoed through very clearly, for how sharply it stabbed Karkat through.

"Warhammer, this is Meteor Alpha-Zulu-Eight-Niner, come in! Over."

John wet dry lips. "Meteor Alpha-Zulu-Eight-Niner, this is Warhammer. I'm in telepathic contact with Cancer. Capricorn is calming down, Cancer's talking him down. Over."

(You were dead, you died)

Do I look fucking dead to you, stupid (I love you.)

It was all through Karkat's mind, in and out and underlining everything, a running thread of "you came, I can't believe you came, I love you so much I could die."

John wondered if it was going through to Karkat's friend. It didn't feel like he was trying to broadcast it.

The biomech's tail released him all at once, and chunks and pieces of his mech that had been kept in place by the pressure floated off; sparks flew. John's left-side back-thruster was dead. Everything south of his cockpit was liable to break off if he tried to move under his own power. He kept Warhammer floating, even as Capricorn's black, serrated tail slithered off and wound itself around Cancer instead.

Karkat's biomech was patting Capricorn on the muzzle with a giant pincer. It was somehow surreal enough to be hilarious.

Shut up, voyeurasshole.

I love you too! shot back out thoughtless and teasing, but right on its heels was the memory of Karkat's gut-wrenching I love you, I love you to that guy with the antelope horns who'd...

Who'd been told John had killed his boyfriend. Wow. Yeah. "Personal" covered it nicely.

The Marines had arranged themselves in several layers all around the three of them, barely a mile out. John didn't want to think about how many of them would die if Capricorn decided to plow through them. Though the biomech was injured enough that it might slow down to their speed, and its cracked shell might even let hits through, so their deaths might not be in vain at least...

I want a cease fire, Karkat sent him, forceful and worried. Talking, face to face. War on pause I know you guys do that (so weird your traditions are weird are we all noblemen playing at not needing victory at all costs now.) The interface to lovemine sucks, filters all emotion/feeling/notclinical out. Make them not attack (I will defend him I will I have to--)

Yeah, alright, John cut him off. "Meteor Alpha-Zulu-Eight-Niner, Capricorn and Cancer are requesting a truce. Can we land somewhere with atmo to negotiate? Over."

He waited; no doubt the request had caused a right little fuss out there.

It was kind of strange that the two aliens wouldn't take the chance to attempt to run off, he thought, and then tried to un-think it. Karkat abandoning them now felt wrong, even though... shit, he was still a prisoner of war, and it was the duty of a prisoner of war to escape.

So fucking compromised wow, Karkat thought back. John flinched. No I meant you-me-us, asshole.

Huh?

I thought about it -- fuck no shut up it was pointless anyway my dad's half starved to death and his might bleed out before it rendezvous with a transport assuming the transport didn't fuck right off when he got surrounded, chances of us escaping were one in fourth.

Aw hell. It's bleeding to death? Seriously? (well I didn't mind killing it ten minutes ago but welp.) might need to evac him in a hurry then. (drowning in his cockpit kind of a bit ugh)

... I might be exaggerating some. I have no idea, he won't tell! "What will you do/were going to do after avenging me lovemine?" "Uuuuuughghu no fucking clue my mind is made of chewed foodgum and paperclips hurr."

John rubbed his thumb against the armrest of his chair, thoughtful, a little melancholic. (Good Warhammer, best buddy.) But you... didn't even want to make the attempt.

A flicker of embarrassment-guilt, and then Karkat returned him an odd, cagey brouhaha of thoughts, muffled by some sort of mental wall that John couldn't get through. Something kind of ... not hope; harder, darker than that. Anticipation-nerves-tension, but concealed yet, a grain of possibility that he was still clamping down onto, that pulled his shoulders back and his spine straighter, oh, what if, what if -- (no, you're getting into the pilot's seat of a shuttle before they've even installed the pilot/reactor, assturd, "too early" barely covers it and stop assuming so much it's gross and you don't deserve it anyway.)

"Warhammer, this is Meteor Alpha-Zulu-Eight-Niner. Permission granted to touch down on the Moon, coordinates, 43 degrees, 36 minutes, 0 seconds South, seven degrees, 24 minutes, zero seconds West, over."

"Coordinates noted, Meteor Alpha-Zulu-Eight-Niner. The Pictet crater? Over," John confirmed as he entered the numbers into his computer. Not far from Tycho base, then, but not right on top of it either. The armament around the rim of Tycho's crater would give a serious pounding to anyone trying to cross, he supposed.

"Affirmative. Are you able to proceed unassisted? Over."

John looked at his instruments, giggled out of sheer disbelief. The only green lights left were for the oxygen. With his main reactor shut down for fear of overloading the circuitry and getting things to explode he was starting to lose heat. "Yeah, that's a negative. Over."

"We will proceed with an extraction--"

I'll take you, Karkat said. (Insurance/no whoopses) -- argh I don't want you as a hostage I just don't trust them trying to put distance between us before we've talked is all (shit do you believe me I wouldn't believe me!)

John laughed out loud. I believe you. (I trust you argh that's sappy no stop.) Let us ride into the sunset! Yeehaw.

You are an idiot I am surrounded by idiots you and him(lovemine) should get along like cattle taken for a spin by a tornado.

Haha we say "a house on fire" for that one same concept.

Case in point. Cancer started trying to disengage from the death hug Capricorn still had on it. Come on I need to go pick him up can't you just--

John started to laugh even harder when Capricorn oozed around until Cancer was wearing it as an oversized backpack. Cancer elbowed it in the ribs, and Capricorn reluctantly detached, though it stayed well in arm's reach.

"Negative, Meteor Alpha-Zulu-Eight-Niner, Cancer will assist."

"Are you crazy?!"

If I didn't love the fuck out of you I would hate you so much, he overheard Karkat sending, and then Cancer started reaching for him.

"Negative, I am as sane as I ever was!" John swallowed another laugh, clicked off the telepathic headset in a vague nod toward proper op-sec. "They are requesting a cease-fire, Meteor. Not a 'lead them to a good ambush point.' We could take them, but not without heavy losses, and it's pretty much guaranteed I'd be the first one down. And we would lose a massive opportunity to negotiate, which at this point is frankly stupid."

A noise of protest was heard through the mike, but the other man didn't say anything.

"Corporal Vantas took a risk by wading into that fight to separate us instead of joining in, and did not escape afterwards with his ally, which to me proves his good faith more than well enough. They deserve a bit of insurance for their nerves, I think."

Plus they were much closer than anyone else. Couldn't stop them without restarting the hostilities. He wasn't saying that, though.

"As it is my mech they will be holding onto, and as I am the one with the most experience in alien behavior, unless someone wants to challenge my de facto command over the battlefield, it's my decision."

He'd just bet they would have a team in power armors ready to extract his poor brainwashed self the second everyone touched down. Oh well, so long as they got enough time to talk their way out of it, it would probably be fine. He clicked the headset back on.

--where were you could have warned me okay which end do I grab you from, your machine-fakeperson looks so bad/mangled/dead wow.

You don't need to remind me, wah, my lovely. And uh just grab me under the arm/around the torso should be the most structurally okayish. I'll navigate yeah?

Unless you expect me to divine the location we're going to you're pretty much going to have to, assface. Oh no, love, it's fine, but you're going to have to move farther back, I can't blast/fly with you in the way.

John's smile died slowly. It'd have been nice if Roxy and Dirk had found a way to turn down the intensity on the telepathic headbands after all, wouldn't it. Heh.

JH: ok guys we're rendezvousing at pictet crater. i'll need you all there for security, yeah? make sure they don't blast off again.
JK: Roger my good man!
JH: i'll have to ask karkat how the heck he even managed to break into the science hangar and leave the planet in the first place, holy crap, that promises to be a ton of fun as clusterfucks go.
RX: yeah no fukin kiddin wow someone must be shittin enuf bricks for liek a whole tower down there
JH: also does anyone have news from rose and the rest?
JD: they were evac'd safely but i dunno where they are, i'll ask!!
JK: Much obliged dear sister i must admit im getting kind of antsy regarding the continued health and safety of our comrades in arms.
JK: John can you maybe ask karkat to ask his chum about long-term issues?
JH: huh, that's a thought. a scary one. right away! brb.

Karkat hey Karkat long-term damage of crazymaking power plz? (insanity ptsd persistent hallucinations tremors in the piloting hands what???)

On Roxy's cameras (she was dead at their backs) he could see Capricorn had moved down level with Cancer's legs, so the red plasma wings could peek out, get them moving without singeing it into a charred mess. It started rotating slowly until it was staring back at Roxy's cameras. Creepy, but it didn't make a single move to attack.

Jesus, it looked like they might yet all live.

More or less.

... I don't know, came Karkat's belated reply, it depends how hard he hit them (could be lasting damage I'm sorry I don't know he's never used it that hard around me)

Capricorn pushed off Cancer's legs all at once, sent itself floating closer to Roxy, and John felt Karkat's spark of surprise.

What is he doing? John asked, tense anew, wary.

...Just preparing in case your allies attack us anyways (he will mow them all down and I won't calm him down in time aw hell.)

John let out a short, frustrated sigh. I guess that's reasonable.

Karkat mentally echoed his dubious agreement. You/love/boyfriend/mine, the pink alien is nice and friendly and not actually in charge John/blue/shredded is in charge (who gave John/you command haha what the fuck that makes no sense aliens are weird) don't crowd her I like her.

RX: JOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHNHNY BOY! HAY THAR ASSBUT!
JH: whoops, sorry.
JH: karkat doesn't know.

Which was the kinder answer, missing the "he did say it was possible there'd be lasting mental damage" part entirely.

(Why'd he think Roxy was in charge anyway, John wondered, and got back a faint echo of pink. Long smooth legs clad in black with just this one pink line on each, which was strange because Roxy's flight suit was mostly white -- oh! Oh. The empress's color. Right.)

"Warhammer," came the reluctant voice over the radio. "Your acting officer-in-charge position has been confirmed for the duration. Requesting orders, over."

"Solid copy, Meteor Alpha-Zulu-Eight-Niner." He nudged Karkat into facing the correct direction -- there good straight ahead -- and quickly checked the number of troops available to him. Okay, it didn't need to be anything fancy. He set them into three concentric shells around the three of them at a distance that hopefully would allow them to aim and fire before the biomechs were on them, with Roxy, Jade and Jake in a triangle at his back.

JH: jane, report to medical.
JN:Negative. I will report to medical once you have been extracted safely and not a dang second sooner.
JH: oh, come on!
JN:Tell Karkat I will trident his friend in the back of the head if he makes the smallest wrong twitch.

Sigh.

JH: he says, acknowledged.
JH: no, wait.
JH: ACKNOWLEDGED. big letters for big seriousness.

Earth mechs were quicker on turns and flips, but biomechs outpaced them in straight lines, by far. If they went at the speed Cancer was capable of, though, half-starved or not, they might leave half of John's mech behind. He waited for Karkat to secure his grip on what was left of Warhammer, and then he gave the order to get moving, and they cautiously went.

--

Took them a good half-hour to get there. John spent most of it offline, checking in at five minutes' interval, both with Karkat and with his command. The thing was...

The thing was, the oxygen lights had gone orange halfway there, and a lower heart rate was good for saving oxygen, and he needed both to come down after the fight, and to prepare for whatever would be coming.

Whoever would be coming. He didn't know yet who'd be there, but they promised to be major hardasses.

Yeah. He needed time to get ready for that.

Also to stop thinking of how much Karkat wanted to cry out of heart-rending, guilty gladness. Of what exactly it made John feel. It was --

Crap. What the hell was wrong with John, that he wasn't happy for his friend? It was just...

JH: damn it, rose, i wish you were online.

Not too hard to figure out exactly what got his nose all out of joint. It was Karkat's old life -- the fact that he'd had a life before, and that it wasn't a fun and weird and distantly tragic anecdote any longer, that it was coming back.

JH: it's like i think the dude is going to take him back.
JH: ... even if he DID take him back, so what?
JH: no, yeah, i mean, of course i'd miss him but it's better for him to be with his people, isn't it?
JH: what the fuck is wrong with me.
JH: we don't even know what he's planning anyways, could be they're not going to go anywhere for weeks or months. we'll have lots of time to have fun together!

Yeah, only now he would have to share that time with Karkat's boyfriend, and no need to guess who would get the lion's share of it.

What if he had to behold alien makeouts--

Ow. "Sorry, Warhammer," he apologized, and rubbed his toes. That'd learn him to kick at his cockpit. Just because his mech was good for scraps was no reason to break his toes on him.

JH: bluh.
JH: okay, i feel ridiculously like a toddler having a tantrum here. this is completely the best place and time for it too.
JH: i can just see you shaking your head at me, rose.
JH: "*Insert sympathetic shoulder pat* And how does that make you feel, John?"
JH: well pretty not good actually but it's a bad time to wallow in it, wow.
JH: sorry! i know compartmentalizing isn't awesomely healthy and you'd be very sad you can't indulge in a long mind exploration session if you knew.
JH: but hey, you're not gonna know.
JH: i feel like i should cackle or something.

He attempted a villainous cackle out loud. Nope, it sounded stupid. Also he was apparently still a bit loopy from coming down from all that adrenaline and the low oxygen. He concentrated on his breathing for a few moments, hands loose on the controls, eyes closed.

Okay. Better. Just in time to check in.

> send offline messages? Y/N

He hit N, and clicked his radio back on.

"Meteor Alpha-Zulu-Eight-Niner, this is Warhammer, come in."

"Warhammer, approaching destination, ETA seven minutes. We will be spreading out as coverage, over."

Huh. He checked his instruments, and then Roxy's camera feed, since his was smeared blind; the moon had grown to cover over half of her front view. "Roger."

John confirmed the location, and turned the telepathic headband back on, sent Karkat a tight, focused image of the spot, the vector they had to follow to get there. Karkat sent back a formless acknowledgement, busy with his own assessment of his biomech's shape, how easy it would be to land without dumping John -- calculations John didn't have a frame of reference to translate in detail. The gist of it came through easily enough.

And they were caught in the Moon's gravity and slowly drifting down. John confirmed with Karkat -- yes, that crater, those hangars within the crater -- and watched his feeds, oddly detached. It was so strange not to do his own landing.

You had better not drop me, bro.

I will drop you face first and then land on you, Karkat thought back, but distracted.

Cancer's wing-thrusters came on, his angle of descent changed to feet-first, and Capricorn imitated him on the feeds. They slowed down as they passed the crater's highest points; colorless mountains rose all around to swallow them. On their right, miles away, Tycho's heights glimmered with cannons.

The canopy covering the deepest part of the crater, keeping the oxygen in, wasn't as impressive as Tycho's, only spanning a mile at its widest point; if John remembered right the only things stocked in those hangars were chemicals and radioactive materials they didn't want too close to the barracks. He made sure to click off the telepathic headset before he let himself wonder where they'd moved the worst of it. Bunkers, maybe? Tycho itself?

As they drifted through the iris, he turned his radio back on. "Warhammer speaking! Good work, gentlemen. Report to base command. Over."

The man made a little amused noise in his mike. "Roger, wilco. Always a pleasure, Warhammer."

"Haha, to watch me get beat up?"

"With all due respect, you had it on the ropes. "

Laughing, John went, "Warhammer out," and tuned out of that frequency.

Karkat flinched a little when the iris closed back up behind Poseidon and Flintlock, a brief flare of paranoia, quickly smothered.

The canopy's not that solid bro we're not even supposed to land hard on it. It's to keep air in not people in or out.

...I guess that's good. I'm telling him, the less paranoia the better (if you don't mind/not a betrayal? Shit I hate having stakes on both sides this is like sitting with each ass cheek on a different chair.)

John grinned disarmingly, even though Karkat couldn't see him. By the way I guess it'd be a good time to tell you that my air is running out.

What would have been a massive wall of swearing erupted at him (mostly it was very gross and somewhat pornographic imagery,) and then Karkat was putting in a burst of speed to reach the ground, only braking at the last second before landing between two hangars. Warhammer, held under the armpits, was swung up a little bit and deposited roughly but serviceably on its ass on the ground. John was a bit rattled inside the cockpit, but nothing the padded seat and safety harness couldn't handle.

RX: john why teh fuck is cancer-chan in a tearin-ass hurry 2 climb on ur lap ??
RX: like are we going 2 see sum hawt roboporn or ???

John looked up from the harness he was working to unlock, just in time for his mech to twang as something bumped it.

Capricorn had landed facing Warhammer, and sat there coiling on its tail, limbs hanging limply. Cancer was in the process of straddling the fuck out of Warhammer's lap. Which wasn't easy considering the space between the hangars wasn't that wide, and there were perhaps three meters of clearance between Warhammer's shoulders and the roofs.

JH: oh jesus no. i uh told him about my little oxygen trouble is all.
JD: your WHAT??!?

Umm? (lap dance? cuddles? what?)

Oh my god you are the stupidest. I need to get to you without getting sniped, O lord of dirty-minded tools.

Like you can talk! John protested, but with embarrassment. He finished pulling free of his harness. I'm fine anyway, I just need to get out of the uhh. Uh oh.

Did you just figure out the door is stuck/frame twisted out of true/stuck inside, dumbass? Don't fret I'll get you out.

John pouted for a second. Cancer was leaning in, so that its domed forehead brushed Warhammer's face, blunt maw turned down. Made it hard for other cameras to see what was going on between the two mechs.

Its lone secondary hand came up; it set its claws into cracks around the drawbridge-door. Sighing, John contributed a mental picture of where the hydraulics would be easiest to cut through.

A twist of claws, a yank, and with a screech of nails on chalkboard the first door clanged open. John pressed the emergency release that opened the airtight inner door -- somehow intact, like the rest of the pilot's block, good armor design there -- and clambered out.

Cold air slapped him in the face; not super rich in oxygen, but still bracing.

The drawbridge hung at slightly more than a right angle; John didn't really want to trust his weight to it. Hanging from the doorjamb, he craned his head and looked up into the cracked-open maw of the black biomech -- he would go down so easy in such a massive gullet, wow, even if he went sideways.

Then he looked ahead, just in time to see the black armored chest crack open to show wet red flesh, and Karkat forcing his way through and into his mech's waiting hand, head lowered like he was charging out horns first. It was... very organic. Huh.

Oh my god Karkat it looks like you're pushing your way out of a giant chest-vagina my eyes will never recover. It wasn't like that last time??

Was in shock/loosened up, Karkat shot back, but distracted; he didn't even say a thing about the vagina comment. He just glanced up across the divide, face obscured by his damp hair and the massive shadow of the biomech. (is he fine? he's fine. next.) His skin looked a bit wet still, but not completely covered in goop; his clothes were a total mess, jeans clinging, button-up white shirt gone a violent, drenched pink.

He pulled his shirt off over his head and dumped it off to the side; John bit back a teasing whistle.

Karkat didn't react to that thought either, aborted or not.

He toed off his shoes, and then he was swinging from Cancer's massive index finger and dropping down to his mech's lap.

He's gonna catch a cold, John thought, being all damp in here. The canopy kept oxygen in, and warmth as much as it could, but the Moon in general was ridiculously cold where the sun didn't hit straight on, and the crater rim cast permanent shadows to the bottom, which meant cold as balls. They'd managed to get it up to "survivable by humans dressed appropriately," but people were still supposed to come here in winter gear. John's flight suit would do until he managed to get inside a building, but...

"I need a set of clean, dry clothes for Karkat," he said into his mike, and then saw a twin flash of ochre-gold down on the ground, by Warhammer's knee where Cancer was straddling him. Horns, long and oddly elegant. "Uh, probably make that two. Blankets as well--"

The guy wasn't moving. John couldn't see a lot of him from that angle, just part of the head (were those dreadlocks, or was the slime just drying weird?) and a shoulder, but Karkat was hopping the wrong way across and--

Where?! Karkat turned on his heel right on his mech's thigh and hopped and clambered his way across the mess of shelled and armored limbs the other way.

"Warhammer, Capricorn's pilot has left his cockpit. Going your way."

"Yeah, I see him. On Warhammer's left, by the knee."

"Cancer's upper claw limbs are affecting visibility. What is he doing?"

Nothing. Standing there. Staring at Karkat, who stared back for a little eternity before he took the headset off his head, hung it from his neck, and dropped to the ground.

"Rendezvousing with Vantas."

Staring, without touching, without breathing (not that John could tell at this distance) until suddenly one of them was moving, or both, and then they were wrapped around each other, and then they were sinking to the ground, out of his line of sight.

John turned around and went back into his cockpit. "Getting my blaster gun," he said laconically, and paused there to unwrap and munch through a cereal bar while he was at it.

It was so quiet in his head. Heh.

Heh.

He puttered around for another minute, made sure everything was powered down, and then he climbed cautiously out onto the drawbridge door.

JH: going out to find the aliens. where should i take them?

There was the rappelling line; he grabbed a good hold, slid down to Warhammer's lap. On the way down Jade forwarded him a map of the compound.

JD: theyve got clothes, whats wrong with karkats?
JH: he's all goopy. that's gonna bring down his core temp like whoa.
JH: dumped his shirt, even, but i don't know how much that'll help, considering. jesus but my face is prickling with cold already and he's damp and half naked.

Half-naked and being hugged by his boyfriend. John had to pause for half a second and blink out some unwanted silly thoughts. They wouldn't be making out now, haha, no way, so not appropriate. (Though in the past he'd bet they--) Possibly the dude would be keeping him warm. Just keeping him warm. Which was rather a good plan at this point; hypothermia wasn't fun. Yeah.

He made sure to kick things and drag his feet as he made his way down Cancer's thigh, made sure he was turning his back on where they'd been last he saw them so they'd have time to -- so he wouldn't interrupt anything.

A body length and a half from the ground. Good enough. He flopped face down on Cancer's knee and let himself slide off the edge, too cold for acrobatics. The landing went fine; he raised a little puff of moon dust, sneaked it a super-relevant look, oh no, his boots were dusty now.

He looked up.

Back on their feet, Karkat and his boyfriend were looking back at him, Karkat turned so his side would be to the other alien's chest, all burrowed into him.

The dude was tall. Karkat seemed normal-sized for a human; he wasn't tall -- John was taller, and wasn't considered basketball-player-sized -- but not small either. That guy must be about seven feet tall or more, and that was without counting the horns.

The way he stared at John was mildly unnerving, but then again John was staring too as he walked up to them. Long arms corded with muscles, raw-boned, wide shoulders, and there were three ragged, parallel scars barring his face at an angle; it was surprising that the eye was still there, the eyelid itself was nicely scored.

The yellow of his eyes was solid orange. Huh. Right, Karkat's eyes did that when he was angry. Okay.

"Hi," John said, expression as neutral as he could.

Karkat was staring at him, even through his shudders. Maybe he wished John would go away a while longer? Yeah, but he'd given them as long as he could. John broke eye contact with the other man to look at him, forced a tiny reassuring, apologetic smile that didn't get to stay, because there on Karkat's side under his boyfriend's arm there was a smear of red that wasn't translucent enough to be telepathic goop.

John tapped his helmet. "Someone bring out a first-aid kit into the hangar on Warhammer's left. Corporal Vantas has several open puncture wounds. Oozing, not gushing."

"Zhann, what you say?"

"You're hurt, stupid. C'mon, come with me."

The weirdass connecting tentacle-things in his cockpit had left little round wounds all over Karkat's arms, probably his legs too; his jeans were torn in a lot more places they'd been back at the hotel. Nanites would close him up in five minutes. He gave a passing thought to doing it the emergency way with Karkat's boyfriend right there. Yeah, someone would end up very dead there, from the way they both vibrated with tension, from how overbright their eyes were.

Wasting time explaining it to him when they could walk in and get the first aid kit was just plain stupid, so he turned on his heel and led the way. With a quiet little sigh, Karkat pulled out of his boyfriend's arms and set his headset back on against his horns.

Where are we going/who will be there/sitrep?

"Hangar here," John said, and pointed, head turned a little so he could see him from the corner of his eye. "It's the closest, they can send a car afterwards but we need shelter right now." The other alien had grabbed Karkat's hand the second it wasn't busy anymore and their fingers were all-- "I'm requesting some time for you to get cleaned up and warm. We won't meet the brass straight away."

He did that, turning to face ahead, was granted it in under ten seconds. No doubt the brass was still finalizing things themselves, and it wasn't like they could have known which hangars Karkat was going to choose to land by. Actually John thought someone probably had wanted to direct them, and the order hadn't gone through. Possibly to that big, bare landing strip over there with zero cover.

Yeah fuck that I would have frozen solid before we got anywhere (cold cold cold pants glued to my skin can't move so fucking cold.) also it's totally my ambition in life to make it easier on my potential enemies.

John snorted quietly, smothered a smile. There's that.

The other alien said something, or at least John assumed the almost subliminally low growl-clicks were words and not the dude trying to freak him out with the harmonics, holy crap. John got the vague impression that the question was about him, but then Karkat nudged him away, shut him out of his mind.

Okay, yeah. John paused briefly at the corner of the hangar to scan the grounds -- one sniper he could see, as an official threat, meaning there had to be two more he couldn't.

The other alien barked something and then Karkat yelped and when John turned to look he was being carried bride-style and the taller dude was making a hella long-legged beeline for the door. Karkat was ranting up a storm in protest -- put me down, I'm not that weak -- but he did it without uncurling his arms where they were chafing at himself trying to keep warm, and the rattling teeth were hardly convincing. John was sort of with the boyfriend on that one.

Traitor, Karkat sent him grumpily.

Heheh. John jogged to catch up, went ahead to open the door. The light was green, the first door whooshed open with his weight on the landing. The aliens followed, Karkat's boyfriend ducking his head to avoid catching his horns in; John pressed the button to close the door. (--locked in urgh--) A gust of warm air buffeted them and then the second door opened.

They'd come in in a corner of a glass-walled corridor; on the other side a wide, several stories tall storage space sprawled out, mostly empty. A few crates were left at the back. Once his face got used to the warm air he still felt it was kind of cold in there.

Didn't want us playing with the crates huh, Karkat sent him with a touch of cynical amusement.

Dude from the symbols I think they were mostly unstable chemicals. I don't want to play with them!

The radio crackled. "There's a locker room with showers second door to your right; fatigues and a first aid kit on the bench."

"Roger," John said, and led the way there.

The other alien's voice buzzed. There's people in those rooms, John heard from Karkat like a muted echo. John pulled his helmet off so he could look at him head on.

"Yeah, of course. They won't come out unless there's a problem. Is there one?"

His eyes were that odd, deep blue that seemed nearly black, rich enough to start leaning toward purple. A lot more unsettling somehow. A pulse of -- he wasn't sure -- tickled down his spine, made goosebumps rise under the sleeves of his flight suit.

"G'mzee!" Karkat snapped, kept growling in alienese. "(Don't you fucking start on him, get moving, I'm freezing my genitals off! they will break in a hundred ice shards while you dick around I swear to fuck.)"

Snorting, John pushed the locker room door open. "You know how things work, Karkat, yeah?" he asked with a pleasant smile, without looking at him. "I'll wait here."

He took a seat on the bench near the first aid box, cracked it open to check the contents. Karkat squirmed out of his boyfriend's arms, landed a bit wobbly, almost overbalanced dropping his headset on the bench. A long, lanky arm stayed wound around his back in support.

Huh, interesting, what they'd seen fit to add in that first aid kit.

Alone at last in the locker room, John slipped the blaster from his shoulder and propped it against the bench, and then took off his own telepathic headset and massaged his scalp for a minute. Wearing it under the already tightly fitted helmet had left him sore as hell, with his hair kinked against the grain everywhere.

JH: am dropping off radio for a minute, the helmet seriously hurts!
JH: they're showering.
JD: yeah weve got them on infrared
JD: gonna start to see jack crap soonish with the hot water but yeah.
JD: status? :( ???
JH: i'm good.
JH: the boyfriend is skeletor. same muscle mass as karkat, three more feet of height to stretch them onto.
JH: wanna come in and say hi?
RX: oohhh me me me em me :DD
RX: i like em tall and horny *WONK*
JH: groan.
JD: groaaaaaaaaann.
JK: Oh my miss lalonde. *undoes collar and fans self with kerchief*
RX: ur my favorite jakey :( the rest of those harleyberts r such tightasses i swaer it culluminates in janey & just trickles down in great mountains of UNFUNNY BIZUNESS like sum wooshin raging torrent of high pressure butt content
JN: Thank you.
RX: oh hey hi janey long time no see how r u doin???? :D :D :D :D :D <3
RX: ARE U OK
JK: Jane you live! Why that is right smashing!!
JD: janey! :DDDD <3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3 status status status!!
JN: Those liberties taken with grammar and all rules of readability are giving me the mother of all headaches.
RX: Welp. Proper formatting and spellcheck all up in that bitch.
RX: I'm even punctuating! This is seriously cutting into my posting speed.
RX: Janey?
JN: Appreciate it.

John noticed he was smiling, a small, affectionate one. Goddamn but he loved his family.

JH: JANE. Hi Jane. Thanks for the assist out there.
JH: How are you doing? Can I get you something? A wet cloth for your brow? Some peeled grapes?
JN: The lot of you can stop mobbing me, to start with.
JN: Also turn down the claptrap, buster.
JN: I am...
JN: Still not back to baseline. Keep talking.

Over there in the shower room soggy clothes were hitting the floor, a shower turned on. Only one, not two. Was Gamzee just going to watch or what? He was kind of sticky-looking too.

Well, maybe Karkat liked them grungy. Who the heck knew.

Yeah, maybe that.

Jesus, John was disgusting himself. What the hell was even wrong with him? Karkat wasn't a found pet that his first family had finally tracked down and was taking away from him.

JD: news!
JD: not all awesome but not all bad either
JD: rose has been waking up here and there! NOT A COMA. and dirk uh.....
JD: finally stopped trying to escape the infirmary which actually probably means he's plotting a better attempt :/
RX: ... yyyyep. but it means hes like got enough thinky thoughts back to plan ahead now!!
JK: That is a very good way to see the situations!
JK: Crikey but that man has me worried.
JK: Not that the rest of them dont naturally! Its just his worrying behavior that makes me wonder what hell do if they cant keep him contained to his nice little bed.
RX: yeh i feel u. there would be MASSIVE shanenigans
RX: and davey? :(
JD: .__. no change.
JK: Well fuck.
JN: Jake.
JK: Yes maam?
JN: I think.
JN: You should go sit with Dirk. Keep him calm. Possibly half of his insistence to return to the battlefield is his worry over our continued safety, compounded by his paranoia.
JN: He might not believe reports. Having one of us around in the flesh would be good.
RX: aw hon :'(
JH: if anyone should go sit with dirk, shouldn't it be you, jane? you could get checked out at the same time and all.
RX: godarn it egbrett
JH: what? it's logical, okay, jake is healthy and fresh and jane isn't. sorry sis. it's not awesome tactics to do it like that.
JN: You're right. It's not. I am still not budging.
JK: Its okay i wasnt planning to leave you lot in the lurch i mean im sorry about dirk but the situation might still devolve here! Hell forgive us hes understanding like that.

Being in command of your older-by-two-minutes-is-still-older sister sucked some days. Sighing, John wished someone higher ranked that Jane would actually listen to would tell her, but that was pretty much Dad and... yeah, no, just Dad, she'd even argue with the General if she felt she should, and she obviously did.

The shower cut off in the other room. Another minute of silence and then he heard soft footsteps going his way.

JH: ok they're showered, just gotta doctorize at karkat's booboos and then it'll be time to get this show on the road.
JH: brb.

Karkat came out wrapped in a towel, holding his soggy jeans out with his fingertips. He let them flop sadly on the floor by the bench.

Behind him his boyfriend had unzipped his flight suit and was wearing it pushed down to the waist. There were some nasty scars there, ashy-white on his damp skin. His hair looked less goopy, but still kind of a tangled, dripping mess.

With less flesh on him and his proportions so stretched out it was a lot more obvious than on Karkat that his anatomy was wrong. That he was just... that this wasn't a Homo sapiens skeleton underneath the padding. The ribs weren't shaped quite right, the shoulders rotated weird. The way he walked was odd as well, not like Karkat's purposeful stomp, more like an odd shuffling that still covered too much ground in one go.

His sclera had gone back to yellow. Awesome.

John stared back at him for another second before he turned to look at Karkat, who had just sat on the bench and was frowning absently at the oozing punctures on his legs.

"There's nanites in here," John told him, and picked up the injector. "Good healy stuff, you remember?"

"Huhn. ... No mouth with mouth this time?"

John's head jerked up to look at him. Karkat's brows and the corner of his lip were quirked in dry, doubtful amusement.

"Um, no. We do have other ways to do it, you know!" He waved the injector around, trying to look stern (but not too much in case the boyfriend took it seriously.) "Gimme your arm."

A gargle of noise, a cricket buzz underlining it in ear-shivery ways. Karkat craned his neck up and patted the other alien on the hip.

"He say what is this thing." A little eyeroll, but fond. John tried to un-notice the reddened, bruised look around his eyes. Karkat had cried recently. "A thing you kill me with it like ninja and he's right here, yes. Smart, good."

"Hehe. Yes, I am super ninja. I'm so ninja that my weapon is a hammer on a giant robot." John grinned cautiously at Karkat. "No, it's just a dose of nanites. One time only, they'll go away once they're done. Oh, you should eat that, they'll make your brain pretty tired. Sugar crash, yeah?"

John waved a cereal bar he'd stashed down his collar at him. With a grunt, Karkat took it and shredded it free. John shuffled closer on the bench and pressed the muzzle of the injector against the outside of his arm, under the bump of his shoulder muscle.

The hair at the back of his neck went up again. "Goddamn it." He looked up, glared. "You! Stop that. Bad. No. Do you want to make me shoot wrong or what?"

Karkat sighed. "G'mzee, Zhann." He glowered at the both of them in turn tiredly, and then took a big chomp off his cereal bar. "Zhann. Do the thing."

John did the thing. Karkat barely winced. "It'll take a little time. Better clean up the wounds anyways."

"Wound is?"

John rummaged through the box for antiseptic wipes. "A hole in you. Ow. Bleeding." He tilted his head pointedly toward Karkat's bare legs. Ugh, just remembering those needles... How could this be regular procedure?

... Actually.

"Um. Does -- does G'mzee need healing too?"

Karkat blinked at him, blinked at his boyfriend (who still stood there staring and looming like a creepazoid, John understood having a hard time trusting an alien but he could at least give it a try there, John was sitting down with his weapon on the floor, wasn't he?)

"No he's good. Clothes... Hm." He made a squeezing movement with his hand. "Like that. No bleed, clean inside. Fasts heal. ... Heals fast. Rrgh." He glared down at the puddle of jeans on the floor, even as he started running the wipe on his legs with perfunctory swiftness. "This bad. Bad piloting, bad walking, stupid clothes. You give me stupid clothes, why."

John repressed a smile. "Because I'm stupid too?"

"Yes," Karkat confirmed, and then rolled his eyes and went on a tirade at his boyfriend, no doubt detailing why John was stupid, which made it stop being a private joke and start being a little bit ouchies.

Gamzee gave a serious nod and drawl-buzzed something. Karkat backhanded him in the thigh, half-seriously. Gamzee's scarred, dead-eyed face cracked an actual smile.

John got up to unfold the fatigues left in a perfect square on the bench. "Well, those should be less stupid!" He draped the pants across the bench. "D'you still have your underwear, or was it too soggy, because I don't know if they -- aha." Boxers, still plastic-wrapped. "Okay, those have never touched the butt of anyone else, if you want them."

Karkat took them from his hand and put them on under the towel, then picked up the pants, frowning faintly.

"What's wrong with them?"

"Green. I'm not green."

John blinked at him. "Um. Since when do you care about the color of your clothes, bro?"

Pants halfway up his legs, Karkat paused to stare at him, and then yanked them up over his butt so he could free his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. "John, what is your color?"

"My favorite? Uh. I like green, I guess?" Uhh. "Not this one though, it's way drab, that's boring. It used to be blue. I suppose I like both?"

Okay, what had he said to be stared at like that. It was the "I can't believe such monumental stupid" face. Rubbing his own hair dry with a towel in a way that never hid his face, Gamzee inquired about things, and Karkat replied, terse, his red eyes still on John's.

Which still didn't get John to understand him, given Karkat wasn't wearing his headset. "Listen, I don't understand your question. Try again?"

Karkat gave a heaving sigh, and started rubbing at his damp hair with the towel. "No. Later. It's a thing I know before, but not... Not with words. Rokshi is not -- rrayzkh -- but Dirhk is. In your head I see that."

John made a slow, baffled blink, tilted his head encouragingly.

"I say later, Zhann." Sigh. "Tell zheneral too. I don't like it say again."

He put on the plain khaki t-shirt and then the camo jacket, zipped himself in -- extracted his little handkerchief with the sixty-nine on it to tuck it half out of his breast pocket. John watched for lack of anything better to do, at a bit of a loss. Gamzee was still standing there with his arms hanging loosely, and crept him out without use of any power that John could detect.

HS: Coming in my boy! Are you all ready?
JH: good timing, karkat just finished getting dressed. should we meet you outside?
HS: No. Stay where you are it's fine.

"Huh. General Harley is coming in." John eyed Gamzee. Yeah, no, Karkat he trusted with his grandfather's safety; this dude not so much. He got up, slung his rifles strap on his shoulder all casual-looking. "I think he wants to talk a little first, and then we'll go somewhere else."

"Huhn, okay." He talked at Gamzee for a minute, then gave his own hair a last rub and picked the headset back up.

Outside there were little noises; the double door opening, probably -- ah, yes, here came the distinctive noise of the gust of warm air. John stiffened when Gamzee slunk to the door, fingers curled into loose claws, stare too intent. He started after him; Karkat grabbed him by the arm.

Shh don't go from behind stupid he'll slash you open from throat to twat do you want to die. "(Gamzee, they won't attack us in a locker room. Calm your tits.)"

It was funny hearing him talk with his voice and his mind both. John was aware that his own mind formatted it into expressions he personally used, but if he paid closer attention and didn't make the little effort to sort it out -- if he made the different effort of not sorting it out -- the words came in a different order, or no order at all, with shades of meaning attached that he wasn't too sure how to translate, if they were even relevant.

Yeah it's like that on my side too. Let's geek out later because they're about to come in.

How'd you know? John asked, and got told Gamzee knows (horn sense, footsteps, three sets) see how he's ready to-- "(Gamzee, I'm fucking serious.)"

"(How am I meant to trust those (space... creatures? Something derogatory.), friendbrotherlove?)"

"(I don't know but find a fucking way,)" Karkat growled back, and caught him by a dangling sleeve to tug him back just as footsteps that even John could hear stopped before the door. "(That man let me use a knife while sitting next to me/in arm's reach, I'm not repaying it by letting you at him.)"

"(That just means he thought he could take you, doesn't it?)"

"Oh, fuck you," Karkat said in English. "Sir?" he called out through the door.

"Yes, Karkat?" General Harley called back from outside.

"G'mzee is stupid. Another people come in first, not you, yes?"

Harley chuffed out a laugh. "How about you come out when you're ready? We'll wait out here."

HS: Danger? Will my men get killed if I send them in?
JH: he's just being a bit unreasonable. wary?
JH: also i'm behind him and i have my gun.

Karkat threw him a quelling glance. No shooting my boyfriend. Not even in non-fatal places. I will screech until you go mad.

Whoops. How'd you hear that, I thought you didn't hear what I typed so well.

You visualized it way too happily, turd-face.

John quickly buried his burst of guilt. Tell him we're the only allies he's likely to get around here. If he wants to chomp off people's faces there's always Jack Noir's bosses.

Sighing, Karkat walked up to Gamzee, tugged on his arm until he was looking down at him, and then with an odd burst of embarrassment (John's watching argh) he reached his hand up and patted him right on the face. Tap tap, just between the eyes. That was so weird and unexpected John couldn't help but stare for a second, until Karkat sent him a burst of annoyance (stop being a voyeur, John, Jesus.)

"(Don't make me soothe/tranq you, I need you alert and ready. Just not murderous, okay?)"

"(Aw, but love-friend--)"

"(Noooo. Read my lips. No. N-N-O. Trust me just a bit, okay? I've been living with them for a (way too fucking long length of time.))"

(It was an actual length of time Karkat told him, just that there was a grammar twist that meant the word used also denoted that it was too fucking long somehow, like the objective and subjective lengths didn't match. Neat bit of linguistics. He made a mental note for Jane.)

Gamzee was successfully herded away from the door, though he muttered things that translated all tangled up. John called out, "We're coming!" though not without giving him the side-eye first. To keep up with the lot of them the dude had to have pretty insane reflexes.

He went to the door first, shoulder blades itching a little, opened it. A little farther down the glass-walled corridor his grandfather was standing behind two Marines in power armor. It had to be a courtesy escort thing, because even if those were better prepped to fight aliens than the guys back home, John was pretty sure that Karkat had managed to put two armored people in the hospital back when he was alone and bare-assed in a paper gown.

Yeah pretty much. But it's not right/proper for brass to travel alone anyway, Karkat added philosophically. He dodged Gamzee's hand and stepped forward first, keeping him at his back.

"Sir. This is Gh'm -- Gaaamzee Makara. G'mzee, Me'rkh (General/high brass) Harley."

Yeah, when he listened closely John could almost hear the vowels, but only because Karkat repeated them all exaggerated.

(You guys are all vowels and no consonants seriously it's a fucking moan language that's just wrong.)

"It's good to meet you like this!" Hass said with a bright grin. "And not in pieces on a dissection table. Karkat, please translate exactly."

John and Karkat shared a brief moment of welp.

Karkat translated. Gamzee started smiling. Oh Jesus, those teeth. Karkat's were almost round compared to his. On top of the pointy rest he had two longer eyeteeth that looked like vampire fangs, visible even at rest, but when he smiled it was even more obvious how creepily long they were.

"He says, I guess you're right, doctors are really boring. Unfunny?" John grimaced. He couldn't convey the right tone Gamzee had said it in, like death by doctor was boring, and all the implied "a hands-on death wouldn't be."

From the General's amused little smile, Gamzee's facial expression was good enough.

"It's good to be in agreement on this." He pointed to an office door just beside him with his thumb. "Now, sergeants, if you'll stand guard outside, we still have a couple of things to discuss before we go."

"Sir," one of the men protested.

"Shh," Hass said, putting a quelling hand on his armored arm, and looked at Gamzee again. "Are you planning to kill me?"

John and Karkat blinked, threw Gamzee an accidentally identical dubious glance.

"(He asks if you're planning to kill him. Because he wants us to go into that room alone with him. The answer had better be no! Have you seen the size of their base next door--)"

"Shhh," Gamzee said, and patted and ruffled the hair at the back of Karkat's head and between his horns, which had the effect of making Karkat's jaw clack closed and his mind to fill with flustery, embarrassed things.

"(Don't (quiet/soft/gentle/sleep) me in public, asshole!)"

"(Aw, the old man just did it to his guy.)"

"(Patting a secretary's ass in passing and groping your boyfriend's are different things, okay?!)"

John spluttered. "What?" Oh my god you call that groping he barely touched you I was right you aliens are completely insane about physical signs of affection. Frigid! Karkat you are the frigidest, they could use you to store food in.

Karkat glared at him. Shut. Up. Butt out!

"(Nah, I won't kill him.)" Gamzee stared at Hass, and then straight at John. "(You tell him that, friend/brother.")

John was pretty sure he didn't mean the friend thing one bit, and Karkat's background thoughts confirmed that it was more of a habit with him and his tone was hella not sincere anyway. Karkat was willing to take him at his no-killing word, though, so John nodded. "He says he won't. Karkat is inclined to believe it."

"Good! Follow me." Hass turned away and stepped into the door. The put-upon soldiers were forced to fall into position on both sides of the doorway and glare at the lot of them impartially. Sighing, John went -- and then Karkat caught his elbow, and went first.

Stay closer to Gamzee -- you-hostage, me-proving-your-allies-safe.

He'll be pissed.

He's pissing me off being so unreasonable (no he doesn't oh god it must have hurt him so much when they told him I died I didn't expect--) urgh I can't even wallow in the feelings with you voyeuring it up in here so unfair.

John made the equivalent of gagging noises, hopefully in a way that came out teasing and not actually meaning it, and smoothly stepped in the way when Karkat slipped inside the room first. He could feel the spike of not-right in the air, right at his back, and had to resist the urge to slip his gun into firing position.

"Gamzee, stop," he grunted, hopefully conveying tired more than nervous.

Gamzee grumbled at his back, and, ducking under the mantel, leaned way too close to John's head. John was pretty sure he felt his breath on his hair. John refused to hurry out of the way; it was a matter of pride and keeping face at this point.

It was a little office inside, all squeezed in -- no doubt the important paperwork was done at the main building, not out here, they didn't need more space. The General sat on a far corner of the desk, and John went to stand beside him.

"Alright." Harley straightened up, eyes turned to Karkat. "I let you throw us that curveball at the conference, because things weren't urgent yet and it wouldn't hurt to shake things up a little with that bunch. They're sufficiently shaken now."

Karkat gave a little grunt of acknowledgement, shushed Gamzee when he leaned on his shoulder and asked for a translation; it'd have taken too much explanation right now.

"But you can't keep it that close to your vest twice in a row. If we're to be allies, you've to start treating us as such." Stern-faced now, he stared Karkat down. "And I'm darned sure you've got a plan, or there's no way on God's green Earth you'd be so calm about delivering your beau to us."

Karkat inhaled through his nose; John could feel him giving in before he even looked it, though he wasn't very annoyed about it. Support might be good, and Harley was a canny man; it was better to have him on their side.

If his plan was shot down by Harley, though, he wasn't sure what -- no. It'd work. Probably.

It had a better chance of success than doing nothing, at any rate.

"Okay," he said. He didn't bother glancing at John; they were in sync again, they knew John was ready to translate.

"So I'm a -- dreg of society," John said for him, "I don't have any real authority or ability to contact anyone else, much less order them around. But Gamzee is very much not."

John slid Gamzee a glance. In Karkat's head he was very... high-class/brass/nobility, but it was hard to imagine that guy in charge of a team. The way he fought -- very 'kill them all, God will recognize His own.'

"We also happen to be childhood friends of the heiress to the throne."

Harley narrowed his eyes. "Huh. Interesting coincidence."

"Karkat won't say it but he's thinking, yeah, I totally got captured because secret plan to pretend it's a coincidence," John offered with a shrug. "Also he's remembering a girl his age with very long hair and the same symbol as what he said was the empress', so..."

"Hm." Hass gave a little shake of his head. "That's all well and good, but how does that help us? I thought the main thing protecting us at the moment was that most of your empire was either not interested in us or not even aware of our existence. Giving someone so high ranked a heads-up seems rather counterproductive to me."

John/Karkat's lips went pinched -- and then spread into a little smile anyways.

"Did I mention she really wants to depose her predecessor?"

There were a few seconds of silence, and then General Harley gave a slow, narrow-eyed nod.

"... Continue."

Comments

[cest_what]

Still super enjoying this, thanks for updating! It's one of the tiniest handful of homestuck wips I'm still following.

[askerian]

thank you ^^