Fic, Dreadnought, Part 5 of 8, Ryan, 15
Oct. 23rd, 2020 06:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fredbassettTitle : Dreadnought, Part 5 of 8
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 15
Characters : Ryan, Claudia, Becker, Lester, Lorraine
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Word Count: 20,000, split into eight parts.
Summary : Waking up in the Permian under a pile of rock wasn’t a high point in Ryan’s life, nor was jumping out of the frying pan into the fire, but then help comes along from a very unexpected direction.
A/N : This fic was started four years ago for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
primeval_denial art fic challenge for this wonderful artwork by the very talented ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tli. Naturally, it grew into an utter monster all too quickly and when it became obvious I’d never finish it in time, I wrote The World After as a prequel.
“I was beginning to think you’d never get here,” a woman’s cool voice remarked, sounding faint and far away.
With his last remaining strength, Ryan had shoulder-charged what had appeared to be a solid stone wall, but by then he’d been desperate. It hadn’t seemed very likely that the flight of steps would have just ended in a blank wall.
He was right, they hadn’t. The wall had swung smoothly inwards. Unable to arrest their headlong – and by then uncoordinated – flight, both Ryan and Becker had practically run full tilt into the opposite wall in a narrow, dimly lit corridor, and ended up sprawled on the floor, clutching their weapons.
Ryan rolled onto his side and looked up.
An immaculately dressed black woman in her late 20s stared down at him, a faintly amused expression on her strikingly beautiful, high-cheekboned face. She held up a lantern in one hand and favoured him with a slight smile as she remarked, “I have absolutely no idea who you are, but I presume you – ” her eyes flickered over to his companion “– are Captain Becker?”
Becker scrambled to his feet and held down a hand. Ryan grabbed it and hauled himself upright.
“Lorraine Wickes?” Becker said. “We got here as soon as we could. But we had company on the way.”
The woman looked down at the streaks of blood on Ryan’s leg. “So I can see.”
Ryan pressed his hands against his ears to try to stop the ringing in his head. It didn’t help.
“The message about earplugs obviously didn’t reach you.”
Becker grinned ruefully. “No, and we didn’t have time to improvise.”
Lorraine Wickes pulled down a lever on a control panel by the doorway and a loud whirring noise indicated that some sort of locking mechanism had just engaged.
“Can you follow me without bleeding on the floor?”
“I’ll do my best, ma’am,” Ryan replied.
She shot him an approving smile and walked off, leaving the pair of them to follow in her wake.
After more twists and turns than Ryan could count, she led them into a small, twisting passage that ended in a heavy oak door studded with brass. Lorraine pushed a large key into the lock and turned it. The door opened onto a spartan, scrupulously tidy room containing nothing more than a low bed, a polished wooden table, and a deep chest.
Lorraine waved her hand at a window seat. “Take a seat, gentlemen, and do try not to bleed on the upholstery.”
She poured water into two pewter goblets and handed it to them. In a matter of minutes, she’d cleaned, disinfected and bandaged their injuries, all accomplished while conducting a debrief that would have put the instructors at Hereford to shame.
“Can you get us to where the Minister is being held?” Becker asked.
“Of course,” Lorraine replied, coolly. “There wouldn’t have been much point offering to act as your contact if I couldn’t get you to him. The question is, can you get him out the way you came in?” She stared pointed at the damaged bracelet on Ryan’s wrist.
“Yes,” Becker declared.
Ryan looked at him quizzically. “Do you know something I don’t or are you just an incurable optimist?”
Becker shot him a quick grin. “Take a guess.”
Ryan rolled his eyes and muttered, “OK, I guess there’s not much choice.” He glanced at Lorraine. “Is this going to blow your cover?”
“That’s my problem, not yours,” she retorted.
“We’re not throwing you to the wolves, ma’am,” Ryan said. “If we can get one person out, we can get two out.”
“Now who’s the optimist?” Becker said, his grin not wavering.
“First Minister Lester takes priority above anything else,” Lorraine said firmly.
“How often do the guards check on him?”
“Every hour.”
“Through the night as well?”
Lorraine nodded.
That wasn’t good news. They would have slightly under one hour’s start to get Lester into the tunnels and away from the citadel, but four people would travel slowly and with one of the bracelets working at less than full power, it would turn into a hard-fought battle. Even with the Dreadnought and the other ships running interference from the air, they were still very likely to face the prospect of a determined pursuit as soon as Lester’s absence was noticed. The best they could hope for was that the presence of the airships in the skies was enough to convince the Opposition that an attempt was being made to rescue Lester from above, not below.
Ryan shrugged. In his job, you just had to play the hand you were dealt.
Lorraine led them through the fortress by a series of back ways that twisted and turned with labyrinthine complexity. They narrowly avoided several patrols and there were times when Ryan was firmly convinced that their luck had run out but, against the odds, they climbed ever higher in the Eagle’s Nest.
By the time they approached the higher levels of the Pinnacle, it was clear that the fortress was now in a state of high alert. The sound of distant gunfire they could now hear wasn’t exactly comforting. Ryan recognised the deep, booming sound of heavy artillery, almost certainly the eight-inch howitzers Becker had mentioned, followed by the more staccato noise from the five tonners. He just hoped that Claudia could manage to keep her airships out of their range, but that seemed an impossible task. The vessels weren’t built for either speed or manoeuvrability and one hit to the canopy would be all that was needed to bring the Dreadnought crashing to earth in an explosion of gaseous fire.
Becker must have caught the look on his face. The young captain said quietly, “She’s the best pilot I know.”
“She’ll need to be.”
Lorraine held up a hand and they both fell silent in obedience to her unspoken command. She drew a large key from a pocket and stepped up to an oak door. The key turned the lock silently and as soon as the door was open, she beckoned them inside and quickly closed it.
On the far side of the room, a man was sitting on a stone window seat, looking out. There must have been no chance of escape that way as there were no bars, only thick panes of leaded glass.
Ryan immediately recognised the man he had known as Sir James Lester but to this man Ryan was nothing more than a stranger.
Lester stood up. “You took your time, gentleman.”
“Sorry, sir,” Becker said, to his credit not looking particularly sorry. “We had a few delays in the tunnels.”
“And are you intending to return the same way?”
Becker nodded.
“I’m sure that’ll be … interesting.” Lester looked out of the window. “The ships are doing a good job of staying out of reach of the fortress’s guns, but I can’t believe their luck will hold much longer.
“All the crews are volunteers, sir,” Becker said.
Lester sighed. “Then let’s hope I’m worth it.” He stood up and flicked a speck of dust off his immaculate trousers. “I am in your hands, gentlemen.”
Ryan slipped the damaged bracelet off his wrist and handed it to Becker. “I’ll stay. You can’t throw enough of a field with yours to cover four people. Get the First Minister and Miss Wickes to safety. I’ll see if there’s anything I can do to distract their gunners.”
Becker’s face said it all. It was a suicide mission and they both knew it. But then the whole thing had been a suicide mission from the beginning. This way at least the three of them stood a chance of making it out through the tunnels. The young captain held his hand out to Ryan. Ryan shook it. They’d fought at each other’s side and would part as friends. Ryan wished he’d had the opportunity to know the man longer. He was a good soldier and a brave man.
“Two’s a better number for this sort of thing,” Lorraine Wickes said, moving to stand by Ryan’s side. “Go now and go quickly. The guard won’t be back for an hour. Ryan and I will distract them as much as we can and see what we can do to draw their fire away from the ships.”
Lester’s eyes widened. “No. You need to get safety…”
“There’s no time to argue, First Minister!” Lorraine’s voice was low and urgent. “Put on the bracelet and go with Becker.” She opened the leather satchel she had slung around her shoulder and pulled out a brown wig, cut to resemble Lester’s hair. “I’ll put this in your bed and if we’re lucky, the guard will have more on his mind than checking too closely. It might buy more time.”
“She’s right, sir. We need to go.” Becker put his hand to the small of Lester’s back, and for a brief moment, Ryan caught a glimpse of something more than just professional concern in the young soldier’s eyes. The reason Becker had volunteered for this mission suddenly became plain. Ryan would bet his last bullet that they were lovers.
Lorraine Wickes darted over to the canopied bed and quickly arranged on of the blankets into a reasonable approximation of a man’s sleeping form, with the coverlet pulled loosely over the top so that only the dark hair showed at the top. She pulled the curtains around the bed and turned down the wicks on the lanterns.
When Lorraine was certain the passage outside was clear, they slipped out into the corridor and she locked the door behind them.
“Follow me,” she ordered, and proceeded to lead them through the citadel by yet another bewildering array of passages that kept them out of the hands of the patrols, even though they heard shouts nearby on several occasions, but the garrison was clearly too busy repelling an air attack to worry what was happening within its seemingly impregnable walls. The throaty roar of the huge guns had followed them deep inside the mountain until Ryan felt he could feel the noise reverberating through his bones. How the frail airships were withstanding the bombardment, he had no idea.
When they reached the other side of the hidden door to the tunnels, Loraine activated the opening mechanism by pressing a section of wall and then slotting something into a hole behind a lamp bracket. The door swivelled, opening into blackness.
Lorraine handed Becker and Lester a pair of ear plugs each. “Wear these. I’ll be activating the sound system immediately. It should get you some way from here before the Soul Stealers start attacking. Good luck.”
Lester shook her hand formally. “Thank you, my dear. You’re a brave woman.” He held his hand out to Ryan as well. “We haven’t even been introduced.”
“Captain Tom Ryan, sir.”
“Thank you, Captain. I am in your debt.”
Becker nodded to him then ushered Lester through the door.
Lorraine operated the locking mechanism and stone door swung smoothly back into place. She pressed something on the lamp bracket, then turned to Ryan.
“I believe we have some trouble to cause, Captain.”
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 15
Characters : Ryan, Claudia, Becker, Lester, Lorraine
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Word Count: 20,000, split into eight parts.
Summary : Waking up in the Permian under a pile of rock wasn’t a high point in Ryan’s life, nor was jumping out of the frying pan into the fire, but then help comes along from a very unexpected direction.
A/N : This fic was started four years ago for the
primeval_denial art fic challenge for this wonderful artwork by the very talented tli. Naturally, it grew into an utter monster all too quickly and when it became obvious I’d never finish it in time, I wrote The World After as a prequel.“I was beginning to think you’d never get here,” a woman’s cool voice remarked, sounding faint and far away.
With his last remaining strength, Ryan had shoulder-charged what had appeared to be a solid stone wall, but by then he’d been desperate. It hadn’t seemed very likely that the flight of steps would have just ended in a blank wall.
He was right, they hadn’t. The wall had swung smoothly inwards. Unable to arrest their headlong – and by then uncoordinated – flight, both Ryan and Becker had practically run full tilt into the opposite wall in a narrow, dimly lit corridor, and ended up sprawled on the floor, clutching their weapons.
Ryan rolled onto his side and looked up.
An immaculately dressed black woman in her late 20s stared down at him, a faintly amused expression on her strikingly beautiful, high-cheekboned face. She held up a lantern in one hand and favoured him with a slight smile as she remarked, “I have absolutely no idea who you are, but I presume you – ” her eyes flickered over to his companion “– are Captain Becker?”
Becker scrambled to his feet and held down a hand. Ryan grabbed it and hauled himself upright.
“Lorraine Wickes?” Becker said. “We got here as soon as we could. But we had company on the way.”
The woman looked down at the streaks of blood on Ryan’s leg. “So I can see.”
Ryan pressed his hands against his ears to try to stop the ringing in his head. It didn’t help.
“The message about earplugs obviously didn’t reach you.”
Becker grinned ruefully. “No, and we didn’t have time to improvise.”
Lorraine Wickes pulled down a lever on a control panel by the doorway and a loud whirring noise indicated that some sort of locking mechanism had just engaged.
“Can you follow me without bleeding on the floor?”
“I’ll do my best, ma’am,” Ryan replied.
She shot him an approving smile and walked off, leaving the pair of them to follow in her wake.
After more twists and turns than Ryan could count, she led them into a small, twisting passage that ended in a heavy oak door studded with brass. Lorraine pushed a large key into the lock and turned it. The door opened onto a spartan, scrupulously tidy room containing nothing more than a low bed, a polished wooden table, and a deep chest.
Lorraine waved her hand at a window seat. “Take a seat, gentlemen, and do try not to bleed on the upholstery.”
She poured water into two pewter goblets and handed it to them. In a matter of minutes, she’d cleaned, disinfected and bandaged their injuries, all accomplished while conducting a debrief that would have put the instructors at Hereford to shame.
“Can you get us to where the Minister is being held?” Becker asked.
“Of course,” Lorraine replied, coolly. “There wouldn’t have been much point offering to act as your contact if I couldn’t get you to him. The question is, can you get him out the way you came in?” She stared pointed at the damaged bracelet on Ryan’s wrist.
“Yes,” Becker declared.
Ryan looked at him quizzically. “Do you know something I don’t or are you just an incurable optimist?”
Becker shot him a quick grin. “Take a guess.”
Ryan rolled his eyes and muttered, “OK, I guess there’s not much choice.” He glanced at Lorraine. “Is this going to blow your cover?”
“That’s my problem, not yours,” she retorted.
“We’re not throwing you to the wolves, ma’am,” Ryan said. “If we can get one person out, we can get two out.”
“Now who’s the optimist?” Becker said, his grin not wavering.
“First Minister Lester takes priority above anything else,” Lorraine said firmly.
“How often do the guards check on him?”
“Every hour.”
“Through the night as well?”
Lorraine nodded.
That wasn’t good news. They would have slightly under one hour’s start to get Lester into the tunnels and away from the citadel, but four people would travel slowly and with one of the bracelets working at less than full power, it would turn into a hard-fought battle. Even with the Dreadnought and the other ships running interference from the air, they were still very likely to face the prospect of a determined pursuit as soon as Lester’s absence was noticed. The best they could hope for was that the presence of the airships in the skies was enough to convince the Opposition that an attempt was being made to rescue Lester from above, not below.
Ryan shrugged. In his job, you just had to play the hand you were dealt.
Lorraine led them through the fortress by a series of back ways that twisted and turned with labyrinthine complexity. They narrowly avoided several patrols and there were times when Ryan was firmly convinced that their luck had run out but, against the odds, they climbed ever higher in the Eagle’s Nest.
By the time they approached the higher levels of the Pinnacle, it was clear that the fortress was now in a state of high alert. The sound of distant gunfire they could now hear wasn’t exactly comforting. Ryan recognised the deep, booming sound of heavy artillery, almost certainly the eight-inch howitzers Becker had mentioned, followed by the more staccato noise from the five tonners. He just hoped that Claudia could manage to keep her airships out of their range, but that seemed an impossible task. The vessels weren’t built for either speed or manoeuvrability and one hit to the canopy would be all that was needed to bring the Dreadnought crashing to earth in an explosion of gaseous fire.
Becker must have caught the look on his face. The young captain said quietly, “She’s the best pilot I know.”
“She’ll need to be.”
Lorraine held up a hand and they both fell silent in obedience to her unspoken command. She drew a large key from a pocket and stepped up to an oak door. The key turned the lock silently and as soon as the door was open, she beckoned them inside and quickly closed it.
On the far side of the room, a man was sitting on a stone window seat, looking out. There must have been no chance of escape that way as there were no bars, only thick panes of leaded glass.
Ryan immediately recognised the man he had known as Sir James Lester but to this man Ryan was nothing more than a stranger.
Lester stood up. “You took your time, gentleman.”
“Sorry, sir,” Becker said, to his credit not looking particularly sorry. “We had a few delays in the tunnels.”
“And are you intending to return the same way?”
Becker nodded.
“I’m sure that’ll be … interesting.” Lester looked out of the window. “The ships are doing a good job of staying out of reach of the fortress’s guns, but I can’t believe their luck will hold much longer.
“All the crews are volunteers, sir,” Becker said.
Lester sighed. “Then let’s hope I’m worth it.” He stood up and flicked a speck of dust off his immaculate trousers. “I am in your hands, gentlemen.”
Ryan slipped the damaged bracelet off his wrist and handed it to Becker. “I’ll stay. You can’t throw enough of a field with yours to cover four people. Get the First Minister and Miss Wickes to safety. I’ll see if there’s anything I can do to distract their gunners.”
Becker’s face said it all. It was a suicide mission and they both knew it. But then the whole thing had been a suicide mission from the beginning. This way at least the three of them stood a chance of making it out through the tunnels. The young captain held his hand out to Ryan. Ryan shook it. They’d fought at each other’s side and would part as friends. Ryan wished he’d had the opportunity to know the man longer. He was a good soldier and a brave man.
“Two’s a better number for this sort of thing,” Lorraine Wickes said, moving to stand by Ryan’s side. “Go now and go quickly. The guard won’t be back for an hour. Ryan and I will distract them as much as we can and see what we can do to draw their fire away from the ships.”
Lester’s eyes widened. “No. You need to get safety…”
“There’s no time to argue, First Minister!” Lorraine’s voice was low and urgent. “Put on the bracelet and go with Becker.” She opened the leather satchel she had slung around her shoulder and pulled out a brown wig, cut to resemble Lester’s hair. “I’ll put this in your bed and if we’re lucky, the guard will have more on his mind than checking too closely. It might buy more time.”
“She’s right, sir. We need to go.” Becker put his hand to the small of Lester’s back, and for a brief moment, Ryan caught a glimpse of something more than just professional concern in the young soldier’s eyes. The reason Becker had volunteered for this mission suddenly became plain. Ryan would bet his last bullet that they were lovers.
Lorraine Wickes darted over to the canopied bed and quickly arranged on of the blankets into a reasonable approximation of a man’s sleeping form, with the coverlet pulled loosely over the top so that only the dark hair showed at the top. She pulled the curtains around the bed and turned down the wicks on the lanterns.
When Lorraine was certain the passage outside was clear, they slipped out into the corridor and she locked the door behind them.
“Follow me,” she ordered, and proceeded to lead them through the citadel by yet another bewildering array of passages that kept them out of the hands of the patrols, even though they heard shouts nearby on several occasions, but the garrison was clearly too busy repelling an air attack to worry what was happening within its seemingly impregnable walls. The throaty roar of the huge guns had followed them deep inside the mountain until Ryan felt he could feel the noise reverberating through his bones. How the frail airships were withstanding the bombardment, he had no idea.
When they reached the other side of the hidden door to the tunnels, Loraine activated the opening mechanism by pressing a section of wall and then slotting something into a hole behind a lamp bracket. The door swivelled, opening into blackness.
Lorraine handed Becker and Lester a pair of ear plugs each. “Wear these. I’ll be activating the sound system immediately. It should get you some way from here before the Soul Stealers start attacking. Good luck.”
Lester shook her hand formally. “Thank you, my dear. You’re a brave woman.” He held his hand out to Ryan as well. “We haven’t even been introduced.”
“Captain Tom Ryan, sir.”
“Thank you, Captain. I am in your debt.”
Becker nodded to him then ushered Lester through the door.
Lorraine operated the locking mechanism and stone door swung smoothly back into place. She pressed something on the lamp bracket, then turned to Ryan.
“I believe we have some trouble to cause, Captain.”