Do Unto Others-ARC

by Michael Z. Williamson

  Jason was frustrated by her antics, her outfit, her boots, damn her for those boots. He was pretty sure those other come-ons from her peers had either been aimed at his position—young women often found bodyguards to be thrilling—or were from outside parties trying to embarrass them, gain access for paparazzi or distract him as part of some kind of threat. The end result was hours of prime young pussy a day that he absolutely could not touch, and no one had gotten the hint that he wouldn't. Then, he was all business when he had to pat her down after action, but those were the tightest breasts he'd ever felt, even in passing.

  He sagged against the stall wall, sagged down and squirmed against his hand, eyes closed and letting the water pound him, hot rivulets that didn't divert his mind. Rather, it drew his attention to the tone and trembling tension of his entire body. His biceps, pecs, abs, thighs . . . that.

  At least she didn't know. Elke did, but Elke wouldn't admit the sun rose. He might have to ask Bart for advice, since he had a history of dealing with this kind of stress.

  Not now, though. Now he was in a hurry, and wanting to enjoy the side effects of the problem for hours, but he had minutes at most. He had that picture of Elke's in his mind, and a few comments in that beautiful accent, and a memory of her applying several layers of assorted lip gloss under the lights, to those full lips.

  He felt a buzzing tingle all the way to his skull, hotter than the steaming water and enough to make his toes clench. It was moments only before he tensed and twitched in release, choking back a gasp he was sure would be audible to whoever was moving outside the door. Yes, the most sensitive organ while masturbating: The ears.

  Okay, that was better. Well, not better, but it took the edge off. He was going to have to buy (wife) a pair of those boots. He could only imagine what that was going to cost him, and not in the wallet.

  He let the air dryer cool then warm him all over, dressed and stepped out, feeling refreshed and less edgy. Everyone was sprawled and trying to asleep, save Elke on watch. He took the hint, grabbed an empty couch, and rolled into it.

  Chapter 14

  The next morning everyone was up early.

  "It gets dangerous now," Alex advised. "We have to leave weapons here. We can't take them through the port and they'd attract notice if we did. Caron, if there's a threat, you are going to be dogpiled and dragged off. Be ready."

  "I will," she said, with a nervous look.

  "We'll arm up as soon as we can. It's all bare hands and sharp eyes for the next few hours, though. Let's move."

  "Leave it all here?" Aramis asked to confirm.

  "Yes, the room is good for another day, and I'll call someone to fill in and recover stuff as soon as we're movement complete."

  "Roger that." He dug into his carryon pack and pulled out a knife and another item. Reluctantly and shyly, he reached into the front of his pants and drew out a small pistol.

  Jason already had a neat pile of knives, pistol and a spring loaded baton. Elke took several minutes. She seemed to have something stashed in every container and every article of clothing. Her haul included a baton, incapacitance gas—highly illegal though very effective—a pistol, brass knucks, some kind of whiplike thing in a belt, and several containers of explosive. She sprayed and wiped her luggage and hands to minimize the residue against sniffers. She did have official ID to cover herself if questioned, but discretion was always the better option.

  Shaman had a rental car booked, and they strolled downstairs in three groups, through the lobby and into the car. The man who delivered the vehicle only saw Shaman.

  Ten minutes later they rolled into the Almaty Spaceport, less busy and more central than Baikonur, and with better overall security. In this case, numbers helped. Suborning a guard wouldn't be hard. Suborning several, who knew of the huge reward and credibility for stopping threats against certain families was much more complicated.

  "That's our gate there," Caron said. It wasn't only the Prescots'. Several other private operators used it.

  "Which is why we're not going there."

  "Of course," she said, and shook her head. She seemed to be getting used to the random changes.

  They stopped at the regular terminal, and Alex climbed out and walked casually to the checkpoint. He spoke to security and showed his credentials. A few moments of talking and gesturing, and he waved the rest out.

  "Let's move," Aramis said, and led the way.

  Jason handed over all the IDs, and wrangled people through. The security personnel had their own plan, and Jason had his. He won by only handing them one ID at a time, and pointing to each in turn. With Alex through, then Bart, he urged Caron through, then the others with himself last. That done, the block of people moved up to the counter. Alex had seven passes already, a block of four and a block of three.

  "Best I could manage," he said, "but we should be okay."

  "How obvious is that?" Caron asked, still inquisitive. It might be a bit annoying, but she was learning and interested and coping with a rough situation and paying them a literal tonne of money.

  "Obvious if anyone looks too closely. I used several IDs to block seats, and will bribe the gate agent if we have to. It's all we can do."

  Aramis had a trick, too. He pulled out light jerseys and handed them around. They bore a logo and "SKI TEAM." They slipped into restrooms in groups and came out adorned, with hats pulled to their eyebrows. They looked a little odd, but didn't jump out as anything other than coaches and athletes.

  "Good planning," Alex complimented him as they left the facility. Blending in by standing out was a useful trick.

  "Yup," Aramis replied. Acknowledgment with no hints for anyone else.

  Caron kept her eyes on Elke, and followed her lead. She seemed to know the procedure for clearing security and approaching a shuttle gate, but not to have done it before. Well, lots of people hadn't. No problem. She didn't stand out, and they were shortly aboard.

  The flight was loud, brisk and straightforward, jetting off the runway, feeling the scramjets kick into the spine, turbulence buffeting and fading, then the blue, violet and black of NEO.

  They debarked amid a gaggle of travelers, which made Alex cringe, but was unavoidable.

  It was hard to grasp that three hours had passed, and that the planned delays for travel had barely existed because of the need to coordinate and move. Alex was tired, his eyes gritty. Still, they were in the station, security should be easier here, and they'd soon be aboard a secure vessel.

  Once they were away from the crowds, Caron asked, "Should I assume we're not taking Dylan?"

  "I hope people are assuming that. Especially as I bought seven spaces on Rhiannon under your name, and seven more under an assumed name whose compromised status has not been compromised." He grinned. "The family yacht is much more secure once aboard. Especially as Jason is trained as a pilot and we're also bringing our own spare."

  "I'd call you paranoid, except there've been two . . . or more attempts on my life."

  "You need to ask yourself not if you're paranoid, but if you're paranoid enough."

  Ripple Creek CEO Don Meyer himself waited on the boarding deck with a bemused expression and two men. District Agent In Charge Massa was in Peru at Quito Port, and another DAIC at a third location. Even the company owner hadn't known the itinerary.

  Alex said, "We're here."

  "So I see." Meyer grinned. Alex felt good. He had free reign over this operation, and his boss hadn't questioned him once.

  "These them?" Alex said, even though he knew who they were.

  "Yes, these are the cleared pilots. Good luck."

  "Good. Come with us. Thank you, sir." He waved and walked off, and the two joined the entourage.

  "How much is all this rigamarole costing?" Caron asked.

  "A few million. Cheap at the price."

  "I suppose it's yet another contribution to the economy," she agreed. "Still, the bookkeeper in me is cringing."

  "All the other staff are being replace
d, too. Those are somewhat easier."

  "How so?"

  "Our hires don't have to know what mission they're serving. Just that it's 'Shipboard.' You'll have to do without a cook and maid, though."

  "That's fine, you should have time to do my laundry."

  To his stare she added, "That's a joke," and smiled.

  "Ah. Good," he agreed. Good that she didn't actually expect that.

  "I'm surprised the pilots know where we're going, though," she said.

  "Well, they do now. They didn't two minutes ago."

  "You really are paranoid, aren't you?"

  "Miss Prescot, if I do my job right, no one takes a shot at you. That means I don't have to throw myself between you and a bullet. I will continue to be paranoid."

  She looked thoughtful.

  "Very good," she said.

  Jason walked ahead through the access corridor. It was good and bad that he didn't have to deal with any station security. The ship would need a very quick and very thorough scan.

  Once in the family's private dock, he sought the open lock, gripped the hatch edge, and swung in. The cradle the ship rode in meant that deck was down, which made things easier.

  The main cabin held the crew, awaiting their employer.

  "Greetings. I'm in charge of Miss Prescot's security detail. Are all the crew present?"

  "Nine of us, all here," one man agreed. "I'm Command Pilot Hales."

  "Pleased to meet you. Miss Prescot needs to address you for a moment. This way, please."

  "Of course."

  They followed his lead back into the docking bay.

  "Where is she?" Hales asked.

  Alex took his shoulder and turned him slightly, and Bart came up on the other side.

  Alex said, "I'm sorry to say you will not be on this flight. Strictly business, nothing personal." They ushered him, with motions to the others to follow, out the side lock.

  As the pilot cleared the frame, he said, "While I'm very glad her security is being taken so seriously, you understand why I'm goddamned well pissed?"

  "I do, and I apologize again. You'll be credited for pay."

  "Yes, that's not entirely the point. Though I'm sure a mercenary doesn't grasp that."

  That old jab no longer bothered Jason.

  "I grasp it very well, but Miss Prescot's safety ranks above your feelings."

  And mine, Jason thought. Yeah, he felt like a jerk.

  The crew filed off. One, probably her personal maid said, "Can we say goodbye before we leave?"

  "I'm afraid not. Your baggage is being offloaded now. Miss Prescot extends her regrets. This is not of her doing. You are still employed, paid and will serve again as soon as the current situation resolves."

  "Ah, when they run out of money to mine," the woman said. "I see."

  There was no good answer to that, so he slapped the switch and sealed the hatch, then plugged in a module to scramble the lock codes. Not even a station emergency would open it now.

  Back in that hideously nice owner's cabin, Elke and Jason ran scanners, Shaman set up bio monitors, and Aramis acted as muscle.

  Over his shoulder, Shaman said, "Once we have this set up, Elke, Jason or I will be monitoring your vital signs around the clock. We generally don't tell the principal when we do so, but I feel you're entitled to know."

  "Because I'm a woman?" She looked a bit miffed.

  "Because I'm sure you'd figure it out, and are new enough to the concept to be angry when you did."

  "You're correct."

  "Too many things could go wrong, Miss. Until we arrive, you will have twenty-four hour guard, and keep a respirator with you, even in the toilet and shower."

  She gritted her teeth for a moment. "I understand," she said.

  The Ripple Creek contractors took over shipboard duties. Two pilots, one engineer and assistant, one second officer/navigator, one caretaker. Their own billets were separated by a sealed bulkhead. The filters and sensors ensured the air was safe. Elke and Shaman checked all the food. Jason checked the pilot staff every shift change. Otherwise, only one was allowed in the control room at a time.

  Caron stayed in her cabin and went buggy. She ate too much, then exercised hard on the compact gym machine. She slept odd hours, watched sensies then would suddenly stop in the middle. One day she decided to be nude. The next she dressed in a fine gown, then changed to an elegant suit that would somehow manage to fit a boardroom or a porn movie. The next day she changed back to casual clothes.

  "It seems odd," Jason said, "but I assume it's a reaction to the circumstances and it doesn't seem dangerous."

  "She should be fine," Shaman said. "It's a coping mechanism. She's not self-damaging, drinking or doing drugs, so there's no real concern."

  "The naked day was interesting," Aramis said. "If she doesn't mind showing, I don't mind seeing."

  Bart "You haven't seen her with soapy water running over her skin like mountain streams."

  Jason said, "You will stop this story now or there will be a fight." He grinned, though his body language was quite serious.

  Bart grinned back.

  "It is all business," he said. "I don't pay attention at the time to anything other than security."

  "You remember afterward, though," Alex chuckled.

  "I would not be German if I didn't," Bart said.

  Elke said, "You wouldn't be male. Still, if memories of me lying passed out and rubbery with vomit over my face and bare tits with defibrillator pads help your fantasies, there is nothing I can do."

  Aramis said, "God, Elke, you can crush a potential fantasy with a word."

  She smiled. "You're welcome. I'd be unlikely to kiss a woman like that, either."

  That made him shudder.

  Otherwise, the trip was uneventful. It could be the precautions worked, or that no one had attempted anything. That latter could be due to planning on their part, or chance. The results were what mattered. Ten days out from Earth, they queued up through the Jump Point. This was where the biggest risk from outside was, since the schedule was fairly close. Everyone sweated and fretted, but shortly they flashed through and were in Govannon's system. Ten days later they warped into orbit. It was nominally a seven day flight. The pilots took ten. It might allow more time for threats to be placed in system, but it kept the expected trajectory clear. That was another coin flip. Aramis made that one.

  Chapter 15

  Elke knew all the details from her brief. Bonner Durchmusterung +63°238 was an unremarkable K0 orange dwarf, smaller and cooler than Sol. Unremarkable, that is, except for having twice the metal content of Sol system, and only one gas giant, with the preponderance of the metals concentrated in three small planets, one of which had massive deposits in the crust. It was roughly the right distance for habitability, about .66 AU, but lacked anything resembling development. It was a rocky ball laden with metals and swept by a reducing atmosphere full of sulfur and ammonia.

  Govannon, as Bryan Prescot had renamed it after acquiring sole title, had a nineteen hour day, which kept the temperature fairly constant, a near circular orbit, and moderate axial tilt. It orbited in 198 Earth days. It was home to ten thousand miners, support staff, administrators and a few, very few, families. In addition, there were several thousand people working the sprouting resort, that specialized in volcano trips and similar exotika.

  Even from orbit, the operation was impressive. The huge dome covering the colony and resort looked like a crystal ball stuck on the ruddy agate marble of the surface. North and west, the large pits of the metal mines spiraled down, like hollow snail shells. They were sufficiently large as features to affect weather patterns, the cloud streams roiling past them into braided or tumbling ochre ribbons.

  "Very pretty," Elke commented. She could estimate the physical changes and the energy involved. She also had a good guess as to how many megatons had been used to carve those mine flutes. What an impressive work.

  Jason swam alongside her.

  "Those a
re damned big holes," he said. "it's . . . "

  Caron said, "The main pits are about twenty-five kilometers across and go ten kilometers down. The current plan is to orbit out as far as the geologic province lasts, radiate as possible along veins, and backfill the tailings into the pits for best efficiency. We may eventually have the technology to go clear to the mantle."

  Elke squinted and reconsidered. Those were huge holes. She upped her estimate of the charges needed.

  "Kurva drat," she breathed softly. What would it take to get a job here?

  Jason asked, "After that, more mines?"

  "There are two more bores started to southeast, and prospecting is underway in various other areas. Capital was the bottleneck on the first one. Once it proved out, the second one came online fast. I believe my father plans to bring others up as fast as possible."

  "It's not as if a planet will run out soon, after all," Jason said.

  "Actually, it might. Or as technology improves, either deep space mining will become more cost effective, or other systems will be found. While he . . . we . . . have the monopoly, he wants to exploit it as fast as possible, while keeping the price moderate enough to dissuade competition."

  "That makes sense," Elke said. "If the cost to profit ratio is low enough, no one else can get backing."

  "I think that's part of what he's afraid of," she said with a slight shiver. "We're the richest family in the universe now."

  It was likely, Elke thought, that those shut out, or more accurately, who had shut themselves out through caution, wanted back in any way possible. On the one hand, allowing that would ease the risks. On the other hand, they'd let the Prescot family take all the risk. Also, once extortion worked, it would keep working.

  All they had to do was keep Caron Prescot alive and safe long enough for others to get the message.

  "I see why he wants you here," Jason said, paralleling Elke's thoughts. "It's defensible and controllable. There's nowhere on Earth or any colony where you wouldn't be at risk from a sniper, a guided remote, something. You'd be a prisoner behind ballistic armor around the clock."