Do Unto Others-ARC

by Michael Z. Williamson

  "Instead, I'm moving to an ugly, molten rock with ballistic armor, around the clock," she replied, turning to stare at him. The expression in those beautiful eyes was not a smile, though there was a bit of wistfulness behind the depression and irony.

  She was right, of course. No matter what happened, whatever traces of a normal life she'd had had disappeared two years ago. She could never trust anyone, never believe anyone didn't have an ulterior motive, even those who were highly paid to have none. Jason earned thousands a day on assignment, and lived modestly and comfortably. This young lady, though, was heir to enough money to literally have anything she desired, except normalcy and freedom.

  "I need to move forward and check the check pilot and pilot," he said. It sounded paranoid, and it was.

  He just hoped at least one highly paid professional was honest enough not to attempt hijacking or suicide. It would be worth billions to get a chance at the quadrillions? Quintillions? Of potential here.

  Alex was nervous again during docking. This was even more dangerous, since by now everyone knew what ship she was on and its schedule. He pondered the idea of having had four different "Carons" get on four different ships with four different teams, but it wasn't practical, and anyone paying attention would still figure out which was which. Just because the money was unlimited didn't mean there was necessarily an increase in effect in using more. As it was, a trip that could be done on a budget for M400,000, and in deluxe style for ten times that, had cost near sixty times that to ensure safety. It was a tiny blip in the family fortune, but had been of significant benefit to several companies and people who'd been paid and asked to do nothing in return.

  Once they docked, he relaxed about twenty percent. When the hatch opened to reveal Cady and her team, in shipsuits, body armor and with weapons, he relaxed another twenty percent.

  She smiled and said, "About time you arrived."

  "About time you were waiting," he said. It wasn't a great comeback, but he wanted to say something.

  "The bay is secure all the way to your shuttle, which is vacant save two pilots, ours. They handle our route regularly."

  "Good. Jason can keep an eye on them. Good to see you, Jace."

  "And you."

  Caron stepped forward and gave Cady a brief hug.

  "Thanks again for saving my life," she said.

  "My duty and pleasure," Cady replied with a smile and twitch of her eyebrows. "Alex, policy is no firearms except two I've cleared."

  "Oh, not this shit again."

  "Sorry."

  "Well, everything was in cargo."

  "Yes. Was."

  "Someone just isn't getting the hint. Ah, well."

  As they departed, Alex wondered. It was the type of question one never asked. Cady had been born physically male, with messed up genes. She was now a larger-framed woman, slight for a man, with mostly female mannerisms and movements, but the hips and shoulders weren't quite right, even with stimulated bone growth. A trained observer could tell, even if most people couldn't. That aside, though, what was her preference? Men or women? Either was possible, or both, and might have nothing to do with her physiology.

  He shrugged inwardly and kept walking. She was great at facility security, and good backup for personal protection. That was what mattered.

  The shuttle was as new as the yacht, which wasn't surprising. Everything other than the family mansion was new, paid for with profits from below.

  Jason confirmed with a nod. Elke had already cleared the rear. Alex took a plush, comfortable seat with lots of legroom and tried to relax. He'd taken every precaution. There was nothing to do but be alert and relaxed.

  He didn't relax. He was worried about the precautions he hadn't taken.

  They rode the shifting Gs through the thick, corrosive atmosphere and leveled out on a long approach to a runway landing, and how the hell much did it cost to maintain a runway on this ball? To take his mind off the descent, he worked on details.

  "Caron, where do you wish to go first after we land?"

  "The toilet," she said. "After that, probably my apartment."

  "Good choice. It's secure and we can relax and move from there."

  "How do you know it's secure?"

  "Cady's team checked it, and there are no entrances we don't know about. The lodging in all directions is vacant and sealed as deadspace. A bomb big enough to take out the apartment would risk damaging the building, or the dome, and endanger thousands. We don't think anyone wants to cause that much damage, nor affect the infrastructure, unless there's someone who just hates you enough to kill you?"

  "I think a couple of college blokes thought about it recently, but not seriously."

  They touched down and rolled. It was surprisingly smooth. The company hired the best pilots, and Prescot maintained excellent facilities.

  Alex was almost relaxed now, to his normal quivering state of anxiety over any mission, especially this one. It was as high profile as one could get, and she wasn't an old politician who could be stoic and philosophical. She was a nice young lady caught in circumstances she didn't create. He wanted to succeed.

  The landing craft rolled into a large hangar. It was possible to evacuate the native atmosphere and replace it with Earth type air, but in this case, an enclosed docking tube extended. As the hatch opened, there was a strong wind. Positive pressure ensured no atmosphere leakage, but they walked into a near gale. Once they were all clear, the tube sealed, and things reverted to near normal, except for ear popping to adapt to the much higher ambient pressure maintained against the outside atmosphere.

  There were restrooms in the terminal bay, and Caron hurried in, with Elke and Bart along against threats, and Aramis with his back to the door to keep unwanted visitors out. The terminal was near empty; their trip was a special. All the better.

  Elke and Jason had scanners ready for the car that met them. It was a basic battery powered buggy dressed up to look like a compact limo, and easy enough to check. Bart politely displaced the driver and took the controls. Jason plunked down next to him with a map on display, and the rest piled into the rear.

  The colony was big enough to have roads, albeit strictly controlled and boxed in. Still, they drove around an arc of the dome, the local sun shining yellowly through the hazy ochre sky and the thick crystal panels. The whole dome was ten kilometers across, and not spherical. The sides rose in a steep curve, then canted over into an oblate roof. Traffic wasn't heavy, and most of it looked to be delivery vehicles and a very few limos. Slideways ran in tunnels underneath, and in some overhead skyways. Trains on magnetic rails and trains of cars on the road carried tourists to the sights and workers to their offices.

  They drove right into the building that housed Caron's apartment and several others. By her father's orders, they were not in the same building, nor was her uncle nor their execs'. They also hadn't picked the tallest buildings, instead choosing to have a view outside.

  The garage was surreal, with pines and palms in pots and pits, reaching for a glass ceiling. The surfaces were clean stucco with what looked like black iron fittings. The presentation was California resort, not high tech mining colony.

  Caron knew the routine. She stepped out into her block of guards, who peeled off ahead in pairs to check doorways and corridors, parted to let her into the elevator, and then repeated the process down the hall. They passed overlapping sensor webs that admitted them based on biometrics. Those did not have any network connections, and could only be programmed from inside the controlled area. Cady's team had done the initial setup. Jason would lock them down from inside using his own protocols. He led the way. Once past those, he moved ahead and unlocked the door.

  The apartment was insane.

  Caron's quarters were about 150 square meters, with a kitchen, bedroom, a private nook/study/den, and a great room. One wall and part of the ceiling were transparent and anti-reflection treated, looking straight out the dome located a few meters away. The racing, Easter egg bands of
ochres and reds washed by in the wind, clearing occasionally to offer a blurry view of the mine pits. On a mock balcony surrounded by one way panes was a hot tub, plunge and jet blown lap pool.

  Her furniture was not all locally made. She had a very nice wood coffee table.

  Jason said, "Bluemaple burl," as he knelt and took a glance at it. "Beautiful stuff."

  Her kitchen cabinets across the expanse were Circassian walnut from Turkey, probably half a millennium old. Two chairs and a couch were upholstered in ostrich skin. The glasses on the rack were real cut crystal.

  The floor . . . parquet wood, area rugs, and the den had sculpted carpet with five centimeters of padding. You could wrestle, or other things, on that.

  Caron looked very unhappy. It wasn't her home, could never be her home, and she could never leave. Perhaps not "never," merely "decades," but to a woman of twenty-two, that would feel the same.

  She can't even pick up a quick lay here, Alex thought. Poor kid.

  "I'll unpack in the morning," she said. "I'm going to bed. Thank you all."

  "You're welcome, Caron," he said. "Bart is on for now, then Shaman then Elke."

  "I'm in no hurry in the morning. Thanks."

  She turned and walked into her bedroom, with a visible sigh as she closed the door.

  Their own quarters were as impressive. Their first assignment together had been in a Presidential Palace. President Bishwanath had made sure they were comfortable, but that had nothing on this.

  The "dead spaces" on all sides of her apartment were actually theirs. That made sense. There was a central spiral staircase, elevator and drop tube to ensure rapid access. Bart's apartment could be reached through the kitchen. Alex was above, Jason below, Shaman canted to the rear off the study. Elke's apartment opened through a door in the bedroom, and another through a hallway to the study. Aramis was across the hall, next to a common room they could all use. Across from that was a gym.

  Someone was thinking. Oh, wait, that was me, Alex thought wryly. Aramis was a good man. Why put temptation near him? And for proprietary image and personal safety, the only person who could share bedroom access had to be Elke.

  The cheapest room on this ball cost M5,000 a night. The dome overhead had cost billions. Money was something that no one here worried about in any fashion. The universe's elite had a playground kept secure by simple costs.

  Except that the same elite had people with the money and mindset to try to arrange a hit. Alex would have to be alert for anyone acting out of their class, whatever class that might be here.

  Jason awoke early. The quarters were far more comfortable than he deserved, but he never slept well the first night anywhere. There was also the fact that he'd spent most of his life on a world with a 27 hour day. This place ran on Earth's clock for convenience, since the outside didn't matter that much, and its 19 hour day wasn't conducive to any normal schedule.

  Grumbling to himself, he rose and showered, dressed and climbed up the spiral stair to Caron's main room. There was also a ladder through a hatch and a lift pallet for moving large items. Both had additional sensor webs and security equipment. The layout was his design, and he was proud of it. They all had multiple ways in to protect her, and limited ways in from outside. If they could channel attackers, they could slow them.

  The lights were at minimum, but it was light outside, the filthy smog pretty when seen through two layers of armored composite. The wind was steady, and some trick of aerodynamics curled a brown wisp into a corkscrew across the dome.

  He got quietly to work opening crates and laying out supplies. They each had small backpacks with water, emergency rations, medical supplies, lights, batteries, maps, comms. They had body armor. They had casual and formal wardrobes. They had field and military gear. It all had to be checked and distributed. They each carried their on-person gear in pockets and pouches tailored into clothes. They had discrete backup bags or briefcases as needed, and then they had combat rucks for evacuation, that could sustain them for days if need be. This mission emphasized the smaller stuff, but it all could be necessary.

  A low buzz indicated someone coming in. It was Aramis. Jason took his hand off his holstered stunner and nodded a greeting.

  Aramis looked a bit groggy himself, and nodded back. He came over and helped arrange things on the carpeted floor.

  Elke came in seconds later in a casual snug sweater. Her figure was leaner than Caron's, but certainly attractive. Jason nodded again and turned away. He'd seen Elke before. Right now his concern was threats and equipment.

  They certainly had the melee gear they needed. The combination baton, neural stunner with contact and range settings, and a blindingly bright strobe was welcome. They'd used those on Salin. They had folding and fixed blade knives, the latter large enough to serve as small swords. Jason had a tomahawk. That made him happy. They had incapacitance gas in aerosols, stun grenades, dazzle lights, impact stun bags, wrecking bars, and knives.

  "Did they authorize those?" Aramis asked softly, pointing at the wrecking tools.

  Jason said, "They didn't not authorize them, but did specifically forbid firearms and limit Elke's explosives."

  "Blbe skurvenys," she muttered.

  "But, these were not mentioned. So if they don't ask, I won't tell."

  The rest walked in just then. Bart said, "I firmly believe in never telling anything. What are we not telling and who to?"

  Aramis pointed.

  The wrecking bars looked more like something for killing zombies. They had a hammer face, a wrenchlike gap big enough to take a timber or a wrist, a claw back sharpened almost to a knife edge, and the handle had a chisel point. It looked like it could pry, punch or smash just about anything.

  Alex said, "Those are a bit blatant." He frowned.

  "Yes they are!" Jason and Shaman said in unison, then laughed and high-fived.

  Jason said, "Alex, if someone wants to screw with us, I want an obvious dissuasion. These are emergency tools in case we get stuck. Nothing more. But I figure if I brain the first one, or even just rip his kneecap off, the rest will think twice."

  "As long as we have a good cover, that's great. It looks like a cross between a war hammer and a tomahawk, built on a pry bar."

  "That's pretty much what it is. Beautiful, isn't it?"

  Alex said, "I like the knife. You always bring the good stuff."

  "Simple is better," Jason said. The knives were chisel pointed steel with cord wrapped handles. An old but reliable design. They were big enough to be lethal, flat enough to conceal, and pretty much fail proof. They'd also work as pry bars.

  All their clothing was constructed with non-Newtonian properties. The gloves were double thick. A punch with those and the glove shell would momentarily turn into a stiff hammer. For hand to hand violence, they were set.

  "Police stunners?" Aramis asked, hefting one. It was more obvious, but less versatile than the stunner they'd used on Celadon. It was much more powerful, though.

  Jason confirmed that. "One good shot from this and the perp will be down for hours. Anyone with a heart weaker than a cape buffalo is going to need a cardiac function test."

  Bart said, "I approve. This dome restricts our variance greatly. There are definite choke points on any route to anywhere."

  Alex nodded. "Randomness of schedule is critical. Caron RSVPs to nothing, may or may not show up as she wishes, I dictate, or a coin flip determines. The same for food. It gets inspected, we bring several choices up from the kitchen, and most of it gets tossed. At least we know it gets recycled instead of wasted."

  "It gets recycled on Earth," Elke said. "It just takes longer. But I get your meaning."

  They had one shotgun, pistol sized, with breacher rounds.

  "Mine," Elke said as she picked it up and cleared the action. No one disputed her.

  "We need more explosive," she added.

  "Are you kidding? You have enough to kill several thousand people if applied properly. I had to lie and fight to get t
hat much."

  "There's more in the mine. I can get it."

  "Elke: subtlety. Do you know the word?"

  "I believe it was a medieval English word for a dessert made to look like sculpture, yes?"

  Her expression was deadpan.

  Caron came through right then. She was clean, neatly and casually dressed in slacks and blouse, and wore a smile that was somewhat forced.

  "Good morning," she said. "At least I'm done with school."

  Alex said "Good morning, Miss," while the rest echoed or mumbled quietly.

  Caron said, "I'm going to cook breakfast. I will be doing good English bacon, eggs, toast and grilled tomatoes. Please sit and tell me what you'd like."

  Horace thought that was an excellent coping mechanism on her part. It was sociable, fulfilling and gracious.

  "Over easy please, Miss," he said. "Very light on the toast."

  Jason caught his eye, gave a bare shrug and nod that he understood, and said, "Over medium if you can, please, and did I see rye bread?"

  "Yes," she agreed.

  The others placed orders quickly, from scrambled to cheese omelet to hard cooked.

  Caron was an accomplished cook, who used four pans on the RF pads without any microwave heating. She grilled the tomatoes in the electric broiler and kept the rest moving. She even brought the food to them. Horace was quite impressed. Such a nice young lady.

  She even had coffee up in short order, with real cream, probably frozen for transport, and raw sugar.

  Between bites, Alex asked, "So what is your schedule today, Miss?"

  "I'm going to run up and see Dad," she said. "After that, look around. I've seen maps and charts and overlays and video, and none of it in person. The last time I was here I was fifteen and it was just a collection of sealed boxes."

  Horace asked, "How long do you need to look around?"

  "It might take a week," she said. "Obviously, that's just an overview. But people need to know I'm here and part of the operation. I assume that carries a security risk?"