Do Unto Others-ARC

by Michael Z. Williamson

Alex said, "Everything carries a security risk. But we'll make it work."

  "Will you be with me forever?" she asked, sounding a little tight.

  "Ideally, we can devise protocols that will let you get down to one personal guard and a remote team on standby. They can also work on protecting your father, uncle and any highly placed employees in the area as well."

  "My uncle has Ex Ek Security. What do you think of them?"

  Alex said, "For the lesser threat he faces, they are quite adequate. No one is going to try to kill him under the present circumstances. Of course, if you or your father are removed from control, his risk goes up considerably. He's far more likely to face petty blackmail and extortion. Much less threatening, much cheaper to deal with, and much cheaper to protect against."

  "That's something I'd like to aspire to," she said, finally coming from the kitchen with her own plate, which was already half consumed. "I don't mind the money, but it's a bloody choke chain."

  "That's a long term plan we're really not able to help make, but we'll support you of course."

  "I appreciate it," she said.

  Horace was impressed. Many people would have said, "If the money's enough, right?" or something similar. She did not.

  All in all, he thought she was handling the stress very well.

  "In the meantime," she said, "this is my planet, so I'm going to explore it. The operations, the raw outdoors, the tourist traps. As long as we're unannounced you think I'm safe?"

  "Miss, you are not safe anywhere at any time, but we can avoid a lot of threats. However, if you're known to frequent certain locations, or even certain types of locations—casinos, say, or the outdoor tours—someone can plan accordingly and wait for you. They only have to get lucky once, and recon is cheap. They just hire a shill to report when you're seen."

  She wrinkled her brow in concentration.

  "While it will annoy people," she said, "would it help to have occasional delays for other traffic, to keep potential threats from reaching me as fast?"

  "That's one more thing we can add, yes, with permission."

  "Then I suppose I better to my first sightseeing first," she said. "I'm going to take the gondola over the volcano. How do we proceed?"

  "Who's going with her?" Alex asked.

  "I will," Aramis said. "I've always wanted to see one up close."

  Elke said, "I assume it's basaltic flows? I'd like to see that, too."

  Alex added, "Jason and Bart will escort you there. They're able to meet at the far end, yes?"

  "I think that will need a puddle jumper—the little executive hoppers used around the mines. I'm sure I can get one."

  Elke said, "I suggest regular clothes to visit your father. You could wear a hijab or veil while touristing."

  She thought for a moment.

  "That's not a bad idea. In fact, I like it. I can not be me."

  "I packed some," Elke said.

  Horace wondered how that suggestion would have been received from a male. It was interesting how viewpoint and perception changed.

  Aramis regretted volunteering almost as soon as the tour started. The gondola was well-sealed, and everyone had an emergency pack in hand. He deemed it safer to not clear it, since there was at least a chance that a killer wouldn't want to take out twenty very rich and powerful tourists as well as Caron, and the odds of one of them being a threat were significantly below average. Add in the unannounced arrival and the basic black headdress she wore over a long dress, and it should be fine. He still watched everyone, though.

  Then the car shifted and swayed. The cable above was largely for stability and backup. The gondola moved on gas jets. That combined with blasts of heat from the volcano served to make the ride very bumpy, though. Then, they were over an open fucking volcano.

  Yes, it was pretty. Impressive. Awe-inspiring. Terrifying. Aramis knew the cable was sufficient, the gas jets powerful enough to hold them, the car insulated and proof against the heat long enough for recovery by the crew on duty at the terminus. His brain knew all that, and his guts wanted him the hell off and out. Five seconds was plenty.

  He steeled himself to look back at the passengers, who varied from delighted to quaking, depending on their knowledge of science and trust in the materials. One older couple chattered away about geology. They might be retired professionals. Not bothered. Others squeaked and shivered. Caron seemed fairly calm.

  Aramis took a closer look. He was not officially medical personnel, but he was trained in battlefield lifesaving and he knew dilated pupils when he saw them. The little bitch had tranked herself.

  Was this another way of punishing them for her own issues?

  Maybe not, he thought. Maybe she just wanted to see it and knew she'd be afraid of the environment.

  Fair enough. Of course, he and Elke couldn't medicate on duty unless injured.

  He looked over at Elke. She was very stiff, very still, white-knuckling the rail and frozen-faced. Her pupils were dilated, but it wasn't from medication. He wondered as to her awareness.

  Sighing inside, he made the decision to turn around and watch the other end of the car. Elke would be all business if a threat happened, he knew. Fearless in the event. He didn't like having his back to that perfectly transparent glass, though. The shifting light from the lava boils didn't help his mindset.

  A few of the passengers seemed to feel likewise. They gripped at the numerous rails and clung to dignity by taking very slow, measured looks that were mostly at the inside of the car. The usual adrenaline junkies pointed and waved.

  Aramis wasn't afraid of heights. He was trained in rappelling and parachuting. Here, though, he was suspended by a wire over a volcano in a toxic atmosphere. Maybe the thrill seekers just didn't grasp the threat level, and that there was nothing a human could do if things went wrong. Certainly it was safe, or Prescot would not let his daughter here . . . but the perception killed all reason.

  He was only too glad for the ride to be over. He used the excuse of status and urgency to push Elke and Caron out the door first, and climbed into the armored train car with Bart and Jason.

  He wound up next to Elke, and was surprised when she gripped his hand and held it for half the trip back. Once they cleared the tunnel back into the dome, she slipped her fingers free and acted as if nothing had happened, so he did, too.

  Really, he didn't blame her.

  Chapter 17

  It certainly did seem safer here, Bart thought. All visitors were vetted. The tourists were worth stupid amounts of money and less likely to be motivated for crime. The management all received excellent salaries and benefits, so had little incentive to push for more. That was also true of the high ranking mine personnel. Miss Caron didn't interact with the common minors or staff. Given all that, it was a much more relaxed environment. They escorted her when she left her apartment and remained on call otherwise.

  They had a top quality gym, unlimited entertainment and access to all shows, casinos, excursions, the best food he'd ever tasted, and limited duty for high pay with no threats so far. There was nothing to complain about.

  Nothing, except that it was boring, and he didn't expect it to last.

  Miss Caron seemed interested in keeping them doing light work, at least.

  They had their standard morning meeting and formation, in her great room. She didn't cook breakfast for them as a rule, but they could help themselves to anything she had. That also helped prevent poisoning, since everything coming in was sealed, checked by automated equipment, passed up by Cady's team, checked again by Elke, then probably served to them before her. There was still a small risk of toxicity, but given the previous failure and all the attention on the matter, it wasn't likely anyone would try that method again.

  Miss Caron acted as her own social secretary. She was at the coffee table she usually used as a desk, when Bart walked in. He poured himself some excellent coffee and took one pastry, and joined the gaggle.

  She kept herself busy, probably as insu
lation against the culture shock. Also, he realized, she was going to be one of the executives here. Her entire life was planned already.

  "Okay," she said, "I'll need to check in with Dad sometime this afternoon. I do need to see most of the Operation Section management offices to get a good overview. That's going to take more than a week just by itself."

  Aramis said, "You'll . . . " paused for a moment, and finished, " . . . want to do that overview soon, then." He flushed slightly, but she didn't seem to catch it.

  Bart ignored it, also, though he was quite sure the man had almost said, you'll have a lot of time to look at in detail over the next few years, though. No, let's not say that.

  "I suppose I must. Can I get you to schedule me at the most randomly inconvenient times possible for everyone, including myself?"

  "Absolutely, Miss," Alex said. "Then we'll make a few of them convenient, just so we're not predictable."

  "Luckily I don't have a set schedule for any of it. Do with me as you will." She sipped he tea and flipped through more screens.

  Bart thought that phrase could be taken two ways in English. He assumed she meant it in the non-suggestive way.

  Alex had three screens of his own laid out on the desk near the window.

  "I think we should do the entire technical tour in one go. It leaves less time for future preparations, since some of the routes are choke points."

  "So you suggest one long day of potential improvised threats, versus multiple trips against a timeframe that allows planning."

  "Exactly."

  "Very well. I'll need food and water, I assume."

  Bart offered, "I'll make sandwiches. You like pumpernickel and ham, yes?"

  "I do," she agreed. "Thank you."

  He stepped into the kitchen alcove, dumped out an entire sliced loaf, and started throwing ingredients down. It didn't take long, and then he checked his own water, emergency respirator, pistol, armor and emergency kit.

  Then they were out the door, each in suit with a stylish shoulder bag full of things that were not lethal enough to suit Bart. He wondered how Elke felt.

  They cleared their way section by section down to the garage level. Bart treated every empty cross corridor, landing, elevator as a possible threat zone. It was his job. Besides, there just might be a threat, and he'd look stupid even if he survived.

  Jason drove the lead vehicle. Bart took the second one. He wound up with Miss Caron, Elke and Mbuto while the other two got in with Jason. For an over-glamorized golf cart, the vehicles were not bad. They were roomy enough, had bars and power and work tables, as well as comm and entertainment. No one would ever mistake it for a real car of any kind, though. The supplemental armor would stop small arms or very light explosives. While the security protocols should prevent military munitions from entering the dome, the mine had plenty of commercial explosive.

  There was nothing to do about that at the moment, though, so Bart focused on driving.

  They left the dome through a passageway with a staggered series of airtight hatches. Bart had been a surface ship sailor in the German Baltic fleet, which somehow spent much of its time in the Indian Ocean chasing pirates. He knew well-engineered equipment when he saw it. These doors would easily hold against a blowout, even explosives, and there were a lot of them. Of course, the steel and aluminum was locally produced.

  They angled down and then left, which would be southwest. He had a printed map to refer to. They should be reaching the division to the mine at the next pressure door. Yes, there. This section would shortly end in a parking garage from where they'd have to walk.

  Alex was glad when they parked. He found the little carts to be far too flimsy for real protection, and far too obvious, even if there were others driving around. There weren't enough to do more than draw attention. He climbed out, waited while Caron was surrounded by a wall of meat, then moved into the lead. He used the paper printout map, since his phone could be traced and theoretically read.

  There weren't many people in the area, but those who were clearly identified Caron's party at once. So much for discretion. Still, they'd reached here unseen as far as he knew.

  Jason said, "Called and told them to expect VIPs any moment. They acknowledged."

  "Understood," he said.

  The door opened to a press of the caller he carried, which made it much easier to discreetly clear the entrance as he walked in. Aramis went right as he went left, Shaman went straight ahead.

  One receptionist, male. One primary occupant at a plotting station, also male. No obvious threats or weapons. The man was waiting for them, looking relaxed and not even annoyed. Good actor. No one liked VIPs dropping in unannounced during the work day.

  They parted to let Caron through, and kept eyes and scanners out.

  She stepped forward and offered a hand, as she said, "This is our senior mining explosives engineer, John Eggett."

  Eggett smiled with crinkled eyes and extended his hand. Alex reached for it, but Elke squeezed in front.

  "John!" she said, with a shake that turned into a quick hug. "Wonderful to see you again."

  "And you, Elke. You're looking lovely as always." He looked down at her with a fond smile.

  "That's just the smell of explosive you like," she said with a hint of blush. "I envy you. I've been admiring the work since we got into orbit."

  "I've heard about some of yours, and I read your last article in the Blaster's Journal," he said.

  "Thank you, but I'm being rude," Elke said. She introduced the team, starting with Aramis.

  Alex studied Eggett. He had a definite military bearing. He had a little extra weight, but good muscle tone. Decent looking guy, groomed hair and short beard. Seemed competent, comfortable and relaxed. If he was hiding anything, he was a pro. Elke had actually hugged him in public, which spoke volumes. He'd have to ask her for a brief.

  Elke concluded the introductions with, " . . . and our team leader, District Agent In Charge Alex Marlow."

  Eggett offered his hand. "Agent Marlow. Pleased to meet you."

  Alex took it. Firm grip, no games. Good man so far.

  "And you, Mister Eggett," he said. "Do please tell us anything you like."

  Eggett stepped back with a slight smile. "Well, we're preparing to set off the largest non-military blast in history. In about another ten days, four cubic kilometers of crust is going to jump three meters to the right, pirouette, backflip and land in a bucket."

  Alex smiled. Elke snickered.

  Eggett continued. "What we're actually going to do is shoot a series of charges. Six will shatter the ore-bearing layer so that it's easier to process. One will cut a glory hole in the middle from where equipment can radiate out to remove the ore. One big one just above that will blow most of the overburden to vapor and it will vent into the atmosphere."

  "Any risk of projectiles hitting the dome?"

  "That's where the calculations come in. Most of the overburden will sublime straight to vapor. There's obviously going to be some fragmentation, and a small buffering charge—about two hundred tonnes—will create a backblast to meet the shockwave from the main charge and counter it out to neutralize debris in that cone, or divert those fragments from trajectories toward any existing structures. Also, the detonation wave shouldn't have enough energy at the surface to throw anything heavy enough. We chose a spot deep enough to contain the charge."

  "Wouldn't shallower require less blast?"

  "We want depth for containing the blast. We want it to blow overburden, not make a flashy cloud. Deeper means we can also get a broader hole, exposing more ore."

  Shaman asked, "Are those large metal plates ballistic protection against the blast?"

  "Actually, those are chilled condensation plates. There will be some metal vapor subliming out from the residual heat. They'll condense and recover it. That's not my field, though."

  "How long does that take?"

  "After the geologic survey, using seismic charges to create reflectance wav
es, I consult with the senior mining engineer, and his staff. We design the shot. Then the devices have to be manufactured or tuned accordingly. Holes are drilled, the charges placed, everything double-checked; we even use the drill cores to check the material properties. Once everything is set, we schedule a time, clear the area, and everyone in the mine needs to be in breathing gear regardless of location, in case of shockwave triggered leaks. Then I get the go ahead, push the button, and the actual detonation takes about four microseconds. Collapse of the camouflet, venting and subsumation takes a few hours to be sure, then we have to let it cool for several days. Elapsed time is about eight weeks, but saves us several months of cutting and removing material, with the attendant operating costs."

  "What about radiation? How soon can you actually go in, or are the vehicles hardened?"

  "The equipment is all hardened. The devices are designed to be very clean. It's not my specialty; I can build conventional charges, these I just specify for someone else, but I understand there's a tritium and beryllium component to create extra neutrons."

  Elke said, "Neutron booster. Concentric spheres of plutonium, with a tritium filled gap between them and a beryllium core. Detonation basically drives the fluid wave of the outer imploding fissionable through a neutron haze, reaching supercriticality before it reaches full compression with the inner sphere. The resultant fissioning supercritical mass slaps the beryllium for even greater emission. Conversion in the center of the core is close to ninety-seven percent efficient, the outer half on a rising curve from seventy-three to eighty-six percent. A heavy outer layer of iridium acts as a non-fissionable tamper. By the time the crater cools enough to send vehicles down, the radiation should be close to background."

  Caron was wide eyed. "Damn, woman!" she said.

  Elke shrugged. "I can show you the math if you like."

  "Do you want a job?"

  "I . . . really would rather not discuss that," Elke said, looking wistful.

  Hmm, Alex thought. Something to wonder about. Elke liked the job, but liked explosives more. Worth mentioning. He also needed to get her some she could work with, even if they were not likely to actually need it. Possibly she could work with Eggett on a few shots, for practice and training? A good idea. Elke loved blasting more than anything in the universe, and she wouldn't be doing any on this mission unless there was a disaster.