Do Unto Others-ARC

by Michael Z. Williamson

  "No need to evacuate, then."

  "If a leak is that bad, they'd tent over the area, rip out and replace. That's never happened."

  "How often has a crack like this happened?"

  "Um . . . it hasn't."

  "That's actually not what I wanted to hear."

  Alex said, "Yes, possible sabotage, with the unrest, or a bona fide disaster, or even a large scale hostile act."

  Caron looked very sober.

  "So what should we do?" she asked. "I'll need to report in to help supervise."

  Right then, Alex's phone buzzed. He snagged it on voice only.

  "Marlow."

  "Mister . . . Agent Marlow. Is Caron well?" It was her uncle.

  That was an odd question.

  "Very much, and safe."

  "Are you sure?"

  "I get regular reports of any changes." Alex suddenly didn't want to admit their proximity.

  "Good. Can I reach her? I have to give her some bad news."

  "I can't put you in contact quickly. Can I inquire?"

  "Yes, it's going to be public very shortly and I need to reach her first, of course. Her father died in a mining accident a few minutes ago. Big explosion and landslide."

  Alex jolted.

  "Are you sure, sir? He's not just stuck?"

  "It was a massive collapse. Several people were down there. We're going to mine down, of course, but it will take days, and the mass of material involved, and the toxic atmosphere . . . "

  "I understand, sir. I'm very sorry to hear of your loss."

  "Yes, thank you. But I must tell Caron, and see her, and followup on other details from there. I suppose I'm temporarily in charge until the legal snarls are over. Should I meet at her apartment? Or in the office up here?"

  The man was already in the main office.

  As a massive adrenaline dump roared through him, Alex said, "We'll come over, and up. It could take a little while. We're down past entertainment." Or at least, the repeater for his coded phone was. He might have to make use of several of them now.

  "Please. And please don't tell anyone, not even your own staff. I don't want her being alarmed."

  "Understood, sir. We'll be on our way."

  "Thanks."

  The call ended, and Alex flipped over his phone and pulled the card. As soon as he did so, all the others did, too. Aramis pulled six more phones out of a small pouch.

  "Prepaid," he said. "Harder to trace."

  Alex took one, pointed and gave orders. "Mask up. You too, Miss Prescot. Elke, take out the window. Bart, grab that cable."

  Caron demanded, "What's happening?"

  He spoke while locking eyes with her. "Aramis, help her with her mask. Caron, your survival depends on doing exactly as you are told for the next few minutes. An attack is imminent."

  "But we're . . . yes, sir, I will." She nodded again, very serious and attentive.

  "Good."

  Yes, good. He'd maintain the no-nonsense attitude until he had her somewhere safe.

  No one else asked what was happening; they just did as they were told.

  Aramis grabbed two harnesses from the kit, threw one over his shoulders, and helped Caron snap one over her hips and shoulders. Even that looked exciting on her.

  Elke, her voice slightly muffled, asked, "Masks? Everyone clear? Fire in the hole!"

  BANG! CRASH ROAR.

  The atmosphere swirled in, tinged with filthy yellow and stirred up debris.

  Aramis clipped onto the cable as Bart heaved it out the hole. There was little material around the edges, and the cable had a heavy shroud against damage.

  Bart checked its deployment, then escorted Caron over and helped her clip on. He attached behind her and reached his huge arms around.

  "Remember what you were taught. Grip the rope behind you, not in front, and I will, too. Here we go."

  Aramis dropped off at once, face first down into the dingy brown fog.

  Caron looked scared, but frozen calm as Bart kicked off. Apparently, she wasn't dropping whatever drugs she used to relax herself before her recreational stunts. Still, she didn't hinder as she slid down and was swallowed into the tumbling, sulfurous roils.

  Alex went next, Shaman barely behind, but the boots disappeared from his view as he slid down. At least this crud offered concealment. He went down slow enough to avoid running into Bart and Caron, but fast enough his glove warmed up as it soaked momentum into friction. It didn't really feel like a rappel, as he couldn't see any terrain. It wasn't dark, just boiling yellow nothing.

  Knowing there were potential hostiles out there, hidden in the haze, invisible from his current position and that he was a big, fat target until he reached ground already had him bursting with sweat around the seal of his mask, and hyperventilating. He forced himself to de-escalate the threat level. This was nothing he hadn't done before, it was just a reaction, and the pleasant, hell, glamorous surroundings created a lot of contrast. But, no matter how opulent it was, this was now a war zone. His mind shifted around a bit and he calmed down to near normal. Then he was on the ground.

  Shaman landed right after him, Elke almost at once, and she barely cleared the line as Jason brought up the rear, fast. As he cleared, he clicked a button. A wire hidden in the rope core signaled a release, and a few seconds later the mount clattered to the ground and threw chips. That would hopefully hide their actions a few minutes longer. Elke had the coil faked halfway, Alex dismounted the hook and stuffed it in his ruck, and Aramis grabbed the other end. As he and Elke met, he took both coils, twisted them and tossed them into his ruck.

  A couple of shadows resolved as staff trudging through the thick smog, and one of them stepped up.

  "Sir, no one can be outside without authorization."

  "We're going inside now," he said, shifting around so they weren't looking toward all the activity.

  He hoped that was the end of it, but one of them squinted toward the others.

  Bart and Aramis dissolved in from the fog and grabbed them both from behind. They just started to shout and protest they were zapped, then Shaman slipped up and jabbed the first with a needle, then the other.

  "We have about twelve hours," he said, as the two men were dragged off to be stuffed somewhere. Alex was curious, but trusted his people.

  "Let's move," he said. "What's the cheapest hotel?"

  Jason said at once, "There's a Crowne Plaza. Only sixty-three hundred per night. They'll peg us by tomorrow, though."

  "Do we need rest or movement?"

  "Movement."

  "Agreed. Staff section."

  Jason said, "Elke, we need to get through some doors, and in a way most people would call discreet."

  "I will try," she agreed.

  Aramis held up a printed flat map. "I suggest here. One of the retreats you asked me to secure."

  At once Alex said, "Lead the way. Elke and Jason, crack anything Aramis tells you."

  Aramis knew where he was going. He slipped ahead and had no hesitations, though he did feel for corners in the filthy air. They turned, turned again. He held up a hand with the clenched fist for "hold," and they waited, flat against the building. He waggled a thumb and Alex repeated the gesture, unsure if Aramis could be seen by the others. They stepped quietly to the middle of the avenue. Hopefully, no automatic vehicles would come through.

  Vague sounds and shifts indicated a couple of people, probably staff, were on the walkway. They apparently didn't see the party and kept going. Aramis waved a hand and pointed, and Jason moved to the walkway as a scout.

  The only way to tell distance in the haze was to count paces. Alex tried to estimate the traveled distance, and knew they'd come fifty meters from when he'd started. They should be close to a service road, and just then, Aramis indicated right and turned that way.

  A few moments later, Alex moved in to the group as Jason popped open a door. It was a basic metal type to keep out inquisitive tourists, so it wasn't coded or otherwise restricted, though t
here might be cameras inside.

  Jason went in first with Aramis watching through a crack, then the rest of them got the thumbs up.

  Inside was still foggy, and Jason had flipped the camera so it stared at the wall. One edge of the fisheye might barely catch the door, but it should be tough to identify people in masks. Of course, there were probably other sensors, too.

  Elke was at the inside door, at work with a coding box. In a few seconds, it clicked open. They swarmed through, Aramis led the way right inside the corridor, down metal stairs that everyone navigated smoothly, though Caron was a bit loud. He opened a storage room door. They were underneath another building, in a fairly secure area. Bart brought up the rear and jammed a brace under the door latch.

  "Keep masks on," Alex advised. The air here was mostly clear, but it looked as if a few toxins were loose, and who wanted a lungful of sulfurous crud?

  Aramis had done well. He broke out extra staff oxy bottles, loose anoraks that would hide their shape with insulated liners, tool belts with B&E tools, water bottles and rations, as well as spare socks and some other sundries. He grabbed a pack of disposable atmosphere-sealed coveralls used for light maintenance. He handed out printed maps.

  "Brief rest," he said, only slightly muffled through the mask. "We're moving out in five."

  Jason took the time to grab some tools. Elke went straight for the chemical locker and took two bottles. Alex said nothing. He figured they knew what they were doing. It was less than five minutes before everyone was ready, with Caron still quiet and waiting for orders, wide-eyed and trembling nervous under her mask.

  They split into three groups. Aramis took Bart and went on ahead. Elke and Jason went with Caron. Alex and Shaman brought up the rear.

  The map was clear enough, though it showed a convoluted route under two more buildings and then up into the staff quarters, at the west side of the dome and crawling into the bedrock. Shortly, Alex rapped softly on the indicated door, and Elke ushered him in. She snatched the map and destroyed it at once.

  As Alex unmasked, Caron asked, "How bad is it?" She sat on a couch, but very upright and stiffly.

  He faced her and said, "Caron, I don't know. I have reason to believe your father's in severe trouble. I also believe there's an immediate threat to you. I intend to stay hidden until we find more information."

  "Was that my uncle who called?" she asked.

  "Yes it was."

  "I don't trust him," she said. "I think he may be involved."

  "So do I." That had good and bad elements. Good was he wouldn't have to persuade her not to contact the man. Bad was that he wished he'd known of that distrust earlier, and for the time being, the man was in charge.

  She asked, "Do you think my father's dead?" The question was delivered very dispassionately, but her eyes betrayed her. The cold mask was only that.

  "Caron, I don't know. Your uncle said he thought he was trapped in a landslide. He then made immediate inquiries as to your location. That's why we evacuated."

  "What would that mean for your contract? And what about your compatriots guarding him?"

  "If he's trapped, so are they. Obviously, I hope they're all alive and well, and I'm overreacting. Our contract remains in force until cancelled. It's a personal contract through your father. So until he or you cancels it, we continue.

  She closed her eyes momentarily, breathed slowly, and then asked, "Can you do anything to help my father?"

  "I put out a squawk through our secure channel. He has good operators with him, and they're all friends of mine. My job is to protect you, and I can best do that here. Splitting up won't help anyone. I realize that's not what you want to hear, but it's the best we can do. I'm truly sorry."

  He was also prepared to argue that she couldn't give him any orders until her father was confirmed dead. She didn't argue, though. She just nodded.

  "What's our plan now?" she asked.

  Her haughtiness, her manner, her will were all gone. She was a young woman dealing with a very sobering and frightening life change, brittle as glass and clinging to such shreds of sanity and dignity as she could manage.

  "We stay hidden until we're sure it's safe, and consider possible courses of action. But for right now, I have to assume someone wants your family dead."

  "They don't seem to be trying very hard for my uncle, do they?"

  He first said, "It's hard to say." Then he realized she needed more than just bland reassurance. "The available evidence is that they aren't, though."

  "Are you considering him a threat?"

  "I have to consider everyone a potential threat, but under circumstances like this, he must be considered so and treated accordingly."

  "Can I order you to raise his threat level?"

  He raised his eyebrows fractionally.

  "Order, no, but I will certainly take that as a valid request and serious advisory. Is there anything that leads you to feel that way?"

  "Nothing specific. My father did say something about his dealings being a bit off, though. That's not much really, but . . . "

  "Combined with his apparent safety, that's significant. It doesn't confirm he's a threat himself, but it means at least someone thinks he's more useful alive than either you or your father."

  Caron seemed at her emotional end. She leaned over and grabbed Elke in a hard hug, and started weeping.

  Elke looked very nonplussed and shied, but after a moment, she returned the grip and gently patted Caron's back. Her expression was one of confusion, discomfort and surprise. Ordinarily, it would have been hysterical.

  Jason had his comm terminal up. Intel was crucial, but so was being discreet. Alex knew he had several evasion systems working, but it was still a potential leak.

  Aramis leaned into a closet, threw out a panel that was probably a false back, and tossed rucksacks out. They were filled to capacity, bulky and rounded and had company weapons strapped on them, military grade without biometric safeties.

  Caron was still stuck in her own world. In a sharp tone she said, "Who authorized those?"

  Alex said, "I did."

  She hesitated a moment, and then reality smacked her again. It wasn't uncommon for principals to take a while to grasp threats. Which, of course, is why people like Alex got paid to grasp them all the time.

  Still, she asked, "Are all rules just tentative guidelines to you?"

  "Miss, I get paid to keep you alive. We've had this conversation. Someone has just violated the rules, so now it's my turn. I plan for that. I don't intend to leave you on your own, and the only use I have for the moral high ground is a place to put my artillery. Your survival still depends on us getting you safely away. You've done well so far. Please continue to do so."

  "I'll shut up, sir," she said with a weak smile.

  Elke had another phone from somewhere, and had audio up. She motioned for silence.

  She said, "Hello, Pyro. What happened?"

  Eggett replied, "One of our charges prematured on a truck."

  "That's impossible."

  "Yes it is. Sabotage, obviously. The damage isn't severe, but there's a lot of screaming brass. I can't talk long. Luckily it was on the near side, so the mine face acted as a tamper. Blast was generally away from the dome. We lost several miners, and will have to account for some others."

  "Got it. Any word on the family? I'm down in the service area right now and cut off. I will have to work my way back."

  "Well, there's lots of secrecy and no word on the boss. She is missing. There's a million mark reward out for recovering her."

  "We won't be eligible. Even if we knew where she was."

  "Bullshit, lady," Eggett said. "But I don't need to know and don't want to. I'm staying out of it, but if you need resources, strictly for yourselves, let me know. I'm sure HQ will compensate the company for it, won't they?"

  "No question," Elke said.

  "So you get where you need to. I have to run."

  "Roger. Babs out."

  She
closed the link and looked up, eyebrows raised.

  Bart said, "That is awfully fast for a reward."

  Shaman said, "Obviously, they are worried about her safety."

  Alex cocked his head. "Yeah, but I wonder why they're that worried this fast, since she was not anywhere near the blast area, and her apartment wasn't damaged. Nor have they been calling us to find out."

  Elke said, "Stop pretending. It adds up to threat."

  Alex said, "Yes it does. That's how we proceed. Elke, or Jason, can you get me a secure channel to Cady?"

  "I think so," Jason said. "Stand by." He fumbled with his ruck, pulled out a military radio with encryption capability, and started tapping in a code.

  "Got her," he said. He handed the radio over to Alex.

  "Desi, this is Playright."

  "Go ahead."

  "We have extracted Flatbed and gone to ground."

  Flat Bed. Press Cot. Not that it would fool anyone, but any intel equipment looking for word patterns wouldn't find anything. Besides, they were encrypted and using gear not likely available to the enemy, and no one knew they had it. It was impossible to be too secure.

  Cady said, "Advise me, Playwright. We're told contract cancelled."

  "No doubt. That's not morally valid, but it may be legally." That was fast, too. The uncle definitely wanted control, and was willing to kill for it. Alex presumed the outside threats had all been orchestrated to this end. Damn.

  "We're in a tough situation. We can't work for free, I don't want to abandon a principal."

  Alex nodded. There was not only the moral issue. Being that mercenary was professionally bad. Sold out? Sorry, kid, you're screwed was bad for business.

  "It seems likely a resolution of post-event legalities will support our position. Pay will be backdated."

  Did she catch that? Caron would certainly get enough in the will to cover it all, assuming she lived, the will wasn't destroyed or corrupted, and her uncle didn't buy a few judges. With all that, maybe the odds weren't great.