Do Unto Others-ARC

by Michael Z. Williamson

  Alex nodded. "By all means. Later." There was no time for a conversation. He brought up the rear as Shaman and Jason shoved Caron through the doors, Elke in the lead against demolitions, the two bruisers next to stop bullets.

  He closed the door and had a moment as he waited to ensure it was secured. Hammill had already slipped out of sight, but popped up at a corner, fired two shots and ducked again. Alex was pretty sure the man was former Recon. He just moved to well to not be a pro.

  Sauers kicked over his skateboard, hopped on and shoved off down the slope. By the bottom, he was in a low crouch for balance, shooting diagonally across both knees. It wasn't a lot of firepower, and it wasn't aimed to speak of, but the volume and presentation was sufficient to keep everyone's head down. He shifted left, then right, then pivoted across the road and into an access alley, punching the door open ahead of him.

  He wished he'd stopped looking then, because Hammill popped up again, and went back in a splash from a flurry of hits. He probably wasn't going to get up from that. Goddammit.

  The door latched hard, and it was moderately armored, nor did he think that Joe was going to allow anyone with explosive to come in against his own cowardly self, though it was something to plan backup for.

  There'd been a brief altercation here, and the lobby was still being cleared. Caron was sheltered under the reception desk, with Shaman crouched down and moving his weapon in a slow pan. The other four sprinted around shouting tactical notes and kicking doors, frequently with an attached explosion. Elke had apparently shared the goods, because he saw Aramis slap something on a lockplate that shattered it just as he booted it, straining the hinges. He swept the room behind it with his shotgun, made a single nod to himself, and came sprinting back over.

  Alex noticed the body near him had a tomahawk buried in its face. He reached down, grasped and twisted, and it broke out of the crunched bone taking a flap of nose with it. He wiped it on the corpse's shirt and handed it back to Jason, who arrived from the other direction. Bart was already at the elevator bank, and Elke took up station near him.

  "Looks like you ripped him a new axehole."

  "Yeah," Jason replied. They were both too overloaded to comment on the bad joke.

  Alex flanked Caron as they jogged over. One of the really bad tactical things about bodyguarding was the need to bunch up. It slightly improved the safety of Caron like this, but it made them an obvious, easy target. Still, that's what they were paid for.

  "We need to discuss our plans. This is not something we can play by ear."

  Caron asked, "Are Uncle's thugs any good? I thought you said not."

  "Some of them are bound to be, and he has numbers. We have six. We also have to guard you, and we need you to access or bluff our way in."

  "I must insist on lots of explosive," Elke said. "This is not a quirk. This is professional advice." She had Aramis' comm with the map and floorplan application up.

  "I'll listen," Alex said. "What do you suggest?"

  She pointed on the charts at several locations. "First this, then this. You said you wanted a distraction, yes?"

  It took him a moment to realize what she meant. Then he grinned.

  "Elke, that's just amazing. I love you."

  "And I have charges prepared for entering doors, or walls if need be," she said, all business, not responding to the compliment.

  Jason said, "Bart should carry the other shotgun with breacher loads, in addition to his other stuff. Elke has hers. I'll carry a couple of extra carbines, since we don't need to carry a lot of excess." He had a slung armful of the guns now.

  "Agreed so far," Alex said with a nod. "Aramis?"

  "Shotgun and carbine. I expect to need both."

  "Really? Okay." Alex wasn't sure about that, but the man seemed sincere, and he wasn't boasting. "I guess that leaves me. I'll be directing and standing between Caron and any fire. I'll manage with just a pistol and lots of ammo. Caron gets as much armor as we can fit her with, and an extra bottle of oxygen. Caron, can you move fast enough with extra bottles?"

  "Yes," she agreed, seeming a bit nervous but resolute. "They don't mass much."

  "No, but they are bulky. We're going to skip them to save mass and bulk. If, or when, I suppose, we get a breach, you'll need to toss bottles to people as fast as they don masks, but stay down while you do it."

  "I can do that," she nodded thoughtfully and seriously.

  "We're stopping a floor down first. Going straight in would be stupid. On the other hand, taking the elevators is stupid. On the other hand . . . "

  Jason said, "On the other hand, we don't have a choice, but we're taking all the elevators. I had that coded the first day here." He waggled his coding module.

  Caron murmured, "Well done." The technical part of her brain was still engaged, even if her emotions were shocked into nothing. She seemed to grasp why her guards got paid as they did, and that considering everyone a threat made sense, at least this time.

  They hopped into an elevator and Jason levered off the panel, stuck in his leads and punched buttons. It took a noticeable moment, but then the doors closed and they started rising, fast.

  "Fuck. Camera," he said.

  Aramis smashed it with the sharpened bezel on the muzzle of his shotgun. That probably wouldn't help, but didn't hurt.

  Elke said, "It would have taken too long to find access and fix them all."

  Alex shrugged. "Well, maybe they aren't manning it, won't notice, or assume this is a distraction, with them all coming." The shrug was for reassurance. He felt a cold chill and a flush of heat fight it out in his guts. Both lost. Nausea won. This was going to get even uglier, and there was nowhere to run at this point. Frontal assault was their only option.

  Given that, there was only one thing to say.

  "Let's do this."

  Chapter 30

  Joe was bothered. They should be running away or negotiating or giving up.

  "I can't believe they're actually coming to me. Should I be scared?"

  He didn't want to consider that. He was Joseph Prescot, now the richest and most powerful man in the universe. It wasn't possible that hired thugs could get through his hired thugs, and all the protection installed. And what about those worthless miners? An accident or two, a most regretful press release, then fire the lot with some hush money and insincere apologies.

  He'd been right to keep their pay low. The dysgenic little savages couldn't even fight 1000:6 and accomplish anything except a mess. The PR nightmare of the entire resort . . . he didn't want to think about that. It might not be recoverable.

  "Sir, I don't think they can get through the barricades, nor the platoon. This should be over shortly."

  "'Should be,' you say." That really wasn't a good sign. Though at least the man wasn't lying to him. "They shouldn't have made it out of the mine, or through the tunnel, or through the dome. So far, they've left a mess of damage I will have to pay to fix, scared lots of cash customers, and are rapidly advancing."

  "I'm really not sure, sir. They shouldn't be doing this. They should be trying to get off planet, discreetly. That's what they did last time."

  "Last time? You're basing your analysis on what they did on some third world shithole planet of dysgenic, tribalistic, swarthy-skinned little fucks?"

  The man's expression said he'd gone too far. Dammit, was everyone afraid to come out and say it? Racism existed for a reason; because it was true.

  The man was hesitant, but did reply.

  "Sir, I don't have anything else to use for estimation. They completely avoided a numerically superior but technically inferior force there, with a government that wasn't hostile, but intended to outmaneuver them. Here, we are actively hostile, and modern trained and equipped. They can't beat us. Even if they've managed well so far, they're coming into a frontal battle. Marlow knows as well as I do he needs five to one odds to make that worthwhile, and bringing their principal makes no sense. I could imagine your niece wanting to make a stand and ho
pe for headlines, but I can't imagine they're choosing to die over the matter. I assume they plan to advance as far as possible, hoping for some kind of notice."

  "Well, they won't get it. The press are locked out until I say so. If they think macho chest-thumping will impress me, they're wrong. They're pissing me off. Everyone is pissing me off, the longer this takes," he warned.

  He pondered aloud, "Does she think that getting face to face will keep her alive?"

  Instantly, the man turned to his team and said, "We didn't hear that." They nodded, some of them a bit hesitantly.

  Joe was even more pissed off. That meant more silence money. There was just no way to get out of this without every second-rate and marginally-brained gutterscum wanting a share of his fortune. He might even have to pay off that bitch Ash, if she survived, and pay for her convalescence. Unbelievable. She was too incompetent even to take her medication on schedule.

  It might take another five years to recoup what this was costing, between tangible overhead and lost market share.

  He shrugged mentally. It was probably worth it.

  The man said, "Well, they stopped on the floor below. I'm sending a platoon in to pin them down there. It'll take a few seconds. They had the elevators bollixed."

  "Whatever it takes," he agreed. Yes, even if it took more money, he didn't want the man's hands tied. He wanted violence, and he wanted it without hesitation.

  Joe was scared. He wouldn't admit it, but he definitely felt it. They were coming up here, which meant they intended a shootout. They should be fleeing, trying to get away. Junet was right, that's what they'd done last time. A frontal assault was suicide, but messy enough it might draw attention. That was disastrous to the point of billions to argue self defense, and a PR nightmare.

  But worse, they might actually manage to shoot him. It seemed Caron was brave enough for revenge, when surrounded by armed thugs.

  "You've got to stop them," he said.

  Junet nodded and pointed. A few more troops deployed, and the door was secured behind them. That left nine in here, and the shield, and a couple of booby traps.

  Hopefully they'd already taken some casualties. He couldn't believe all six were still functional after the last day. He couldn't believe they were still going. He'd been guzzling coffee and popping stims, and they were running, fighting and straining. But they were still coming.

  They might actually be worth the extra money they cost. That pissed him off more. If he'd pushed harder early on . . . but now . . .

  "Are they cutting up through the floor?" he asked.

  Junet said, "I doubt it. It's reinforced anyway, and it will take more than some portable charges to cut it."

  "You better be right," Joe said. He was disgusted to realize he was shaking and sweating.

  Bart knew he looked calm, but he was pounding from stress. They were shortly going to be in combat with professionals. He'd done that once. Random fire from amateurs was something one got used to. This . . .

  The door opened and he stormed out with Aramis. Ironically, this was something the younger man did have the upper hand in. He'd matured enough to not be conceited about it, either.

  They were clear. This section was completely unoccupied. It was administration office, and nice cubicles with a few offices, with light doors for privacy and silence. The floor was in four airtight sections. Now it was vacant and looked as if people had left in mid shift not even shutting systems off. It added to the eeriness of the situation.

  They really needed more than six people for this. He and Aramis had to secure the area. Mbuto and Marlow had to keep Caron secure. Elke and Jason had to do their thing. He strained for any threats, because traps were quite possible, even if not very likely; no one should have predicted them stopping two floors down.

  Jason did something with a control panel, and nodded. The ventilation kicked in, blowing noticeably. Elke slipped into an office and jumped on the desk, from where she set some kind of charge on the ceiling. She came down, drew a knife, and pulled the hinges off the door, then laid the door aside. She also cut through the sheet rock panels that constituted the walls.

  She muttered as she came past him. "That'll have to do."

  That done, she sprinted over to Aramis, they looked over another miniature map, and waved everyone toward another office.

  Aramis led, Bart backed up the rear, alert for threats. It was still disturbing. The ventilation hissed, and he wondered about toxins. Occasional creaks and clicks from the building adapting to the atmosphere outside made him twitch. At least the gunfire below was inaudible, or had stopped.

  Aramis had found a ceiling hatch for maintenance and emergencies. It led to the floor above, and opened easily. A basic ladder made access simple. Bart came up last and closed it. It took effort.

  Elke sprinted past, and Aramis went with her. It looked as if they were done with their task already.

  Bart's stomach flopped. No time to pause, they were off to fight.

  Aramis came up short.

  "They're behind this airtight," he said.

  Alex asked, "You're sure?"

  "I would be," he said. "It's also secured from that side. There's no reason to lock it, except to slow us down."

  Jason said, "Could be security protocol for the office, but I concur with the threat."

  They shuffled around into the proper formation without having to speak. Elke, Bart and Aramis went ahead in a well-rehearsed formation. She slapped a charge against the door locking mechanism, ducked between Bart and the wall. Aramis rolled the other way, the charge went bang! in a bright white flash, Elke and Bart spun back around, she bringing up her weapon and covering rear as he kicked in the door and Aramis swarmed through open side, Bart hinge side, Elke twirling and through the middle. They sprinted directly for the next door, as Caron walked in a steady crouch, with the older three men around her as a moving wall.

  As Elke blew the third door, several shots rattled against it, sending echoes booming tinnily down the corridor.

  "There they are," Jason murmured, as Elke slid a grenade over the muzzle of her shotgun, aimed at the gap at the bottom of the door, and fired. The round ricocheted.

  A moment later, two shouted curses were drowned out in another tremendous bang! that shook the floor and made the lights flicker. Bart kicked the door, they proceeded guns first, and Caron whimpered and turned green.

  It was rather macabre, Jason thought. The grenade had been close to someone when it detonated, and he was now a red, chunky smear around the corridor. Two others nearby were in large pieces, bruised into meat-filled sacks. Four others were just dead.

  He grabbed her arm and hurried her along, as she tried to tiptoe around the puddles, wincing as they went.

  "It's going to get hot," Aramis warned. "Multiple contacts beyond this point."

  "At least it makes target ID easy," Jason said.

  "If it's not us, shoot it," Bart said.

  Elke commented, "How is that different from other times?" That was followed by another Bang!

  Shaman said, "Ammo is going to be a problem."

  Alex said, "Yeah, numbers, dammit. Caron, you've done well with the bow, but it's going to get in the way now. Let us handle it."

  "Okay," she said, and laid it down with obvious sadness.

  Jason swing his shotgun butt up and cracked the release on a fire hose box next to him. Aramis caught on at once, grabbed the nozzle and ran for the door. Elke slapped a charge in place, Jason yanked the release and snuggled up to the wall, Elke went prone and punched a button, the door banged and bounced, water gushed, Bart crescent kicked the door while standing to the side, and Aramis fired a powerful high pressure fog into the space beyond.

  That left Alex and Shaman to play catch up and fire a few shots for psychological effect, then fire more when one resulted in a scream.

  Jason cut the water and they moved forward. Bart led the way, and smashed his boot into the first face he encountered. The pooling water turned froth
y pink around a gurgling man.

  They reached the next pressure zone and Elke started emplacing a charge, quite carefully. It was flat and thin. Platter charge, 10 cm. That was to punch a hole.

  Without taking his eyes from center, Alex asked firmly, "Aramis, where the hell are you?"

  "Right here," the young man agreed, a little winded. "They use our caliber." He held up a satchel full of magazines and a couple of pistols, with only a little bit of bloodstain.

  "Good man."

  Elke quietly said, "Fire in the hole."

  The explosion was palpable, but not as loud as some. It blew a very neat circular hole through the door. Elke shoved the muzzle of her shotgun in with another fire-through projectile mounted, and snapped the trigger. The bang was followed by a whump and a cursing shout and then panicky thrashing and banging sounds. A whiff of vapor trickled out of the hole.

  "You don't want to breathe that," she advised.

  "What is it and how long to clear?" Alex asked.

  "Incapacitance agent. It's time someone else shit their pants for a change. Hold breaths," she warned.

  She reached up, placed her second charge, danced nimbly back and popped it. The door bounced, Bart kicked it, and they moved forward, breaths held.

  Jason wondered what Caron was thinking. The previous bunch had been blown into goo. This bunch had just been gassed, and still twitched and convulsed, covered in parti-colored vomit of whatever they'd eaten in the last several hours, and with filthy, slimy stains where everything eaten before that had voided in a spasming mess. They writhed and gouged at their burning eyes, choking and dry heaving with their mental synapses fused. Just the residue was irritating to the eyes.

  Bart announced, "We are directly under the office."

  They had one turn, one door and an elevator to get them up to the office. There couldn't be too many people between here and there, but they would be heavily armed and have firing lanes laid out.

  Alex said, "And they know we're here. I expect the enemy is going to start closing back in soon, to try to pin us between forces, so we need to take them out fast, before they can shoot us. I don't think we can move that fast."