The Aegis Solution

by John David Krygelski

  With the now functional AK-47 slung over his back, Elias gripped the rope and lowered himself through the opening, taking only a few seconds to climb down to the floor. Tillie was already following him down before he finished his descent.

  "Should be only about forty yards that way," Elias whispered.

  As they moved forward, Wilson had come to the opening and pulled up the rope, quietly sliding the grille back in place, before returning to his post. The corridor was unnervingly quiet, almost as if this part of Aegis had already been deserted. Elias began to worry that he was too late.

  Ahead, at the end of the hallway, he could see that a door had been installed, a door which, according to the plans, should not even exist since the hallway ended at the perimeter wall of the complex. There was a keypad attached just above the door handle. On either side of the hallway were closed doors, exactly as shown on the plan; on the right, the door entered into restrooms, and on the left, into a larger than normal utility room.

  It was irrelevant that they did not know the code to the door; it was not their intent to escape. Carefully, Elias opened the utility-room door and peered inside. The room was connected to the network of solar tubing, and it was not necessary to turn a light on. Looking back at Tillie, he nodded and entered; she followed at once.

  The room was filled with an assortment of what appeared to be spare parts for the plumbing, electrical, and mechanical systems of Aegis. Rows of freestanding shelving were filled with items segregated by category, including copper and galvanized pipes in various lengths, unions, couplers, and a variety of fixtures. In another section were junction boxes, rolls of wiring, and replacement switches and outlets, and in another were spare grilles and registers, thermostats, and barometric dampers. Standing in one corner of the room was a job-site gang box with the lid open. The box was filled with hammers, pry bars, and an assortment of power tools.

  "So far, so good," Tillie muttered, once the door was safely closed behind them, and immediately began to shed the various bags, packs, and other items she carried, arranging them neatly near the door for easy and quick access.

  "This is perfect," Elias noted, pointing at the closed door. "A peephole."

  "That should be fun – the two of us taking turns with one eye plastered to that thing for hours at a time."

  He permitted himself a soft chuckle.

  

  After patiently waiting for nearly two hours, Wilson, having stationed himself in the three-way junction, was the first to hear them coming. Carefully, to ensure that he did not make a sound, he shifted slightly to one side in an effort to see who they were.

  Leading the pack were two armed men, followed by a sizable group of people he identified as civilians from Kreitzmann's lab. The assemblage seemed to be evenly split between lab-coated scientists or technicians and regular people who, Wilson assumed, must have been the subjects of many of the experiments. From his vantage point, he was unable to distinguish most of the faces of the group.

  Next came a much larger contingent of armed guards. Wilson counted seven more. And finally, there were two men he did not recognize; but, based upon their position in the procession, they seemed to be directing this movement.

  Having seen enough and wishing that the three of them had devised some sort of communication system, Wilson eased back from his viewport and made his way to the grille used earlier by Tillie and Elias. As he looked down at the passing heads below, he realized that his two friends had insisted on this position for him not because of any strategic or tactical reason, but merely to place the old man out of harm's way.

  

  "Someone's coming!" Tillie hissed in a loud whisper.

  Elias, who had been exploring the array of parts and supplies for something useful while Tillie took her turn as lookout, trotted over next to her. He noticed that he was still holding the five-foot length of galvanized pipe he had been examining. "What do you see?"

  "Two guards carrying assault rifles. But this is weird."

  "Let me take a look."

  She moved aside to allow him to peer through the peephole. Despite the distortion caused by the fish-eye lens, Elias could see that there were several people milling around outside the door. They were not a part of the security team, but appeared to be test subjects and scientists.

  As he watched, someone came into view from his right, someone he did recognize. In a voice so hushed that it was almost inaudible, he said, "It's Boehn."

  "What is he doing?" Tillie whispered back at him, directly into his ear.

  He did not answer her as he watched Boehn move past the crowd and approach the door. Clearly, he was the one who knew the code. At the fringe of his left field of vision, Elias could see Boehn punch numbers on the keypad. At the same time, he saw that at least four more men carrying assault rifles had moved into his view from the right.

  "This doesn't look good."

  "What's wrong?"

  "It isn't Kreitzmann opening the door; it's Boehn."

  This was bad news for them; their plan had been to grab Kreitzmann as he passed in front of their door, assuming that holding the leader would be sufficient leverage to direct any others, who might be with him, to back off.

  "Crud!"

  Since the exit was at the edge of his view, Elias could barely see that Boehn had opened it. However, instead of exiting from his view, Boehn backed away from the door and began shouting.

  "Tillie, press your ear against the crack around the door. Maybe you can make out what they are shouting."

  She instantly did so and, with pauses to listen, relayed what she heard as Elias continued to watch the hallway through the peephole.

  "I think he said the exit is blocked....I guess the panels from the roof tumbled off and are piled up in front of the exit....He's telling some of the men to get some tools."

  "Tools?" Just as what Tillie had told him sank in, Elias saw two of the armed men hand their rifles to their colleague and begin walking straight at the utility room.

  "They're coming in here."

  Elias jumped back from the door, seeing that Tillie had jerked back to the side. Looking around, he saw that his rifle was several feet away. His first impulse was to draw the 9mm tucked behind, when he realized that he was still gripping the length of pipe from earlier.

  There was no more time to think. The door to the utility room opened and the two men walked in. They did not have a moment to react before Elias swung the pipe, solidly connecting with the first man on the side of his head. An instant later, he thrust the pipe forward with all of his weight behind it, aiming for the row of cartilage between the second guard's ribs. The man grabbed his chest, his eyes wide, and staggered to the side, allowing Elias to slam him with another blow, this one directed at his neck. The man dropped.

  There was instant commotion outside in the hallway, as several of the civilians and more than one of the security team had witnessed the attack through the open door. One of the guards was already shouting for the people to clear a path as he brought his automatic weapon to bear on the opening into the utility room. Elias did not hesitate. He was stepping forward to slam the door, but Tillie beat him to it. The metal door crashed closed.

  Elias, sweeping his eyes around the area, found a hard-plastic, collapsing sawhorse. He dropped the pipe and grabbed the sawhorse, sliding it under the door handle.

  "That should slow them a bit. We need to move back."

  They both snatched up their weapons and retreated to the freestanding shelving. Fortunately, the first row was filled with steel plumbing parts and was parallel to the doorway, providing fairly good cover.

  They had only turned in to the aisle a moment earlier, when the door was suddenly perforated with bullet holes as the security man outside emptied his clip into it, some of the rounds hitting one of the two unconscious guards on the floor, others shattering the sawhorse. Elias, choosing Wilson's shotgun, had poked the barrel through the jumble of parts on the shelf and was able to get off a
shot just as one of the men outside kicked the door open. The double-0 shot caught him squarely, and violently tossed him backward. He fell to the floor, motionless. None of the others in the hallway ventured in front of the open doorway.

  Tillie, armed with the AK-47, positioned herself five or six feet away from Elias along the shelving, and cleared enough of the stored plumbing parts to provide a gun slot. "I wish we knew how many we were up against."

  "That makes two of us. I saw at least five or six. Doesn't mean that was all of them."

  "I'm worried about the Zippers."

  "Roger that."

  

  Boehn was isolated. At his back was the opened exit door, which was completely blocked by the tangled mess of solar panels and twisted steel. In front of him was the open door to the utility room. The civilians had all been herded back to the far end of the hallway, and one of the security team was stationed with them. The rest of the team and the one remaining Accelerant were on the other side of the opening, waiting for instructions.

  Boehn did not want to lose his last asset by sending the Accelerant into the room. Chances were, he would prevail, but there was always the possibility that some sort of trap had been set. After all, these three had foiled the Accelerants in the past. The beige-suited freak, as Boehn still thought of all of them, was in constant motion, twitching, shifting, and pivoting, even though he was standing still for instruction. They simply could not help it, he decided; it had been hard-wired into their being.

  Making eye contact with Killeen, Boehn pulled a black marker out of his pocket. On the wall adjacent to the exit, he wrote TEAR GAS? The security chief nodded and turned to his men, sending one of them back to the armory.

  

  "I wish there was a damn grille in here. Wilson could drop the rope to us and we'd be out and could get behind them." Tillie's voice was quiet.

  Elias nodded. "That would be nice."

  "What do you think they are going to do?"

  "If it were up to me, I'd send in gas, along with some flash bangs."

  "Flash bangs?"

  "An armament you haven't heard of? I'm surprised."

  "What are they?"

  "Concussion grenades. Super loud, super bright. They stun you, blind you, temporarily disable you."

  "Shouldn't we find something to protect ourselves against them?"

  "Already thought of it. Here!" Elias turned and tossed a couple of small plastic packets to her.

  She caught them and ripped one open. "Earplugs!"

  "Yep. Pretty common on job sites. They use them to protect the hearing of workers during the loud stuff."

  "What about the flash part?"

  Elias rested his shotgun on the shelf. "Keep an eye on the door." She nodded, and he checked the adjacent shelves until he found what he wanted. Returning, he handed her a pair of dark goggles.

  "I suppose construction workers need these in case someone throws a bright hand grenade."

  "No. These are for the workers who are around welding. Protects their eyes. And, here, take one of these."

  He handed her a painter's respiration mask.

  "Will this keep out tear gas?"

  "No. Not really built for that purpose. It's designed to keep out the fumes from enamel paint, but it should slow it down quite a bit."

  She grinned and slipped the mask over her face, its two filtered inlets causing her to look like a large insect.

  "No reason to put it over your mouth until they send something in."

  She pulled it down so that it dangled around her neck by the straps.

  "What about the goggles?"

  "I'd put them on now. There wouldn't be any warning with that."

  She shoved the bright orange earplugs in, donned the goggles, and picked up her rifle. "I feel silly." She spoke too loudly, compensating for the earplugs.

  "You shouldn't. You should feel like a member of a SWAT team. These are basically all of the items they wear during an assault."

  "Cool!"

  Elias put on his own gear and took a deep breath, shouting, "KREITZMANN! I WANT TO TALK!"

  

  Out in the hall, Boehn heard Elias and grinned. Again catching Killeen's eye, he motioned back toward the group, pointing at Kreitzmann, who was leaning against a wall, his head bandaged. Killeen indicated his understanding and trotted back to get the scientist.

  

  Elias was surprised to see someone stumble into the opening, framed by the doorway. It was Kreitzmann. The man looked much different from the last time Elias had seen him. He appeared to be dazed, disoriented. There was a thick bandage wrapped around the top part of his head, and he stood unsteadily.

  "Don't shoot, Tillie."

  Elias side-stepped to the end of the shelves, continuing to point his shotgun forward.

  "Kreitzmann?"

  The scientist's eyes seemed to have trouble focusing. After a moment, he looked at Elias and quietly asked, "Charon? Is that you?"

  Trying to figure out the situation, Elias only said, "Step inside the room."

  Kreitzmann began to move forward, when a voice boomed from the hallway behind him, "That wouldn't be advisable."

  Kreitzmann stopped, his confusion now clouded with fear.

  "Why are you doing this, Kreitzmann?"

  The man in the doorway shook his head, trying to clear it. "Doing this? I'm…I'm not doing this. I don't know what's happening." His speech was slurred and difficult to understand.

  Trying to make sense of what he was seeing and hearing, Elias pressed, "Who is?"

  With a monumental effort, Kreitzmann, fighting the effects of a severe concussion, answered, "Boehn."

  "Doctor Boehn?"

  "Yes," he confirmed weakly.

  Elias' mind whirled as he readjusted all of the variables, painting a new picture inside his head. "You didn't kill the people at ZooCity?"

  The words slammed into Kreitzmann with a physical force, his mind beginning to clear. "Kill people? ZooCity? What are you talking about?"

  From the hallway came the same voice Elias had heard earlier. "Mister Charon, I'm afraid you've been chasing the wrong dragon in your crusade. Rudy Kreitzmann is and has been nothing but a convenient front man for us, although I do admit that some of his findings have proved to be quite useful."

  Tillie quietly switched her weapon out of fully automatic mode and slowed her breathing.

  "Boehn, why are you doing this?"

  "Why am I doing what? Letting you discover the truth, or parading the pathetic Rudy Kreitzmann in front of you? I'll tell you. You are learning the truth because, very shortly, it won't matter what you know. And telling you a little gives me some satisfaction. But, mainly, the reason we are talking and the reason you have Kreitzmann standing before you is to buy a little time. And judging by the return of my man, I believe that we have purchased quite enough."

  Boehn must have signaled the member of the security team who had pushed Kreitzmann in front of the door; the instant he finished his sentence, an arm came into view, the hand reaching for Kreitzmann's shoulder. Before the fingers could close on the fabric of his coat, a shot rang out and the man's forearm exploded into a pink cloud. In the next moment, Tillie shouted, "GRAB KREITZMANN!"

  Elias was already in motion, plunging forward. He seized him by the front of his shirt and pulled him in, violently. Kreitzmann stumbled and almost fell, but Elias' grasp of the shirt held, and the scientist swung wildly, trying to get his feet back beneath him as he was dragged back behind the shelving. Two rows back and out of the line of fire, Elias let go and Kreitzmann fell to the floor. Without taking any more time, Elias grabbed the shotgun he had hastily leaned against the wall, and rejoined Tillie behind their barrier. He saw that she had pulled the respirator over her mouth and he did the same, right as he heard the clunk-and-roll sound of something being tossed into the utility room with them.

  There was no thunderous crash, just the muted popping sound of a tear-gas canister. A second follo
wed the first, and Elias could see that this one rolled against the side of the guard he had decked earlier. Tillie shelved the AK-47 and dashed around their barrier, picking up the second canister and tossing it back out the doorway. She then snatched up the first one and did the same.

  Elias saw a third grenade fly into their room and could tell that this one was not tear gas. "TILLIE, TAKE COVER!"

  She only had a few seconds to turn back toward her end of the barrier before the grenade exploded. Even through the earplugs, the sound was a horrendous assault. The simultaneous bright flash was easily neutralized by the heavily coated lens of the welder's goggles. She returned to her position, rubbing her ears, and raised her weapon just as the first man came in, laying down suppression fire as he entered. None of his bullets came near the mark, striking the side wall of the room rather than hitting the barricade of metal in front of them. Elias was sure Tillie was about to fire, but stopped her with an abrupt hand gesture.

  With a glance he could tell she understood. Within no more than three seconds, two more armed men followed the first one in, guns at the ready. When they were all the way inside, Elias triggered the shotgun at the closest one, blowing him against the door frame. Tillie immediately opened fire with her AK-47, dropping the other two, who had no benefit of cover and had obviously expected the two of them to be disabled by the blast.

  No more attackers followed, and the ensuing silence, ruined only by the ringing in their ears, was eerie. After a moment, Elias shouted, "HOW MANY YOU GOT LEFT, BOEHN?"

  Understanding the minds of the people outside the room was a very special skill Elias possessed. A static situation had been created. He and Tillie were in the room. The others were in the hall. There was a narrow kill-zone in front of the door. He was certain that this was the picture they all held in their minds as a reality, something they could count on.

  With a gesture, he indicated that Tillie should swap weapons with him. She did, and he slapped in a fresh magazine, left the aisle, and ran out the door into the hall. He knew Boehn was to the left and was fairly sure that he was alone. All of the others, whatever security team he had remaining, would be to the right. As he cleared the doorway, he dropped to the floor and rolled once, coming to rest on his stomach, the AK-47 in firing position in front of him. There were three men in uniform conferring with one in a suit. None of them were pointing a weapon at the doorway, so certain had they been that no one would come out.