by Mark Wandrey
"Get to work on the survey and excavation," she told them and headed down stairs, a copy of the design on a computer chip in her pocket. As she passed through Bjorn's outer office she found his assistant missing and heard voices in the inner office. She carefully approached and peaked inside. A number of civilians were standing facing the desk listening to Bjorn talking. With a shrug she stepped inside.
"Minu!" Bjorn called out when she cleared her throat. The civilians all turned and Minu saw they carried various kinds of image and sound recording equipment. Reporters, and by their hair and dress they were from all different tribes as well. "And this is the Chosen who retrieved the fabulous goods we've been talking about!"
"Minu Alma, daughter of First Alma?" asked one of the reporters in a thick Rusk accent. Suddenly they were pointing their devices at her and Minu felt her face getting hot.
"Yes, of course she is. Don't you people listen?"
"How do you feel about the Chosen declaring your father dead?" asked one man in Desert Tribe dress.
"Do you think you will be First someday, like your father?" another man asked, probably from the New Jerusalem Tribe.
"Have you kept in touch with your childhood friends?" the only woman asked. Minu noted she was from Plateau, like herself.
"People, please!" Bjorn yelled. "Chosen Minu is not here to be interviewed; she's here to assist in the demonstration.
"Demonstration?" Minu asked, taken off guard and confused.
"Yes, yes. Come over here young lady and give me a hand." As she came around the reporters (grumbling about being denied access to Minu), she saw that unexpectedly his desk was clean of clutter. Unfortunately one of the new beamcasters lay in the center of the desk. It was one she'd modified herself with a projectile weapon stock, and she could see it was armed.
"I assumed they disarmed the one they gave you," she said and tried to control her voice. She glanced around and saw the walls were all still intact. As she looked around she saw a thick dualloy steel plate on wheels to one side of the office. It was mounted to a portable articulation like her own team used for testing various theories. This particular plate was almost a centimeter thick and looked new. "What are you doing, sir?"
"Why, I'm showing these wonderful reporters what you've found for us, of course."
"Sir, I need to tell you this is very dangerous to-"
"Tisk, tosh now, we are in a hurry here," he said and with one quick motion snatched the weapon up and took aim at the target. Minu squeaked and covered her ears, her eyes wide in disbelief. The reporters, completely unaware of what was about to happen, held out their recorders and waited. Nothing happened. "Hmmm," Bjorn said and started flipping controls on the weapon.
"I don't know if that is a good idea," Minu said, leaning close so the reporters couldn't hear. They in turn leaned closer to hear. "Can I help, sir?"
"Of course, of course, you are much more familiar with this device." He handed it to her and gestured at the target. "If you would please?"
Minu swallowed and looked from the gun to her boss. It all suddenly felt like a classic setup. "Again, sir, I don't think it is safe."
"Nonsense! I explained to the civilian planetary council only a few days ago the necessity for constructing a specialized facility to allow us to test and develop such weapons. They told me I was insane, and the press heartily agreed. Naturally, I relented and invited them here to show them how right they were. So, Minu, kindly demonstrate for these highly educated reporters just how safe these weapons are."
"Sir?"
"Fire the weapon, Minu."
"But sir..."
"Young lady," the female reporter said, "that is an inch of dualloy. My uncle is an engineer; he has told me at length that there is no weapon on this world that could possibly put a hole in that metal."
Minu looked agog at the woman. She obviously had no idea what she was talking about. Minu turned and looked imploringly at Bjorn.
"That is an order, Minu," he said and took a step back.
"Yes sir," she said. She checked the control to verify the settings. It was not overly complicated. Three power settings, five beam width controls. She set it for the lowest power and the narrowest beam. Bjorn reached over with his aged yet delicate fingers and changed them both to maximum. "Sir!"
"We need an accurate demonstration, Minu!"
She was about to try one more time when he reached over and gently took her elbow. She felt a strange tingle and then recognized it as one of the personal shields she'd found being activated. By touching her he was extending the field them both. Her head jerked around to look at him and his eyes twinkled as he winked.
"Oh god," she whispered and raised the weapon.
"Aim carefully," he said, "you don't want to miss the target."
His office was only ten meters across. She couldn't have missed the huge plate if she'd been asleep. The weapon discharged with a deafening Crrrack! The beam struck out with the speed of light. One moment the dualloy plate was there, strong and indestructible, the next it was blown into a million pieces. The room was filled with flying fragments of dualloy plate and molten metal, several pieces flashed brightly as the skittered off the shield Bjorn used to protect them. The concussion knocked all the reporters from their feet and blew pictures from the walls. Minu disarmed the weapon and put in back on the desk before looking to the reporters.
The office was trashed, and Minu knew without a doubt that had been Bjorn's plan all along. All the valuable experiments, tablet and books were removed in advance, and his assistant carefully gotten out of the way. The carpet was afire in several places as were two of the reporters. Minu called for medical assistance and went to help them. To her complete shock, none were dead or even seriously injured. Of course they were almost deaf and screaming in rage at the top of their lungs, even the two that were still smoldering.
"You did that on purpose!" they yelled. "How dare you endanger the press needlessly?" "What were you trying to prove?"
"Why, gentleman, lady!” Bjorn complained indignantly, “I was simply proceeding at your insistence. That plate and the wall behind it are constructed exactly like the rest of this facility. Ceramic concrete and dualloy plaiting." As the dust was settling, a breeze blew through a half meter wide ragged hole in the wall and sunlight was visible on the other side. "Of course we can continue to practice and develop these weapons in our current facilities. However, I rather suspect you might now agree that constructing a new specialized facility would, in the long run, be considerably cheaper than rebuilding this one over and over again."
Emergency teams arrived, including a group of armed scouts responding to the unexpected weapons fire. Minu caught them at the door and sent the scouts off while admitting the medical team. As she'd thought, the injuries were minor. A few shrapnel wounds, ruptured ear drums, and numerous burns. During a lull in the yelling, Minu handed her computer chip with the plans she'd come to deliver. He pulled a tablet from his desk and checked it over.
"Excellent," he said and quickly made a score of copies on new chips. "Lady and gentlemen of the press. Please help yourself to a copy of this chip. On it you will find the design for our new high-energy weapons testing and training facility, designed by Chosen Alma's team. I believe you will find it modest, not overly expensive, and given today’s demonstration, quite necessary? Thanks for coming."
"That was your plan all along, wasn't it?" she said after the reporters were helped out by the medics.
"Naturally."
"Why didn't you just tell me from the beginning? We could have worked together."
"Minu, please. You are young and honest. Enjoy it while it lasts!"
Minu looked scandalized. "I do whatever it takes for the Chosen."
"Would that include lying about the price of milk to cheat a nursing mother?" Minu's jaw dropped. "Ah, well, there you go!"
"Why do we have to go to such extremes just to get some money from the civilian government. The people love us and we're re
sponsible for half the world’s economy!"
"Yes, this is true, the people love us, the people's government despises us. It doesn't matter that most of them have gotten rich from innovations we've been responsible for, or work we hired them to do, and from the leasing our lands. Our budget comes from them and thus from taxes. Whenever we show up, hat in hand, their lives get more difficult in getting reelected and such."
"My dad always said he hated politicians," she said thoughtfully, "I always wondered why."
"Now you know! Oh, yes, Chriso despised the elected class. Especially that one bugger from the Rusk territory. What was his name again?"
"You must mean Viktor Malovich."
"Exactly, you've heard of him?"
"His son is a Chosen now." Bjorn nodded absently and watched a spot on his carpet slowly burning. "Why does he hate the Chosen then send his son to join?"
"Why, because he wanted to be one himself, of course!"
"Yeah, Ted told me the story. My dad and him go way back."
"Oh, absolutely." The fire was creeping toward Bjorn's desk so he moved to stomp it out. "Naturally when his plans failed, he turned bitter and became a lifelong opponent of the Chosen. Tried more than once to put us under the direct control of the civilian council. Our existence is part of the planetary constitution, ratified after the last world war more a hundred years ago. To change it would take an amendment, just as it took to create the Chosen as an extra-governmental entity.
"All eight tribes would have to approve it," Minu said, repeating her schooling word for word, "and each of those tribes councils ratify it as well."
"Exactly. And aside from the Rusk and sometimes the Peninsula Tribe, we are appreciated and honored." The fire was stubbornly resisting his stomping so Bjorn began using both feet. It rather resembled a strange cross between fire walking and tap dance.
"I didn't know the Peninsula Tribe holds any animosity toward the Chosen."
"Oh, without a doubt. They came from Japan, and crossed over with all their 'modern' pacifism, and none of the old samurai spirit."
"I've studied the samurai, badasses."
"Right. So anyway, their descendants here on good old Bellatrix are just the opposite. Their lands by the equatorial ocean made for a very safe place, and plenty of fish to live on. They never fought wars with the rest of us and just went on contemplating their navels. As you see today, very few Chosen come from there."
"And those that do tend to only be science, training, or logistics!"
"Good girl! You're just as brilliant as your dad, and just as fast to grasp and dissect an issue." The fire near his desk was finally out. Bjorn crossed his arms with a smug look of satisfaction and surveyed his office for any more signs of lingering fire.
"Thank you sir. Well, I better get back to my team."
"Certainly, certainly. Carry on!"
She took a step toward the door then noticed something. "Oh, sir?"
"Yes?"
"Your shoe is on fire."
Chapter 16
March 31st, 517 AE
HERT, Chosen Headquarters, Steven’s Pass
The final dignitary was gone, the last of the food snapped up, and no more pictures were being taken. Minu leaned against a brand new ceramic concrete wall and heaved a great sigh of relief. She wished she'd stashed away a couple bottles of mead before the vultures descended and drank it all. Now that it was over she could think back on the events with half a smile.
"You don't like the publicity stuff too much, do you?" asked Mandi.
“No,” she replied and wandered away. Minu didn't really have time to socialize with her team off duty. Between school and work, there just wasn't time. Sure, she would see her team at meals and such, but Mandi was a civilian and left for home every day along with the hundred or so other civilians that worked in the Steven’s Pass complex. When Mandi showed up for the gala opening of the new high energy weapons research and training complex, or HERT as the Chosen called it, dressed to kill in a low cut red evening dress and high heals, Minu was stunned. The rest of her team wore the standard dress black jump suit, calf height boots, utility belt and slightly larger rank stars. Next to Mandi they all looked like parking attendants.
Minu tried not to stare and failed badly. She'd known all along that Mandi had a wonderful figure, now in that dress and those heals with her hair let down from the conservative braid she wore in the lab, she was simply stunning. "How does she keep those massive breasts up like that?" she wondered under her breath just before the reception started. Mandi showed more casual cleavage than Minu could manage with difficult preparation and technological assistance.
"Boy would I like to find out," Gregg said behind her. Minu squeaked and almost jumped out of her boots, she hadn't heard him sneaking up.
“Find out what?” she demanded.
“About her breasts...”
"You bastard," she hissed and tried to slap his face. He simply stepped out of reach and smiled hugely.
"Careful boss, you could put and eye out with those, and then who will fire your little wonder gun in demonstration?"
"Sure, and she could put out every eye in the room with those," Minu gestured with her head toward Mandi. "And I can shoot the damn thing just as good as you." Already a few dignitaries and press were there. They completely ignored the Chosen brass and scientists and all made a bee line for Mandi Bishop and her breasts.
"I doubt they'd hang around if you picked one up," Gregg said as he snagged a little sandwich off a tray being carried along by a crab-bot, "especially after your last demonstration."
"I told you that was Bjorn's idea, not mine." Gregg munched the sandwich and looked innocent. Minu looked back at Mandi, this time noticing how her calves were smooth and not lined with muscles like hers. Why would that be more appealing than her own? "They'd carry her on their shoulders, given half a chance."
"Only if it was on the way to their bed," Cherise said as she came up to them. She was dressed in formal uniform, same as her friends, and built more more along the lines of Mandi than Minu. While thin like Minu, she was much more curvaceous and taller. The dark skinned girl cast an equally dark look at Mandi before smiling at Gregg.
"How's life in logistics treating you?" Gregg asked.
"Getting back to normal now that the HERT is completed. I don't know how you guys managed to build this monstrosity with no off world labor, and almost no off world components. Except for the budget itself, most of the tribes were thrilled to death with all the contracts you handed out."
Minu nodded and gave a little smile. Of course, she'd planned it that way. If only she could have avoided giving the Rusks any contracts. Unfortunately the only source for some of the materials was in the deep mountain mines in Rusk territory. Mines that the Malovich family owned.
Before long the rest of the guests arrived and the demonstration began. They were shown the computers, sensor system, safety viewing area complete with its forcefield (provided by salvaged T'Chillen tech of course), and the armory itself. They were all suitably impressed at the rack after rack of beamcasters, all locked in place by a computer controlled ordinance management system. The ordinance system communicated wirelessly with each weapon and together they agreed to release it from storage. Should the requester enter incorrect information into either the weapon or the ordinance system, it would not be released. Forcing it free would not only render the gun inoperable, it would be useless even as spare parts.
As the guests followed their hosts, Minu and Bjorn, into firing range number one, Minu keyed in her code into the armory access on that side. The door slid open and a robotic system slid a gun into place. "Now, I enter my code into the weapon to gain release."
"So what if you enter it wrong," a snooty member of the press said, obviously out of his element and disdainful of all the horrible weapons.
Minu shrugged and said, "Let's find out?" She entered the wrong code. It beeped. She did it again, and got a more insistent beep. "On the third f
ailure..." she said and screwed up the code again. The weapons were snatched back and the door slammed shut. She could easily see the shimmer of the forcefield coming up between them and the armory. Red lights began flashing all along the wall and a computerized voice blared.
"Attention, protocol breach. The armory is locked down. Security report to HERT armory!" The reporter who asked the question looked dubious, however she could see by the look on the other faces that their concerns were quelled.
"The Concordia made weapons have these features built into them,” Minu explained, “It helps to avoid your own guns being used against you on a battlefield. Luckily for us, these were brand new weapons and they hadn't been yet coded."
"What if you tried to break the locking mechanism?" another man asked, this one a councilor that Minu recognized from New Jerusalem.
"Same three tries. On the third try the weapon locks all it's circuitry. If you should be stupid enough to try again...well, lets just say that would be a lethal mistake."
"How barbaric," that first reporter slurred.
"The Concordia empires don't play games, sir, they play for keeps. These are incredibly lethal weapons capable of inflicting massive damage."
"So we've heard," the councilor said and they laughed. All except a few members of the esteemed press. Minu caught look at a couple of them, recognizing them from the little incident in Bjorn's office. "How about that demonstration?"
"Certainly," she said and moved to a nearby computer. The Chosen security man moved aside for her. He hadn't been summoned by the computer alarm, he was here for the demonstration just like all the rest of the Chosen. Minu's triggering of the lockdown was part of the show, planned from the beginning. Even if no one asked her she would have changed the script to show them anyway. Leaning over so no one could see her fingers, she typed in her personal code.
"Command level authorization needed to override lockdown protocol," the computer spoke."