by Chris Hechtl
“No, don't do something stupid,” the marine implored. “Don't be hasty; think it though. You've gotten this far,” he said sternly.
“I want you to swear on your honor you'll see us right,” Eric said, eying him. “We'll need to relocate. They are going to retaliate for us dealing with you at all. People saw us walking in here. We're on the clock,” he warned.
The marine grunted, then when he realized the kid was serious he held up his hand. “I so swear on my own honor as well as the honor of the corps. Now, can we go get the damn thing? Before someone else does?”
Eric looked to Connie when she sucked in a breath. But she merely exhaled long and slow before she nodded. He turned back to the marine.
“Right.”
“Now where is it?” the marine asked as a no-nonsense corporal showed up. The sudden appearance made the girl flinch until she saw the uniform. The Neodog looked them over, sniffed the air, and then nodded to the sergeant and went back to the front post to monitor the street. Eric noted the dog wasn't in his recruiter khaki uniform. He was wearing digicam fatigues with a sidearm strapped to his hip.
“Believe it or not, across the street,” Eric said. He smiled at the sergeant's expression. He knew he was going out on a limb, but he had no choice. They had to trust someone. He wasn't sure if it would be better off in the hands of the military, but he damn well knew it was better than in the hands of the mob.
---*---
“We've got activity,” Ackerman said. “Kid and a soldier coming out of the building.”
“Watch them,” Ed said. “But don't lean over or we'll be obvious,” he warned. “And for spirits of space don't lose them or we'll both be sorry and sore,” he implored, heading to the stairs.
“Teach your mother to suck eggs,” Ackerman growled softly.
---*---
Sergeant Haig whistled softly as he walked outside. It took all of his training in self-discipline not to hunch his shoulders and duck back into the relative safety of the recruiting office. The glass window was no protection, however, and the place had only one entrance and exit. He and the corporal only had small hand weapons too.
“See the guys looking around,” Eric asked nervously, trying to keep his cool.
“Just follow my lead, kid. We'll go to the local arcade, shoot it up as a demo, then see if we can duck out the back.”
What most people didn't know was that the marines had fronted the money for the arcade as well as put up money for the schools and some specific businesses. Not a lot, just start-up capital and some help with the tech.
It was all to help educate the kids and find those that might be of use to the military. It was also conveniently placed near a recruiting station to allow them easy access, and he had an understanding with the owner. She wouldn't quibble about his showing up with someone, he'd done it many times before.
“Right,” Eric said, nodding.
“We'll make a marine out of you yet,” the sergeant said. Eric fought a grimace. Instead he nodded and did his best to act enthused and interested.
---*---
“Got another live one, Sergeant?” the Veraxin proprietress asked, unlocking the arcade. “You know I don't normally open for a couple more hours but since you're a steady customer and all,” she said.
“Thanks R'll,” Haigh replied with a slight smile. He knew such cooperation would cost him, but for the moment he didn't care. His implants had identified a pair of spotters on the roof directing teams to follow them.
The kid was right. Now it was up to him to see if what he had was worth all the trouble everyone seemed to be going through.
Eric did his best not to appear bored as the sergeant showed him a shooter's stance. They ran through several of the games. “I've got the high score on all of them,” the sergeant said as he finished dispatching a holographic cowboy. He'd outdrawn the cowboy and even taken out a couple of the shooters in the background on the church before he'd put his weapon away.
“Right,” Eric said, nodding. “They are staying outside,” he murmured.
“Watching the exit,” the sergeant said, holding out a hand to direct him to more shooters deeper into the building. “There are some really good VR ones, but you can't really get a feel for it in a demo. It's why I stick to the flat screen or the holographic ones most of the time,” Haigh explained. He looked through his implants and noted a thug with his face pressed to the front glass. He was cupping his hands around his eyes to block out the reflected light so he could see deeper into the dark arcade. R'll had only powered up the sections of the arcade that the marine typically used, so they were easy to spot. But he kept his cool and stayed in character.
---*---
“Aw hell, this is a wild goose chase. They are doing a shoot ‘em up. The guy's pitching a deal to the kid,” Chuckles said.
“Put two on them. Kids if you've got ‘em handy. Pass ‘em a note to keep them interested if you have to,” the boss ordered. “Then back off, I don't want them calling the cops because you are being too obvious about the situation.”
“Yeah, boss,” Chuckles replied, kicking a pebble across the street. He didn't know why the boss was up in the air about the thing; he didn't care. He wasn't being paid to care, just to see the job through to the end.
But if it blew up in their faces, he might get another job—one with Ed or Ackerman or both getting a short chummy walk to a secluded area, then a promotion. That filled him with a bit of cheer.
---*---
Eric was amused when the sergeant paid the Veraxin R'll and gave her a tip, then slipped them out the back way. He and the sergeant carefully made their way to a clothes shop, picked out a couple of jackets and hats, then put them on and left again.
Apparently disguises were known to the marines. He made a note to remember that.
“I used to do stuff like this too when I was your age, even younger,” the sergeant said.
“What? Running around like this?”
“Oh and more. All sorts of trouble. We didn't have streets in Pyrax though, but we did have poor and rough neighborhoods. I got along with my wits. Unlike you I had a family though. Still do.”
“That mean we're bonding or something?” Eric asked coldly.
“Apparently not,” Haigh drawled, giving up the effort.
They went back the long way to the building, then climbed the stairs. “You keep in shape, that's good.”
“You've got to keep in shape if you want to live long in Gotham,” Eric replied.
“True.”
He let the marine into his flat, then felt a sense of relief when he whipped off the cover to expose the box under his desk. The marine frowned, studying it before he shrugged. “It's a bit awkward to carry. I don't suppose you've got a dolly or hover … course you don't,” he said.
“Sorry,” Eric said, shrugging such considerations off.
“And you got it up here through the stairs?” Haigh asked, now impressed. “You two … young people?” he asked, carefully structuring his last two words.
“Me and Connie. We took the freight elevator actually,” Eric admitted. “She got it to my door, then took off.”
“Oh.”
“I got it the rest of the way in here. It's heavy, but bulkier than too heavy if you know what I mean,” the kid said.
“Ah,” the sergeant said. “Well, can we …”
Before he could stop him, Eric flipped the latches down and then opened the lid. “It's inside,” he explained, exposing the cylindrical device.
“I'm curious as to how the damn thing kept power for its containment this long,” the sergeant said, shaking his head. His fingers inspected the device. Unfortunately, the kid had been right, the controls were smashed. There were ports however.
“Let's get it out of here and somewhere secure. We'll have an engineer look it over,” he said.
“Yeah, we can do that,” Eric said dubiously. “Problem is, the moment we get this outside, everyone's going to take note,” he war
ned.
“Not if we make it look like it's furniture or something,” the sergeant said.
“Another disguise?” Eric asked. He nodded. “Um …
---*---
Together they wrestled the device onto the elevator and then down to the basement, then back up to the ground floor. The elevator didn't stop at the ground floor, that entrance had been walled over by a previous owner who hadn't thought a freight elevator should be used by the tenants.
It had been a hassle and had made both men nervous, but they'd gotten the package out and then quickly carried it to the recruiter's office, disdaining the security of amenity in their haste. But in carrying the box, even under a blanket, it attracted unwanted attention from the rooftop.
“Son of a bitch,” Ed said when he saw the duo. “Boss, I don't know how they did it, but it looks like that soldier and the kid gave Chuckles the slip. They just came out of the building across from the recruiters,” he said over the radio.
“You sure?”
“Yeah,” Ed replied, watching the girl open the door for them from the inside. She looked around nervously, then closed the door behind him. “I've got sight of the girl too. It's in the recruiting post.”
“We're on our way,” Boss Maroney said.
---*---
The sergeant swore as he heard the unencrypted radio transmission over his implants. “This is getting out of hand,” he said nodding to the corporal. “Lock down; we've got trouble inbound, serious trouble,” he said. They put the device down and then pushed his desk to the window. He flipped it on its end and moved it to block the door, then did the same with Sylvia's desk, stacking it on top with Eric's help. “The back door is steel with a solid core. No windows back there, but it's brick.”
“I think I'm glad you called in the cavalry,” the corporal said.
“Yeah, I think I better just go check on that,” the sergeant muttered.
“You did call them in, right?”
“I did, but if they actually believed me …”
The corporal's ears went back. “Do me a favor, cover the front, I'll go check the back and make a call,” the sergeant ordered.
“Right.”
---*---
“Do they even know what they are after?” Hank demanded.
“Apparently not. Only that it is valuable.”
“All that glitters isn't gold. This shit is dangerous,” Hank said shaking his head.
“As in …”
“As in WMD dangerous,” he warned. “In the wrong hands, it can kill a lot of people,” Hank said, eying Syed.
“I see,” the assistant director said carefully, making a note. “I didn't know that.” He made a mental note to alert certain interested parties to tread carefully with the merchandise if they got their hands on it. They might have to bring Hank in or someone like him to make sure it was safe to handle.
“It's powerful shit. Only a few people can use it. Why the mob wants it …,” Hank shook his head.
“The mob wants what's worth money—business is business.”
“And if they blow up the eastern seaboard?” Hank demanded.
Syed's eyes went wide and then he licked his lips. “I, um, hadn't known it was quite that dangerous.”
“That's what I've been saying, so has your boss.”
“Now, I, um, see,” Syed said, thinking fast.
“Nohar and the marines know what to do. If we can keep it out of the wrong hands …,” Hank shook his head.
“Mobsters deep down are businessmen. They know when to cut their losses, Hank,” Syed said, making a mental note to call his contacts and warn them off at the first opportunity he got.
---*---
“Okay, we're ready,” Ed said nervously. He'd heard stories about the soldiers, these so-called marines. He wanted to get it over with before someone lost their nerve.
“Air car coming in,” Chuckles warned.
“Shit. Is it the boss?” Ackerman demanded. “Did he order air cover?” he demanded.
“I don't think we're that lucky,” Ed said with a sinking feeling as the air van hovered over the building and the side doors opened. Lines were ejected then marines in full battle kit rappelled down them fast.
“Everyone stay cool. Keep the guns and shit out of sight,” he ordered quietly.
He saw the marines turn his way and lock eyes with him. He knew then and there he'd been made. He also knew they had heavy weapons and body armor. There was no way he wanted to tangle with them. Taking on a couple of unarmed punk kids or even one or two marines was one thing. This though …
“Back off,” the boss snarled over the radio net. “Now,” he barked.
“Right,” Ed said, waving for his people to back down. He made a show of keeping his hands in plain sight as they nonchalantly walked away. When they were down to the end of the block, another air van came in and unloaded more troops before the doors opened and people came out.
He looked over to Ackerman who was clearly fuming as they watch the air vans take off with the prize.
---*---
Eric ducked as they were hustled into the vehicle. The recruiting officer was locked down. An armed sentry robot was deployed to cover it. He for one didn't want to mess with the thing; it looked menacing just floating there with its black video camera eyes.
He felt the air car lift off and realized it was his first time in a flying vehicle. He felt someone clutching his arm and looked over to see Connie holding on for dear life. “You okay?” he asked.
“No.”
“You're not going to be sick, are you?” he asked, pushing her buttons to get her mad.
“If I am I'll remember to be sick on you,” she growled, eyes flashing.
Eric heard someone softly chuckling. He looked over to the sergeant, then away.
The sergeant waited until they were up above a hundred feet before he called it in. “Package secure; repeat, package and caretakers clear. We're RTB.”
“Roger that,” the lieutenant replied. “Call the PSC and let them know to stand down. Good work, Sergeant. I'll meet you in my office,” he said.
“Roger that, sir.”
---*---
Boss Maroney swore as he saw the two air vans flying away. He could imagine what had just occurred. It couldn't be helped; his people had done what they could. They'd just been outclassed. That burned, but he'd do everything he could in the future to redress the balance.
But there had to come a point where he knew he'd have to cut his losses. This was one of those times.
“Call ‘em back to the barn. Don't bother to regroup; it's over,” he grumbled.
“So much for that,” Mugsy, his driver said.
“Shut up, Mugsy,” Rocky Maroney said quietly, shaking his head as he slouched in the car.
“Yeah, boss,” Mugsy replied.
“Mugsy, shut up shutting up. Just drive,” the boss said in exasperation.
“Yeah, boss,” Mugsy said, starting the car.
Maroney sighed, rubbing his temple. It was going to be one of those days it seemed. He needed to get better help. The problem was, the smarter the help was, the more dangerous it was to him as much as to his opponents.
---*---
“So, Commissioner, you're saying the device is in safe hands and is about to be disarmed?” the governor asked carefully.
“Yes, sir, as safe as it can get. It'll be off planet soon enough. For me that's not soon enough. Even a small amount is scary,” the commissioner replied. He glanced at the mayor then over to the governor's image once more, ever dutifully the bringer of law and order to Gotham.
“Right,” the governor drawled.
“I'm a bit put out over the marine's high handed antics. They broke what, a dozen flight regulations with that air car landing? Not to mention repelling down like that!” the mayor protested.
“What's done is done, Edward; they got the package out.”
“Before it leveled the city or the entire eastern seaboard,” t
he commissioner stated.
That made the governor wince. “I hadn't, um, been made aware of that fact.”
“It was kept on the lowdown to keep people from panicking, sir,” the commissioner replied. Truth be told he hadn't found that out from the marines. No, he'd found out from the Bat during a conversation during the evening. It was probably a good thing that the Bat had come up empty, or had he? He wasn't sure. He'd ask, though he didn't expect a straight answer.
“You said the marines took it away?”
“To an undisclosed location,” the commissioner said very carefully, making sure both men understood that. “They may move it to orbit, sir; I don't know. I don't want to know. As long as it is out of Gotham and in the right hands, that is fine with me. They can repair the device and ensure containment hasn't been breached.”
“Understood. I want that stuff off my planet,” the governor stated flatly. “Put out the word to check for it, damn it. The same for anything else this dangerous. It shouldn't be in civilian hands,” he growled.
“Yes, sir. I'll put the word out as well as word that it's in the marine’s hands now. That should keep the public from panicking,” the commissioner said.
“Yes, you do that,” the governor said, seeing his potential payday flying away. Oh well, there would be others undoubtedly. In this case it might be a good thing. Some packages were just too dangerous for others to have, even so-called “friends.”
“I still think the marines should be fined, punished for their antics. They didn't even clear …”
“Yes, yes,” the governor said, waving a hand. “Protest all you like but what's done is done, Edward. It's over. Be thankful you can see another sunset. Don't be too petulant with the marines or it might bite you in the ass,” he warned.
He saw the mayor grimace but fall silent. He wondered who was pulling his strings briefly before he shook his head again. “If that is all gentlemen, I've got a couple things to do before I've got another fundraiser to attend. My wife is rather … particular that I show up on time and in uniform if you catch my drift.”