Do Unto Others: Chapter Twelve

    Elke only half heard any of the lecture.  It was all half familiar, half irrelevant.  She had most of her attention dispersed for threatening movements, and an eye on Caron’s seat proper.

    The crashing echoes of a Superior Armaments 10mm carbine jolted her alert.

    There was no mistaking that sound, even through the structure of the building.  The students mumbled and some of them thought it was construction.  Elke heard muffled shouts and screams, though.

    She reached over, snagged Caron’s arm, and yanked her from her seat.

    “Get ready to move or drop when I say so,” she said.  She punched her transmitter and said, “Incoming.”  Aramis probably already knew, but he’d make the call for backup.

    She popped open the doccase she’d carried these last few weeks, and grabbed a riot baton.  The school had refused to compromise on any real weapons, so an electric toy with a glorified flashlight was all she had.

    Caron hunkered under the desk, as everyone around them stared in curiosity and amusement.  They still hadn’t caught on.  The lecturer said something about paying attention, but Elke wasn’t listening to non-threats at this point.

    Elke said, “That was gunfire.  It’s an attack.”

    This elicited a few quizzical glances, a few titters, and two knotty rugby players who stood and looked around.  That’s who Elke wanted.

    She gestured toward them and said, “Readers, chairs, anything heavy.  Stand by to throw them, and stand by to block the door.”

    They nodded and moved, and other students started to act a little more seriously, but it probably wasn’t enough.  In her ears, she heard Aramis say, “Arriving.”

    She said clearly and loudly, “One of my associates is coming in.”

    Aramis popped through the door and closed it almost in a blink, slung a bag off his shoulder and pulled out his baton. 

    “I am a licensed security guard and I am armed,” he announced.

    No one screamed, but there were more discomfited noises.  This was not something soft, decadent upper class Earth kids had ever learned to deal with.  The lecturer at least had the sense to get down off the lectern and duck behind a rolling cart.  He didn’t do anything as far as the students, though.  Elke would see if she could do something, but Caron came first.

    There was another burst of fire.  This was closer and there were more screams, audible this time.

    “Barricade the door,” Elke ordered.  “Students, get into that corner.  You and you,” she indicated the two athletes, “stand there out of line of fire and get ready to throw if I tell you or if you see a problem.  Caron, you move right over there,” she indicated a space right between both doors, “and get ready to run either way on my order.  Armor up.”

    The two men nodded firmly and moved.  Caron blushed and looked embarrassed, but did as he was told, and opened her doccase as a torso shield and tied it around her neck and waist.  That plus her corset armor should stop most carbine fire.

    Aramis grabbed a rolling chair and jammed it under the door latch, then ran a rod through the release bar—the door opened out, of course—and another through the chair’s wheels.  The first one was purpose built and from his pack.  The second was a convenient carbon fiber handle from some tool.  Elke had one more rod, and she tossed it to Aramis as he sprinted up the aisle.  He jammed that into the second door.

    Another burst wasn’t far away.  Screams sounded, and someone yanked at the lower door, which budged but didn’t open.

    Someone in the room shouted, “We can’t leave them to die!”

    Elke swung that way and scowled.  She was not in a mood to argue with sheep.

    Aramis saved her from a bad incident with a point and a tap of his own stun baton.  The boy in question slunk back into the huddle.

    What to do?  She wanted to use explosive, but that would be a clear giveaway to their location.  Flight was not a good idea until they knew this wasn’t an attempt to channel them somewhere.  Of course, once located, there was no guarantee that whoever it was wouldn’t use massive explosives.  Elke would.

    Aramis ran to the window, dropped the folding scaling ladder and some tools, then ran back and crouched by the lower door, ready to enfilade it.  He also had a slightly oblique view of the upper doors.  Elke had the reverse.  That put Caron at a distance that wasn’t comfortable, from a defensive point of view.

    She shrugged slightly and took a deep, slow breath.  Her turn.

    Explosive was prohibited in civilian settings.  Never mind her training, the government only trusted its own agents, even though she’d been one of those until a few years ago.  However, there were places in China and America where one could buy…toys.  She pulled out a couple of devices and prepared them.

    She’d forgotten about her earbuds, and Aramis’ voice surprised her.

    “Elke, nothing on any immediate scans from outside.  I’ve got two of Cady’s people moving in and sweeping.”

    “We vacate if it’s clear,” she said.  “Do we know how many?”

    “Roger on vacating.  At least one.  Probably no more than three.”

    This time, the gunfire was through the upper door’s latch mechanism.

    Aramis sprinted over seats, catching his foot and stumbling but recovering amazingly fast.  He gently shoved Caron down behind a desk and took up position in front of her.

    Elke waved and the two rugby players, wide-eyed and breathing hard, ran up the steps three at a time and took position flanking the door.

    “It’s going to be loud and bright,” she shouted.

    Another burst shattered the lock, and someone started ripping at the door proper with a wrecking bar.

    One of the players overhand-snapped a notepad.  It smashed hard into the hand of whoever was prying the door, who shrieked in response and dropped the bar.

    One of the intruders then fired a burst through the door.  Elke dropped and heard bullets crack past.  Aramis swore and she heard the crackle of his stunner and another curse.  That was followed by shrieks from the students, though she couldn’t tell if they were injured or not.  Then she heard the door splinter.

    That was her cue.

    She clicked the electronic igniter with one hand, stood and pointed with the other, and clamped her guts down against possible incoming fire.

    The resultant fireworks were quite literal.  Both athletes heaved heavy display bases at the three armored men kicking through the shambled door.  Aramis fired his stunner again, the charge riding the plasma sheath in a purplish blue flash.  Elke’s improvised cannon screamed in a syncopated hiss.

    Eight large firework rockets lit off in a sequential burst that she knew was .48 seconds, but seemed to last half a minute.  The sulfurous smoke boiled chokingly around her, deflected from directly burning her by a thick plastic plate that got hot very fast.  She’d punctured the stage dividers inside the rockets, so instead of zipping in free flight after impulse, they impulsed, almost immediately exploded, and threw burning sparklies at the attackers, pelting them with white hot burning metals.

    One went down, clutching at his eyes and ululating in agony.  One turned to face Aramis, who zapped him again full to the torso before he could raise his weapon, then stomped him with a flying leap and a smashing kick that was so well timed, Aramis stopped in midair and dropped, his entire momentum transferred to the gunman, who crashed back against the doorframe and convulsed as a piece of it impaled him.  The third ducked, flinched, rose, flinched again and aimed at her, only to get smashed in a tackle by two men who knew exactly how to put an opponent down in pain.  Once he was down, the two started beating him in a fashion she recalled Jason describing as, “like a left-handed, red-headed stepchild.”  However one called it, they smashed the man half to death.  Not good.

    Not good, because she needed at least one alive for questioning.

    Aramis grabbed the one with the burned face, grabbed a bottle and splashed water on him, and hauled him aside.  The two tacklers seemed to grasp the fight was over and stepped back, looking a little mussed and out of breath, and a bit sheepish.  The students shouted, cried, hooted and otherwise were a useless mob of nothing behind her.  Miss Caron was just starting to shiver in reaction, but was completely unharmed, though she’d need a requisite pat down just to make sure.

    In her ears, Cady said loudly, “Babs, Musketeer is not answering.  Status report.”

    Elke smacked her mic and said, “Hostiles down, position secure, Loretta secure, need external sweep and possible fire response.”  She edged toward Caron as she replied.  Code named “Loretta.”  The coalminer’s daughter.

    “Roger, Babs.  Entering One now, coordinating with locals.”

    “Understood.  Standing by.”

    One was the building.  Cady and backup should be along shortly.  Elke didn’t relish the thought of trying to clear the hallway, though anyone out there should be rather surprised and hesitant.  It wasn’t an issue, though, because her duty was to stick close to Caron and ensure her safety.

    Caron stood and raised her arms, accepted a professionally intimate feeling up and down for any wounds or injuries, which Elke did while glancing back and forth at the door.  Aramis stood there ready to block any intrusion, and the two volunteers held the mostly conscious prisoner they needed.  She pointed at them and down toward the crowd.  One of them nodded and walked down that way to try to calm the students.  As was common, their reactions to surviving a gun battle ranged from whimpers to curses to laughs and zombie stares.

    Elke just hoped Cady hurried.  She felt a bit rubbery herself.

    Right then, Cady said, “All secure, coming through the door in five.”  She heard Aramis respond, “Roger.”

    “I’m going to sit down now,” she said, and did so.

    At least she’d gotten to do her job today.

    Covering the aftermath of the attack at the college took more money.  Agent Eleonora Sykora had technically committed a misdemeanor by possessing the fireworks, and felony arson by using them, though her motives absolved her of guilt, except that she’d broken the law with deliberate prior intent.  The school was very unhappy and wanted to charge her.  However, they didn’t want a legal battle with Bryan Prescot, who could crush them like an insect and make them be not.  The governments—Welsh constituent, British state and European national wanted to charge her, but several high ranking officials and parliamentarians and assemblypersons made calls and that didn’t happen.

    Prescot was somewhat amused or bemused or something, though.  Alex was glad of that.

    At yet another after action analysis, Prescot said, “The legal fees are costing me several times what your protection is costing.  Of course, I can afford it, and it is keeping my family safe, but I’m wondering how to avoid scaling up to where it gets out of hand.  Can we?”

    Alex said, “I believe there is a social limit.  A smart enemy would not want to make you the underdog, nor turn public opinion against themselves.  I have to say, this last attack, the last several, have been amateurish.”

    “Do you think it’s created some kind of meme?  See if you can hurt his daughter for cultural bragging rights?”

    “I don’t think so, sir.  I think it’s one primary party, who’s just hiring or enticing freelance idiots to try their hand.  If they get lucky, it’s a win.  If not, it’s annoying and stressful and puts pressure on you, which is also a win for them.”

    “I trust your judgment.  So you think this will continue?”

    “It’s obviously someone with enough money to waste on it.  The odds are better than in a lot of gambling.  Their overhead is low if they offer an upfront fee and a larger payoff.”

    “Logical.  Did the suspects shed any light on things?”

    “Nothing.  They insist they don’t know who hired them and provided the weapons.”

    Elke finally spoke up.

    “They had some training.  Not a lot.”

    “You believe so?”

    “Definitely.  Their trigger control was adequate.  Their marksmanship was apparently okay.  They worked as an element and continued once under return fire.  They don’t seem professional, but they do seem practiced.”

    “Do you believe they rehearsed, then?”

    “Yes.”

    “Not good.”  Alex sighed.  “Well, I’m going to query, very discreetly, as to how many lectures are necessary, and if Caron can do a remote final.  Her thesis is mostly done.  If her exams can be proctored here, even if we pay for the professor to show up and do so, we can get out of here that much sooner.”

    Prescot said, “That means more work for barristers.  I assume you won’t be calling to ask about that?”

    “I’ll find out with some research, and I’ll be asking in person.  Nothing is entrusted outside from now on.”

    “Please let me know if I can help.  I’ve also lent support, gratefully, to those two young men who stepped in to help.  I’m disgusted that bare hands against gun-toting hoodlums can be considered assault with battery in today’s world.”

    “Yeah, we’ll step up for them too, if needed, sir.  Heck, they might want to talk to one of our recruiters.”   He said it as a half joke, but realized it was a viable possibility.  They’d demonstrated courage, resourcefulness and character.  Well, he could make a suggestion.  After that it wasn’t his problem.

    After that meeting adjourned, Alex had to get on the phone with his CEO.

    Don Meyer had been a Recon commando and general’s bodyguard, then started contracting personal protection training to various agencies and authorized companies.  Shortly, he’d had his own force.  They took a lot of flak in the press, but their reputation was based on the plain fact that no one in the galaxy was better at protecting a high value person.  The politicians and socialites were shocked at Elke’s acts, and even whined about sympathy for the “poor man” with the burned eyes.  Within the company, Elke was regarded as a heroine for working around the system, and everyone regarded it as a pity that the attackers had to survive.

    He came on screen at once, since Alex had an appointment with him.

    “So how is it, Alex?”

    “As good as can be expected, sir.  Was my request clear?”

    “Very.  I’m glad they have deep pockets.  This is going to be expensive.  I notice you didn’t even trust me with all the details.”

    “I don’t trust anyone at this point, sir.”

    “Good, that’s what I pay you for.  I have a stack of codes for you, being transferred now with your chosen encryption.”

    “Roger, sir.  It’s going to be an expensive movement.  More than you imagine.”

    “I can imagine quite a lot.”

    “Add a zero.”

    Meyer just chuckled at that.

    “It’s money in my pocket.  I have no objection as long as the principal is safe and happy.”

    “I doubt she’ll ever be happy, but she’ll be safe.”

    “I’ll kill you if she’s not.”

    “That assumes I’d be alive to kill.”  Alex grinned back at the joke.

    “What is your mission assessment?”

    “Well, sir, we’re still on profile.  We have to get her off Earth, keep the facilities around her secure, and provide all the intel we can to track down the threats.  Sir, we really need our own investigation arm.”

    “Yes we do.  I’m working on developing that.  We have some skilled intel people, but analysis and detective work is a specialized subset.  It’s going to take a few months to ramp up.  Still, you busted the one ring.”

    “Partly through luck and partly because she was very dedicated.  Her father’s supportive, and less dictatorial than he used to be.  He’s grasping that we need a free hand on the security matters.  Caron’s average for a principal, which is a compliment for a twenty-two year old just coming into this lifestyle.  Her uncle’s a wimp, as much as I hate to say it.  Beancounter.  Worried about perceptions and expenses and other things.  A perfect product of this society.”

    “Yeah, it sucks being a sheepdog in a flock of lambs.  The wolf’s real, though.”

    “Indeed.  I wish he’d gone with our services just for convenience. Ex-Ek isn’t bad, but they’re not us, so every time we do a group movement, or cross paths, we have to have a quick talk to confirm.  I don’t think anyone’s tried to suborn them, but I can’t rule out the possibility.”

    “Is it easier with him already moved forward?”

    “It is, so I’m not going to worry about it.  Once on Govannon we’ll have control and his people can do it our way or wait.  Or they can complain to Bryan Prescot, who’s finally deciding that he needs to be the sole authority and not run everything through a family committee.  I’m just glad his ex isn’t involved.  She’s a real prima donna.”

    “Yeah, when someone pays forty million to divorce you, it’s not a compliment.  He obviously felt it was worth it.”

    “It was.”

    “I thought you only met her in person once?”

    “I did.  Once was enough.  She’s a shallow, obnoxious, gold digging bitch.”

    “Wow.  That’s quite a statement, coming from you.”

    “Well, she should be happy.  She’ll be given access to the house again while they’re gone.  That’s apparently what she’s wanted for some time.”

    “Good.  The more people are happy, the less they’re likely to turn coat.”

    “She’s far too snobbish for that, I’d say.  Acts like a queen.”

    “You’ll be set up whenever you’re ready, Alex.  Give me the stage calls as you go.”

    Alex understood the meeting was over.  Made sense. This might be the highest profile mission, but it wasn’t the only one.

    “Will do, sir.  We’re at Three now and will stay that way until I shout for Two.”

    That wouldn’t be far in the future, either.

    “Understood, Alex. Carry on.”

    “Out, sir.”

    “Out.”