Of Livestock. (And Mercenaries)

Of Livestock. (And Mercenaries)

Part One of Two

Of Explosives and Used Cars

"This is not going to work."

"You mean the donkeys or the gunpowder?"

"I mean both. There is no way that we can pull this off. It'd be pretty bad if we mess up. We'd have to leave the Galaxial Union and hightail it to the asteroid fields, and that's assuming that the cops are the only ones who find out it was us behind it."

Dobs glanced around warily. While Gem tended to think things out long-term like being exiled to the Asteroid Colonies, he would forget about what was going on right now. Which, incidentally, was that they were standing in front of a giant pile of gunpowder flakes, about to blow a hole in the wall of an official Galaxial livestock food development facility.

It made him jumpy. He was being jumpy right now.

Dobs carefully placed his drill against the wall, according to the diagram, ignoring Gem's jumpiness.

The facility loomed over them, and over much of the city. The donkeys could be kept anywhere in such a monster of a building, but fortunately, Gem had managed to snag a copy of the layout. 

And someone had placed a livestock pen right up against the outer wall.

They crouched at the end of the narrow alleyway, its sole inhabitants. The featureless grey platewall lining either side of the alley did pose a bit of a problem. The sound of the explosion might reverberate across the metallic walls back to the road. 
Couldn't be helped though. At least there weren't many passers-by at five in the morning.

Seriously, this is the twenty-fifth century. Why don't we have some kind of silencing bubble or something. On second thought, we probably do, and Galaxial just doesn't want anyone to be able to use it. 

"And if we nail one of those donkeys by accident, E.S. will have our heads, which is even worse." Gem added.

"We don't have much of a choice. Let's hope that this works out somewhat O.K."

Dobs carefully finished drilling another hole in the platewall.

Gem started nervously again, glancing around. Times were tight, and trained mercenaries took whatever jobs they could, especially since the non-violence crackdown of '78. Even if it was working for the E.S. Gem probably thought that E.S. jobs were more dangerous than any pre-peace era assignments had ever been.

At least E.S. jobs paid well.

Dobs completed the pattern of holes. According to the diagram, this would weaken the platewall enough to blow a sizable chunk, but not enough to turn any donkeys into Thanksgiving dinner. He wasn't a hundred percent sure. The hefty mercenary sighed. He remembered the times when you could pick up some plastic explosive or super-acid to get a predictable result. Now they were reduced to using cannibalized toy noisemakers.

It had taken a lot of covert purchasing of pop rocks to get this much gunpowder.

That clerk at the fireworks store definitely didn't believe the story about a surprise birthday party for the niece.

Gem seemed intent on making himself as unnoticeable as possible, though Dobs couldn't fathom why. There was no reason anyone would come down the alley. It was just one of those many pointless dead-end roads that bureaucrats had subsidized into existence.

 Dobs wiped a single bead of sweat from his forehead. The only thing worse than having to use gunpowder cannibalized from noisemakers was the "borrowed" maintenance man jumpsuit he had forced himself into. Once-size-fits-all doesn't work on both a broad six foot four frame and a skinny four foot six frame, no matter how many times the manufacturers guaranteed the "patented elasticity."  They had opted for being able to suit up the shorter guys.

He had already burst three stitches, and had no idea what held the rest of the stupid get-up together.

Dobs scraped away the rough metal filings.

"Done," he said. Looks like supply in the donkey steak market is gonna take a serious cut. 

Gem shot out of the alley like a cannonball as soon as he heard Dobs' announcement- or would have if the bigger mercenary hadn't grabbed the back of his collar and stopped him. Fortunately, Gem didn't fit into his suit as badly, and the fabric held firm despite his legs pounding rapidly in one direction, and Dobs firmly anchoring him the in other.

"Don't lose it!" Dobs whispered fiercely. "Anybody seeing you bolt outta here 'll know somethin's up real quick. Focus!"

Gem had been like that for months now. Something had completely broken his cool under stress. It hadn't had any serious effects yet on the jobs-like getting them killed- but it was getting worse and worse. At least he did always snap out of it.

His partner shook himself once, and began to breath normally again. His heartbeat probably went from jackrabbit to near-normal human.

Dobs released his hold on Gem, and pulled out the matchbox, just the faintest sour aroma of sulfur escaping into the air.

Both slowly moved about halfway down the alley. They came to a stop where the fuse ended. It was just a faint trail of gunpowder leading up to the big pile.

Dobs remembered when he had been able to input a voice pattern into his com and release a series of flares to ignite an explosion. A powder fuse seemed so crude in comparison.

But you took what you could get.

"Gem," he said quietly. "Send the Panic."

"The Donkey Whistle?"

Dobs sighed. The guy was so intent on using his own terminology.

"Yes. The Donkey Whistle."

Gem pulled out his com and tapped in the sequence. You couldn't trigger explosives anymore, not with Galaxial proxies in place.

But you could still play a ringtone.

And if you knew the right sound engineers, you could synthesize something that would be undetectable by human ears.

And very, very, annoying to certain animals.

One of the holes that Dobs had drilled into the wall went all the way through to the enclosure on the other side. While the others were angled to affect the stability of the wall, that one was just to let their soundwave in.

Gem played the ringtone.

Faint sounds of distressed animals quickly echoed back towards them. It didn't seem exactly what Dobs had expected an annoyed donkey to sound like, but he had honestly not spent all that much time around animals.

Dobs lit the fuse.

Flames sputtered and hissed, dancing through the trail of powder towards the pile right next to the platewall.

Both men backed away and ducked behind a trash can, a safe distance from the blast.

Or what would have been a safe distance, a lifetime ago when explosives had been predictable.

The roar was unexpected.

The huge jet of flame was unexpected.

The torrent of metal chunks flying towards them was quite unexpected.

Dobs dove, bringing Gem to the ground.

They put stuff with this kind of power into party noisemakers?!

He stared in disbelief. A massive hole, ten feet across gaped where the wall had been. Dense smoke obscured the inside of the building. Everything smelled of molten metal and burned... something. Almost like an aquarium for some odd reason.

"Gem. Gem," he whispered urgently, shaking his friend. "You OK?"

Gem bobbed his head. A couple of cuts oozed. It looked nasty, but they had both gone through worse. He'd survive.

 Gem grinned feebly. "Good to go."

First aid was second priority right now.

"Time for part two."

Part two was the other ringtone. Dobs wasn't exactly sure what that one did. Either the donkeys would get really, really angry, or decide that the mercenaries were their pals, but the end result was the same. They would stampede back towards the mercenaries, and into freedom.

Well, freedom of an ES type.

It was better than the alternative at least. The ES didn't believe in donkey-loaf. They didn't actually eat donkeys at all.

"Dobs. Problem."

The big mercenary tore his eyes from the aftermath of the blast and glanced at Gem's problem. The com had been smashed in two by the combined weight of the two grown men dog-piling it. Wasn't going to play anymore tunes for a while.

"At least I backed up all the data onto the cloud. Knew I shoulda invested in the protective sleeve."

"Focus Gem. We still got plan C."

"Oh yes. Plan C. This is gonna be... fun."

Fun. Dobs shook his head ruefully.

Gem carefully drew three small plastic tubes out of his jacket. One was cracked, but fortunately the orange powder hadn't leaked out. "Now was it green and orange, or the blue and orange?"

"We don't have time Gem."

Gem made an executive decision, and smashed all three on the ground together. The resulting flare easily eclipsed the first. Fortunately, it was just light. Not heat and shockwaves of death blowing them to bits.

"Gem."

"Yeah?"

"Next time, we have time."

"Gotcha."

The smoke began to clear, and Dobs peered into the hole. Something moved inside.

"That is not a donkey."

The creatures that began to crawl into the open were small, round, and green.

The first one blinked a couple of times against the smoke, and noticed the duo.

The tortoise made a coughing sound, and began waddling towards them, quickly followed by its brethren. Some of the others were considerably larger.

"Somebody put the reptiles in the mammal section." Gem muttered.

"Turtles work. We just needed some kind of animal, right?"

"I don't remember. You're the one who pays attention at the debriefings. And those are tortoises, for the record."

"I don't care if they're kangaroos Gem."

Dobs began to back away slowly. They had just combined several chemicals that released a smell donkeys would chase after like carrots on sticks.

Apparently, tortoises liked that smell even better.

And the chemical now completely saturated their clothes.

"Time to go."

From the entry to the alleyway the two darted forth, followed by the cavalcade of rampaging tortoises, even as delayed alarms began to wail.

"This way!"

Fortunately, Dobs' com was still working, and he had the GPS route running. It was a winding and elongated trek through various circular streets and dead ends, but that was the city's fault. They just couldn't build straight roads. Politics.

Helicopters began to circle overhead, and something cold touched Dobs' back. He knew that feeling well. Glue gloves, called so for their hand-like shapes, had been implemented as a response to the violence crackdown. They had no harmful side effects, technically. They just stuck to you for several hours and rapidly sucked in compressed air until they effectively anchored you to the ground with the weight. Law enforcement liked the fact that they were compact enough that you could toss them from anywhere.

When you managed to blow something very important up, they would just try to immobilize everybody nearby for interrogation, so they hadn't necessarily blown their cover yet.

Fortunately, when they hit clothing instead of skin, you could twist really quickly...

With a snapping noise, the weight of the glove disappeared, and Dobs didn't stop to look around. Feeling free already, he doubled his pace. Gem had either avoided getting hit, or covered his suit in cooking spray beforehand, as he often claimed that it was an effective method of circumventing gloves. Dobs would have to grill him on that later.

Dobs pulled his flare-gun out of its holster. Or what would have been a flare-gun, a long time ago. This was a glorified flashlight.

Flare-guns wouldn't be that difficult to scrap together, but the comparative fifty years incarceration wasn't worth the trouble if you got caught. Just like a lot of stuff. That, and how most homemade ones blew up in your face.

Dobs clicked the flashlight on and off at the sky a few times.

Should work.

"Let's hope your sister hasn't gotten fed up with you and left for good this time," he muttered back to Gem.

The smaller mercenary just humphed and sprinted ahead.

Who knew tortoises could run so fast?

Lungs heaving and hearts pounding, the two made another left... left... right.... straight for a few blocks-

Dobs skittered to a stop fifteen feet away from creaming himself against a cargo van.

The thing was old. Old enough that it consisted of rusted steel and duct tape instead of platewall and still ran on some derivative of gasoline.

It was also their ultimate getaway vehicle.

Gem scooted past him and flung open the side door. Or he would have, except that one of the few extra bits that still worked on the van was the power door. So he just pulled on the handle and waited for it to work. He hopped up and down a bit as it groaned and slid open. As soon as the entrance was wide enough for him, Gem jumped inside.

"C'mon Dobs, we gotta go!"

Dobs hesitated for just a second as he glanced at the person sitting in the driver's seat. Then he glanced back behind him and remembered where he was.

Dobs jumped in the back seat also and started shutting the door. The driver didn't care to wait for it to shut. As soon as Dobs was inside the vehicle, it lurched forward with a sickly groan. The alarm for "door ajar began to whine."

"Don't worry." Gem assured him. "Takes a bit to get going, but once you're up to speed, we're home free."

"Yea," muttered Dobs.

"Also, I call shotgun." Gem casually crawled into the front seat, banging his head against the glovebox as they went over a bump.

Gem adjusted himself, unfazed, and turned towards the driver. "Thanks sis."

"You idiots," she snapped back. "Thought that it was donkeys this time?"

"It was supposed to be, but-"

"You can't tell the difference between a donkey and a tortoise?"

"Gemma, that's not-"

"Know what Gemini? Just shut it. I don't even want to know."

The engine coughed and spluttered in agreement.

Gem clammed up and sulked. He did that when you called him by his full name.

"Dobs," said Gemma presently. "Why are ya in your long-johns?"

Dobs looked down, and saw that he indeed was wearing nothing over the long wool underwear he had put on that morning... So that was what that ripping sound had been. In the heat of the moment, he had completely missed that the glue glove had kept the jumpsuit, even if it had lost the Dobs.

Dobs muttered vulgar idioms under his breath.

"What did you just say, in my car?"

"'Said 'Good riddance, that suit was crushin' the life outta me anyway."

"Vehicle Glue Glove," Gem added thoughtfully.

The mentioned object anchored itself to the car, and with a horrible sucking noise, began dragging them to a halt.

Dobs winced as the van seemed to sink into the ground from the rapidly increasing weight. Gemma managed to turn one corner into a side road before the motor sputtered one last time and the back tires popped.

"How dare they," she muttered, staring at the sky darkly. "This is an antique!"

"Come on sis," said Gem, popping out his side of the door after quickly looking up to make sure no more glue gloves were headed in their direction.

The power doors were now completely shot, so Dobs had to scramble through the driver side after Gemma had exited.

Gem surveyed the damage. Even a Vehicle Glue Glove wouldn't have been able to get heavy enough to crush a modern platestrut framed vehicle, but the van was not a modern platestrut framed vehicle. The entire rear was nearly flattened, both wheels squashed, and the whole thing much too heavy for the ancient engine to haul two feet.

"Was fun while it lasted," Gem sighed.

"I don't even have an insurance policy that covers that," fumed Gemma.

"We're still on the run, remember?"

"Oh yes. Pardon me, I forgot. A plan, Dobs?"

"Well, no, not really-"

Dobs cut himself off as he noticed the street sign. No way. 

But it was the same street.

Is it even still there?

"One shot. A long shot."

Helicopters hummed ominously overhead.

"We'll take it."

A left, straight for a block... he remembered despite a fifteen year absence. That kind of thing happened when you walked somewhere every day for a decade.

It's still there. And the lights are on. He always did get up early to polish everything up. He’s still here.

"In there," Dobs said, almost whispering.

"That," said Gem flatly, "is a church."

"A Cathedral actually."

“You gone religious in your old age?"

"An old friend."

"You were friends with God once?"

"Ack. Not what I was trying to say. I have an old friend in there, probably." Dobs grunted and started opening the door. It was locked. Side entrance, on the left. Forgot about that. 

Moving across the steps, Dobs grasped the handle of the smaller door that he had always used before. The hinges squeaked with rust that hadn't been there fifteen years ago, but it still opened.

"Don't they bring like, the inquisition down on you if you go inside without asking?" Gem was still avoiding the door.

Dobs sighed. "Just trust me."

Gem opened his mouth again, but a glue glove landed next to his shoe, and he darted into the building. Gemma moved up against the building and away from the open street, raising an eyebrow at Dobs.

He ignored the unspoken question and walked inside. She followed cautiously. 

Dobs wrinkled his forehead as he entered. It even smelled the same.

He probably won’t kick us back onto the street.

Probably.

End of Part One

Read part two!