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Talk:Where Legal Eagles Dare: An Opco Boone Adventure: Difference between revisions
Talk:Where Legal Eagles Dare: An Opco Boone Adventure (view source)
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“Aieeeeeeeeee!” | “Aieeeeeeeeee!” | ||
Boone hoofed the driver head-first out of the cabin, pulled himself into the cockpit, honked the foghorn and hauled the wheel hard right. The great rig began slowly to bear around towards the Operations HQ, slewing sand out over the upturned COO gunship as it turned. | |||
A dirt-bike punched through that curtain of flying sand, over the gunship’s lazily spinning wheels, and landed | A dirt-bike punched through that curtain of flying sand, over the gunship’s lazily spinning wheels, and landed clean. Algernon whooped. “Let’s blow this joint, Boonester.” | ||
Boone snarled into his wristcom, “We’re not home yet, Algy. Any sign of Georgie?” | Boone snarled into his wristcom, “We’re not home yet, Algy. Any sign of Georgie?” | ||
Algernon gunned | Algernon gunned his Kawasaki. “She’s tangling with the other cruiser, boss. Sticky bogey, I guess.” | ||
Boone scanned the trailer behind his cabin: | Boone scanned the trailer behind his cabin: a wall of green LEDs. ''The [[KPI]]s were already primed''. The detonation timer on the dash ticked down: ''5:30 and counting.'' | ||
Boone wrestled with the wheel. The rig groaned and screamed under the colossal Gs as it re-vectored to the north. ''Come on, you brute, come on ...''. The rig leveled up. The Gs eased off. Five clicks yonder, Boone could see operations outpost in the crosshairs, shimmering in the hot desert air. ''Your chickens are coming home to roost, my operational friends.'' | Boone wrestled with the wheel. The rig groaned and screamed under the colossal Gs as it re-vectored to the north. ''Come on, you brute, come on ...''. The rig leveled up. The Gs eased off. Five clicks yonder, Boone could see operations outpost in the crosshairs, shimmering in the hot desert air. ''Your chickens are coming home to roost, my operational friends.'' Boone stomped on the metal. The monstrous diesel turbines screamed. The rig thundered forward. | ||
''The timer ticked past 5:00.'' | ''The timer ticked past 5:00.'' | ||
''NOT … WHILE … I … BREATHE.'' — A bloodied fist grabbed the running board. Kurzweil hung on for his life, for his cause, for his ''honour''. At first, it was all he could do, just to keep his hold and stop being swept beneath the monstrous wheels as they pounded | ''NOT … WHILE … I … BREATHE.'' — A bloodied fist grabbed the running board. Kurzweil hung on for his life, for his cause, for his ''honour''. At first, it was all he could do, just to keep his hold and stop being swept beneath the monstrous wheels as they pounded the dirt, inches from his ear. He clenched his buttocks as the roadway grated and pummeled him all over. | ||
Yet, slowly, he hauled himself back into the game. He got a second hold. He fist-jammed in the wheel-arch. He executed a switch-grip, squirrel-jumped onto the grille, dragged himself up onto the hood, heel-hooked and got a firm boot-hold on the chassis. He clambered up like a limpet. He edged around the towards cabin door. ''NOT … WHILE … I … BREATHE.'' | |||
''The timer ticked past 4:45.'' | ''The timer ticked past 4:45.'' | ||
The cabin CB pinged — static squelch. Capcom was rattled. “Hey, Kurzweil, do you read? We see your vector heading north. Please account for | The cabin CB pinged — static squelch. Capcom was rattled. “Hey, Kurzweil, do you read? We see your vector heading north. Please account for your deviation. What’s going on? Is everything in order?” | ||
Boone picked up the receiver. “Ah, Capcom, we read you ten-four. All is in order. We are just seeing some interference — regular, totally routine stuff, you know, so — er — we are re-routing to approach from the north-west. All good, over.” | Boone picked up the receiver. “Ah, Capcom, we read you ten-four. All is in order. We are just seeing some interference — regular, totally routine stuff, you know, so — er — we are re-routing to approach from the north-west. All good, over.” | ||
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“Heinrich? Heinrich?” | “Heinrich? Heinrich?” | ||
Boone clicked off the receiver. “That was getting boring, | Boone clicked off the receiver. “That was getting boring, anyway” he muttered. | ||
''The timer ticked past 4:30.'' | ''The timer ticked past 4:30.'' | ||
The rig roared. Kurzweil | The rig roared. Kurzweil snagged a crimp on the aerial mount. He traversed along the running board, edging with his toes, keeping his weight balanced. He ducked his head beneath the overhang, below Boone’s side-window sightline. | ||
''The timer ticked past 4:15.'' | ''The timer ticked past 4:15.'' | ||
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Boone’s comlink crackled. “Heads up Boone: you got company.” | Boone’s comlink crackled. “Heads up Boone: you got company.” | ||
Georgie’s dirt-bike burst into view off a low ridge, exploding through scrubland and pulled wheelie. | Georgie’s dirt-bike burst into view off a low ridge, exploding through scrubland and she pulled wheelie. | ||
Boone pummeled the dash “Yeah! Georgie! Where you been all my life!” | Boone pummeled the dash “Yeah! Georgie! Where you been all my life!” | ||
“Not now, Boone work to do — eyes right!” | “Not now, Boone, you got work to do — eyes right!” | ||
Boone looked | Boone looked, but it was too late. With a single fluid motion Kurzweil vaulted up, leant through the window, baffed Boone across the jaw, and grabbed the wheel. | ||
Boone spat a jeweled string of blood. A copper taste filled his mouth. | Boone spat a jeweled string of blood. A copper taste filled his mouth. | ||
Kurzweil came again, but this time Boone was braced for him. An elbow to the cheek knocked | Kurzweil came again, but this time Boone was braced for him. An sharp elbow to the cheek knocked Kurzweil back, cracking his head against the stanchion. He grunted. Boone clamped him, but the Operations man kept swinging. He grabbed Boone by the throat: ''chokehold''. Kurzweil had a grip like a vice, but so did Boone: he squeezed back, harder, and shunted up. Kurzweil gagged. His eyes bulged and spittle flew, but he still cracked out a demonic grin. As he went beetroot he mouthed, “''NOT … WHILE … I … BREATHE … BOONE''” and cracked Boone with his [[Runbook]]. | ||
The rig veered and fishtailed as they struggled. | The rig veered and fishtailed as they struggled. | ||
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''The timer ticked past 4:00.'' | ''The timer ticked past 4:00.'' | ||
As his air-flow constricted, Boone felt himself | As his air-flow constricted, Boone felt himself growing light-headed. He scanned the windshield blearily. ''Where on Earth were the dirt-bikes?'' He reached for his wristcom, but Kurzweil’s span was too great. Kurzweil rabbit-punched him again and hooked a boot on the door-latch. The door swung wide, with Kurzweil on it. He hauled Boone out by the throat. | ||
Boone couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t speak | Boone couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t speak. His muscles slackened. Huis peripheral vision blackened. Kurzweil doubled down on the throat-clamp. Boone flailed limply at him, but caught nothing but air: the big man’s reach was too great. The door swung back. Kurzweil booted Boone in the face. As Boone lost grip on the wheel, Kurzweil pushed it back around to the Settlement. | ||
The rig ground back towards the western vector. Kurzweil lined up the Settlement in the cross-hairs. Locked and flashed and beeped: ''TARGET ACQUIRED''. On the cabin floor, Boone groaned. Kurzeil boot-baffed him. As, at last, he passed out Boone’s last coherent thought was, ''where the hell are you?'' He slipped into unconsciousness with the hopeless image of Algy back at St Crustard’s, in his games kit, frantically trying to get his ''Defence Against Indemnities'' homework before the bell went. | The rig ground back towards the western vector. Kurzweil lined up the Settlement in the cross-hairs. Locked and flashed and beeped: ''TARGET ACQUIRED''. On the cabin floor, Boone groaned. Kurzeil boot-baffed him. As, at last, he passed out Boone’s last coherent thought was, ''where the hell are you?'' He slipped into unconsciousness with the hopeless image of Algy back at St Crustard’s, in his games kit, frantically trying to get his ''Defence Against Indemnities'' homework before the bell went. | ||
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''The counter ticked past 3:45.'' | ''The counter ticked past 3:45.'' | ||
Kurzweil clocked the counter. ''Precious seconds to lose now.'' If he was to get all the way into the Settlement, release the payload and then make it out again before it blew things would have to be perfect. He knew he would not make it out of that forensic rat-hole on foot. | Kurzweil clocked the counter. ''Precious seconds to lose now.'' If he was to get all the way into the Settlement, release the payload and then make it out again before it blew things would have to be perfect. He knew: he would not make it out of that forensic rat-hole on foot. He knew: this could be his Waterloo. ''I do this for the cause'', he thought. ''For all operations people, everywhere''. | ||
Boone moaned and shifted woozily in the foot well. Kurzweil baffed him again, Boone collapsed into psychedelic visions of Georgie and Algernon in their St. Crustard’s uniforms. | |||
An insistent horn sounded behind. Kurzweil checked his wing mirror: relief! The remaining gunship, smoking and shuddering, was coming back up beside him. Suddenly, Kurzweil saw a path out of this. He could escape after all! He waved at the gunship, urging it forward. | |||
Kurzweil set about converting the rig into a guided missile. He locked the steering on the acquired target, set the trailer to autopilot, threw the engine into a high gear and jammed a brick on the pedal. The motor screamed. | |||
Kurzweil cursed the unconscious hulk for even putting him in this position. Then, at 70mph, on a desert track heading straight into the jaws of destruction, Kurzweil knew what he had to do. ''Yes. This is right. This we should do.'' He | Boone moaned. Kurzweil re-baffed. Kurzweil cursed the unconscious hulk for even putting him in this position. ''This is just business, you self-righteous berk.'' Then, at 70mph, on a desert track heading straight into the jaws of destruction, Kurzweil knew what he had to do. ''Yes. This is right. This we should do.'' He reached over and grabbed the unconscious Eagle Squad Leader by his lapels. “Let us make your last ride the one they remember you by, Opco Boone.” | ||
''The counter ticked past 3:45.'' | ''The counter ticked past 3:45.'' | ||
The damaged gunship was belching black smoke and running on three tyres, but it was back in the game | The rig was hurtling inexorably towards the settlement. Boone seemed unable to stop it. The damaged gunship was belching black smoke and running on three tyres, but it was back in the game, exchanging potshots with Georgie. | ||
Captain Algernon Farquhar, B.S.C, D.S.O, Acting Deputy Captain of Eagle Squad saw a narrow dirt ramp coming down the line and knew his time was now. | |||
The Kawasaki prescribed a flat parabola over the trailer | “Cover me, George!” he barked, and ripped hard on his throttle. The Kawasaki surged forward along side the trailer, mounted the ramp and caught ''big'' air. As the bike sailed over the trailer, he kicked out of his stirrups, let the handlebars go, and back-flipped — he hit the trailer roof with the regulation Eagle-Squad three-point landing. | ||
The Kawasaki kept flying. It prescribed a flat parabola over the trailer and fell into the path of the oncoming gunship. The pilot and gunner bailed. The gunship exploded on impact. | |||
''The counter ticked past 3:30.'' | ''The counter ticked past 3:30.'' | ||
Boone was a heavy bastard. | Boone was a heavy bastard. Kurzweil hauled him up and into the driver’s seat, but he was flaccid and it was hard to shift him. Eventually he flopped him into position and groped around for the seatbelt. | ||
''The counter ticked past 3:15.'' | |||
Algy shinned down the access ladder from the trailer roof. To his surprise, the trailer’s main back doors were not locked. He popped the latch and it swung open. Algy dropped in and onto the deck. | |||
“Holy hell,” he said, and whistled. The forty feet length of the trailer unit was packed with server farms of [[key performance indicator]]s, RAG indicators, and banks of dials, meters, LED displays and a bank of cooling firms. | |||
executed Putting his head through the British Army blanket that hung down between the seats and the hold, an improvised shield at best, he reversed the Webley in his grip. The old Webley that had belonged to his father during the First War.He. | |||
Coldly, he struck Kurzweil across the side of the head. | Coldly, he struck Kurzweil across the side of the head. | ||