Talk:Where Legal Eagles Dare: An Opco Boone Adventure: Difference between revisions

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 stomped on the metal. The monstrous diesel turbines screamed. The rig thundered forward.

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.''

''Transitory vector''? What the hell does ''that'' mean? Your manoeuvre is not in the service catalog, Officer! My [[line manager]] say this is a [[steerco]]-reportable [[operational risk event]] —”

“No, no, Capcom, it is all routine, totally normal. We do this sort of thing all the time. I cleared with Commander, um, Commander Scheisskopf. this morning.”  

Boone re-winced. He clocked Capcom’s caller ID on the monitor. “Hey, er, hey Maxine? Listen: the channel is getting a bit choppy, okay? We are struggling to maintain secure connection. But rest assured: everything in order. Repeat: everything in order. We got this. Tell Scheisskopf we’re under control. Going dark, over.”  

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.  

Boone pummeled the dash “Yeah! Georgie! Where you been all my life!”

“Not now, Boone, you got work to do — eyes right!”

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.  

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]].

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. 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.  

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.