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

{{a|opcoboone|[[file:desert mountain.jpg|450px|thumb|center]]}}{{smallcaps|As a blood-red}} sun dipped to the rim of the world, they watched the procession thunder across the desert, a mile below. An eighteen-wheeler Double-O battle-truck, flanked by a pair of picket-class [[COO]] gunships, hurtled along a wide dirt track.  

<div style="text-indent: 20px; margin: 0; padding:0;">Ten flat miles away through desiccated scrubland, oblivious to the battle-truck convoy as it closed in, the Settlement fell under the first velvet folds of night.

On a high arête, they watched. They took it all in. Miles down below, in the Settlement, seven dark [[Infinite bafflement|baffle]]-towers ringed the citadel: gaunt sentinels of the encroaching threat. A curlicue of smoke twisted from the central [[boilerplate]] processing complex. Besides, all was quiet.

The baffle-towers grumbled to life, their mournful sirens flooding the desert floor like a low cold fog. Ant-like troopers shuttled back and forth from dugouts to trenches, preparing for the onslaught. Then there it was: a staccato burst of brilliant light flashed out from the ringed towers. Nine beats pulsed into the gloaming.

 

“Are you ''sure'', Opco?” said one rider.

“But, boss,” said the other, “that was ''dash-dash-dash—dot-dot-dot—dash-dash-dash''.”

“Right, George. It’s Morse code.”

George rifled through her code book. She furrowed her brow. “What the h —”

Boone knew it was not gibberish. Boone new it was something worse: evidence that Morale in the Settlement was worse even than he had feared. They were ''clarifying'' things. “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” he muttered. “We’ll be here all day. You two had better get on with it.”

Eagle Squadron Commander Opco Boone LL.B watched his outriders kick over their engines and, with gravel-farted backspray, clear the ridge: one left, one right. They scrambled down the scree. A curtain of kicked-up dust drew a slow line towards the convoy.

Boone sighed, brushed spattered mud off his wing-suit and stepped towards the cliff-edge.

----On the valley floor, Senior Operations Officer [[Heinrich Kurzweil]] gripped the wheel, his gimlet eye fixed on the horizon. The rig was handling ''real'' nice. But with seventy tons of state-of-the-art ultra-[[modernist]] [[Middle-management|mano-tech]] under the hood, you’d expect that. This baby practically drove itself.

“Just a couple of doc jocks out of their pens, I think. All cool.”

Kurzweil screwed in the ESPER scope and brought up a video feed. Sure enough: two repo [[Negotiator|negotiators]] lumbering awkwardly around an execution memo. Youngsters; must have broken a fence somehow and got out. No real threat at this distance, but ''untidy''. The IA goons would have a field day if they found them — but all same, uncalled for.

“Want me to clear ’em out, Kurzweil?”

Kurzweil shrugged. “We’re all good, ain’t we, Bugsy?”

Bugsy loved to throw the book. He had a wild streak — hell, most uniform bulls in legal ops did: the [[chief double-oh]] encouraged it. But this was no reluctant policy compliance matter for Operating Officer Cadet [[Walter N. Buggs]], [[MBA|M.B.A.]] (''Insead''). This was ''job satisfaction''. “C’mon: It’s in the [[service catalog]], Kurtzy.” Bugsy was pleading now.

“Ahh, hang it, Bugs. Why the hell not? Go on, light ’em up.”

Bugsy’s ack-ack let rip — the [[GMSLA|GMRA]] guy went up like a Roman candle.

Boone snarled into his wrist-com, “We’re not home yet, Algy. Any sign of George?”

Georgie’s dirt-bike burst into view off a low ridge, exploding through scrubland and she pulled wheelie.

Boone punched the dash “Yo! Georgie! Where you ''been'' all my life!”

Clippy said, ''Hi!|''

As he passed out, Boone’s last coherent thought was, ''where the hell are you, Algy?'' The Eagle Squadron commander slipped into unconsciousness with the hopeless image of his old school chums Georgie and Algy, back at the refectory at St Crustard’s frantically trying to finish their ''Defence Against Indemnities'' homework before the bell went.

Boone collapsed into glamour-glow visions of Georgie and Algernon, holding hands, astride pink unicorns, in a forest of hyper-rainbows, floating joyfully amongst a flock of cute, fluffy green chatbots that were nibbling delicately and licking at their glistening faces. ''“It’s fine, Opco! Come on over! You will never look back! Everything is — so beautiful!” Operations Officer Kurzweil walked serenely towards him in a silken toga, with a ball of pearlescent light before him. “It is all true, Opco.” Behind him Georgie and Algernon nodded blissfully. “We have solved it. Everything. There is enough management information to satisfy every [[stakeholder]]. You don’t need to worry. There’s an app for e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g...”''

----The rig was hurtling inexorably towards the Settlement. The damaged gunship was belching black smoke and running on three tyres, but it was back in the game, exchanging potshots with Georgie.

“Cover me, Georgie!” he barked, and ripped hard on his throttle.

Algy clicked into his wrist-com, and hissed: “Georgie, this is bad. There must be 40,000 [[KPI|KPIs]] here — maybe more. They’re all armed. Every goddamn one of them. The counter’s down to three minutes. I couldn’t switch that many off in that time even if they weren’t encrypted. But —”

Georgie said, “Copy that, Algy. We have to turn the rig around. There is nothing else for it. And it’s ...”

“Georgie, do you copy?

Georgie sniffed.

What is it, Georgie?

There was another pause. Georgie rallied. “It’s — oh, Goddamn you, you ancient brute, Opco Boone!” Georgie’s voice was cracking now. “It’s — it’s what the Commander would have wanted, Algy. ''Do this for Boone''. Remember, you have the element of surprise. There’s no time. You can do this, Algy. Oh! ''LOOK OUT!''”

----Georgie squeaked into her bike-com, “Algy! Algy! Do you read me! Algy! Come in, over!”

Georgie heard the line go dead and shrieked. “Algy NO!”

Georgie gunned her K-bike.

Kurzweil unlatched the rear door and peered out. Light flooded into the trailer. Kurzweil was dazzled for a moment, then saw Georgie rolling twenty yards back. He levelled his Gantt. Georgie looped a fat slalom on the bike to throw off his aim. Kurzweil matched her cadence. Georgie carved wider. Kurzweil cocked his piece. Georgie fishtailed. Kurzweil fired — missed.

Kurzweil collapsed to his knees. Algy hoofed him off the back of the truck. Georgie threw out another fancy fishtail and gave the operations man the swerve. Kurzweil rag-doll cartwheeled into a bush.

----At its nearest pass, Boone and Algy dropped off the running board, collected Georgie, and the three old pals linked arms and walked the mile back to the Settlement. Clippy the chatbot multitasked, steering the primed rig back to operations HQ.

----Two klicks distant, Operations Officer Kurzweil picked his aching body out of a clump of thistles and swore himself to eternal revenge.<div style="text-indent: 20px; margin: 0; padding:0;">