From: dsg12@konichiwa.cc.columbia.edu (David Samuel Goodwin)
Subject: story: Working With Daunter
Date: 22 Nov 1994 02:55:54 GMT


		       Working With Daunter
				  by David S. Goodwin

       Let me tell you about the last time I worked with Daunter, and 
maybe you'll understand what I mean when I say that the guy is impossible 
to be around.  I mean, he is NOT human.  
       It was like this.  I get my jobs through the Beijing Connection - 
you've probably heard of it.  It's great if you can afford premium 
service, but the contracts I get through it are, well... there's usually 
a catch.  And for some reason, they keep on matching me with Daunter.
       So anyway.  I got the contract through the Connection, read it, 
and keyed an assent.  Two days later I was in a motel room in Jersey, my 
gear laid out on the bed, setting up the pre-run.
       Daunter was at the table laying out his ammo.  To picture Daunter, 
think of a marine in one of those commercials.  Steel grey eyes, black 
jump-suit, brown crew-cut, just enough wrinkles to look competent as 
Hell.  He always sits straight up, and he nevers blinks.  What he was 
doing, was, he was laying out his bullets in a straight line on the table 
top.  He uses this H&K Gauss gun, uses a magnetic field to throw these 
.44 mm slugs of custom design; carries 12 bullets in the grip, plus the
 power pack.  He loves that thing.
       "What are you carrying, this run?" I ask him.  If you want to 
picture me, think of what your plumber would look like if he lost fifty 
pounds.
       "Just the Gauss,"  he answered, slowly loading it one by one.
       I was disappointed.  "What, no grenades?  No hold-out lasers, 
like last time?  No wrist-mounted needlers?"  Daunter usually has great 
gear.
       "Nope.  Just the Gauss."  He went on loading.
       "Well, bring lots of ammo."  I shrugged.
       "Just one clip," he said.
       I stared.  I stood up and walked over to the table.  "Wait a 
minute.  One clip?  That's all you're taking - hey!  You're mixing your 
ammo!"  Which he was.  I mean, he has these high-explosive slugs, and 
armor piercers, a bunch of non-lethal rounds, you name it, and he was 
loading them into the same clip.  Good way to get killed, if you don't 
know what your next shot is going to be.
       "Don't worry," he said.  "I've got it all planned."  And that's 
the way he was, you know?  You couldn't reason with the bastard.

	So two nights later we're on site, and ready to move.  We had 
hiked about a mile from where we parked the vehicle, through the barrens 
east of that old hover-port down on I-95.  The area is completely dead - 
miles of rusted-out metal drums and oily marsh.  The target was - well, 
basically a warehouse.  I mean, it looks pretty high-tech, this huge box 
of mirrored glass sitting in an empty parking lot, completely bathed in 
white flood-lights.  Chain link fence on the perimeter, razor wire, 
motion sensors, cameras all over the place - nothing too amazing, but 
still effective.  The point is that it looks like some coporate habitat, 
but what it is, is a technology depot - an environmentally controlled 
structure for storing electronics before they get where they're going.  
Daunter and I had to get inside, fifth floor, and out again, secrecy no 
object.  The Connection rated the run at a six - about average for me, a 
little low for Daunter.  Must have been a bad month for him, or something.

	Now how do you get into a place like that?  Well, if you're like 
me, you cheat.  You run a field detector around the outside of the fence 
until you find where the power comes in - probably a cable cluster about 
three feet down - and you stick about a kilo of your favorite explosive 
down a hole and blow it off from a safe distance.  Then while auxiliary 
power is coming up you see how far into the compound you can get before 
someone shoots at you.

	Daunter was way too cool for this sort of work, by the way.  He 
was standing by the fence with a pair of night-glasses watching the 
entrance.  When I hit the switch - THOOM, and mud went everywhere - the 
lights went out instantly, and he stood there waiting for me to cut 
through the fence.  This, incidently, is what I do best.  Mechanical 
stuff - I used to work in building operations.

	So I cut the fence and we sprinted across the parking lot.  
Everything gets that digital feel through night-glasses, and I 
could see a pair of security guards flat against the entrance grabbing for 
their guns.  Snap!Snap! the Gauss fired twice, and they both went down.  
Non-lethal rounds, I noticed, not armor piercers, and I couldn't help 
thinking: twelve bullets, down two.  That's ten.

	The door was pretty solid.  I headed for the controls, but Daunter 
pointed the Gauss again and Blam! the bolts were gone.  My ears rang 
- high explosive rounds.  Nine to go, I thought.  

	Inside: a wide metal corridor, lined with vault doors.  The 
lights were on low, auxiliary power, and no sign of the reinforcements.  
Fire stairs at the far corners, I figured, and we headed straight 
through.  Turning the corner at the end we hit the real security:  
a guy in black plastic laminate, and pointing a nasty flechette 
auto-pistol at us. Crack!  And he went down, thanks to Daunter:  round 
number 4 was an armor piercer.  Eight more.

	Heading up the stairs, I yelled out, "How the Hell did you figure 
that?"
	"What do you mean?" he asked, not even winded, at the second floor.
	"The ammo count," I shouted.  "Explosive on the third, armor 
piercing on the fourth..." We hit the third floor.
	"Foresight," he replied.  "Planning.  The key to any successful 
operation."

	On the fifth floor we ran into two more of the super-cops, and 
believe it or not, Daunter had two more rounds of armor-piercers, and 
three explosive round in succession to get through the vault door.  It 
took three shots exactly, and the door swung open.  Three rounds to go.  
I never even drew my auto-pistol.  I figured, what was the point?  
The vault was huge - took up half the fifth floor with rows and rows of 
lockers and sealed cases.  We were looking for 3E543 - it was all the way 
at the end of an aisle.  While I fiddled the lock, Daunter used round 
number 10 on a guard who happened to run into the right room.  Non-lethal 
again, I noticed.

	And then  - I swear we must have been blind.  Daunter turned back 
towards me, and as he brought the Gauss up, this guy _leaped_ at him from 
just around the edge of the locker.  Daunter went down in total surprise, 
and the Guass sailed across the floor.  The guy went after it, and I 
realized that he was definitely NOT a guard;  some kind of young 
executive, or something, doing a late night inventory, I guessed.  
Anyway, I didn't dwell on it, because next thing I knew he had Daunter's 
gun, which is a real frightening thing to see from the wrong end, pointed 
right at Daunter's head.  

	"Don't move, don't move, I mean it..." The guy was sweating like 
Hell, gripping the gun in both hands, and I was thinking, two bullets 
left.  Just enough for both of us.  I reached for my pistol, when 
Daunter tensed, and the guy screamed "Don't!" - and pulled the trigger.

	Zt.  A slight snick as the field gun discharged on an empty 
chamber.  The guy stared at Daunter in disbelief, dropped the weapon, and 
bolted down between the aisle.  I just watched him go as Daunter picked 
up the Gauss from the ground.  

	"Hold on."  I said, ignoring the open locker and the unknown 
package we had come from.  "Are you telling me you didn't even fill the 
whole clip?!  You only had ten rounds in that thing?"

	Daunter sighted past me and gently pulled the trigger.  An 
echoing boom signalled the demise of an armed remote someone had sent 
after us; round twelve, armor piercing and explosive, dealt with it 
nicely.  Daunter put the gun away and removed the package from the 
locker.  "I didn't include round number eleven," he said 
matter-of-factly.  "I didn't think I'd need it."

	"You didn't think you'd need it... You left out a bullet!  You 
KNEW you'd be disarmed?!  How did you...But..."  I couldn't think of an 
answer.  Finally I said, "But you're empty, now.  What if we hit another 
guard?"

	"We won't," he said.  And you know what really gets to me?  We 
didn't.  

	Anyway, that's what I mean about working with Daunter.  I just 
can't deal with it, you know?


Copyright 1994 by David S. Goodwin
	"My own talent is more general.  I extract significance
from melodrama, a significance which it does not in fact contain;
but occasionally, from out of this matter, there escapes a thin
beam of light that, seen at the right angle, can crack the shell