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Stories from the Verse
Con Version
Chapter 194: Takano 144
Table of Contents
Previous chapter: Cooper 61
Monday morning seemed to be going as usual. Arriving at work, Tommy got the coffee for the department (now large enough that it required two trips) and settled into finding out what ideas people had over the weekend.
There was a flash of light outside the windows, and a few people walked over to look. The commotion that arose raised her own curiosity, but she decided to use the clairvoyance skill Vashti had recently taught her, and focused her remote sight beyond the wall of the building.
She had to search a bit, as it were, sweeping around her point of reference. Then she saw what was apparently a man flying, using some kind of flame-throwing jet pack.
As she focused on him, something flew past behind him. She swept around a bit, and saw another flyer--humanoid but not human, three eyes in a circumference around its head, and flying by its own power, driving fire from its arms and legs.
She pulled back her point of view so she could see both at once, and the two aerialists looked at each other, and, she was quite certain, nodded. Then the human flew toward the building and the alien built a huge ball of flame and hurled it that direction.
“We’re under attack,” she said.
“Attack?” Brian queried, but just then the fire alarm went off.
“Two flying persons--one not human--throwing fire at the building.”
“Terribly convenient for Cutter,” Derek said, and then he appeared to take charge. Picking up his small briefcase, he opened it, removed the large embroidered belt Vashti had made over the weekend, the knives and darts already on it, and his chain and frying pan which now courtesy of Vashti had a hook on a loop through the handle to hang on the belt, and tossing these over his shoulder, the frying pan set on the desk. He grabbed the stack of files, the most current work they had done on the computer, and put it in the case. Closing it, he handed it to Vashti. Meanwhile, he had been saying, “I’m the only one of us who can fly, so I’m going to the roof to try to fight these attackers. Vashti, you need to get yourself and these files safely out of the building. You two, get the people to safety.”
Brian picked up the phone. “I’m going to call Tell and let him know what’s hap--the line’s dead,” he said, clicking the hook several times. “This was planned.”
“Calling Tell is a good idea,” Derek said. “I don’t know if there’s a convenient payphone around here, but the church is just three blocks down, and you can use their phone.”
With that, grabbing his frying pan he was rushing to the stairwell.
Tommy ducked into Granville’s vacated office and pulled on her jeans and sneakers, coat, hat, and mask, wrapping her belt around the outside. She emerged into the chaos of panicking office workers, and attempted to get some control.
“All right, people,” she said in as loud and calm a voice as she could muster, “we don’t need to panic. We’re on the ground floor, and the fire is working its way down. Calmly, I repeat, calmly exit the office, head to the nearest entrance, and move out into the street and away from the building.”
Justice emerged from somewhere, carrying his duffel; Tommy suddenly worried whether she might lose hers, but then, it was just the duffel bag and her work clothes, which she could replace easily enough. The people were what mattered, and Derek had made them responsible for that. Mister Justice strode briskly toward the main door and called, “Follow me,” and people did.
Boy, I wish I could get attention like that, she thought, but then shook herself. There were more people in this building.
She left out a different door and headed for the stairs. This, she realized as she approached, was going to be a challenge--workers were pouring out of the stairwell, and there was a lot of pushing and shoving. “O.K., people,” she said, trying to marshal that calm but commanding voice, “stay calm, don’t panic, don’t push. If everyone works together, everyone will get out; if we fight each other, no one gets out.”
Billy suddenly appeared alongside her. “Can I help?”
She wanted to say no, just get yourself out of here safely; but then it struck her that maybe he could help.
“Can you stand here and tell people to stay calm and exit the building without pushing? I need to go upstairs and help people who are actually in the burning sections.”
“Upstairs? Good luck!”
He was right; going against the flow was not promising. It had to be done.
“Can you?”
“Um--yeah, I guess so.”
“Good,” she said, and then taking her kawanaga in hand pushed her way through the crowd and through the doors into the stairway, hurled the grapple up to catch the bars of the railing above, and hoisted herself upward toward the levels above.
As to the old stories that have long been here:
