Part 16 (1/2)
And there was light.
Proving that G.o.d truly is spelled G-U-N-N-Y.
The harsh glare of the newly reborn lights showed carnage. Kris, Jack, and the Marines were the only ones who had felt the need to wear armor to an art show. Scores of bleeding people now suffered the full effects of their civilian optimism.
Across this gory scene, a dozen men and women moved with purpose toward Kris, their machine pistols out.
If anyone wished to take up arms against Kris now, there would be h.e.l.l to pay.
Scattered in with the fallen were other hologram generators, now off.
Were any of them rigged with auto-guns?
Kris wasn't the only one mulling that thought. One or two Marines paused to eye rocks, tree stumps, what have you. As per their training, they eyed the things over weapon sights.
”Don't shoot the gear,” Kris said, taking responsibility for several million dollars of equipment that struggling artists would have a hard time explaining to their rental agents why it came back in shot-up pieces.
Hopefully, she would not have to pay for this good deed.
”If any of them start shooting, nail 'em,” Gunny added.
Once at Kris's side, the Marines formed a wall around their princess. In the distance sirens began to sound. But the bleeding people in the ballroom needed help now. ”Any of you have lifesaving gear?” Kris asked.
Most of the Marines nodded.
”Gunny, please select your best shooters to stay with me. Detach the rest of your team to help these people.”
”If you wish it, Your Highness.” The statement clearly reflected what Gunny thought of that idea.
”Of course she does, Gunny,” Jack drawled as he rolled off the docent. ”She's a Longknife. They always want to take more risks than any sane person would.” Then Jack groaned.
At the entrance to the ballroom, two Marines rushed in, no weapons out, but instead loaded with medical emergency kits. They immediately fell to, working with the bleeding. ”Those Marines from the truck park? The ones Nelly called for?”
”Yes, ma'am,” Gunny agreed. And with a nod from him, all but two of the Marines around Kris joined in lifesaving.
Over the next several minutes, civilians straggled in. Apparently, some owners of the limos parked outside also traveled with medical emergency kits. Several EMTs rushed to where someone was down, either relieving a Marine or starting initial care. Others stood around until a Marine yelled at them, and got them helping where they were needed.
”Jack, you okay?” Kris asked.
”Shouldn't I be asking you that question, Your Highness?”
”I'm fine,” Kris said.
”You're bleeding.”
”If I am, I'll have Abby write a very nasty letter to some lingerie manufacturer.”
”Check your leg, ma'am,” Gunny said.
Kris did. Trickles of blood showed where several darts stuck out of her spider-silk stocking.
”I think the darts were small enough to work their way through the weave of the thing,” Jack said.
”What about you?” Kris demanded again.
”I'm okay,” Jack said, but then groaned.
”Check him out, Gunny,” Kris said, and took an offered hand from a woman Marine to get herself up. The leg was definitely starting to smart. And the hang of her gown was now all wrong, as darts imbedded in her ceramic understuff held its fall.
”Anybody see a Vicky Peterwald?” Kris asked.
Just as the source of her query exited the ladies' room, surrounded by a ma.s.s of hulking security. They made for the exit without looking back.
”Lucky timing,” Jack muttered.
”Or informed timing,” Kris added.
”Sir,” Gunny said, ”you have darts sticking out of your skull. I know Marine officers are supposed to be hardheaded, sir, but this goes beyond my usual experience of the Corps.”
Jack chuckled, or at least tried to. He also pulled a wig off his scalp.
”I thought you looked terribly s.h.a.ggy on formal occasions,” Gunny muttered, examining the armored toupee. On the inside of the hairpiece, where its outside had stopped a dart, was now a lump. The armor had both stopped the slug and tried to spread or absorb the impact.
”Looks like it done good,” Gunny said.
”How is your neck, Jack?” Kris demanded. ”All that force had to go somewhere. You took, what, three slugs?”
”I'm fine, Kris,” Jack said, squinting at her. ”And you are as beautiful as ever. Both of you.”
”He's concussed,” Gunny said.
”Let's get out of here. Is there a hospital close?”
”My orders are to transport you to the emba.s.sy's clinic, Your Highness,” Gunny said. ”Captain is about one minute out with the reaction team. I am instructed to await his arrival before moving you. Either of you, sirs.”
”Then by all means let's do what the captain ordered,” Kris said, and, suddenly feeling the need, plopped back down.
”Bad idea,” she muttered through gritted teeth. ”Blasted leg isn't happy with me standing, and doesn't much like me sitting, either.
”Captain, we'll need two stretchers, here. Yes, sir, the princess is bleeding a mite bit, and the lieutenant is going to have one whale of a headache in the morning.”
”Who said anything about the morning,” Jack groaned and put his head gently down.
Samatha was shaking like a twig in a tornado. ”You saved my life,” she managed to get out through chattering teeth, as she reached out to caress Jack's face.
”I wouldn't do that, ma'am,” Gunny said. ”We don't know what all is busted there.”