When Diplomacy Fails . . . (9 page)

“They were shooting paint canisters with bursting caps. Green paint.”

Oh, shit.

“They were political agitators?” Aramis asked.

“Yes. And you opened fire with an autocannon.”

In half a second, scenarios ran through his head. Jason or Elke had enough connections to get him out of the system fast. Caron would stand up for him. He wouldn’t get brain wiped. He might do a decade in prison. He did have that stash of money for emergencies that they couldn’t seize because he’d hidden it on Salin and Grainne. The company would back him up; he’d acted in good faith.

Alex said, “You acted in good faith, and fast. It’ll take paperwork and lawyers. You’re covered.”

Under his breath, Bart muttered, “And maybe the stupid hippies won’t do that again.”

From the driver’s compartment, Elke said, “Don’t hurt my hopes.”

Jessie at least seemed sympathetic.

“Oh, dear,” she said. “Oh, my. This is not going to be good for . . . anyone. Was anyone hurt?”

Aramis decided he shouldn’t answer that question. He was surprised to realize he really didn’t give a shit about the fucking morons who’d put pyro charges on projectiles and thrown them at a cabinet member. Pyro. Projectiles. That’s what he needed to ensure was in any statement. He’d feared for her life and acted to protect it. Damn the bitch for attracting such idiots, either for or against.

Jessie said, “I don’t know what else to say.”

“The Minister is unharmed. You can say that. Don’t say where we’re going next.”

“I don’t know where we’re going,” she protested.

Yeah, that was probably intentional
, Aramis thought with an inward smirk.

Pyro. Projectiles. Potentially explosive threat.

Did Caron have that much political pull, and would she use it? She did owe him her life, but she’d paid in cash for that service. She didn’t care what anyone thought of her, but was she willing to spend that kind of political capital for a boink buddy?

Could he egress the system alone if it went sour?

Jessie stuttered as she very quietly said, “I need to find a restroom. Is there . . . ?”

Alex said, “No, there is no bucket aboard. I can pick one up for next time. You’ll need to hold it another ten minutes.”

She nodded. Then they hit a bump and she flinched.

Alex pulled a hush hood. He was probably talking to the military, or relaying a message to Corporate first, to get the lawyers primed. There’d be an investigation. At least Elke would have video for his side of things.

Alex pulled the hood and said, “We’re going straight back.”

Elke said, “Understood.”

“We will unload before the gate, and the guards will inspect our weapons. Drop me at Base Operations. I need to talk to them.”

Aramis didn’t like the sound of that.

The rest of the ride was smooth enough, but just the hammering dread he felt made it feel worse than actually getting wounded. Chills, shivers, flushes, roiling bloodflow in his ears—massive shock.

Politics was scarier than combat.

He followed Jason’s lead and slipped out magazines, cycled the actions and locked them open. He carefully started to rise for the autocannon, but Bart reached up and took care of it for him.

At the gate, Elke lowered the ramp. The sentry was three steps up before it clattered on the ground.

“Show me clear weapons,” he said, very firmly, very intently, with his right hand on the grip of his carbine and his finger twitching near the trigger. Aramis cautiously bent both weapons to show the open chambers.

“Do not load them again without orders,” he said, and crabbed down the ramp sideways, keeping an eye on the team.

Through all this, Highland sat silently, but not tranked. It had obviously worn off.

Elke rolled up in front of Base Operations, and Alex slipped out the side hatch. Jessie looked very miserable and very uncomfortable. Highland looked furious.

Elke maintained exact base speed limit as she rolled into the diplomatic compound. Jessie looked almost nauseated as she staggered, body clutched tightly, toward the latrine. Aramis felt nauseated. He needed to drain, too, but that wasn’t it.

CHAPTER 8

ALEX STEPPED INTO THE OPS BUILDING.
He had legality on his side, but that rarely mattered to military officers, especially Infantry officers or Staff officers, and this would involve both.

A master sergeant stood waiting, and said, “In there, sir,” while pointing. He was polite enough, and didn’t sound any more bothered than any NCO whose bosses were pissed, so this was probably just a staff matter. That helped, a little.

He knocked on the door twice, firmly, waited three seconds, and walked in.

Captain Das was seated there, and seemed neutral enough. With him were Colonel Stack, the Facility Commander, and Colonel Andronov, the Operations Officer. They both bore professionally blank expressions, the kind that presaged formal actions. Stack was barrel chested and clearly a bred soldier. Andronov lean and bald.

Stack said, “Agent Marlow, you had a rather interesting day. In fact, it became interesting for a lot of people.”

That was a fair enough opening. He had not been asked to sit, though.

“It did, sir. The tactical situation differs from our original terms, and our client is making additional trips we had not counted on.”

Andronov said, “I am not interested in justifications. I am interested in unauthorized weapons fire right outside the perimeter, and firefights with locals who are not armed.”

Alex took a measured breath and said, “As to the latter, sir, they made every attempt to appear armed, and that they were using deadly force. What appeared to be explosives required an armed response. Had it been a rushing crowd or such, we would have blocked physically and removed Ms. Highland, and we did that as well. My agent’s response was appropriate at that moment, even if it seems otherwise in hindsight. I do not yet know BuState’s position, but it is my company’s position that he was fully in accordance with contract. That means everyone’s legal teams will have to decide the ramifications, and it becomes a matter for our employer, which is BuState. The military will not legally be involved.”

Andronov spoke sharply. “I don’t give a damn for legalities. I care that the locals now perceive violence on the behalf of the UN. My soldiers will have to deal with that. Or is that not of concern to you?”

Alex could feel the prickliness. “Sir, anything that interacts with hosts, allies or opposition is of concern to me. I will say again that the circumstances were rushed, threatening in presentation, and that our original contract has been stretched. However, abiding by the strict letter of that agreement will create”—enemies
would be a
bad word
, he thought, “—problems with BuState. I couldn’t address it then. I’ll do so as soon as feasible.”

Andronov seemed about to reply so he added quickly, “As to the former, it is standard practice to test weapons before a mission or movement. It also used to be a standard practice in the military. I will not put my client at risk over a difference in policies. To that end, I informed your operations team that we would conduct that test, and that we would do so immediately upon leaving the wire.”

“Is that true, Das?”

“I’m told it is, sir. They made the call, and informed Lieutenant Ghar.”

“Ghar did not propagate this information to you?”

“Neither to Security Operations nor to Intel, no, sir.”

Andronov looked at Stack. Stack didn’t say anything.

Turning back to Alex, Andronov said, “There will be some discussions, then. I will accept, under protest, that your rules are different. I will discuss this with our people, and with BuState. I make the official request of a favor that you provide me with as much information as you can.”

“I’ll do so through Captain Das. And of course, anything we observe that might be of intelligence interest will be shared, including relevant footage.”
After Elke scrubs what they don’t need to see
.

Andronov didn’t seem at all mollified, but it did appear he grasped the problems of a completely distinct chain of command he had no control over whatsoever.

“Very well. You may go.”

Alex wasn’t about to be dismissed like an errand boy. There was an issue of status, and that had to be covered at once.

“There is one matter you raise, sir.”

Andronov leaned on the desk and said, “Yes?”

“While information on certain of our movements are necessary for cooperation, and I will do my best to improve that, we are an adjunct of BuState, operating at the highest level—the Minister is our personal responsibility. I must request that you not attempt to track anything without clearing it through me. State will not be happy with certain information, some of it personal, being furnished even to BuMil, and if it spreads sufficiently, of course, there is an OPSEC risk.”

“Agent Marlow, as you have explained to some of my people, and to myself, I will explain to you. I will conduct my operations my way. If I need to discuss them with BuState, I have my own superiors and my own lawyers. It would be in both our interests to avoid that.”

“Understood, sir. I’ll do what I can. I’ll start on it now.”

He took the previous leave for granted, turned and left.

When he put his glasses back on, he had a message waiting. He scanned it.

Highland wants to see you ASAfP. J.

That was choice. He made use of the latrine in this building, washed his hands, opened his armor, and walked the half kilometer to the Dip compound.

Cady’s people were on the gate, and recognized him.

“Chief Marlow, good to see you,” the sentry said. “Check here, please.”

He stepped over for a bio scan, waited for acknowledgement, and walked through the turnstile.

Their building was comfortable, if warm, and he felt a bit of burden release with his own people around him. Though they were a bit tense. He needed to deal with Highland first, then debrief them. He walked past with a nod, through the hallway door and down the corridor that served as one of several breaks against eavesdropping.

He knew this wasn’t going to be pleasant. He braced himself inside while keeping a neutrally agreeable façade outside.

“You called, ma’am,” he said as he stepped into the room. Highland was alone.

“I perfectly understand why people hate your outfit,” she said.

That wasn’t necessarily a preface to attack, he thought. Comprehension did not necessarily . . .

“What in the fucking hell are you . . . thugs . . . playing at?” She panted and flushed and looked incensed already, from merely irritated moments before.

He’d heard of her famous temper, and he wasn’t going to interfere. Best to let her run out.

She stood, fists on desk. “You shot unarmed protesters, which makes me look bad. You pissed off the military, on purpose I gather. You unleashed weapons of mass destruction you knew were intended for deterrent appearance only.”

He reflected that she really didn’t know what “weapons of mass destruction” meant, and he’d be careful not to let Elke know, because she’d be too happy to demonstrate.

“Ma’am, our mission is to protect you. We have specific approaches and technique, and these were detailed in our contract addenda.”

“Fuck that trash!” She turned and straight-arm heaved her glass at the wall. It shattered in a cascading rain of wine and crystal. “We all know that’s just ass-covering. I’m not some rich-bitch schoolgirl or a third world babysitter. I am the Minister of State, and the next Secretary General! Your job is to look imposing, stay out of the way, and cover me in the rare case it happens to be necessary. You will not engage in any hostile action without specific permission from me. Is that clear?”

He wasn’t going to argue the point. That’s what lawyers were for.

“I understand, ma’am, and will so inform my people you said so personally.” If she weren’t so incensed, she’d realize he had not agreed to the demand, only acknowledged the statement.

“You had better,” she said with a finger point. “In one day,
one day
, you’ve splashed me across every feed, page, stream and vue in the universe, as some kind of right-wing, uncompassionate kitten stomper.”

If the shoe fits
, he thought.

She seemed to have run down, and just glared at him.

“I’ll work on improving things right now, ma’am,” he said, and backed out under her stare.

That could have been better. It also could have been worse. He cooled off as he walked down the hall, and took the stairs rather than an elevator.

Back in their common room, he asked, “Where’s Elke?”

From the couch, Jason said, “She said something about making friends with the engineer unit.”

He started to ask, “Does that mean—” and Jason cut him off with, “Yes.”

He sighed.

“Okay, I’ll need to talk to her about that. In the meantime, everyone understand that we must hold the real weapons in reserve. We’ll get fried if someone else gets it.”

Bart said, “We will get fried if her hair gets parted, too.”

“Yes. All I can say is, Meyer thinks this is worth doing, and has something planned. We’re not doing this for us, or Highland, this is for the Company.”

Elke walked through the door at that moment, and said, “They pay us well. I am not sure they pay us well enough.”

“Did you catch the rest?”

“Yes, Jason had a channel open to me. I will comply, as always, under protest, as always.”

“Please. I don’t know what the endplan is, but we have to make it work. I get the impression it’s a test of loyalty and discipline. That means more government contracts.”

Aramis flared his eyebrows. He said nothing. Jason glanced at him, looked at Alex, and spoke.

“On the one hand, government money is as good as anyone’s. On the other hand, they abused us the first time, did nothing to help in the interim, and clearly want us as a splatter guard this time. Miss Caron was aggravating to deal with, but she had good cause, and her money is freely given, with better behavior. The whole point of being a mercenary is not being tied to one master, especially a government.”

“Then feel free to go independent,” he snapped. Alex understood Jason’s position. He also understood his own frustration. “This is us, and the Company, versus them. Choose your side.”

“Oh, I’m here,” Jason assured him. “I will back you all the way. I don’t know that I have enough bleach wipes to get the politician shit off, though.”

“Yeah. We’re in this together, remember.”

Elke said, “I will do what it takes for my team. The rest is just money.”

“That’s all we’re asking.”

Shaman asked, “Is there any clarification on JessieM?”

Alex sighed. “Yes, we cover her, too. A bill will be presented later. Then the lawyers will argue it. I gather Meyer is trying for leverage back against BuState. We’re all looking for position.”

“What is her status?”

“She’s ‘also protected.’ Highland is primary. JessieM is secondary. She should be covered when possible, brought along when possible, reported and documented if needed. She is not disposable but she is expendable if Highland is in danger. In other words, she cannot be collateralized, but she can be triaged.” He sighed. “Now I have to report my discussion with Highland and get an official guidance on that. In the meantime, we’re carrying nonlethal weapons, but do not use them except against close, direct threats. We will respond to indirect weapons with evacuation and cover. Use distraction and pain first, disablement second. Only if there’s a mob like we had on Salin do we use lethal force, when it’s obvious we had no choice.”

Aramis was the first to respond. “Understood.” He seemed relieved to have clear guidance.

“Roger,” Jason agreed. The rest nodded and confirmed the order.

Jason continued, “I’m going to check over the nonlethal stuff, and prep additional gear. Aramis, can you assist?”

“Yes.”

Alex nodded, waved and went to compose a draft. He wondered if drinking heavily would help, though he couldn’t do so.

Just then his phone beeped.

“Marlow.”

“Alex, Captain Das.”

“What can I do for you, Captain?”

“I must relay some bad news.”

Alex sighed. “Go ahead.”

“Ms. Highland requested military escort for her transport. That request has been categorically denied.”

“I see. She won’t like that at all. I can’t say I’m thrilled with it myself.”

“I understand. Can you guarantee Ms. Highland will not mention her campaign in her appearances?”

“What? No, she generally mentions it every time.”

“Yes, which makes her ‘candidate’ Highland. ‘Minister’ Highland is an official representative of the government, and can have as much escort as we can spare. ‘Candidate’ Highland must provide her own support. She’s certainly in violation of BuState regulations, too, but that’s not an issue we have jurisdiction over. We cannot, however, allow a candidate to make use of our taxpayer resources.”

“I completely understand. That’s most unfortunate.”

“We’ll be letting her know, of course. I wanted to make sure you could plan accordingly.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

It was Bart who brought up the next issue. “News,” he said. “Churp from JessieM.”

He let it scroll on his glasses, then scrolled it again.

Then he sighed. He talked to his phone.

“Cady, are you free? Priority Three.”

“Sure, I’ll be right there.”

Turning to the others he said, “I’ll use the armory for this discussion.”

Jason said, “Go ahead, boss, I’ll clean later.”

Cady arrived at once, looking unbothered but concerned. She knew most of what had happened. He motioned her back into the room.

As soon as she closed the door he said, “I need to give you a status update. This is official, but personal.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, JessieM put the word out that you’re trans. It’s no one’s business, but that’s the business she’s in. And Highland likes having ‘diversity’ to point to politically.”

Cady looked confused rather than offended. “Are you saying I’m here because I’m trans?”

“No, you’re here because you do damned good facilities. The principal wants you here because you’re trans.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “I see. Well, I don’t like that, but I don’t have much choice unless I want to leave, which defeats my moral purposes and affects the mission.”