Michael Williamson: When Diplomacy Fails…

Highland was putting on “professional” clothing, and JessieM was in the lounge, so now would be a good time to discuss that lingering issue.

“Jessie, I need to ask a favor, regarding Ms. Highland’s security.”

“Yes?” the woman asked, looking alert and interested.

“The constant media chatter decreases her safety. It means any threat knows her location to a close degree.”

She didn’t look indignant, exactly, but certainly put upon.

“That’s what I do-promotion. It’s expected. Ms. Highland’s ratings and electability depend on it.”

“I understand, but it also increases risk.”

“Well, that’s what you’re for.”

“I’m here to make things as safe as possible, and that media chatter makes things less safe. This is why I’m bringing it up.”

“It’s my job, and what she needs for this election cycle.” The woman was insistent and, as near as he could tell, clueless. He sighed mentally, while staying completely calm outside. He wondered if he could get a job as an actor.

“Can you at least wait until after an event before you note it? Or at least after arrival? The scheduled events are a known issue, and have multiple agencies for security. The impromptu events are where the threat is, and I don’t believe a lot of outsiders actually make it. Only those in the immediate area. Which means anyone arriving has a strong motivation, with an increase in the negative side.”

Chewing her lip, JessieM said, “I suppose. That’s a hindrance.”

“Yes, but it makes her, and you, more safe.” Had he put just enough emphasis on that? He wasn’t going to tell her she was dispensable, but if she perceived a potential threat, it might help.

“I will try, then,” she said. “A few minutes might be okay.”

“It all helps.”

Highland came through right then, and hurried over to JessieM, who plucked at lint, pulled a stray hair, and tugged a lapel.

“You look great, ma’am,” she said.

The cooloff cycle allowed the crowd to move closer, set up and take position. There was a red carpet unrolled from a large drum, a podium, flags, seat risers. The crowd included press, dignitaries from three of the factions and General Marsten, in charge of peacekeeping operations. They’d have to interact with him at some point. That would probably lead to some issues, they being armed, but under BuState, not BuMil.

A chime on the Ripple Creek commo algorithm sounded. Cady’s voice said, “Playwright, this is Desi. On location, sweep complete, green.”

“Desi, Playwright confirms.”

Purser Sergeant Valko stood at the hatch controls, and had Highland even learned his name? It seemed unlikely. She was fussing with her hair again, and didn’t acknowledge his presence at all.

Stepping around back, Alex drew the assistant aside and said, “Jessie, please don’t broadcast our departure. It would pinpoint our location on landing for any hostiles.”

“Of course not,” she said, sounding put upon. “I’ll wait until we’re ready for Ms Highland’s statement on the ground. That’s all I’ve told anyone to expect, and that was thirty minutes ago.”

“Very good. Thank you.” That was a reasonable accommodation. He appreciated it.

Highland finally turned and looked at Valko. “I’m ready,” she said simply. He nodded and swiped his panel. The hatch popped, chuffed, raised and swung. From the hold underneath, a complicated mechanism rolled a flowing staircase. This was a BuState landing limo, built on a military lander chassis. It could take a pretty good hit, and was designed to look classy in austere environments.

The air was a little thin, but the gravity was light, so they should have no trouble operating. It was surprisingly clean air, and warm. There really hadn’t been much development here.

Highland knew enough to wait. At a signal from Alex, Bart and Aramis stepped through and waited.

She looked at Alex expectantly, lips parted, obviously eager. He gave it a few more seconds while Cady’s people swept for anything threatening.

He transmitted, “On your mark, Desi.” She and Jason would coordinate with military on the ground.

“Playwright, go.”

He pointed at Highland. She nodded back and stepped off, JessieM right behind her, and a hindrance they’d have to deal with. Bart and Aramis preceded her as a wall of meat, Elke and Shaman closed in behind, and Alex took the rear.

“Thanks, Olen,” he said to Valko. “Good to travel with you.”

The man smiled back. “You’re welcome, sir. Be safe.”

“That’s the plan,” he agreed as he stepped through and down.

The stairway really was nice, descending in a long curve and a slight sweep. It had sparkly highlights that looked like something exotic, but was only aluminum dust embedded in the polymer. The heat increased as they descended.

JessieM had sent her churp. Alex had his phone set to ping on her messages. If he couldn’t stop them, he could at least read and hear them.

We’re down on Mtali. Ms. Highland will start her greeting momentarily. Sorry for the delay. It was necessary for safety in this action zone.

“Action zone” was code for “war zone.” It wasn’t polite to use that word anymore. It was interesting, he reflected, how custom tailored language. Words came and went based on perception.

He reached the bottom as Aramis and Bart reached the podium and stepped aside. They had to leave her exposed in front for the cameras. They’d shield the rest, even though the bulk of the lander did much of that. The time you didn’t was the time someone exploited it.

The rain shield overhead was also ballistic protection. Between that and the mass of the crowd was a very small window she might be attacked through, and no buildings that had line of sight within three kilometers. They’d chosen this position to maximize safety, and of course, to have natural sunlight, or whatever it was called here, on her best angle. People imagined he was overpaid. They had no idea what this job entailed.

There was still the small chance of a remotely piloted vehicle. Any engine signature should be noted, but gliders were also possible, so they had jamming…

They didn’t think anyone hated her enough to shell the entire apron with artillery or rockets.

Cady’s men kept up a steady patrol and scan. Outside that perimeter, the military had a Recon unit watching things. Recon and Ripple Creek didn’t get along very well, but they could work together. Outside that, the Aerospace Force had a security and marshal squadron. Outside that, the locals had whatever security they wanted, and good luck to them.

The polished podium had been placed just so, for their security concerns, and for her presentation. The press were in a controlled area for safety, and to ensure they caught her at just the right angle of profile. Had politicians always been celebrities?

She stepped up, looked in exactly the right direction, and read from the scroll on the one way screen in front of her.

“Thank you. It’s wonderful to be here, as we try to resolve differences in policies on a galactic matter, and between neighbors locally.” She paused, nodded slightly to acknowledge the applause that was being inserted electronically. There was no one close enough to be heard or seen. A camera pan of the spectators, watching her on remote video, would be merged in also.

“I look forward to meeting with all the factions, as we explore our common ground…”

He tuned her out. She was going to say absolutely nothing with a lot of words.

She didn’t take long. At least she was a professional speaker, and knew to stick to high points and a simple message. Or maybe it was the baking heat of the flightline. Either way, she finished, stepped back, and paused for a few photos from the hovering drones.