Michael Williamson: When Diplomacy Fails…

There was a lot more to being a mercenary than people outside the business realized.

Jason was glad to have been on the advance. He had a grasp of local conditions, or as much grasp as one could have from outside the insane clannishness and religious freakery that went on here. He’d made introductions, knew the rough lay of the base and the units, and had their billets set. Highland had choice quarters in the official VIP/diplomat/government section of the base. They had decent quarters a floor down. The rooms were spare and small, but they were private, and they had a roomy common area they’d convert into a ready room. It was better than most of the troops here would get. He idly wondered if any of those troops had been in Celadon on Salin when they were there.

They also had a floor reserved at a nearby hotel, for them and their principal, and she had official quarters at the UN Colonial Liaison compound across town, where he’d staked out the adjoining suite using her credentials, to the annoyance of the local lodging manager.

He led the way to their quarters and pointed to indicate rooms.

“Aramis, Elke, Shaman, Bart, Jason, me. Kitchen. Had only vegetarian stuff when we arrived. Default to avoid upsetting people with dietary restrictions. However, it upset me, so I fixed that. Beer is very limited. We have one each to unwind from today, and I’ll purchase more on a very limited basis. That’s per me, Alex, Corporate and the base commander.”

Aramis said, “I wasn’t going to argue the point, but Bart might.”

“I will be fine,” Bart said. “Business is business.”

“You see the vault there.” It was more a large cabinet than a real vault, but it would suffice. “I did encourage and assist both the Security Directorate and ACAMS-their electronic contractor-in wiring it. We can bypass it if need be. It will log and monitor all activity inside and immediately in front. There is no audio. I’ve already placed audio scramblers to make sure. I advised that we might discuss personal details of Ms. Highland, and certainly technical matters regarding her security and travel, and that any discovered leaks would lead to serious conspiracy investigations if something happened to her. They were reluctant even to give us the monitoring we have, so we should be safe.”

Elke said, “Ah, there is the paranoia I’d missed so much when on Earth. It is so good to be normal again.”

“Indeed. Everyone stow your personals, we’ll take a tour and discuss security. Beer when we’re back.”

“Uniform up. We’ll blend in better.”

In ten minutes they were ready, as a gaggle who presented as military while looking nothing like a formation. It would be obvious to any troop with experience they were “Security contractors,” and high-placing ones. They had a company combat uniform that would make them look like any one of dozens of regional or national contingents.

They went out the foot gate of their compound and onto the broad base itself. There were islands of palm trees, a few flowerbeds, both maintained by bored, off-duty troops, and the usual block billets, portable concessionaires and heavy impact barriers around all important buildings.

A squad of troops went past in an open-backed Grumbly, heading for what appeared to be guardmount at the nearest Entry Control Point. But

…

Aramis gaped. “What in the name of every god there is is that?”

Jason said, “That’s the new camo.”

Alex asked, “What in the hell were they thinking?” They sounded as incredulous as Jason had felt when he first saw it.

“It’s supposed to fool the eye.”

“It’s bloody pink and orange with purple highlights,” Alex repeated.

“Yes, the theory is that the colors are designed for optical interference. They’re as far from anything natural as possible, which throws the brain off for a moment. The contrast between them disrupts outlines, and the blotches are computer designed to create artificial depth. Their lab tests say it takes about point four seconds for any response, plus normal reaction time. It makes them harder to hit. In addition, tactical lighting or flares create similar illusions.”

“It’s bloody pink and orange.”

Elke said, “With a reflective belt.” She sounded amused.

Aramis said, “That’s for safety in the dark. Regulations.”

“It’s a war zone and it’s daylight.”

“You’re expecting logic?” Jason asked.

Alex said, “No, but I’d hope that someone with a clue and a spine and some brass would at some point in the process say, ‘This is fucking stupid,’ and put a stop to it.”

Jason said, “Yeah, I wondered about that too. Just as I think it can’t possibly get stupider, it does.”

Bart said, “At a guess, I can locate that three kilometres away, without optics.”

“It’s the best camouflage ever devised. Their official reports say so.”

“Uh huh.” Alex looked meaningfully at the Catafract pattern they wore. Jason tried to. This stuff was near impossible to focus on, with its lines fading in and out of the surface, the texture shifts and the treatment that reflected nearby coloring from its neutral gray areas between the colors.

Jason said, “Yeah, they were offered this and refused.”

“I can’t wait to find out why.”

“Officially, it’s not as good, per their tests. Unofficially, I suspect a combination of not-invented-here and production cost. This stuff is expensive, but it does work.”

“While I guarantee that doesn’t.” Alex pointed in the general direction of the troops.

“The people in the Army Field Research Center say it does.”

Shaman said, “Let’s put one of them in it and find out.”

“Believe me, you are not the first person to suggest that.”

Alex waited for the reply from his boss. He had a local legal contact now, to respond to the issues that were certainly going to arise, including this one. Highland’s stupid stunt was worthy of cancelling the contract on the spot and leaving her hanging, and he’d like nothing better. No one else could be on station in less than two weeks, no one was as good, and the administration apparently wasn’t going to give her official escort.

The message chimed in, and he sat up. First, it had to be downloaded to his secure stick. That got transferred to the closed system, checked for security, then decrypted.

He waved the file open and read.

“Proceed as ordered. Principal will be extremely difficult. Invoice will reflect this. We’re playing our own game as part of this, and need to maintain at least peripheral involvement for the future. Make all efforts to cooperate as far as your judgment indicates. There is potential long term benefit regardless of how the election turns out.”

Well, that was that. The boss knew she was an insane client, and wanted to proceed. So, those were his orders. He didn’t have to like them. It did, however, color how he was to respond.

Elke really needed those explosives. She always asked for more than she needed, and she used them as often as she could, but they did keep the clients alive. Without them, she was just one more suited goon. With them, she was a logarithmic force exponentiator.

As to lethal force, they always had used it, and Highland had to know that. They didn’t unless necessary, but the two key rules of executive protection were to stop the threat and evacuate the area. If one didn’t want to evacuate, stopping the threat was more critical. If one was agreeable to it, and had good police support, the threat could be ignored. Ripple Creek got hired for events where the feasibility for both was reduced, which meant applying their own force-killing the threat. This was understood, historically observable fact.