Michael Williamson - When Diplomacy Fails…

With that in mind, Highland was not stupid, so she was self-obsessed. She really thought that her opinion would change their MO. Likely, she was very used to getting her way. That did fit her background.

His office chair was comfortable but he was nonetheless tense. This was going to be an aggravating mission.

He wiped the file, randomized the stick, and removed it.

Elke thought the Security Directorate building was reasonably secure. It had a gated fence inside crash barriers, a double translucite overhead with a sloped and surface-hardened roof. They were locked in through three sets of doors, ID checked, scanned, their personal weapons hand-checked and returned. Elke reluctantly surrendered her glasses because of the built-in cameras. Then they were inside and in a much smaller function space.

“Good thickness,” she said.

Jason said, “It is, and layered. They won’t give details, but I think they’re safe enough. Now here’s where it gets confusing.” He waved them into a small conference room, and followed.

“Team, this is Captain Jason Das. For obvious reasons, we will call him Captain or Das, not Jason. Sir, this is the team.”

Elke nodded as she was introduced. Das sounded Canadian. He wore the older style uniform, not the pink sracku.

He shook hands all around, then said, “I’m tasked with liaising with you. Given your principal, I’d have expected one of the majors to take it, or even the colonel himself, but they’re already multiply booked.”

She wondered if they’d found a way to be too busy. The principal was a bitch even by Elke’s standards.

Jason, their Jason, said, “He’ll provide us with whatever intel security comes down, which of course comes from Intelligence first, then to here, then to us.”

Das said, “I’ll be as quick with it as I can, but it does have to be processed, and cleared for release. I can clear some of it, but the general has various subjects, which I can’t discuss I’m afraid,” he looked embarrassed, “that he wants a tight hold on. So the higher ups have to approve those items. Of course, no one wants to risk Minister Highland unnecessarily, but military operations do have their role, and the general will give those equal priority.”

Elke hoped it was higher priority, really, even if it increased their risk on the ground. Highland was one person, and there were a lot of troops involved.

He seemed to pause for questions, so she asked, “Captain Das, through which channel should I inquire about my explosive? The weapons are here, my demolition gear is not.”

He looked a bit surprised. “I wasn’t told of any. I can check with logistics, customs and with the cargo office. It’s probably there somewhere. Inter-agency communication has not been good, which is going to affect you. Sorry.”

Aramis asked, “What AARs do you need from us?”

“Anything you can release that isn’t restricted by State is intel for us, and useful for us. We’ll gauge general and specific threats and weapons availability. Most of the active extremist groups here are dangerous by volume, not by intent. Of course, most of the residents are peaceful civilians with no intent to do harm.” From his expression Elke assumed it was an officially mandated speech for political reasons. The SecGen’s parents had lived here as teachers while he was young, too, which had to affect something.

She believed Captain Das was honest. She also believed someone had deliberately held up her material out of some kind of ridiculous worry about it. She’d have Alex contact Corporate as well. The blbci always thought of big explosions hurting bystanders, not as expertly placed and controlled tools.

In the meantime, this was a big base, they certainly had a Munitions Disposal element, and she had a bit of a reputation. She’d find something. The nice thing about explosive was it was consumed in use, and very hard to track.

She couldn’t wait for this meeting to end.

After the briefing, back at their digs, Horace did a mental assessment of his teammates so far. Alex was very disturbed by the obvious leak and complication JessieM presented, with good reason. Jason seemed more relaxed than usual. He must like what he’d found so far. Horace himself felt comfortable enough. He had nerves, but the religious fruitcakes were at least monotheistic and not the insane butchers the animists in Cameroun had been. There wouldn’t be any eating of eyeballs, just death. Elke had that twitch. She’d be off to find explosive as soon as she could, licitly or not. Bart was taciturn and calm, and not just his exterior. Aramis seemed to alternate between brooding and cheerful. That first must be something to do with Caron. The man was playing with acid in that relationship. The balance for them all was the clear but reasonably common threat. Straight combat with amateurs. They’d done that before, and had lots of weapons, and the backup didn’t seem hostile.

Otherwise it was warmish and pleasant here, though the planet had short seasons and it would chill soon. If only every war zone could have a climate like Hawaii… but in that case, few people would be inclined to fight.

As to their principals, since they’d involuntarily picked up the spare, there was tension between the two, but it seemed to be up from JessieM and not down from Highland. Doting worship? Romantic? It wasn’t really relevant, as JessieM only mattered as an aside. Highland was sociopathic and narcissistic, which was not at all healthy, but common enough at her level of power, and meant little would bother her unless her worldview got shaken down. If they did wind up in the brush in a tent, she’d possibly fall apart, or act even more regal and demanding. She’d largely disregard anyone else unless she felt they were controlling her, then he’d need a lot of tranquilizers. He had four types that overlapped in effect.

He sighed inside. On the one hand, he’d so much prefer to be back on the Big Island in his comfortable home, watching the lava. On the other, this not only paid for that, but led to personal growth. As lovely as Hawaii was, it was too pleasant to offer any challenge.

As to the team, they were healthy enough and would become their effective gestalt with some renewed association. He would recommend another bout of training after this. Real missions actually took the edge off, rather than honing it, much like using a scalpel dulled it.

Getting back to the present, he called the base clinic.

“Outpost Freedom Medical Facility, this is not a secure contact, how may I help you?”

“Yes, this is Doctor Mbuto. I am with the BuState element and need to talk to the administrator.”

“Stand by, please, I will connect you to two four seven.”

In only a moment, a pleasant female answered. Middle aged, likely Portuguese.

“This is Doctor Caoila.”

“Yes, ma’am, I am Horace Mbuto, surgeon and medical contact for Ripple Creek Security. Our element is providing security for Ms. Highland.”

“Yes, Doctor. Your Mr. Vaughn spoke to me a few days ago.”

“Excellent. I hope that we will not have need of your services.”

“As do I. Mr. Vaughn briefed me that in an emergency you will probably not identify a casualty, nor any details, but simply state what equipment you need on arrival.”

“Correct. Neither the patient’s name nor status is revealed as far as possible, much as with military OPSEC.”

“I understand, and we are set up for similar events. I presume there is a relevant BuState clearance code similar to the military ones?”

“I’m positive there is, but I do not know it. I can have our Agent in Charge contact you regarding that.”

“That would be appreciated. At some point, the admin details must be completed or someone will grind their teeth.”