Michael Williamson - When Diplomacy Fails…

“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 facade 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?”