Michael Williamson - When Diplomacy Fails…

Jason kept a close eye on everyone. Elke had a faint expression of annoyance, which was bad. However, she was controlled, not fixed in place. Jason’s jaw worked. He was quite angry, but seemed to have tuned her out.

Highland, though, was managing to escalate herself. Jason wasn’t sure if there was any approach that wouldn’t piss her off.

“It’s fine to sit there pretending I don’t exist. It’s an admission of unprofessionalism…”

He checked his contact sedatives. She really might need one, judging from her vitals. Her pulse was over 120, and oscillating moment to moment. Her BP was edging into unhealthy territory. She was visibly agitated and trembling from hormonal overload. He wished Shaman were here. This was much more his tasking.

Perhaps a tranquilizer would be better. If she missed her speech, she’d only be that much more incensed.

However, she gradually tapered off, seeming to run out of things to say. As she did so, her vitals lowered. It would be a tense speech, but that might work to her favor. If, of course, she realized that.

She did eventually wind down, and upon arriving at the destination debarked and was gracious, at least to the press and her supporters, in public.

Twice Jason checked his phone with a surreptitious sweep of his glasses. Both messages were that Aramis was stable, and had improving vitals. Shaman mentioned various nano and pharmaceutical treatments. Beyond the cursory level, they were past Jason’s medical knowledge.

Otherwise, the event was without incident and they all traveled back in silence. Highland didn’t seem to be aware of Aramis’s and Shaman’s absence and no one seemed inclined to mention it. Elke for one napped leaning against the bulkhead of the ARPAC, her head rocking and swaying as the vehicle shifted.

They were all agitated on return. Cady had more people waiting, who immediately took charge of the ARPAC. Bart ran to the vehicle park and returned at once in a standard staff car. They checked out at the gate and headed straight to the military clinic.

Everyone seemed to know who they were, which had both bad and good connotations. Any semblance of anonymity was gone. For now, though, it got them through protocol quickly.

Shaman met them outside the Major Care Unit. That was a positive sign.

Shaman said, “Yes, he’s stable. He will certainly survive. He will almost certainly be fit to resume duties after treatment. There was quite an argument about the ground ebony powder I sprinkled on his pillow. I had to assure the doctor it was both a religious necessity for Aramis, and fully sterilized for medical purposes. I did not mention the garlic cloves in three locations. They are dry and should not present a problem.”

Jason still didn’t know if the witch doctory Shaman insisted upon was done seriously, in gleeful mockery of modern medicine, or as a cultural practice for his own comfort. It might be all of them. Or he just might figure it couldn’t hurt to toss the stuff in. Regardless of that, the man was a hell of a cutter in the field and a first class surgeon in the clinic. If he said Aramis was going to recover, that was the end of it.

After they had a collective sigh and swapped guarded smiles, he continued. “Whoever did this was very experienced. It’s large scale damage, but none of it is traumatic enough for lethality. My guess is they planned to leave him to rest a bit after this, possibly even treat the contusions and use anesthetics. After they wore off, the pain would be that much more palpable, but they’d only need to prod him to trigger it.”

“Sick fuckers,” Elke said.

“Very. However, that’s part of why he’s still alive.”

Alex asked, “When are you transporting off planet?”

Shaman almost smiled. “Oh, that shouldn’t be necessary. The damage is substantial, but superficial. The jaw and cheek repair will be complete in a week. The rest is just muscle bruising with some bone bruising. It will remain painful, but is entirely repairable.”

“That’s not the only issue. How is his mental state and is it fair to keep him in place after that?” Alex looked tense again.

Horace asked, “Is it fair to send him home?”

Alex paused, then nodded slowly. “I hadn’t considered that. Well, we need a substitute until he’s better either way. We can reassess then.”

“Most certainly. I will want his input, and to assess his emotional state before concluding a decision.”

“When will he wake?”

“I expect to bring him out of induced coma in about eight hours.”

“We’d like to be back then. Highland isn’t scheduled for anything else today.”

“Yes. In the meantime, my medical advice is for all of us to rest. We are approaching reduced functionality.”

Jason had something he needed to do, but he understood the advice. With a glance back at his wired and intubated friend, he turned to ride back to their lodging and rest.

“He should be conscious. Aramis, are you there?”

He croaked. His mouth was full of…splints? He was splinted all over. Tubes, wires, stents that would be painful if he didn’t feel as if he’d been rolled under a tank.

That voice. It was Shaman.

“I…” He couldn’t get “Am” out.

“You’re going to live. You are in a military hospital, so I’m using powders and potions to supplement their care.”

He could hear all around. Shaman. That was Elke shifting in a seat. Some troop in armor and weapon, the rubbing sound was clear, near the door. Just outside, someone said, “-Bed Nine, and fifty milligrams for, good God what happened to him? Um, fifty milligrams-“

So, I look dead, or worse. I’m alive, though, and not sedated on a transport off this rock.

“Ima sleep,” he muttered. He didn’t know if they could hear him. He was alive, though. If he hurt it meant he could be healed. He felt tears well up and run hotly from the corners of his eyes.

It meant what he and Caron had was complicated. He could never tell her about this. Or could he? He knew he felt fuzzy and was falling asleep.

Alex had a coded message waiting. He downloaded it to his connectionless module, ran it through three decryptions, and read it.

“I support you, but there’s a lot of press. Lawyer arriving tomorrow. Try not to frag any officers before then-Meyer.”

That was expected, but reassuring. Was the lawyer from Earth, or someone they’d tagged locally? Actually, for future reference that was something they should plan for. They really did need legal intervention regularly.

At least they had that. The military were simply hogtied by laws, regulations, instructions, policies, guidances… he felt sorry for them. That captain had trod a very delicate line in Aramis’ recovery.

He wiped the read message and sent back, “Need further leads on potential hostiles to principal. No significant leads, all speculation.”

In the meantime, they’d hold their own war council and discuss that issue.

But first, the next message said Highland wanted to talk again. He took several deep breaths, reminded himself how much money he made and that Aramis was alive, then walked through to her apartment.

Without preamble, she shouted, “Marlow, you will fucking explain what happened this morning. Why was I delayed, then stalled, then hindered from my transport? Why were you late?”

She really doesn’t know, he thought. That did mean they’d been discreet.

“Ma’am, Agent Anderson was kidnapped while on assignment. We took a few hours to locate and recover him, in a joint mission with the military. Our intelligence indicated he was likely to be murdered if we didn’t respond at once.”

She seemed taken aback, and at a loss for words. It was an entire ten seconds before she said, “Okay, then I will excuse you. However, I expect you will inform me before any of these missions take place.”