Michael Williamson - When Diplomacy Fails…

The gate slid shut again as Alex came in last.

Highland, of course, was immediately in front of the cameras.

“… it is a privilege to be here today, despite certain elements harassing my loyal supporters and attempting to deter me. This just confirms my support and determination to see all these processes-the environmental summit, the cultural divide, and my own service to humanity-through to what some would call the end, but what I like to think of as a new beginning.”

Very pretty, Elke thought. Now can we get inside? Some of the protesters were trying to push closer, and some looked to have a giant slingshot ready. Yes, they did, with paint.

Fortunately, a transparent shield moved into place behind the gate. Highland had been last to arrive.

Elke heard someone ask, “Why was your motorcade singled out for harassment?”

“We were last to arrive, due to some scheduling matters, so we were easy to place. Please note I have many more supporters than detractors, and I appreciate their peaceful presence in the face of rudeness.”

“Is that ‘rudeness’ why your security detail used dispersal gas?”

“I always prefer a peaceful response. In this case, there were elements presenting a risk to my supporters, and the military women and men escorting me. Gunfire was involved. My security contractors took unpleasant but necessary steps, the minimum necessary, to ensure the safety of all. Even after this response, my vehicle was blocked by extremists, so we left the vehicle despite the threat and proceeded on foot. I of course am sorry the incident happened.”

She hadn’t actually blamed them, but she’d certainly deflected all focus to them. The bitch.

With that, Highland gave a regal nod and started walking. They fell in around her, as contract and professionalism required, though Elke wished to be elsewhere.

No luck. As the female present she was required, for visibility. Gender didn’t matter, so Highland made as much of it as possible. On the other hand, both Christian and Muslim extremists disliked that, so Elke decided going along with it wasn’t entirely bad. She could sit, stay awake and watch for threats while ignoring diplophrasing if that’s what was called for.

They made their way directly into the main hall, which had been dressed up to make it look less like a gymnasium and more like a dressed up gymnasium. Highland’s box was the only one left, with seats for three. That was because no one had mentioned the Ripple Creek detail, which was a good thing, but it meant one of them standing.

Elke decided she’d stand. Even the glee of her new device working as planned might not keep her awake through hours of speeches. Besides, she’d be more visible for Highland that way.

Aramis hurt after twenty minutes of sitting in a chair. The seats were stiff, hard and apparently designed for appearance only. He made a gesture and swapped out with Elke. That would let him stretch and shift. It would be imperceptible to most people, but would be more comfortable. His shoulders hated him for those armrests. They were half numb, but only half, the other half a burning ache.

Standing, though, made him wonder if any of his kidnappers and antagonists recognized him. That caused enough fear, anger and introspection to completely wipe out any attention to Highland’s speeches, or that of others. That was the good part. The bad part was that after a half hour, he ached again, this time his heels and ankles.

Shaman apparently read it in his posture or tremors, and stepped in to replace him, letting him take a turn outside. The steady rotation also helped with alertness, made them less predictable, and let them do a partial patrol of the hall, though everyone else’s escorts tensed in professional paranoia as they passed.

Nothing substantive was done that day, and Aramis expected one of BuState’s staff experts would take over. Highland had been present to pretend Earth cared what any other planet thought, and to get face time for election.

As the forum closed, Alex had his phone out, and looked concerned. Aramis interrogated him by look.

Alex said, “We’re flying out. It’s not safe. The protests are now riots and turning into brawls. Battles will be next.”

Highland refused to hear it. “I must travel in dignity,” she said. “If I drove in, I must drive out. I won’t acknowledge a few protesters by diverting.”

“Ma’am, militarily I agree with you. Diplomatically I agree with you. As your security operations chief, I must insist on aircraft. We can blame a mechanical problem, or you can blame me.”

“Of course I would. But we’re driving.”

She probably saw Alex say, “Yes, ma’am,” nod and turn to comply. Aramis saw the unsaid, you egotistical bitch, and the twitch in his boss’s jaw.

So they trooped down to the vehicle apron, led fore and aft by local security, furnished by Emir Mudassir. They kept their distance. It was all a juggling act. Everyone here, of course, was trusted not to try to assassinate their peers, except that some few of them might, so everyone had guards in case of collateral casualties, and then the guards became a necessary status symbol.

The emir’s detail seemed quite happy to depart as they reached the broad vehicle park, which was ringed by wall, umbrella’d by transparent shield, and patrolled by three agencies, plus the Army. Lionel rolled up in the limo, and Aramis knew the man had not stepped foot out, unless he’d had a company relief. They’d learned not to trust anyone in this game-family, assistant, doctor, even bureau chief.

Aramis got the door, Highland and Jessie slid in, as Jessie tagged a churp about leaving the conference. He’d enjoy using that device for target practice, but she probably had a spare and possibly an implanted backup. They just had to deal with it.

Highland would have to deal with not taking the car.

The rioting had reached what they called Level Two. It was a plateau of random shouting, hurling, speechmakers and sheer mass of bodies that made progress impossible. Three vehicles ahead were stopped and not proceeding.

Alex dutifully and professionally had his phone out, but Aramis knew it was largely for Highland’s benefit.

“… That’s the assessment? Yes, I concur. Any response is likely to become violent. Letting them play themselves out is best.. No, I expect any advance will result in casualties, both accidental, and planned by activists. It’s best not to play the game… Yes, I will so inform Ms. Highland. Stand by.” He turned from the phone and said, “Ma’am, they are scheduling or recommending aircraft travel for all participants. The Aerospace Force detachment has a Hummingbird transport lifter waiting. It can be here in ten minutes and will get priority.”

Aramis could see her teeth grind.

“I abhor this turn of events.”

“I would drive if we could, ma’am, but if the vehicles ahead of us won’t, then we’d be leading the way into a riot. It’s almost certain someone would get hurt, and you get blamed. I’m not willing to take a fall against my advice. I’m perfectly willing to take it for diverting. I’ll issue a statement accordingly.”

She spoke with icy clarity. “That won’t be necessary. Proceed.”

“By air?”

“Yes, as you advise.”

Aramis suspected it didn’t matter what Alex would take the blame for. She’d do as she pleased. Of course, that would lead to a grudge match. That could escalate…

Yeah, he wanted to be done with this mission, fast.

Highland did not like Ripple Creek. She’d been wary from the beginning, with good reason. When that incompetent but scheming snake in New York had assigned them-and she had no doubt it was the SecGen’s office that assigned them-she’d known it was to embarrass her, either by saddling her with their disregard for bystanders, or the bad press that followed them, or the way they’d choke down on her movements. So far, the smarmy fucker was three for three.