Michael Williamson - When Diplomacy Fails…

They were out in light but chill rain, on their way back. The trip out wasn’t eventful, but that wasn’t unexpected. The trip back was when everyone would have had time to learn her location, set up OPs and be in position for anything.

Highland and Jessie actually talked in front of them at this point. Though of course, the limo was quieter than the ARPAC.

“So, just about thirty percent, with Cruk down to forty-eight, Hunter at ten and I’m not even going to dignify the rest with recognition,” she said.

Jessie said, “One of the trends has you at thirty-two by week’s end.”

“I can call in at once then,” she said, “or give it time to stabilize and for the public to demand so.”

“I like that better,” Jessie said. “You respond to the electorate.”

“Yes. We’ll need to leak it. Can you do that,” she looked up at Jason, who kept looking out the window, “through one of your secondary feeds?”

“Of course! Angela DuMont is an ardent supporter.”

Jason wondered when Special Service took over. At some point, a candidate become “viable” and protection was extended to them. That should be soon.

Right then Bart braked hard and swerved slightly.

Jason looked forward in a hurry. Alex was shotgun, but he wanted eyes on target. There were three men blocking the street after apparently having jumped out in the rain. He watched as the leftmost one disappeared under the limo.

Bart swore, swerved and braked, though he was taught not to. He was also under orders to protect the stupid to some extent.

The man went under the front of the limo in a double thump, then a bump, and a rev of lost traction.

Highland asked, “What was that?”

Bart said, “The wheelspin? Probably his face. Brains are pretty slippery.”

In the rear inside screen, Highland gagged and Jason grinned. Bart kept his smile very tight.

Jason said, “I really don’t like limos and this is why. We’re obvious as a stripper in church, but not as armored as we should be. Firing angles are limited.”

The car accelerated quickly, and Bart wove between vehicles, first with wide margins, then with near misses, then close enough to catch on protruding edges. Brushing scrapes sounded every few seconds.

Highland screeched, “Slow down! Each of those hits is a vote lost and money that will have to be paid out!”

Bart ignored her totally. His job was to move and maneuver. He took a turn and kept going. He slowed a little, scanning the rear to see if there was pursuit. Alex caught his eye, but gave no indication of objection. He kept driving.

He felt the rumble, then heard it. He kept his eyes ahead, but let them draw images from the screens.

They were being chased by a tank.

More accurately, it appeared to be an old Mod 46 Assault Vehicle, with the articulated plate wheels, but as he was driving a car, that was effectively a tank.

WHAM!

Especially with the 35mm gun on top. He leaned into an evasive turn as the shock wave and projectile cracked overhead.

Alex shouted, “Aramis, up top, target the mechanicals! Elke, we need a disabler! Jason, do we have any rockets?”

“On it.”

“Working.”

“No, BuState operations refused to allow it.”

Alex replied, “Then snipe the vision ports.”

“When I can.”

The passengers said nothing, just whimpered a bit. He couldn’t blame them. Bart accelerated right to the intersection ahead, then brake-turned hard into it. The AV had to scrape to a stop on the pavement, pivot and resume. That slowed it a lot, but Bart had pedestrians and cluttered traffic to deal with. He’d run someone over if he had to, but he’d rather not have to.

Out the roof, Aramis hammered away with the autocannon. It was a big enough gun to need actual cases, and they clattered over the shell of the car, a few bounced inside to ping against each other.

“I’m not going to do anything to him with this,” Aramis said. “The armor’s too heavy.”

Bart took them between two cars, scraping and bumping both aside. Pedestrians jumped, screamed and cursed, but the shrieks spread the message to others, who cleared the route. Except, of course, for rubberneckers. Two, just ahead.

He leaned on the siren, and one jumped back. The other craned in closer, then stood defiantly, and finally jumped, as the car clipped him.

Behind, a car moved to fill the gap in traffic, the driver oblivious, and the AV rolled right over it. Plastic splintered and crushed, and the driver’s arm thrashed out the window before hanging limply from the wreckage.

Someone really wanted the bitch dead.

Elke said, “There will be collaterals.”

“There already are. The AV is crushing its way.”

Alex said, “Do it.”

“Aramis, take this and hit the driver compartment.”

“Got it,” he said, hefted it for weight and stood.

“Fire in the hole,” she said in a lovely voice, as Aramis stood and threw.

It was one of her rugby-ball things. Bart watched it arc back in a perfect spiral, impact right over the compartment, and erupt. If he guessed right, it squashed enough to be a platter charge, and shattered the hatch.

The AV veered to the left, high-centered over another car, and stopped.

Alex said, “Keep moving, evade and evacuate this area.”

“Rolling,” he agreed, the tension in him easing a little. There were more bodies to deal with now.

Alex said, “Good thing we’re on our way home.”

Aramis said, “The events seem to be providing intel to people, and it’s usually pre-scheduled events.”

Alex said, “Discuss later. Roll, eyes open.” He sounded forceful.

“Rolling,” Bart reiterated.

Behind, Alex spoke into his phone. “Captain Das, we were attacked by what looks like a Mod 46… Yes I am serious. Driver tried to run us down, ran over several civilian vehicles and pedestrians in the meantime… that’s about our grid, so yes, that would be it… You should move fast. There could be evidence and we don’t want it to go missing. Excellent. Sorry to bear bad news. Marlow out.”

Jason wasn’t sure if he wanted to keep doing this. At some level, people should figure out Ripple Creek would stomp on any opposition. But, they kept getting bigger, more dangerous taskings. There wasn’t much room for error.

Alex was tied up with lawyers, BuState, the military and the ambassador.

It was interesting that the ambassador had no problems with them. He was technically under Highland, and then under the SecGen. His word would have them off planet at once. But either Highland wanted them for deniable cover, or she approved, or the SecGen was insisting they stay there.

Was her boss worried about her, worried about what would happen if she died, or trying to embarrass her?

That was one set of questions of many.

Two minutes later, Alex burst into the suite with Das.

“Jackpot,” he said.

“Yes?”

“Got this from the remains of the driver that Elke and Aramis liquefied.” He held up an armored data stick.

Jason took it carefully. It appeared to be intact.

“Anything on it you’ve found?”

“Just the arrival time written on the outside.”

“Yeah, that narrows it down to a few people. Let’s see what’s on it.”

“I’ll help,” Elke said.

“Absolutely.”

He stuck it into his system, let Elke remote in, and they went at it.

Everyone stared at them, but in a few minutes, Elke snorted in disgust and said, “This isn’t even grammar school encryption.”

“No?” prompted Aramis.

“Oh, some of the files are better than others, but I’m getting partial hits already. Sloppy.”

“Here’s tables,” Jason said.

“Not just tables,” Elke said in wonder. “Let me throw this up. Hold on.”