Michael Williamson - When Diplomacy Fails…

Shortly, he came out with bowls of salad, two at a time. It was an interesting dish, Alex thought. Romaine hearts supported wedges of tomato and apple, and were surrounded by cucumber, goat cheese, chicken and scallions. Fat olives stuffed with garlic, and pepperoncinis garnished it, under grated ginger, ground pepper and a drizzle of oil and vinegar.

Alex wasn’t a salad person, but it was refreshing, especially after field rats and the scavenged canned stuff they’d had the last day.

By the time he’d finished, Jason had placed a thick roll of pita in front of him stuffed with sauteed shaved paper-thin sirloin with mushrooms, onions and slivered almonds. There were eight liters of raspberry juice to sluice it down with.

“Ah, that’s good. I’m ready to sleep or fight. What’s our status?”

Shaman said, “Ms. Highland is reported kidnapped, speculation pointing at us or some ‘right wing faction.’ There’s lots of human interest stories by her supporters.” He turned to face her. “So, ma’am, your popularity is benefiting from this.”

“Excellent,” she said. “I’m glad their plot is working against them.”

Alex said, “Unfortunately, it makes it more worthwhile for them to find a way to eliminate you and blame either us or some faction. As we’ve been portrayed as several kinds of puppy-abusing sociopath, if they can hit you, they can blame us. Our lawyers can probably save us, at a cost of tens of millions, but you’d still be dead. By then, of course, it will no longer be news and no one will care.”

Highland looked shocked, and attentive. She finally seemed to be grasping her actual place in things, far below the lofty station she’d assigned herself. She wanted to be SecGen, but that carried a huge tag in risk and outlay. She probably had the outlay. She had to pay the risk.

Next to him, Elke sighed slightly. It sounded creepily sexual. She must be thinking of explosive again.

Highland almost shivered.

“I hadn’t expected this level of treachery. I’m loyal to the party. I’d hoped they’d be loyal to me.”

Given her own backstabbing tendencies to anyone and everyone in her path, it hardly seemed surprising she’d be regarded as a threat. No doubt she thought her own goals those of the party, and they might even intersect, but she wasn’t the Equality Party Committee. They’d probably even tried polite measures, and found her oblivious.

Well, people had tried to kill them before. Though usually, not multiple professional and freelance factions combined.

Alex didn’t think he was going to rest well.

Shaman continued, “The search continues for Minister Highland. All the latest gear is being used, and it is hoped her biometrics or personal gear will be traced soon.”

Alex felt a shiver.

“Can we do anything about that transponder?” he asked. “Lead vest, Faraday cage?”

Jason said, “We can make a mesh vest easily enough, for her to wear under her coat. It won’t be a hundred percent, but it will certainly help. I don’t think we have time to figure out how to spoof it.”

“Do it. Even if it only reduces detectable range.”

Elke said, “I’m going to reconfigure some charges as well. I’ll do her vest first.”

“Ms. Highland, you need to try to rest. So do you, Jessie. Everyone else on shift rotations.”

He was going to enforce it, too, even on himself. They were all wired, tense and determined to hardball it, but they needed rest or they’d be ineffective.

Jason looked at him, and said, “You first. I’m up.”

He nodded. Jason’s schedule was all messed up with having a different clock at home than Earth, and that different from here. There was some sense to the military staying on Earth’s clock. Unfortunately, they couldn’t.

He sprawled in the corner on a pile of crushed boxes. They were reasonably comfortable, he placed his carbine over his lap, and closed his eyes.

Horace took watch with Jason. He’d rest, but he wanted to be sure of the others first.

Aramis presented functional. The man was resilient, and action kept him busy, which seemed to help. He had paper maps and scales, saved files of routes from street and air, drawing implements in hands, and a carbine across his knees.

Elke and Jason each took a piece of mesh and sewed wire along seams. Then Jason finished while Elke prepped charges in the kitchen, turning the stove and sink into an explosive lab. Her mental health was not in doubt. Intensely focused, asocial, very high functioning sociopath.

“Ms. Highland, I need to measure you.”

“Oh, yes.”

Highland was a bundle of live wires. This was far outside her experience and background, which was common for them, and anticipated. He wasn’t going to tranquilize her unless necessary, because it would be necessary, and he neither wanted to overdo it, mess up her metabolism, or create paranoia.

Jason held up the vest, and said, “Arms apart, stand straight.” It fit against her well enough.

“You’ll need to try it on, please. Be careful, it’s not strong, and it may be a bit scratchy.”

She nodded. Her expression was blank but showed comprehension. He held it as she skinned into it. It was loose, but covered her from collar to waist.

“You need to leave it on. You can wear clothing under or over or both, but that will offer shielding from scans.”

“How effective?” she asked.

“I can’t say. Better than nothing, but not perfect.”

Alex was asleep, sprawled but with a faint tension of readiness. That should be addressed. The stress was getting to him.

Bart looked relaxed enough, though that sleeping angle was going to lead to muscle spasms. He was half on a chair, half leaned over the table, jaw in hand, gun in other hand.

Jason said, “We’re done, ma’am, go rest. Just keep it on.”

Highland nodded and said, “Bathroom first. Excuse me.” She moved tight-legged. Yes, it had been several hours for all of them.

JessieM spent a few minutes rolling up the hidden hood of her knitted brynj, and adjusting pillows. She made two spots, one for her, one for Highland. The location put a chair directly between them and the back door. That was either tactically smart or cautious.

Horace felt a wave of fatigue wash over him. He was reaching his own limit. Elke came through, very carefully laid out her weapons and kit for fast recovery, leaned into the wall with her knees up, and passed out. Highland came back through, crawled down next to JessieM in a most undignified fashion, and tossed a bit while going to sleep.

His own fatigue crushed him down as Jason said, “You’re down. I’ll wake Aramis for a bit.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, and leaned against the couch.

Jason’s taskings kept him in the house, without a window for fresh air. They needed to minimize traceable pheromones.

Elke and Aramis made several forays for food, clothing and general supplies.

“We have enough weapons for now,” Alex said. “We need support gear, rations and camouflage.”

The news loads were all about Highland’s “disappearance and suspected abduction.” Jason followed several threads and compiled a chart. The next morning he had a good cross section.

“I actually like what I see here,” he said.

“So do I,” Alex said behind him. “Please elaborate.”

“Certainly. First, we’re only one possible suspect. There are also respected authorities, and commentators who shouldn’t be respected but are anyway, blaming the administration, the military, Huble and the Amala, as well as some of the Shia and the Faithful of The One True God sect of Christians. It appears Ms. Highland’s Mtali Assistant for Development is following all leads at once.”