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Michael Williamson: When Diplomacy Fails…

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Michael Williamson When Diplomacy Fails…

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Not that people were ignorant, though he was sure a lot of them were. No, it was that they ignored him.

He had scaled responses for any contingency, from polite greeting, diplomatic request, urgent demand, rude insult, angry threat, punch to the face, shoot in the face, to “call Elke.” Some issues here were simply not responsive. The people in question refused to respond to him, or acknowledge him in any fashion.

That was the most aggravating response possible. He could accept a “no,” though he’d certainly try to manipulate it to a “yes.” He could appeal up the chain as was indicated by the urgency of the matter. Completely ignoring him put him in a helpless corner.

He couldn’t use any violent means at this juncture. His lesser means were being ignored. He didn’t want to call Corporate. He was supposed to be able to handle this, and if he wanted promotion he certainly had better. Their response would also be delayed, and watered down by distance.

He had connections, and he had some responses. Cady’s team had landed the day before, and were busy securing the Ripple Creek section of the diplomatic compound, which was the Minister’s residence and their adjoining apartments. That went smoothly enough; the military, contractors and agencies had no choice but to do as the BuState letterhead demanded.

There were mild complications with Highland’s assistant deputy chief of staff, a position he wasn’t even cognizant of. It seemed the man’s task was to handle all the routine requests from Very Important People with Something to Say to the Minister, and scheduling of meetings with such groups, around the stuff Highland and her deputy chief of staff, who was on Earth, scheduled first. Magerin Rausch was a nice enough guy, spotless background, and on the list to be admitted with minimal hindrance. On paper, his credentials were impressive. How much of that actually meant something, Jason didn’t know. He was also filling in as Protocol head, and in that capacity they would need to talk to him.

“Good morning, Agent in Charge Vaughn,” he said as Jason entered the area. He was always perfectly polite.

“Mister Rausch, good morning. How are you?”

“I like this planet in a lot of ways,” Rausch said. That was ironic. He was Jewish, and this pit of despair was full of people who’d kill him in a second. It did have nice sunrises, though, ruddy and streaked with clouds.

Jason said, “It’s not bad. As to our hopefully final clarifications, I reviewed all your documents. We will try to pass everyone with a minimum of delay, after checking for weapons and other threats. By the time they get to you, they should be cleared. Agent in Charge Cady is responsible for the perimeter, and her second team will be at the doors inside. You will need to let her know, so she can let them know, on anyone to admit. They will still need either pass or escort from you, or to show ID and be on file.”

“That’s surprisingly easy. There are stories that Ripple Creek are very tough to deal with.”

“It’s our job to be tough with threats and potential threats. Anyone cleared through the Minister and yourself will be deemed a nonthreat, though we’ll be ready to respond if that changes. You can always ask for them to have a courtesy escort, which means we’ll smile and shake hands and make them feel we’re at their service. We won’t shoot them in the back unless they make a clear, definite, health- or life-threatening move toward the Minister.”

“I do appreciate your dry sense of humor.”

I appreciate that you think I’m joking.

“Well, that’s the personal interaction issue. We all have maps of the facility and the relevant areas marked. Just keep any guests, junior staff, housekeepers or others out of those areas, and we’ll do the rest. We try to be polite to everyone, just let us know of any specific titles or addresses.”

“I will do so.”

Really, it shouldn’t be too bad. They had a military perimeter, a BuState perimeter, the building entrance, controlled elevators. By the time anyone got to this level of the building, it would be a nonissue. Likewise, the Colonial Liaison Office, the stand in for an embassy, wasn’t their problem.

The military remained a problem. Even the Intel office had passed the buck until he hinted at going over them. Then they’d assigned a captain. Captain Das seemed competent and helpful, but was hamstrung by other duties and limited authority. At the same time, he was earnest, and going over him wouldn’t create any friends, might hurt the man’s reviews, and wasn’t likely to yield anyone more helpful or able.

He tabled that as Cady came in.

“Afternoon, Jace,” he acknowledged.

“Hi, Jason. Do you have anything on the perimeter fence request? I still need to know what software they use to monitor those lines.”

That issue. He said, “Yeah, I put in a third request to Colonel Goran. They’re still ignoring it. I’m sure they’ll respond when it’s too late for us.”

“I know you’re working it. It’s just very aggravating.”

“I have said exactly the same. What’s our status?”

Cady shrugged. “I can’t approve the fence. I do have our barriers in place inside. They won’t allow explosive.”

“Elke may have something to say about that.”

“Yes, so I’ve heard.” She giggled. “We wouldn’t keep getting in trouble if they’d just let us do our job.”

He grinned. “Unfortunately, we can’t use that as a marketing blurb.”

“Well, not officially. Though in the right circles, it would work.”

“Heck, we don’t need advertising. ‘Ask President Bishwanath or Ms Prescot.’ It’s hard to argue with results.”

“Indeed. Perhaps we should unionize for better bargaining potential.” Her face was serious.

“I can never tell when you’re joking.”

“Good. I do appreciate our small arms arriving. Any word on the body armor?”

Sigh. That issue. “Somehow, the weapons were ‘diplomatic’ but the armor got tagged as ‘military materiel.’ Held up in Aerospace Force storage until local and BuMil ‘inspect’ it. I sent another request to Colonel Goran on that, too.”

“An operations officer who doesn’t bother with operations.”

“Yeah, though he has plenty of time to smoke, play cards at the O club and organize cookouts.”

“I have my updates here,” she said, handing over a ramstick. They never sent anything through a network they didn’t own, if they didn’t have to.

“Great. I’ll beat on them as best I can. The good part is that the more falls in place, the less targets for my irritation still exist, so I can apply more loving attention.”

“I’d almost say you enjoy the fight.”

Right then a klaxon sounded, the emergency light on the wall flashed, and Jason’s phone buzzed. He glanced at it to see, “REAL. ATTACK IN PROGRESS, SEEK SHELTER.”

He and Cady swapped looks, then jogged for the door. He heard an explosion high overhead. It cracked and boomed.

From the second floor, they bounded down the stairs and out, passing two men and two women coming in. Landscapers. The two mercenaries headed toward the compound entrance. It was secured, the two guards on duty nestled into their reinforced gatehouse. There weren’t many people about outside, but those few were trying to get inside.

Jason checked his watch. Almost a minute. Granted, there were fewer BuState people than military, but they were mostly accounted for, while the base still swarmed, and much of it wasn’t mission critical. Those people should have been sheltered in seconds.

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