When Diplomacy Fails . . .-eARC

by Michael Z. Williamson

  They made a final turn onto the exit road out the BuState gate, and grated to a stop.

  Aramis clutched at his pistol, then realized they were still inside, and that it was a blockage. He looked at Alex, wondering if they were safer where they were, or needed to unass with the principal and sprint back to cover.

  Lionel said, “We’re caught on the goddam speed bump. They built it up to meet the new standards, and it’s taller than ground clearance on this beast.”

  “Didn’t we do this once already?”

  “Yes. New standards, poor communication.”

  “I’ll clear it,” Elke said.

  Bart made a point of looking through the window before opening the door. Elke slipped through, bent down and did something. She walked around to the other side and repeated the motion. She stood up with a detonator.

  Highland said, “Are you sure that’s saf—” and was drowned out as Elke hit the button and whatever charge she planted made a rumbling pop. She motioned for the door, and Bart reopened it.

  Alex muttered. “I don’t care what the standards are, they will be made to fit Ms. Highland’s transport, at once, and they can install an extra triggered barrier instead. These things are outdated and simplistic.”

  Aramis agreed. Simple was often better, but a barricade that defaulted to positive would work as well. If it failed to retract, they’d just detour, rather than being turtled.

  Whatever Elke had done had crumbled the rise. Lionel eased forward, and after a scrape and rattle, they proceeded normally. She’d also apparently cut wipes for the tires.

  Alex spoke into his phone. “I want that gone when we get back. That’s per me, Ms. Highland,” he glanced at her for assent, and she nodded, tight-lipped and flushed, “and Agent in Charge Cady . . . Well, right now, I’m speaking as District Agent in Charge. That’s the contract equivalent of Chief of Mission, Security.” There was a pause, then he said, “I appreciate it.”

  To Alex, Highland said, “Thank you.” She said it smoothly and without rancor, and Aramis knew she was pissed.

  As this was an official function, at least officially, the military escort pulled in front and behind. Two Grumblies, ten troops, two machine guns, except they were crowd control machine guns shooting rubber pellets and mild incapacitance agents. It was Aramis’s experience, on five planets so far, that nonlethal weapons didn’t deter threats, didn’t end threats, and often just irritated the threats or let them claim martyr status without the actual risk of being a real martyr. Still, it was better than nothing.

  Lionel took a slightly convoluted route, but Aramis was easily able to follow it. He noted that.

  “Alex, this route is too direct to suit me.”

  “Understood. Got a suggestion?”

  “Pull two blocks north and resume.”

  “Sounds good. Lionel, did you get that?”

  “Yes, sir, will do.” The man was strictly professional. He might not agree, but he’d accept the guidance without debate.

  Of course, their terminus was known. There was only one gate in big enough to handle the limo. Alex said nothing, but Aramis noticed everyone shift slightly to make weapon access easier, so he stretched and did the same. Highland might disapprove, so they weren’t going to mention it.

  The protest zones were a block shy of the forum, and weren’t supposed to be on the approach route. It was clear they were. Situated in vacant lots, they faced each other across the street. Whoever had set this up was an idiot.

  Of course, there were several entourages in limos of different types. A convoy of three was just ahead of them, and one group pelted it with garbage.

  Lionel said, “This traffic is too slow for safety. Should I divert?”

  Alex said, “Yes,” as Highland said, “No!”

  He diverted, pulling from between the escort vehicles, cutting obliquely across traffic, taking the left turn and accelerating. They went right past the protesters, who seemed to have brought all their kitchen trash with them.

  Aramis observed. The crowd split in age between the very old and the quite young. It split between those in traditional Arab dress, and those in conservative younger dress. They would have religious or moral objections to some of Highland’s many policies, or those of the government.

  Highland shouted, “This is my vehicle, my meeting and my mission, and you will do as I say!”

  Alex was on the phone, hush hood up, talking to someone. Highland turned to Elke, who was carefully looking out the window and writing notes. She faced Shaman, who was checking his response bag for something. She faced Aramis.

  He hadn’t moved fast enough, so he said, “Ma’am, this group knows who you are and doesn’t like you.”

  She paused for a moment.

  “Look at their makeup as we go,” he said. They were a block away by now. “They’re religious, mostly Amala, composed of quite young and quite old. That means they’re swinging back to the conservative side.”

  Alex finished and said, “Lionel, go ahead and swing around. We should have an unobstructed approach. From now on, we’ll do our own staging.”

  “Understood.”

  Highland asked, “So what are you saying?”

  “I’m merely observing that the two military vehicles marked us, they knew who you were, and we were unable to move.”

  “I’m late, and it will show up as cowardice, with us pulling away.”

  Alex said, “I can state we perceived your safety was improved by the diversion.”

  “You’d better,” she said crossly.

  “I’d rather do that than have to fight,” he said.

  They were back around, as Aramis wondered at the insecurity or narcissism of someone who, with that much power, was concerned about being late. It seemed there was nothing to her but appearance.

  Alex said, “The military escort will meet us as we turn back onto Amadi Street.”

  The troops were waiting, and pulled in as they turned north again.

  Which was just as the two groups of protesters started hurling debris at each other.

  Lionel asked, “Alex, what do I do?”

  “We’ve already been pelted. May as well go through.”

  “Understood.”

  Yeah, what was more garbage? Except it looked as if there might be rocks. Then fistfights broke out in both groups. The limo drew between them and took impacts, though it was doubtful even the larger rocks would damage the surface.

  Then someone started shooting.

  Alex said, “Get us out of here.” Everyone had hands under coats, resting on guns. Lionel threw them in reverse and sounded the horn for the follow vehicle to move.

  Highland said, “I have to get to the forum. It is far more important than safety, and I thought this car was bulletproof?”

  “Ma’am, it is, but they’ve escalated from protest to garbage to firearms. I’m not comfortable with the escalation. I’m diverting, we can reassess, and reapproach.”

  “No. We’re continuing.”

  Alex sighed. “It is your prerogative to continue at this point, ma’am. I will override you if we actually get engaged. I comply, under protest. Lionel, proceed.”

  “Forward,” he said, and they accelerated.

  Then stopped.

  The crowd had broken through the barricades on one side, had swarmed the street toward the other group, but were now milling in the roadway, blocking movement.

  Elke muttered, “How familiar.” She fumbled with something, which Aramis assumed was explosive.

  He was amazed at how calm he felt. Apparently, enough firefights, a combat wound and a torture session had acclimated him to stuff like this.

  The crowd realized the limo contained someone of note, then someone deduced that military escort implied a high-ranking Earth dignitary. In moments, people were shouting her name and rocking the massive vehicle on its suspension. Others were fighting them, pulling them away. They were presumably supporters of her.

  The wrestling turned
to punching, knifing, broken bottles and gunfire.

  Alex said, “Lionel, disperse them.”

  He nodded and hit a button. One of the new stench gases farted out from under the car. It was fascinating to see it work. It was so overpowering that everyone stopped their activity and ran aimlessly, smacking into vehicles, curbs, each other, crawling, stumbling to feet and running more. In twelve seconds the entire street was clear forty meters each way. Aramis smelled nothing. The same control had buttoned them up and they were now on canned oxygen.

  The military, however, hadn’t had notice, and clutched for gas masks, shaking and retching, faces in gruesome masks. Aramis had had a bare whiff in training, for familiarization. He felt sorry for the poor bastards.

  One debarked from the vehicle ahead and ran straight across the road into a building wall. After a few seconds, three of his buddies advanced to him, forced his mask on while he thrashed and panicked, then ferried him back. Even through their masks, Aramis could see the mean looks.

  Elke kept the grin off her face. It was always delightful to see a weapon work to best effect, especially an invisible one. Half of those primitives had no idea what had happened.

  She hoped the troop was well. The chaos of engagement led to such things, but the participants never found them funny at the time.

  Alex was on phone. “Yes, I understand. Stand by, please.” He looked up at Highland, and said, “Ma’am, the road is completely blocked by rioters. I recommend we back out slowly, to avoid injuring anyone. We can speed up if our safety dictates. This is why I was hesitant earlier. I’m less worried about us than the outcome of dealing with civilians. Alternately, we can attempt to push forward.”

  “It sounds as if you’ll be pushing either way, so forward.”

  “Very good,” he said to her, then resumed on the radio. “We’re going forward. Slow and steady. Yes, stick with masks. I apologize for that. It came up suddenly.”

  From the other side of Highland, Jessie said, “I can’t get any signal. Are you blocking me?”

  Elke said, “I am not, but it would not surprise me if the locals have set up signal jamming and spoofing. Alex’s phone uses tough algorithms, but it isn’t impenetrable.”

  Alex stiffened, said, “Thanks,” and called back to the forward vehicle. “This is Playwright. There’s a strong possibility our signals may be jammed. If so, proceed on last . . . hello? Lieutenant? I am unable to receive, but will continue with my instruction. Proceed as discussed, and look for hand signals from driver. Playwright out.” He looked up. “Well, this is going to be interesting. I want to get Ms. Highland and Jessie in unharmed. I want to minimize harm to the locals. Is that clear, Elke?”

  “Of course,” she agreed. That’s what he always wanted. She’d do so if she deemed it advisable, but this was a riot, and riots generally deserved to be put down.

  Alex continued, “Dump guns can be used for distraction. Elke, be ready with nonlethal smoke and bangs, please. Reserve hands-on force for Ms. Highland’s safety only. Ms. Highland, we are attempting to drive into the conference. We may need to debark and walk a short distance, probably not over one hundred meters. You may need your protective mask.”

  “I understand,” she said, and smirked. She actually liked the idea of getting into a fight. Elke decided she wasn’t all bad after all. Though of course, Highland’s goal was PR. Elke’s goal was hurting people who needed hurt.

  She watched principal peripherally, and gave most of her attention out the window. The windows were high quality one-way transparencies, so the crowd had no idea how their antics were perceived. On Celadon, they’d escalated to urination and very disgusting gestures. Here, they settled for childish faces, hand signs, and waving placards. It was so sweet that they thought anyone cared.

  Still, they increased in number and density. She revised her estimates on everything from smoke to concussion charges, and waited.

  Lionel called back, “They’re swarming in close. If I continue, I’ll be pushing people aside, and some may fall. If I stop, we won’t be able to proceed. They’ll probably lie down in front of us.”

  Jason said, “Given the cultures, I expect some of them are quite willing to be martyrs for visibility.”

  Alex said, “Move until you have to stop. We’ll repeat the gas then. I don’t want to overuse it.”

  That was why he was in charge, Elke reflected. Her reality did not match the illusion created by governments and media. She’d simply escalate violence until everyone left or was dead. Few people, and no governments, had the moral strength to do so. Still, she’d hope for her small part to play.

  Jessie shivered, and Highland twitched now and then, seeming quite nervous. Façade aside, she obviously saw the real world threat here.

  Lionel said, “I’m blocked. Solidly penned by bodies.”

  “Pop gas,” Alex ordered.

  Once again the crowd shrieked and ran. However, thumping noises indicated people collapsed against the vehicle.

  Lionel said, “Front wheels are blocked. The subjects are persistent and seem to have restrained themselves.”

  That was a very calm report for an incident that was about to get exciting.

  Alex said, “We’re proceeding on foot. Nonlethal force only. Elke, note that.”

  “Nonlethal,” she repeated. That was frustrating, but she had nonlethal toys she wanted to bring into play.

  “Ma’am, Elke will lead you. Hold onto her jacket. Jessie, hold onto Shaman’s. Bart and Aramis lead. Jason right wing. Lionel, proceed when you can. If they refuse to yield, call me and the military.”

  Everyone shuffled around, bracing, clutching and ready. They all held stun batons and Elke had her fingers on a fun gadget she hoped to use.

  Alex said, “Report if not ready . . . go.”

  Aramis raised the door and sprang out to the rear. Bart shoved his way out and around forward. Elke followed, feeling Highland’s hands on the tail of her coat. I bet the bitch is glad of the suit now, rather than some stupid robe, she thought.

  Behind her, Alex went out the other door.

  The crowd was well-distant, and the humid air still bore a whiff of . . . ugly. There was no way to describe that manufactured smell, but even parts per billion were awful. They moved forward as Aramis zapped one of the bodies at the front of the car. Yes, the blázen had wedged himself in tight, so he couldn’t disperse when the gas hit.

  She zapped him again, just to make sure, then joined the formation as they jogged forward. It should take only a half minute to reach the gate. The security guards there were locals, and made no effort to extend a safe corridor. Elke had expected them to be useless.

  The crowd started to collapse back in, shouting angrily. It was probable some of Highland’s fans had taken badly to being stink-gassed.

  Alex had said nonlethal, and Elke complied. She tossed one disk left and behind, the other right and behind.

  “Watch eyes,” she said, a half second before they ignited.

  They lit, and behind her, Alex swore. They were visible even in daylight, thought granted it was overcast.

  The hundred bulbs in each ignited over the span of two seconds in a chain of reports. They sounded a lot like automatic weapon fire. However, they were mere noisemakers, plus zirconium dust with some enhancements. Anyone looking at that should be flash-blind for several minutes, because the output was close to 5000 lumens. There was also a strong chance of epileptic response.

  In fact, as they passed the leading Grumbly, one of the troops swayed and collapsed. They were certainly taking a beating on this simple convoy trip.

  Still, the team reached the gate unharmed, which was the point.

  “Open, please,” Alex said. Yes, they’d actually kept the gate locked and closed. Elke turned to keep herself between principal and crowd, and they huddled around their two charges. The mob seemed well-cowed at this point, refusing to approach, but settling for hurling gestures, epithets and the occasional chunk of garbage.

/>   Eventually, the simpering monkeys rolled the gate just enough to allow the party to back through individually. Elke squeezed her shoulders past the polymer columns, and they were in, surrounded by media. While she appreciated their ability to ablate explosive threats, she had no other use for them.

  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.