“Our navy, and the armies on Poldark and New Dublin, are on the verge of defeating those two Krall invasion forces. I understand, from information we’ve received about that enemy base in Human Space, that we should be able to retake K1, or whatever in hell that ratty assed Rim World colony was named before the Krall walked over them. We don’t need criminal Kobani help to do that.”
After a shocked moment to collect his thoughts, the Secretary of State said, “It was Greater West Africa.”
“What was?”
“That ratty assed colony as you called it, Mam. We lost over eighteen million people there. There were no survivors among those on the planet when the Krall invaded. I hope you will use more suitable language if this discussion goes outside our personal talks or other secure communications.”
“Oh. Right. Of course. I was venting my anger at these upstart rebels trying to dictate what events are going to take place tonight. If their leader Mirikami is with them, I’m having him arrested and prosecuted for war crimes.”
Bewildered at the words of the woman who had appointed him to her cabinet, he wondered if she even remembered he had once been a career diplomat, and not just some political ally. That was before he aligned himself with the Leaders of the Old Republic for a political future. The LOR was on the rise as the war had continued to go poorly. If the war was ending now, he may have been better off supporting the Democratically Empowered Workers, or DEW.
As a male, he knew he’d never rise to a top leadership role in either party. After all, LOR was originally called Ladies of the Old Republic and DEW had been Democratically Empowered Women. Both parties were formed after the Collapse, by women who were left to put the pieces of society back together. As the male population recovered over the last century, regaining the right to vote, the two major parties wooed their votes with cynical name changes. Oswald was a political agnostic, and chose the party to join that seemed to be gaining seats and influence eight years ago, and he’d curried favor with Medford’s staff, when she was a rising star in the LOR.
He knew that Mirikami had been extended diplomatic immunity along with Fisher’s entire delegation. He could possibly be declared persona non grata and expelled, but he should not be subject to arrest while here. His name had been presented in advance as a military attaché of the Galactic Federation. He had not been rejected at that time, when President Medford agreed to receive and meet with their delegation.
“Madam President,” he thought sounding more formal would trigger her sense of caution in a field of which she was inexperienced. “Captain Mirikami is part of the diplomatic mission, and has the same immunity as all other members of the mission.”
“As you just said, he’s a mere captain, and that was of a civilian transport over twenty years ago. How does that qualify him as military? I think, in the absence of a treaty defining extradition, we can hold a war criminal no matter what title he or his ragtag friends give him. I can reject diplomatic relations if I don't see an advantage to us.”
“This can get ugly in the courts if you bypass normal diplomatic protections,” he warned.
“Harold, we are a human society, with the Planetary Union its only government. It remains to be seen if the Kobani are legally even human, and Mirikami was instrumental in their unlawful genetic changes. That alone justifies the death penalty under our laws, and there’s little doubt he’d be found guilty. Why do diplomatic protections have to be provided for these criminals?”
“Mam, seventy eight Rim Worlds are not members of the Planetary Union, and all of them were settled pre Collapse, which was long before there even was a Planetary Union. Many of them do not wish to join us, or feel reluctant to do so because of statements they hear from our politicians, similar to what you just uttered. They each have diplomatic relations with us, an Embassy on Earth and Consulates on our other planets. I was one of the thousands of diplomats that dealt with them and an ambassador to two of them. If you don’t recognize the same rights for the Kobani, due them by right of your invitation to come here, the Rim Worlds won’t trust us enough to vote to join the PU anytime soon, if ever.”
“After the military expenditure we underwent to protect them from the Krall, we should just annex all of them, to share in the unwelcome tax burden we were forced to accept by the spend thrift DEW liberals.”
This was an argument he heard often from the far right wing of the LOR. He hadn’t realized how much Medford sympathized with their views. Her attitude, when fuelled by diplomatic ignorance, left his head swimming. He decided he’d possibly allied with the wrong political party, and certainly had joined forces with the wrong administration. For now, he had given her his allegiance, so he held his tongue. Nevertheless, the words of a future resignation came unbidden to his mind. Something else came to his lips.
“Mam, what do you want my Public Relations staff to say to the media? The four major networks have sent reporters and crews to the Capitol end of the Grand Mall, and the independent Hub world and local Denver news outlets will see and follow them.”
“We didn’t send them there. When no one shows up to talk to them, let that be the lead story tomorrow. The Kobani stood us up. I suggest you tell them to simply go home.”
She considered a moment. “No, wait. If they’re gathered over by the Capitol, they probably won’t notice a motorcade from the spaceport headed over to the McGlauflin office building. It’s nearly hidden behind the big Department of State complex. Make sure the motorcade drivers and police escorts keep their flashers and sirens turned off, and remove the little PU flags from the fenders. If they stay off main boulevards in the city, they won’t look official or noticeable.”
She was smugly satisfied she had found a way to put these offensive, self-important people in their place. She stood up, calling for her chief of staff. “Gillis, have my cars brought around. We’re going over to the McGlauflin Building early.”
****
Mirikami, standing by the airlock, took a deep breath, let it out and said, “Let’s get an early start. Pholowela, make us visible, and open both doors of this airlock. I want to make ourselves noticed. At least those of us we want to be seen.”
He had brought a thousand Kobani in armor, stealth now activated, half of which rushed quietly down the just extruded ramp and spread out around the ship. The others moved to places closer to the Capitol Building, climbing on lighting poles, leaping atop decorative walls, statues, and posted in places where accidental passer’s by wouldn’t bump into their invisible forms. It was near dusk, and it had been a very pleasant day, with clumps of tour groups and families walking around enjoying the holiday, most waiting for the nighttime lighting of the impressive government buildings and monuments to illuminate, just after sunset. The gold covered dome of the Capitol Building made for a particularly good photo opportunity from the Grand Mall when illuminated.
There was another one thousand one hundred thirty four hopeful people aboard Pholowela. Except for a few dozen of them, most had never called themselves Kobani. About ten percent of the group had received clone mods when they had lived on Koban, never expecting to get off the heavy gravity killer planet. They had all chosen to return to Human Space if they could, and held out hope they would be allowed to do so by the Planetary Union. They too would be watching the events about to unfold, but from within the security of the ship. They didn’t want to face arrest if things went poorly.
Maggi and Tet were the first two visible figures to walk down the ramp, dressed in formal wear currently acceptable at diplomatic functions, as Nabarone had relayed pictures in Comtap images that had originated with the Poldark Governor.
They were followed by Wister and Nawella as the Prada representative citizens, wearing natural fur, functional tool belts with a front pouch, and translator disks hanging from their necks. Next were Blue Flower Eater and Dewy Grass for the Raspani, wearing only their translator disks and moving with a slow gait, which humans inevitably described as a waddle.
Co
ldar and Tramakar came next, their translator disks stuck under the front of their carapace, deliberately holding their huge claws still, avoiding the natural clicking they found soothing when tense, but which elevated tensions for humans near them. Their walk, as with all crabs, was reminiscent of giant spiders, which triggered another phobia among some people.
The last of the Federation representatives were the young and proud Kobalt, and his white whiskered sister Kit, who both sleekly strolled down the ramp, brushing frills to exchange thoughts on the exciting new odors, and reminding one another to keep their teeth as covered as possible.
The Krall’tapi had postponed their formal presentation to the rest of humanity until a later date, provided this meeting proved fruitful, peaceful, and welcoming. They had not yet formally decided to become Federation members.
The remainder of the members of the diplomatic mission, all human and dressed formally, came down in a mixed group of men and women, which being full Kobani, they all looked too young for the positions they would hold. Most of them, in their seventies or older, were originally from Rim Worlds or New Colonies, and had never actually visited Earth. They were as excited as tourist’s, ready to take in the sights of humanity’s birthplace. Until Earth grew accustomed to aliens, it had been decided to staff the mission with Kobani.
It had occurred to Maggi, in an amused bit of introspection, that the common perception of their alien allies was that the hyperactive human species was unusually preoccupied with sex. She thought the notion had some basis in fact. That was because only humans had an elaborate clothing style to conceal their bodies, and the portions of anatomy that were most sexually related were the parts social custom demanded be covered in public. As if sex might break out at any moment if too much were revealed.
Even the Krall’tapi normally wore only tool belts, and their Krall descendants wore colored uniforms under their utility belts only as function indicators. Maggi’s brief mental flash of the Olt’kitapi, from Pholowela’s memory, suggested the adult forms of that species also appeared au naturale. She snickered at even the thought of rippers in pants.
Mirikami and Maggi kept to the center when the species representatives spread out and formed a wide line at the end of the ramp, with the Prada to their right, Raspani left, Torki far right, and rippers far left. The others members of the mission remained on the ramp behind them.
They had expected to have to pose there until news crews up on the portico noticed them emerging, but that had proved to be a zero wait time. The moment the big ship winked into view, gasps and shouts from pedestrians had turned all eyes their way. Then the organic looking movement of the main hatch, as it irised open and the ramp extruded, drew nervous looks from the closest pedestrians. The fixed mounted large Tri-Vid cameras up on the portico were frantically swiveled and elevated by their operators to get clear images of the large structure that had magically, and silently, appeared on the Mall grass. Smaller shoulder mounted cameras, belonging to crews from minor news organizations, had their reporters and camera operators scrambling down the steps, rudely pushing spellbound observers out of the way, all in a frenzy to get the best shots.
Using his Comtap link, Mirikami activated the external speakers of all of the invisible suits, now spread around the Mall and on top of walls, statues, and light poles. He employed the active speech mode, where he moved his lips and spoke aloud, so his lips were in synchronization with what his Comtap signal sent to the hundreds of speakers. Mirikami waved an arm over his head to identify himself as the speaker as he began talking.
“Good evening. Please do not be alarmed, and I ask that the public and media representatives remain in place. We are the people that requested this press conference. The people and beings you see by the ship on the Mall are member of the diplomatic mission the Galactic Federation has sent to Earth, to establish formal relations with the Planetary Union. This advance press conference is to introduce us to all the citizens of the Hub Worlds, although we have been known to spinward Rim Worlds and New Colonies for some time, as we helped them fight the Krall. That war is not completely over, but final and total victory is within sight. Part of our delegation, the ten of us in the front line with me, will walk from the ship and up the steps to the portico, where one representative of each of the five species present today will speak briefly. We have paired ourselves into male and female examples, to satisfy natural curiosity. The males are to the right, the females to the left” He stepped forward and turned to his left.
“Our envoy, Lady Margaret Fisher, is here to present her credentials as our ambassador.” Mirikami bowed to her, and she returned the gesture. Then he turned back towards the cameras and his audience, to introduce himself.
“I am Tetsuo Mirikami, the military attaché for the Galactic Federation. Our agenda here this evening is simple. When we reach the top of the steps, Ambassador Fisher will address you first, and then she will introduce our other representative species. After one of each pair of representatives has spoken briefly, using translator devices, Ambassador Fisher will answer a very limited number of questions, and we have a presentation prepared that we hope will assure you that the threat from the Krall is indeed ending. This must all be relatively brief, because we are expected to meet with President Medford and officials from the Department of State at nine o’clock.”
He could see the professionals in the media, looking around for the many sound sources that were carrying his voice. They could see his lips moving in synchronization with what they heard, and yet the volume wasn’t extremely loud because his voice came from many distributed locations, which kept echo reflections from the front of the Capitol Building to a minimum.
“I ask that you form a twenty foot wide space up the center of the steps, directly in front of our ship’s ramp, so that we may walk up to the portico. As you can easily see, we have non-human citizens with us, representing five of the six species that are presently part of the Galactic Federation. If you will make room now, we will start walking. Please do not make any effort to make physical contact with members of our delegation or approach us closely. There is nothing to fear from us, but due to necessary security precautions, no one will be permitted close enough to make physical contact. Please honor this request.”
That last restriction was going to be enforced by pairs of invisible Kobani walking between the paired representatives. It was to be done predominately by using invisible infrared beams and microwaves, to make it too hot for comfort for anyone to press forward. Then, if that failed to deter, by physically lifting or pushing them back if the beams weren’t adequate.
As it happened, the creepy looking Torki and the terrifying rippers fell in at the rear as the diplomatic mission started walking forward. Their presence assured that few of the still gathering members of the public wanted to crowd nearly as close as the twenty feet requested. There was also twice the spacing between the two Torki and the rippers at the very end of the group. It was as if the big cats were uncomfortable with close proximity to the crabs. As it happened, the space between them wasn’t as empty as it seemed.
The gap in the crowd on the sidewalks and street formed quickly and spread up the steps as, Maggi and Mirikami leading, started across the hundred feet of grass before reaching the first sidewalk, crossed the wide avenue to reach the steps. As previously agreed, everyone ignored shouted questions from the press and spectators.
Dozens of news crews descended from the portico level, and crowded in as they reached the steps, apparently thinking the standoff restriction didn’t apply to them. Perhaps asking themselves, what could the visitors do to stop them, right here in public? The prompt loss of two pricy shoulder supported Tri-Vid cameras that became too smoldering hot to hold, and increasing heat coming from ear buds worn by multiple reporters served to keep them back. One sound technician, his microphone extended on a long boom, watched in amazement as it mysteriously crumpled into a wad, just before Mirikami and Fisher came within five feet.
Su
ddenly, a small news camera drone, a device outlawed below a hundred feet over public assemblies like this, tried to zoom low from over the rear of the line. It apparently was being used to try to get a close up view of the huge teal colored tiger-like aliens at the rear. Kobalt heard its soft whine coming closer, and he’d turned his massive head to look back just before it fell out of the air, smoking. To onlookers, it appeared as if a glance from the intense blue eyes of the huge cat had somehow fused the little drone. Several people said as much, and flinched when the blue gaze of either cat turned their way.
Invisible hands ruffled the frills of Kobalt and Kit, and amused mental comments were exchanged as the drone continued to melt on the steps, invisible radiation converting it into slag.
Unable to see how this was happening, a number of the news teams that had clearly caught the events on camera, quickly pulled their reporters and equipment people back a bit farther than the respectful distance requested. The curious members of the public on the steps had already been shoved back by the rude newshounds, who had roughly shouldered them out of the way for the big story. Some of those abused people cheered each time a camera was lost, or a reporter pushed to get closer and suddenly halted, when forced to drop a blistering hot microphone or frantically slapped at an overheating earbud from his or her ear, mouthing curses that the competing local news outlets would delight in broadcasting later.
The entourage reached the portico level and formed a line abreast as they had in front of the ship below, which they now turned to face. The gap on the steps filled in with reporters, mixed with curious spectators. The press, on front and rear sides of the figures on the portico found an unyielding invisible ten-foot barrier that sometimes seemed flexible. A number of knowing disabled army veterans here as spectators, recognized an advanced system of body armor stealth when they “didn’t” see it. The diplomatic mission had obviously arrived with their protection.
Koban 5: A Federation Forged in Fire Page 26