“You look great, ma’am,” she said.
The cooloff cycle allowed the crowd to move closer, set up and take position. There was a red carpet unrolled from a large drum, a podium, flags, seat risers. The crowd included press, dignitaries from three of the factions and General Marsten, in charge of peacekeeping operations. They’d have to interact with him at some point. That would probably lead to some issues, they being armed, but under BuState, not BuMil.
A chime on the Ripple Creek commo algorithm sounded. Cady’s voice said, “Playwright, this is Desi. On location, sweep complete, green.”
“Desi, Playwright confirms.”
Purser Sergeant Valko stood at the hatch controls, and had Highland even learned his name? It seemed unlikely. She was fussing with her hair again, and didn’t acknowledge his presence at all.
Stepping around back, Alex drew the assistant aside and said, “Jessie, please don’t broadcast our departure. It would pinpoint our location on landing for any hostiles.”
“Of course not,” she said, sounding put upon. “I’ll wait until we’re ready for Ms Highland’s statement on the ground. That’s all I’ve told anyone to expect, and that was thirty minutes ago.”
“Very good. Thank you.” That was a reasonable accommodation. He appreciated it.
Highland finally turned and looked at Valko. “I’m ready,” she said simply. He nodded and swiped his panel. The hatch popped, chuffed, raised and swung. From the hold underneath, a complicated mechanism rolled a flowing staircase. This was a BuState landing limo, built on a military lander chassis. It could take a pretty good hit, and was designed to look classy in austere environments.
The air was a little thin, but the gravity was light, so they should have no trouble operating. It was surprisingly clean air, and warm. There really hadn’t been much development here.
Highland knew enough to wait. At a signal from Alex, Bart and Aramis stepped through and waited.
She looked at Alex expectantly, lips parted, obviously eager. He gave it a few more seconds while Cady’s people swept for anything threatening.
He transmitted, “On your mark, Desi.” She and Jason would coordinate with military on the ground.
“Playwright, go.”
He pointed at Highland. She nodded back and stepped off, JessieM right behind her, and a hindrance they’d have to deal with. Bart and Aramis preceded her as a wall of meat, Elke and Shaman closed in behind, and Alex took the rear.
“Thanks, Olen,” he said to Valko. “Good to travel with you.”
The man smiled back. “You’re welcome, sir. Be safe.”
“That’s the plan,” he agreed as he stepped through and down.
The stairway really was nice, descending in a long curve and a slight sweep. It had sparkly highlights that looked like something exotic, but was only aluminum dust embedded in the polymer. The heat increased as they descended.
JessieM had sent her churp. Alex had his phone set to ping on her messages. If he couldn’t stop them, he could at least read and hear them.
We’re down on Mtali. Ms. Highland will start her greeting momentarily. Sorry for the delay. It was necessary for safety in this action zone.
“Action zone” was code for “war zone.” It wasn’t polite to use that word anymore. It was interesting, he reflected, how custom tailored language. Words came and went based on perception.
He reached the bottom as Aramis and Bart reached the podium and stepped aside. They had to leave her exposed in front for the cameras. They’d shield the rest, even though the bulk of the lander did much of that. The time you didn’t was the time someone exploited it.
The rain shield overhead was also ballistic protection. Between that and the mass of the crowd was a very small window she might be attacked through, and no buildings that had line of sight within three kilometers. They’d chosen this position to maximize safety, and of course, to have natural sunlight, or whatever it was called here, on her best angle. People imagined he was overpaid. They had no idea what this job entailed.
There was still the small chance of a remotely piloted vehicle. Any engine signature should be noted, but gliders were also possible, so they had jamming…
They didn’t think anyone hated her enough to shell the entire apron with artillery or rockets.
Cady’s men kept up a steady patrol and scan. Outside that perimeter, the military had a Recon unit watching things. Recon and Ripple Creek didn’t get along very well, but they could work together. Outside that, the Aerospace Force had a security and marshal squadron. Outside that, the locals had whatever security they wanted, and good luck to them.
The polished podium had been placed just so, for their security concerns, and for her presentation. The press were in a controlled area for safety, and to ensure they caught her at just the right angle of profile. Had politicians always been celebrities?
She stepped up, looked in exactly the right direction, and read from the scroll on the one way screen in front of her.
“Thank you. It’s wonderful to be here, as we try to resolve differences in policies on a galactic matter, and between neighbors locally.” She paused, nodded slightly to acknowledge the applause that was being inserted electronically. There was no one close enough to be heard or seen. A camera pan of the spectators, watching her on remote video, would be merged in also.
“I look forward to meeting with all the factions, as we explore our common ground…”
He tuned her out. She was going to say absolutely nothing with a lot of words.
She didn’t take long. At least she was a professional speaker, and knew to stick to high points and a simple message. Or maybe it was the baking heat of the flightline. Either way, she finished, stepped back, and paused for a few photos from the hovering drones.
Those were a serious point of contention. Any drone was a potential bomb. Neither Ripple Creek nor BuState Security approved of them, or wanted to allow them. It was simply impossible to ascertain safety on them. However, media was a practical necessity, and a matter of Charter Freedoms. Instead, these were owned by BuState itself, controlled by one of Cady’s team, and the feed available to any news outlet. There was always a legal challenge demanding individual access, and it always failed, and the media always tried anyway.
Alex’s professional paranoia didn’t even like these. He had no direct control over them, so they were a potential threat, given the status of the principal.
In this case, they were safe. This time. They filled in around her.
He heard Jason in his earbuds. “Arriving, twenty.” He saw the vehicle and acknowledged.
“Roger.” Then, “Ma’am, our transport is over to the left.”
“I see it. I’m ready when you are.” It was nice having a principal experienced with security details. It simplified some things.
The ARPAC pulled up at the edge of the apron. It would have been legal and simple to roll all the way in, but Highland had insisted on a walk for visibility. Cameras continued to hover far back. So, theoretically, could snipers.
With a whine of power takeoff, the ramp lowered smoothly, and Jason stood there waiting, along with Cady and two of her men.
“Welcome to Mtali,” Jason said as they approached. He smiled and seemed very glad to be together with his friends and teammates again.
“Ma’am, Jason Vaughn is our technical specialist, crosstrained as a paramedic.”
“Pleased to meet you,” she said with little emotion.
“Jace Cady is Agent in Charge of the Facilities Security team,” he said, and introduced the tall Asian woman.
Highland paid attention now.
“Oh, Ms. Cady. So very good to meet you at last.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“I appreciate the opportunity you offer, to work with you.”
“Thank you.”
The effusive commentary had to be political, but unless… no, that had to be it. Highland knew Cady was trans, and wanted the political points, but wasn’t going to say so, because any mention of trans status was rude and gauche. It would be funny watching her try to juggle the conflicting issues if it didn’t make him ill to watch his friend being treated like a pawn over a very personal issue.