Jason never flinched when shooting, but in these quarters, even with earbuds and deadening panels, the volume was painful. Still, it was good prep and practice for combat. He let the anticipatory tension build, then drain, slipped the muzzle into the tube, and fired. The shockwave rolled over him. He reholstered, slung the carbine around, pointed, and fired.
Yes, that got the adrenaline rushing, just enough to heighten senses. He was well-primed for the mission. Not for the first time, he thought that the test fire served to check the shooter as well as the weapon.
Fergus Hendry from Facilities arrived as Bart checked his weapons. They trooped to Highland’s apartment, and Alex knocked.
“Minister Highland, we’re ready,” he said.
As always, he was polite. They worked well as a team. Alex was always polite. Jason could defuse trouble with humor. Of course, he could also exacerbate it when that served better.
Highland and Jessie stepped out to join them.
“Good morning, gentlemen, lady,” she said, also polite. They all pretended.
Hendry walked into the room to keep it occupied and secure, and coincidentally to sweep for bugs other than theirs. Jason had no idea if he planted more, or even knew about their own. He didn’t need to know.
Minutes later they were in the ARPAC and rolling.
It was likely an easy mission. She wanted to meet with some factory workers, have lunch, ask their opinions on climate, as if they were likely to have useful input, or she cared, or any other politician cared, or would do anything about it if they did. Or if they could. It was a camouflaged campaign stop.
For Highland, the ARPAC was so she could play the hero. For the team, it was an easy security improvement. It was a harder barrier. It also now had a honey pot next to the rear ramp, with a rudimentary curtain.
If it were up to them, they’d use the ARPAC for every mission. The limo looked political, but even its armored bulk wasn’t close to this beast. Politicians lived by image, though, and Highland was a slave to that unless and until she won SecGen, and probably after that.
Elke was glad to have actual weapons and not just nonlethal. More and more, society sank into decadence and avoided the practicality of just killing people who caused problems. Nonlethal force took repeated applications, and often failed to sufficiently terrify those who needed kept in place.
Highland was annoying. It was obvious to Elke she was the kind of woman who actually would like to use force when needed, but was afraid of the political repercussions. Still, she might be a better option than the effete soft-skin now occupying the Earth Mansion. On the other hand, Cruk certainly liked throwing troops around, and had at least signed off on the team’s presence, at least by proxy.
In the meantime, she had a job to do, and hopefully to enjoy.
As tough as an ARPAC was, rolling around the city in it made them a slow target. The two Grumblies on detail made it obvious it was a VIP mission, not a combat mission. That changed the profile of the threats. There were always threats.
The trip was short enough, since most of the industry was near the ports. The airport, river port and railhead all ran together on the west side, connecting to the rest of the continent. It scared her, because she knew what she could do to that infrastructure with a carful of explosive. They really needed better security, given the factional disputes. It was certain every group had a blaster good enough to accomplish that task.
They pulled up streetside, where local cops had marked a clear zone. She watched Alex for cues, nodded to his point, and dropped the hatch just slow enough not to slam it on the road. Bart led the entourage, she took tail end after the rest, as the troops and local police formed a cordon around the vehicle. That didn’t thrill her, but she’d planned accordingly. The device she left on the bench would be harmless unless someone entered the cabin, and the rear-facing camera she’d mounted up front would give her notice.
The engagement was well familiar to Bart. He led the way down the ramp, through the pathway left by police, and into the building. One of the BuState protocol people was just inside, next to the president of Wataniya Engines, Arul al-Harun Bawani, which didn’t sound like an Earth Arabic name. They fought over silly things here, and that was after leaving Earth because they couldn’t get along there.
Bawani had one assistant and one guard, both male, in Western suits but with keffiyeh. The atrium was mostly clear. Building security, and three of the military detail, plus two of Cady’s people, strode around the upper balcony. Everything was near-transparent crystal, supported by black stone a bit like marble. The floor tiles were pale gray of similar material, with gold veining. Yet if he remembered Aramis’ map correctly, a kilometer away were slum shacks of leftover wheels and packing materials.
Highland stepped forward, and he noticed she was wearing a glove. She wasn’t going to actually touch his hand.
“Mister Bawani, thank you for meeting me,” she said as she offered her hand.
He reached out and shook it long enough for the photographer to get a grip and grin shot, then said, “Madam Minister, you honor us with your presence.”
“I’m glad to be able to visit such a forward-looking facility.. ” she said, and Bart tuned it out. He would listen for keywords relevant to her safety. The political talking was not of interest.
An honest assessment of the factory was that it was decades out of date. Colony worlds either had substantial investment backing, or lacked. This one lacked. There were still advantages to being off Earth, but they faded against the negatives.
In this case, JessieM’s constant feed of content probably helped. Highland’s supporters and fans, for she had both, could see the equipment, see her interaction, and the small scatterers they all wore now should prevent anyone seeing them clearly. The major risk would be a disgruntled employee, probably easy to stop, since the details of this event had not been promoted. It was unlikely anyone would blow up others to get her, though anything was possible.
“If you will all come this way,” the production manager said in reasonable English, “We can show Minister Highland the production floor. You will all need protective wear.”
Jason tapped his ear and said, “That’s covered, but we would appreciate head protection.”
“Of course.”
The hats were bump caps only, and Bart had to completely unfasten the tensioner to fit it on his head. He suspected most of the safety, and likely the security, was similar. Visible, but not substantive. That was notable.
As they walked along the floor, the workers paused and looked to see who the VIP was. Most of them wore basic coveralls, a few supervisors wore robes. It was probably as caste-ridden here as anywhere else they’d been, but it was harder to tell, except for the management in suits.
Most line workers seemed happy enough for either the distraction of the visit or the presence of the Minister. He didn’t foresee any serious threat.
A tiny window opened on his glasses. He reached up and made the slight adjustment that broadened it. It was a note from Jason and a news load, that showed a crowd gathering outside. It probably wasn’t JessieM’s fault. The word would have gotten out anyway. Still, crowds were problematic at best. He wondered what their instructions would be, when Highland said to the work group, “It’s been very nice to talk to you, and I welcome your inputs. But I must reluctantly beg your indulgence for another meeting.”
Some of them understood the English, others waited for the interpreter.
They formed back around her, as much to protect her from adoration and delay as potential threats. He and Aramis took point, both as meat shields, and because Aramis had his own map, in case of any issues.
Roger Edge and the NCOIC of the military detail stood near the front door.
Edge said, “There’s a sizeable crowd out there. A hundred or more. Some are friendly, some antagonistic.”
“I’ll talk to them,” Highland said.
Bart thought that completely stupid. He glanced back at Alex.
Alex said, “Ma’am, that isn’t necessarily going to be positive. It depends on-”
“-on demographics,” she cut in. “I have some experience with this, Agent Marlow.”
“‘-so we’ll give you some space and be prepared if you need us,’ I was going to say,” he said.
“Very well.”
That established, Bart waited for the door, then led the entourage outside.
The exit was greeted with cheers and calls. The banners were mostly Arabic, though a couple looked Turkish,
