Guests

I

Kasarna lifts the hot chocolate container, pulls the foil top with a pop and takes a deep sniff of it. With a look of rapt expectation she spoons a measure of the contents into the drinks engine in front of her and it begins to gurgle. Eventually it spits out a mug full of darkly steaming liquid and she takes a long sip before looking back at me. The liquid is the same colour as her skin. Watching her drink I realize that there is no part of her that I do not love. Not her long shapely legs. Not the hair a shade lighter than her skin. Not the tiny scars that run up her arm or the whispery silver tattoos she uses to try to hide them. I love the way that her apron moves as she breaths. I love the long on her face as she drinks. I must be insane to ever leave her.

"You're staring." She looks up at me over the cup and blushes. It's appropriate somehow. I've never seen anyone who loves chocolate as much as my girlfriend.

"Just never saw someone in religious ecstasy before. Is it what you wanted?"

"Italian chocolate is the best." she takes another sip. "At least, until I figure out how to improve it. I'm going to replicate this blend so everyone can enjoy it" Her eyes twinkle and she leans over and grabs me for a kiss. Her mouth tastes of chocolate. The kiss breaks apart again after a moment and she says "I'm so glad your home. I missed you." Then we're back to kissing.

I'm just slipping one hand under her tee-shirt when house's phone begins to buzz. We try to ignore the instant bleeping for a long moments then finally sigh and break contact. "Fucking phone." Kasarna mutters, then sighs and puts the remains of her coffee back into the warmer as I tap the icon.

"Hello." The number is as unfamiliar as the picture that pops up a moment later. A civil servant by the look of her.

"Ms. Riya Jez." The woman on the other end of the line smiles. The phone name tag says "deputy secretary Yasmin Alenis" "Sorry to bother you on your day off but an urgent diplomatic matter has come up. An important visitor is arriving and needs an escort. Would you mind coming down to my office to discuss it?"

I sigh, look over at Kasarna who shrugs. Go says her expression. I nod to the suit on the other end of the line "alright, I'll be down there in half an hour." Whatever this job is it had better be important.

Landing is a big city. A tenth of the planet's registered population live here. The villa Kasarna, her friends and I built is on the flat plateau to the west of the city's centre, and has a magnificent view. I step outside and stop for a moment, admiring the vast spires and long streets. It was clear today, though on the horizon I saw a front moving in. In a few hours it would be raining.

I like Landing. It's vibrant and interesting and there's a lot of places to eat. I like how its full of off worlders and tourists blinking like fish through AR glasses. I like the music and the culture, the film festivals and the greenhouses full of earth plants. Most of all though I like how easy it is to get across it from anywhere to anywhere.

Leaving Kasarna's I walk down to a bus stop and get a bus down to the monorail station. From there it's across town to the foreign ministry. It's a huge old colonial bell, the ivy pattern of diamond inlaid into its front the only concession to aesthetics.

I step inside, a battery of scanners sweeping me, then follow a line in the air that takes me where I want to go. The building knows even if I'm not yet aware. Eventually I end up on the top floor, in a cool office with a green carpet. Behind the desk is Alenia in the flesh and minimalistic AR makeup. In person she's far shorter than I expected, but her grip is strong and she has a pretty smile which makes other smile too. "Good morning." We shake hands her expression turns apologetic. "Sorry to bring you in just after you got back."

"It's alright." I say, not because it is but because that's what you say. "So what do you need from me?"

She plucks a file out of the desk and sends it scooting into my overlay. I look through it. The front page is a photograph, female, older. Baseline but with the signs of an extensive refit job. Much older then. Her skin is dark and her face pleasant. "This is Rebecca Smith. American. From earth."

"Earth? She's a long way from home." Old too. The file says one hundred and fifty five years.

"She's rich enough to have her own private ship. A mulch-billionaire. Property and stocks mostly." I notice how Yasmin's expression flickers as she considers such foreign ideas. "Apparently very influential in the Democratic party. She's coming here, just landed, with no warning. We want you to show her around?"

"How did she get an entry visa?" I ask. Generally participating in that level of inequality is a pretty instant disqualification from getting onto Tempest's surface unless you're from another ZOCU power.

"The US Embassy gave her temporary status as one of their staff for her fact finding mission. Very influential as I said. They also wanted to send a protective detail with them but we vetoed that. You'll have a couple of DPS agents on hand though."

"Right." I frown, "so why is she so keen to get in?"

"We do not know." Yasmin smiles at me. "We'd like you to find out for us."

II

My first sight of Rebecca Smith is her standing at the edge of the US embassy compound under a canopy, surrounded by a swarm of people and robots. She is handsome, motherly looking and clad in a very expensive tailored cool and dry suit of off world (and likely custom) make.

My first sight does not endear her too me, as her baseline staff are standing out in the rain and looking distinctly uncomfortable. Several of them are also looking more than a little sick. Probably just adaption flu, the environment takes a bit of getting used to. They're all clad in heavy AR specs, including Smith, blinking around at everyone. In turn people on the concourse around the Embassy park are giving the little knot of people distinctly odd looks.

I'm early, so I ignore Smith who's obviously waiting for me, pulling on an AR disguise with my foreign service privileges (A cheap enough trick and easy to beat if you know how, but I seriously doubted this group of specs has enough knowledge of the local system to do it) walked around the embassy and walked up to the south entrance check point out of the rain. I keep carefully outside the view of the actual security system and place a call into the embassy. It picks up third ring. "Hey Mark."

Mark Gannon is in his thirties, rake thin and bearded, with grey hairs temples. A total affectation he got in a clinic near the docks. He does not wear specs, having had his lace programmed to emulate local protocols. He's fascinated by ZOCU in general but wishes he'd been posted to Nidaros, Erebus, or Chosin (because he speaks good Korean) not Tempest, because the heat disagrees with him. He plays local MMOs to pass the time and is occasionally fucking the French military attaché's daughter. He cannot hold his liquor but embassy rules do not allow him to smoke marijuana, which is his preference.

He is my good friend, and so I am upset about just how hot and frazzled he looks today. "Riya. What's up?" He mops his brow.

"Got a minute? Come down to the south entrance, I'll take you to breakfast."

"How'd you know I skipped breakfast?" He grabs his jacket and begins walking down towards me, the picture flickering as the AR system stops using his desk cam and starts using whatever fake version of the embassy he had the CIA program into his lace.

"Yellow superpowers." I grin at him as he steps out. His office is a minute away from this entrance. "You look terrible. Come on." We walk down into a covered market and into a cafe I like. Kasarna uses this place to test new types of chocolate.

We find a table and I watch as Mark looks down the menu. Even for Mark he looks bad, sweaty and listless. "When did you last eat?"

"Uh, I had a sandwich, yesterday sometime. I was up all night."

"You're your own worst enemy you know that?" I program in some food. "Get a proper meal here. What's keeping you up all night anyway? There's nothing major on the calendar."

"You know what's keeping me up." Mark sighs as the robot arrives with iced tea and a bowl of bread. "That's why you're here." He smiles at me wanly. "It's because we suddenly have twenty people in, all carrying a plethora of germs from pestilent Gaia, meaning I have to get pumped full of meds, and as well as managing you crazies I now have to deal with the information requests of some millionaire groundling who has never been off earth before and has decided for some reason has decided she wants to find herself in a place where the rain gives you cancer!"

"Billionaire." I rest back as the food arrives. "She's a billionaire." Mark doesn't think he's hungry. His blood sugar is so low that he feels sick. He bites reluctantly into a spring roll, then realizes how good he tastes and his next remark is cut off as he fulfils a need lower on Maslow's hierarchy. "You're right though. I'm babysitting her. Wondered if you could tell me why she's here?"

"Nope." Mark takes a drink, "Not a clue. Rumours are she's here for secret negotiations with elements of your civil service about buying some land." he looks up at my expression around a wrapped prawn. "Yeah, that's what I said too."

"What's she like?" I ask.

"She's like a Billionaire. She's used to having stuff go her way." Mark starts on the bread. "If you do piss her off she's going to make a lot of stuff difficult for you with the current administration. The president and her are pretty tight. If she gets sufficiently annoyed then she can probably sink the current round of trade talks at least."

I realize again what an alien world Mark comes from. One minute it's like he's normal, the next it's as if he stepped out of another dimension.

"Well, you know us." I begin to eat my own food.

"Yeah I do. That's why I didn't get any sleep last night." Mark stabs his chopstick at me for emphasis, then decides he'd be better off using it on his food. I let him while I think what I'm going to do when I meet this Rebecca Smith.

III

Before I head to Smith I meet the two diplomatic protection agents who will be the physical presence of the team guarding us. They're loitering in a cafe near the embassy, eating pancakes. Both are much of a muchness. Tall, friendly, calm looking reds wearing dark police cool and dries which conceal a thick layer of body armour. I recognize one, who I met while I was with the team preparing for the visit of the chairman of Mazula. "Amanda." I beam at her as I walk up. "You're married now?"

She looks up at me then notices my gaze on her wrist where a wedding bangle has got lose from her sleeve and blushes. "Yeah. Six months, to my childhood friend, the one I told you about."

"Congratulations." I give her a hug. "I'm so glad it worked out for you."

"And you, did you manage to get your house built?" We continue the last conversation we had as I sit down.

"Yes. I and my friends are well moved in now. The view is amazing. You can see the whole of landing and the bay. Really incredible when it's clear. Uh, sorry, I'm being a little rude." Her partner's name tag reads Jia Flosadottir.

"It's okay. I'm sure we can do that too next time we meet." Flosadottir extends a hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"And you." I give them a quick potted briefing on the target, which they should have already but it never hurts to be sure. I end up with "Frankly the threat is pretty low. If she was going to get flash mobbed it'd have happened already because she's standing at the edge of the embassy grounds with a gaggle of servants and getting weird looks from everyone."

"No offence boss," says Flosadottir "but that sounds like she's a security nightmare if someone is gunning for her."

"Well she's the American's nightmare until we collect her." poor Mark. Poor embassy staff. I feel for them even as I laugh at their expense. "I have no idea what she wants to do, but if you guys feel you need to call backup just do it. We'll bill the USA for the resources used to protect her later if we go over budget."

Both agents nod and then have a quick discussion between the two of them before we head for the embassy proper. I walk up the street where Smith is still holding course and stop in front of her. "Ms. Smith."

She looks at me. "Ah, you're the person who'll show me around?" she reaches out a hand and takes mine. "You're so young." I'm in my thirties but she, according to her file, is old. She was twenty when the ship to Tempest left.

"That's right. These are Agents Flosadottir and Escobar, they'll be providing protection."

There's a round of handshakes and pleasantries. "Will two agents be enough?" one of the courtiers asks.

"We don't believe there's any danger of attack." Amanda responds. "Be assured response times for backup are very short.

"But . . ."

"It's alright James." Smith gets up and stretches. "This is their city. They know what's safe and what isn't better than we do. I've kept you all out in the rain far too long. Go back inside and get cooled off."

The courtiers break away, moving for the embassy and Smith steps forward. She still seems spry, and is, according to the scanners in the drone above us, about 58% inorganic.

"So where would you like to go Ms. Smith?" I ask.

"I want to see the sights of your city and too talk to you about them." Smith smiles at me and takes my arm. "You decide where we go first."

Right then. Let's play tour guide.