Chapter 35: Lock and Load

Director Robin Tyson had intended to keep her star contractor out of trouble. Robin was going to keep a close eye on Hank Dalton even if she had to bend a few rules. Government regulations prohibited public officials from accepting more than a cup of coffee from contractors. Sexual relationships were strictly prohibited. These Draconian restrictions were out of step with Capitallia because they were inherited from the old United States of America days. Back in those days before Capitallian independence government officials had "favors" that could be traded--favors bought with taxpayer dollars. Capitallia hadn't gotten over the rampant corruption of the United States of America and a near-totalitarian regime. Had the USA been truly totalitarian, there could have been no Capitallia. One thing that kept the United States from becoming totalitarian--like China--was the Draconian regulations that were intended to prevent bribery. Intended to prevent corruption. Intended to limit government power. Robin Tyson couldn't ACCEPT personal gratuities--but she COULD offer them to Hank Dalton, within limits.

"Thank god that Hank has all the sex he could want," Robin thought to herself as she rode in the small personal transport pod from One Fairview Square to the capital complex. Robin mused how she would present her invitation.

"How about I simply accept your hospitality?" Hank said. "No, Ms. Tyson, I'm not psychic. I just know that you have a strong need to keep tabs on me for the next few days. I figured this out by putting myself in your shoes, Director. You know me by now. You've dealt with me over the past seven months--and you've been in my hip pocket for the last ten days. Thank you for watching out for me, Ms. Tyson. You are trying to keep me from doing something stupid. I appreciate your position and I understand that you are going to extend me an invitation and that 'no thanks' is not an option. Yes, I'm a contractor, a free person--not your slave. You are attempting to save me from my tendency to attempt the impossible, Ms. Tyson. I wish I could reassure you that I will be safe."

"Stay near me," Robin said. "Don't leave my sight."

"Ms. Tyson, does that include bathroom breaks?" Hank innocently asked. "I'm far from shy. You know that. Do you really want to witness me pissing and shitting, Director?"

The high-speed personnel transporter stopped at the capital complex station before Robin could answer. The station was small and very secure and served just One Fairview Place. There were two loading platforms--a large one for the twice-hourly car serving the staff--and large VIP parties. There was a single loading position for the personal transport pods, small vehicles capable of whisking up to four people to the presidential residence. Security was very tight and included a dog team--a human and a dog.

"Hank!" the dog said wagging its tail.

"Barry," Hank replied, "I didn't know that you were working here."

"We don't exactly publish our schedules," the dog handler said. "I'm Frank, by the way."

"Glad to meet you again, Frank." Hank said. "You were in class four months ago learning to work with sid animals. Barry and you are a good fit for each other. Sids are never assigned a handler that they aren't compatible with."

"Please," Frank said, "I prefer the term 'partner.' Barry and I are equals on duty."

"Do we pass muster, Frank?" Hank asked. "I am very familiar with security procedures. This exchange is non-standard but secure. I have personal verification by two trusted members of the security force in addition to the usual security screening,"

"What am I?" Robin asked. "I verify your identity, Hank."

"There is only one Hank," Barry said. Frank released the dog and Barry trotted over to Hank, nosed the man. "Yes, this is Hank and not a Hank Bot. Not a clone, either. Clones have a funny smell to them."

"Just at first, Barry," Hank said. "The medical tank smell goes away after a few years. It takes a few weeks for people who merely got repaired in the medical tanks to lose that medical smell."

"Do we pass?" Robin was clearly irritated. "We've got things to do, people to meet, places to go. You're on the clock, Dalton."

"You may pass, Director Tyson," human security officer Frank said. "Dr. Dalton, too."

After leaving the small station serving as the main link between the presidential residence and the capitol complex Robin and Hank had to pass through several more security checkpoints. At each checkpoint there were one or more lines for citizens and one or more alternative lines for non citizens. This was because Capitallia strictly honored the Fourth Amendment rights of its elite citizen class and would not use highly invasive technology or procedures against members of its own governing class unless or until there was probable cause to order a secondary screening.

Primary screening for all citizens included metal detectors but also borrowed from the techniques developed by the Israeli security people. Basically highly skilled interviewers would ask a few questions of each person and look for body language and speech patterns suggestive of aggression or deception. Most people could be quickly waved through with minimal inconvenience. When one or two subjects out of each 100 failed these simple procedures probable cause was deemed to exist for requiring invasive secondary screening.

Secondary screening would take place in a private room and might include the use of sniffing machines, dogs, ultrasound, conventional x-rays to detect internal objects and a full strip and cavity search. High tech backscatter x-ray scanners that permitted the security people to "see through" clothing were used as primary screening on all non citizens but never on citizens during primary or secondary screening. This was due to the potential of these machines to permanently store images or upload privacy invading images to the internet.

"It's fall out for the recent assassinations," Hank said as he and Robin entered the director's own official sedan. "It takes time to react to new threats. Even though I've captured the assassin and the network that enabled the assassinations is being rolled up, there is still a threat, Ms. Tyson. The dogs are a good addition--the zombie suicide bombers are something new. Copper the fox was why Manny failed to reach his target. There are other threats that this security system doesn't address, Director. You do need the security screen, but you cannot stop every threat unless you take the battle to the enemy. Once you identify the enemy. that is. The Conspiracy of Dreams survives only because there is no clearly identified foe to destroy. Ms. Tyson, the way to fight a Conspiracy of Dreams is to demonstrate the futility of those dreams. It's out of your hands, ma'am, but when President Proctor gives the order, it will be 'Cry Havoc! Loose the dogs of war!' The USR government will be uncertain about what happened. That uncertainty is deliberate. The Conspiracy will lose a lot of key people and will get a lesson: when you monkey with a tiger, the tiger will kill and eat you."

"That led to the United States breaking up," Robin pointed out. "Starting at the dawn of the 21st Century terrorism became the excuse the US government exploited to become totalitarian."

"Not quite totalitarian," Hank interrupted. "Had the USA been truly totalitarian, Capitallia wouldn't have become independent. The USA never did get its internal spy network working. There were many reasons for that--incompetence, honor and the Conspiracy. The United States was never a good player in the intelligence game. There were successes, of course, but generally the cloak and dagger stuff was beyond American capabilites. Then there was the honor factor--most of the 'evil minions' were chosen for loyalty to an ideal, to the Constitution of the United States of America. This prevented most of the excesses that would have made seccesion impossible. Last, the Conspiracy of Dreams sabotaged the government of the United States at every turn because if there had been an effective government, the Conspiracy of Dreams would have been rounded up. Ironic, isn't it? The Conspiracy of Dreams can only exist where free societies grant it sanctuary, yet when such a conspiracy succeeds, it destroys the environment that it needs for survival."

"You aren't in school, professor," Robin quipped.

"Is it okay for me to pick up a fembot to keep me company?" Hank asked. "We can have her meet me at your place. Or we can meet somewhere public. Your call, Director. I do have needs and if you are going to keep a close eye on me I want one toy to keep boredom at bay."

"You are not a prisoner," Robin said. "I just want to make sure that you don't do something to get yourself enslaved."

"I appreciate that," Hank admitted. "I also appreciate that for the next few days you want me where you can lay hands on me immediately. So let's compromise. One fembot. Please!"

Robin wondered what she was arguing about on the remainder of the journey from the capitol complex to her townhouse in Manhattan. A vague nagging feeling of being hustled nibbled at Robin, but she couldn't deny Hank his one toy.

It didn't take long for the red-headed fembot called Ember and an escort to arrive at Robin's town house. Robin's security team searched the pair, verified that the fembot was a mechanical being, verified that the escort was armed but the right person. The escort was disarmed and permitted to take Ember into Robin's townhouse. Before leaving, the escort asked to use the bathroom. The fembot momentarily distracted Robin as Hank changed places with the escort, Hank Bot Five. A quick disguise job, peeling off Hank Bot Five's disguise, and Hank's deception went undetected as Hank left Robin's town house.