Personal, back-channel diplomacy, is how the world works. Formal meetings are to sign treaties and look good for the cameras. You can get a lot more done over beer and bourbon.

I’m beginning to suspect that this will be five parts, not four. But, we’ll see. After this exchange, Johnston pays a visit to Douglas’ father, the former president of the GSS. That will be part three. Part four will be Stephen’s trip up north, to mirror Chesney’s down south.

Enjoy my content? Buy me a beer!

Being a foreign national from their very powerful neighbor to the north, treaty or not, Johnston had three men following their guest since the moment his aircraft landed at the field about ten miles west.  While Mobile had a healthy economy, it was not nearly as populous as pre-Breakup, nor did it have anything in the way of tourism.  That meant he stayed in one of two hotels, just across Water Street, from the Mobile River.

Once back to his own office, he radioed an update from their team lead.  Sitting and looking at the stack of papers in the Inbox that had doubled just during their meeting and his talk with President Dysart, he again wondered, what am I doing all this for?

Electronics being what they were, even in their little country, Johnston thought rather than spoke.  Douglas is smart enough to admit the truth:  I’d be better at this than he is, but then, like he said, it was his name the voters liked.  No one knows who I am and I’m content to leave it that way; I’d never be elected to anything.  It’s my lot to let someone else be the captain while I pilot the ship of state in these very dangerous waters.

He was just reaching for the paperwork when his radio chirped.

“Sorry for the delay, sir,” the lead watcher said, “subject was ambling around the waterfront a bit and I was not in a place to talk.”

“No worries, and thank you.  Situation?” he replied.

“Subject went into the restaurant The Royal Scam, you know the one?”

“Yes, just two blocks east from here.”  Odd that a monarchist would choose such a place with a name like that.

“It’s only about fifteen hundred, so maybe for a drink?” he man floated.

“Good time to talk, isn’t it?” Johnston smiled.  “I’ll be there in a few minutes.  You and your boys lay low.  I’ll have an earbud, so let me know if he moves again.”

“Sir.”

Putting said into his left, he slipped his pistol into his shoulder holster and put his coat jacket on.

Only a few minutes later, Johnston turned left off Government onto Royal.  The first place on his left was his destination.  Having been there many times, it was one of his personal favorites.  Open a decade before the Breakup, looted, the owners were tenacious enough to slowly pull things back together after Dole and his armed teams restored order – mostly by ejecting or shooting diversity – to the city.  Taking his earbud out and opening the door, the usual scene of tables to his left and down the center of the long room with their china plates and crisp, white linen table clothes met his eye.  The bar took up the entire right wall.  The kitchen proper was all in the back.

There were three people, one couple, and one man alone smoking a cigar, sitting at the bar.  Johnston pulled out the chair to his right and waited for the man to look up.

“Mind?” he asked.

“Checking up on me, are you, Mister Johnston?” the other asked with what seemed a genuine smile.  He flipped his right hand.  “Please do.  Easier to get things done unofficially than in an office.”

“Thank you, Mister Chesney, wasn’t it?” he asked, sitting.

“And still is,” the other chuckled.  “If we’re sharing a drink, why not call me Deke?”

“Then,” he paused to give his order to the bartender, a Fairhope Lager, “I’m Stephen.  I noted at the meeting you carry yourself like a military man.  Retired from the legions?”

“Starting the interrogation already, Steve?” Deke smiled, taking a drink from his highball glass.  He held it up.  “Glad y’all are able to import bourbon from Kentucky Province.  We have nothing like it in the rest of her imperium.”

“You really say ‘her’ and not ‘the’,” he asked, nodding thanks to the bartender for his pint draft.

That got an odd look from Chesney.  “It is hers.  And I still serve, so I’m hers, too.”

“I apologize,” Stephen said, meaning it.  He raised his glass.  “Peace.”

“Peace.”

They each took a drink.

“I’m the guest, so I’ll go first,” Deke said.  “But, it’s no more than what I said at the meeting:  Dysart goes from President to Governor and the GSS becomes an autonomous province.  This city and its harbor and facilities interests her, so there may be some additional construction here.”

“She is very frank about what she wants, God, don’t I know, and that’s why I was, too, Stephen.”

“What does additional construction mean?” he fished.

“We, the imperium, need a naval academy.  The empress is leaning toward it being here.”

“Why not on the Atlantic?  As an emerging power after the Breakup, that would seem to me to make strategic sense,” Stephen replied, pulling at his lager.

“I am a lowly centurion,” Deke said, waving for another bourbon.  “Such decisions are made in minds I cannot fathom.”

“Not to be rude, but I have read reports and watched several videos of her, your empress.” He, too finished his drink and indicated another.  “I admit, she’s a looker.  Totally at odds with what she’s done at the head of her armies.  Tens of thousands dead.”

“She’s not like us,” Deke replied very quietly.

“And,” just as quiet, “know that we all in the Gulf States mourn the recent loss of her husband.  I know she has four children, two young, and another on the way.  Dysart sent official condolences, but, I lost my wife when she tried to bear our child some years ago.  I am sorry for her.”

Deke looked up.  “I had no idea.  I saw you wear a wedding band and just assumed…  I shall personally convey your words to Her Majesty.”

Stephen just nodded, surprised he volunteered that about himself.

“So, if not retired…” he went back to their first topic.

“Nothing so rigid in her imperium.  I know this is hard for some outsiders.  Hell,” he shook his head, “it was hard for a lot of us when Faustina started taking control of things.  But we are subjects, not citizen.  If I’m told to doff my uniform for a suit and fly to Mobile, I do.”

“Sounds a bit high-handed,” Stephen allowed, waving for another lager.

“It’s really pretty rare, though.  Oh!  Rude of me, sorry.” He took another cigar from an inner pocket.  “Care for one?  From around Savannah.”

“Don’t smoke, but thank you.”

“Okay.  There’s this word I don’t recall right now.  Subsid…something or other.  It means that she leaves local communities alone to live their lives in their own way.” A pause.  “Unless she needs something.  Like a naval academy.  Besides that, y’all would have no idea of the political change.”

“We’d still have our mayors and councils, you mean?” Sounds odd for what I’ve heard is such a pushy broad.

“Exactly,” Deke agreed.  “The sole exception would be the area around Tupelo, way to the northwest.  When we were there, we discovered slavery had been reintroduced.”

He shuddered and also asked for a third bourbon.  “The empress loathes slavery.  We beat one of their armies and threatened to kill all military-age men if they did not give it up.  Thank God, they did.”

“Or, it would have been another Washington?” Stephen asked.

“Compared to what was done to St. Louis, Old Eagle was nothing,” the guest from the north breathed.

“Oh, yes.” Johnston looked ahead at the mirror behind the bar.  “You nuked them.  Casualties?”

“Over one hundred thousand.  Thank you,” the last to the bartender.  “The empress was helped by her eighteen-year-old niece.”

“A little girl helped do that?” What the hell is wrong with these people!

“More human than human, is one of the things she has said to me.” Deke shook his head and set his glass back down.  “She loves us and will protect us.  But, to her, that means any and all threats must be eliminated.  Like St. Louis and Washington.”

“And now the GSS?”

Chesney stabbed out the last of his cigar.  “Y’all aren’t a threat.  More a loose end she wants tied up.  Suppose the Cubans put together an expeditionary force and land it here, knowing y’all’s military is weak?  Unacceptable.”

That was one of the things that, after stabilizing this city, goaded Dole into taking the title of president and pushing out and back.  The Cubans sent one of their patrol boats to the docks no more than a hundred feet from here.  We resisted that and they backed down.  But this guy is right:  if they come back, in force, what can we do?  And, he just implied if we don’t act, she will.

“I understand and appreciate your candor.” A long pull at his last lager.  “I make sure my boss understands, as well.”

“Appreciated.  I’m going to walk these,” he waved at the highball glass, “off before I sit here and have five more.  What is it with Kentucky water and soil?  Does this place have decent food?”

“Very,” Stephen nodded.  “I come here often.  Big eater?”

“No legionary is.”

“Then get the Tuna Tartare.” Johnston stood and held out his hand.  “Thank you, Deke.  Let’s you and I keep the peace.”

“God wills it,” the imperial replied, also standing and taking his hand with a smile.  “After this, the morning’s meeting will be short.  I’ll report to Her Majesty by this time, tomorrow.  No guarantees, but I think she’ll be pleased.”

That caught Johnston on the hop.  “You’ll report to her?  Personally?”

“Sure!  See you again, besides in the morning, Stephen.”