Jack Campbell - Perilous Shield

“Who do we send? I agree it’s too risky to put any of this into a transmission. One hint of what we’re doing, and Boyens can thumb his nose at us.”

Iceni made a casual gesture with one hand. “How about Colonels Malin and Morgan?”

“Two of my people? Going to personally meet with Black Jack?” His gaze on her narrowed. “You’re willing to risk that I won’t have them carry some other message as well?”

“Yes, I am,” Iceni said calmly. “Are you saying that I shouldn’t?”

“I’m saying that you and I both have a lot of experience with not taking those kinds of risks. What’s changed?”

“I have gotten to know you better.”

He wanted to believe that, which made him even more wary.

“In any event,” Iceni continued, “I can have one of your officers wear a sealed monitor that will record everything said. That will ensure no unauthorized messages get passed to Black Jack.”

“All right. I can see why you would suggest Colonel Malin. But why Morgan?”

Her smile this time was knowing. “Because if either of them had their own plans, the other would tell you.”

“True enough.” He went through the plan again in his mind, then nodded. “I agree. People will notice Malin and Morgan aren’t around, but they’ll assume they’re on my business, which doesn’t involve the mobile forces.”

“Warships,” Iceni corrected. “I want to get completely away from Syndicate terminology and Syndicate ways of thinking. I expect to hear from the new cruiser soon in response to our offer to use one of our heavy cruisers to escort him to his home star. As soon as he agrees, I’ll notify you, and we can work out how to get your officers to Black Jack without anyone’s knowing.”

Drakon rubbed his lower face with one hand as he thought. “We could use that new Alliance liaison officer in this.”

“Could we? Yes. You’re right.” Her smile this time appeared completely genuine. “We make a good team, Artur.”

Marphissa stood at Manticore ’s main air lock, waiting for the shuttle to finish sealing to the access. What the hell is going on? Why did the President insist that I go to personally inspect progress on getting our battleship ready to fight?

It had taken two days for Manticore to reach the gas giant, where the new battleship Midway continued her slow progress in fitting out. Now Marphissa was two days away from the rest of the flotilla and light-hours distant from knowing what was happening near the hypernet gate.

The shuttle took her directly to one of Midway ’s air locks, where Marphissa found the young and brilliant Kapitan-Leytenant Kontos waiting by himself. “This way, Kommodor,” Kontos said.

They started off alone through the battleship. Despite the shipyard workers and skeleton crew, the vast size of the battleship left many areas seemingly deserted. Marphissa felt a sense of unease as they headed down one such passageway. Kontos had shown no signs of dangerous ambition, and President Iceni had ordered her here, but this setup felt far too much like the sort of disappearance that occasionally afflicted senior Syndicate officers who had offended someone. And there had been rumors passed on to Marphissa by “friends” who had heard that Iceni had been very unhappy with the trick that had fooled Boyens into letting the new heavy cruiser escape. Even if those stories are true, the President would not make me disappear. She is different. “What’s going on?” she asked Kontos in a low voice.

Kontos gave her an enigmatic look. “I can’t tell you. It’s important. You’re… going to meet another officer. Someone who’s supposed to join you on Manticore .”

That was reassuring, since it meant she was supposed to return to Manticore , hopefully in one piece and not under arrest.

Kontos pulled out an envelope and passed it to her. “Orders. I have not read them, just a cover document that told me to pass them to you.”

“ Written orders?” Marphissa stared at the envelope as she took it.

“They don’t want to risk any compromise of whatever is in there.”

“I should say they don’t! I’ve never seen orders written on paper before.”

Kontos paused outside a hatch. “She’s in here. I’m the only one aboard this ship who has seen her.”

“Who the hell is it? Has the President herself secretly come aboard?”

“That would have been less surprising,” Kontos said. He saluted. “I am to see you inside, seal the hatch, then wait until you call. There’s a working comm panel keyed to my seat on the bridge. I’ll wait there.”

“Am I supposed to read these orders before I meet this officer?”

“I don’t know, Kommodor.”

“Fine. Let me in. I’ll give you a call when I’m done.” Stupid secrecy, Marphissa thought. What could be so hush-hush as to justify all of this—

She got two steps inside the compartment and froze, barely aware of Kontos sealing the hatch behind her.

Standing next to one of the tables bolted to the deck was an Alliance fleet captain in full uniform.

Marphissa took a deep breath. An Alliance officer. She had seen prisoners, she had met Alliance ships in battle, but she had never actually talked to an Alliance officer, or anyone else from the Alliance for that matter. The war had lasted for a century. The people of the Alliance weren’t just the enemy; they had always been the enemy, always the threat to her and her home. Meeting one of them couldn’t have felt more alien than if there had been an enigma in that compartment.

But President Iceni had sent her here. There must be a good reason for this.

I have faced death. I can face an Alliance fleet officer.

“I’m Captain Bradamont,” the officer said, standing as if at attention.

“Kommodor Marphissa,” she replied automatically. Marphissa’s eyes went to the left breast of Bradamont’s uniform, where the combat awards and duty awards were displayed. But where on a Syndicate suit those awards would form a readable summary of someone’s career, the Alliance decorations were all unknown, a riot of color and design that held no meaning to Marphissa. Who was this woman? “Why are you here?”

“You haven’t been given any orders?”

“I…” Marphissa looked at the envelope she was still holding. “Maybe I had better read these now.”

After some frustrating moments trying to figure out how it worked, Marphissa managed to split the seal on the envelope. She fumbled out the papers inside and read rapidly. Liaison officer… assist in special project… authorized full access… “What’s this special project? Wait, there’s another page.”

An operation aimed at trapping the Syndicate flotilla into either fighting or leaving? Marphissa focused back on the Alliance officer. “Captain ?”

“Bradamont.”

“I am completely at a loss here. I’ve never even imagined talking to someone like you. When the snakes were everywhere, it would have meant being charged with treason.”

“Snakes? Oh. Internal Security.”

The loathing in Bradamont’s voice matched Marphissa’s own feelings about the snakes. Marphissa found herself thawing slightly. “They’re all gone. We killed them.” I personally killed one of them. Why do I feel a sudden need to boast about that, as if I need to top this woman with my own accomplishments? But I don’t like to remember killing that snake. He deserved it, but I don’t like to recall doing it.

Bradamont had nodded at her words. “I know you got rid of your Internal Security. I wouldn’t have agreed to stay in this star system if they had remained.”

“Agreed?”