Jack Campbell - Perilous Shield

“I volunteered. Or, rather, Admiral Geary asked me to volunteer.”

“Admiral Geary? Oh, you mean Black Jack. That would have been a hard request to turn down, I imagine. Were you on his staff?”

The Alliance officer shook her head. “I commanded Dragon . A battle cruiser.”

The statement hadn’t come out sounding like a boast, but it could have been. Marphissa came closer to Bradamont, eyeing her. “Why did you believe us when we told you the snakes were gone?”

“It’s hard to miss the wreckage where the Internal Security installations used to be,” Bradamont said. “And someone in this star system whom I trusted confirmed the fact.”

“The Alliance had a spy in this star system?” Marphissa blurted out.

“No. Not even remotely. He’s… a friend.”

“A friend.” A spy she could accept. A friend? How could that be?

A long pause followed as both seemed lost for anything to talk about. What did you say to the enemy? Even if she had ceased to be the enemy? Finally, Bradamont gestured vaguely around her. “I see that you’ve acquired a battleship.”

“Yes.” Marphissa said. “From Kane. We took it from the Syndicate orbital facility there.”

“I got to see the action report,” Bradamont said, startling Marphissa. “Your President sent it to me. That was some very good ship handling, Kommodor.”

Marphissa almost jerked in shock at the praise, then felt herself warming more, though warily. This woman was one of Black Jack’s battle cruiser commanders, and she thinks I did a good job at Kane? Well, I did. But I never expected to hear an Alliance officer say that. Is she trying to get on my good side, flatter me to get me off guard? “Thank you… Captain.” Another uncomfortable pause. “Have you ever been on a battleship?” Marphissa asked.

“A Syndic battleship, you mean?” Bradamont asked. She tilted her head slightly in thought. “Just once. Leading a boarding party. That was at Ixchel.”

Apparently there were no safe topics. “I’m not familiar with that engagement.” There had been so many engagements. “I take it the Alliance won.”

“If you define winning as being the last ones left alive, and not very many of you,” Bradamont replied. “Then we left, and we blew it up.”

Common ground. Not too surprising, really. “You lost a lot of people capturing the battleship, then you left and blew it up.”

“It sounds like you’ve been through the same sort of thing.”

“A few times.” Another awkward silence fell as Marphissa gestured toward the chairs around the nearest table. This compartment would be an officers’ lounge when finished. Though still lacking in many features, it did have the furniture installed. “Have a seat. Please.”

“Thank you.” Bradamont sat, her eyes on Marphissa. “In case you’re wondering, I feel uncomfortable, too.”

“I could tell. Because a few months ago we would have been trying to kill each other?”

“And we’ve spent all of our adult lives trying to kill each other, as did our parents and grandparents.”

“But now we’re, um…” Marphissa searched for the right word and failed. “What are we?”

“On the same side, I guess. What do you think of the plan to deal with the Syndic flotilla?”

“Risky. But… if it works . . .”

Bradamont smiled. “Right. If it works.” She reached into a duffel near the table, pretending not to notice Marphissa tensing up, and lifted out a bottle. “I brought a small gift. A token of… um . . .”

“Greetings?” Marphissa asked, examining the label. “Whiskey? From Vernon? Do you know how much this is worth in Syndicate space? Nobody has been able to get this stuff except through the black market for… for a century.”

“We’re not in Syndicate space, are we?” Bradamont asked.

Marphissa grinned despite her worries. “No. We’re not. Not anymore. Do you mind if I open it?”

“I was hoping you would.” Bradamont smiled back. “I’ll take the first drink so you can be sure it’s not drugged or poisoned.”

“You could have already taken an antidote,” Marphissa pointed out. “Or, you might just want a head start on drinking this.”

“You’re pretty sharp for a—” Bradamont’s smile faded. “Sorry.”

“Force of habit,” Marphissa said, pouring out two drinks. “I may call you something obscene without thinking about it. Try not to take it personally.”

“Deal.”

Marphissa took a cautious sip, marveling at the taste. “I admit to being baffled. How could you choose to put yourself in the hands of . . .”

“People who were Syndics not long ago? It wasn’t easy.” Emotion flashed through Bradamont’s eyes. “I’ve been in a Syndic labor camp. I know what they’re like.”

“There are no more labor camps. Not where President Iceni’s authority holds.”

“So I was told.” Bradamont smiled again. “You sound proud of that.”

“I am. We… we are changing things here.” Marphissa smiled once more, too. “President Iceni will help us build a government that truly is for the people.”

Bradamont studied Marphissa for a long moment, then raised her own glass. “In that case, let us salute your President Iceni.”

Marphissa matched the gesture. “To our President.” She watched how much Bradamont drank, determined not to be more affected by the alcohol than the Alliance officer. But Bradamont had saluted Iceni… “You’re just here to help with this operation?”

Bradamont shook her head. “I’m supposed to stay, when the fleet leaves. Liaison officer. To keep track of what’s happening here and to provide any assistance I can that is consistent with Alliance interests.”

“Assistance?” Marphissa laughed at a wild thought. “Tactics? Can you show us how Black Jack fights?”

“Yes.”

Blessed ancestors! Marphissa took a bigger drink. Amazement warred with a feeling of resentment. “That’s… can I explain my feelings to you? Because I’m having a hard time resolving them. On the one hand, I’m thinking how great it would be to have someone teach us a few of Black Jack’s tricks. And with the Alliance fleet having vastly superior power to anything in what used to be Syndicate space, having one of Black Jack’s former officers among us can’t be a bad thing. So, for that I want to kiss you.”

Bradamont took another sip of her drink, raising an eyebrow at Marphissa. “I take it I shouldn’t be freshening my lip gloss right now, though.”

“No, because on the other hand, your Black Jack humiliated us and annihilated our mobile forces, which were crewed by our comrades. That’s bad enough. But now one of his own is descending from on high to show us how to fight. For that, I want to slug you.”

“You don’t usually have that sort of mix of emotions about people, Kommodor?” Bradamont asked.

“Not usually. Or at least not at the same time. What are your emotions, Captain?”

Bradamont looked around again, taking another slow drink. “I understand your feelings. Any professional is going to feel pride in their own work, in their own abilities. They’re going to resent any hint of condescending assistance. But you don’t need any help with the fundamentals. If what you did at Kane is any indication, you are good , Kommodor. As for me, it’s strange. I’ve been on Syndic, excuse me, Syndicate Worlds’ planets before. As a prisoner. Part of me is screaming escape, you fool! Another part of me looks at you in that uniform and tells me I should hate you for all the deaths and destruction of a very long and very senseless war.” She set down her glass and shook her head. “Parts of me are stuck in the past. The rest sees people who are trying to put the past behind them, to make something new, to throw off the bonds that have held them. And you are Colonel Rogero’s people.”