Jack Campbell - Perilous Shield

Bradamont, rigid with tension a moment before, had sagged against the maneuvering controls. “Five more minutes, then we’ll swing back.”

“Weaving?” The executive scratched his head. “We don’t usually burn thrusters for no reason. That’s money down the drain.”

“We have a reason,” Rogero assured him.

“Here comes that cruiser,” Ito announced.

The Alliance light cruiser Coupe slid past astern of the freighters like a sleek shark cruising behind a pod of clumsy whales. Rogero watched the cruiser tear past, wondering if it was as close as it seemed to be to him.

Apparently it was. Ito shook her head. “If that cruiser came between us and the commando shuttles, they are way too close.”

“Yes,” Bradamont agreed. “Let’s swing back now.”

The orders went out, and the motion of the freighters up and to the left gradually slowed, stopped, then was replaced by a glacial sway to the right and down.

Five minutes. Ten. Twenty. “How long until we’re clear?” Rogero asked.

“I don’t know,” Bradamont replied.

“The destroyer is coming back,” Ito warned.

All eyes went to that warship on the display as Bandolier came in barely astern of the freighters. But instead of sailing past, the Alliance destroyer was braking, her main propulsion units flaring to bring the destroyer to a stop relative to the freighters and not very far behind them at all.

“What is she… ?” Bradamont began.

Bandolier ’s thrusters lit off. The warship was vastly more agile than the clumsy freighters, so her hull almost immediately began pivoting, still holding position just astern of the freighters. The bow came up and over and around, the entire ship pivoting in a circle as if it were a hand on a clock of ancient design.

“They’re being fairly obvious about fouling the shuttles’ approach, aren’t they?” Garadun commented. He looked to Rogero as if Garadun couldn’t decide whether to be admiring of the maneuver or amused by it but was too tense to do either. “They’re very close astern as such things are measured in space.”

“Meaning the commando shuttles are, too,” Bradamont agreed, herself radiating nothing but tension. “Whatever Bandolier does next will tell us whether or not that last obstruction trapped the shuttles into an impossibly long stern chase.”

The Alliance destroyer’s bow finished spinning through a full three hundred sixty degrees.

Rogero realized that he was holding his breath, watching the Alliance destroyer, waiting to see what its next move would be.

Instead of continuing around again, Bandolier rolled and pivoted to one side, coming out pointed in the same direction as the freighters.

Bradamont nodded wearily. “That did it. They’re just accompanying us now. I expect that Coupe will come back and join up with Bandolier .”

Rogero felt the same sense of tiredness as his body finally relaxed. “They’ll stay back there until we reach the jump point?”

“Once the commando shuttles give up the chase, there’s a chance Bandolier and Coupe will maneuver around us, taking up different positions relative to the freighters, to make it hard for any fixed defenses to throw rocks at us without risking hitting them. That’s what I would do.”

“Thank you, Captain Bradamont,” Rogero said. “I’m going to tell the soldiers on the other units to stand down and locate Lieutenant Foster to tell him we can relax on this freighter. It would be a good idea for you to return to the comm compartment, where you can see if Admiral Timbale has sent any further messages.”

She nodded, then, with a small smile, stood at attention and saluted him.

Rogero returned the salute with crisp professionalism, knowing that they would never have made it out of danger without her.

Garadun gestured to Ito. “Since Alliance forces are escorting us, we’ll provide an escort for this Alliance officer. She’s not safe in the passageways of this unit if she’s moving alone. You should assign some of those ground forces soldiers to guard her now that this freighter is full of veterans from the Reserve Flotilla.”

“Thank you. I’ll do that.”

Bradamont had paused, her eyes on the display. Was it his imagination that those eyes held a yearning in them? She had given up those Alliance ships to serve as a liaison officer, and now could only watch as others rode those decks and ordered those ships about.

She looked away, catching him watching her. No, he wasn’t mistaken about her feelings.

“Thank you,” Rogero said, this time only to her. He was certain she knew he meant it for far more than just her help in this latest incident. “I’ll accompany you as well. It’s on my way.”

He, Bradamont, Garadun, and Ito moved off the command deck and into the passageways, now crowded with survivors from the Reserve Flotilla. Bradamont’s Alliance fleet uniform drew looks of surprise that almost immediately changed to anger and hate. Shouts sounded, hands reached to punch and push, but Garadun and Ito shouted back. A year as prisoners of war had done nothing to fray the iron discipline drilled into Syndicate forces. At the commands from a sub-CEO and an executive, men and women fell back, faces going blank as they came to attention.

And Ito, at least, had gone into full executive mode, her voice booming through the passageway and surely carrying a good distance down it. “You will now hear this! All line workers, all line supervisors, all junior-executive ranks will treat this Alliance officer as a direct assistant to Colonel Rogero. Anything said to her will be appropriate to her status, and any physical action against her will be treated as deliberate assault against a supervisor . Is that clear ?”

Everyone in the passageway waited for the two-second beat required, then thundered their response. “Yes, Madam Executive!”

The rest of the walk to the tiny comm compartment was met by silence, and everyone lined up along the bulkheads as word spread ahead faster than the small group could walk. As Bradamont said good-bye to Rogero she beckoned him close. “Did their treatment of me really outrage her that much?”

Rogero replied in a low voice. “I believe Executive Ito was very unhappy with the treatment you were receiving. But that’s because of your actions. She sees you as an equal if also a recent enemy. What made her outraged was to see line workers and supervisors behaving that way toward someone of executive rank, as well as the lack of discipline in their showing such behavior in the presence of her and Sub-CEO Garadun.”

“I see.” Bradamont smiled wryly. “I guess I should be grateful, whatever the reasons.”

“I’ll have two soldiers here before you leave. You’ll have an escort from now on.”

“It looks very much as if Ito’s instructions are being followed,” Bradamont pointed out.

Rogero paused, realizing how little Bradamont knew of the Syndicate way of doing things. It was hard to think of her as being innocent, yet when it came to the underside of Syndicate life, she knew almost nothing despite the attack on General Drakon soon after her arrival. “You understood the need for bodyguards on the planet.”

“Yes. That necessity was pretty heavily underlined by the attack on your General right after I arrived. But that was a much-less-controlled environment than this. I can see the discipline these people were trained to follow.”

How to explain? “Very rigid control can mask and create a great deal that happens out of sight,” Rogero said. “There is the surface, and there is what goes on beneath it. I routinely sleep with a sidearm handy because assassinations happen. Personal disputes, the desire for a promotion opportunity, an opportunity to blame a rival for the deed, there are many reasons. Disputes are resolved in ways that never see the light of day. Rules are meant to be twisted, or ways are meant to be found around rules, all without anyone in authority admitting to anything. You deserve whatever you can get away with, and if you get caught or simply accused, no mercy will be expected or given unless you have a patron powerful enough to protect you. That is how things have been done, in all aspects of Syndicate society. That is what President Iceni and General Drakon rebelled against.”