The Lost Fleet: Beyond the Frontier: Guardian by Jack Campbell Page A

Alliance fleet officers nodded. “Not on this ship.
Haboob
wasn’t with the fleet then. But I was there.”
    “My brother died at Lakota,” the shuttle pilot said, each word now blunt and abrupt. “I don’t know anything about it. I was hoping . . . you might know how he died.”
    The stiff postures and expressions of the Alliance officers relaxed slightly. “There were several different engagements,” the one who admitted being at Lakota said.
    “He was on a light cruiser. CL-901.”
    “I’m sorry.” The officer sounded as if he meant it, and he probably did. This was the sort of thing anyone who had served in the war could empathize with. “We didn’t know the designations of the ships we fought.”
    The pilot bit her lip, looking downward, then back at the Alliance officers. “I heard you took prisoners. Under Black Jack’s command. There were rumors.”
    “We did. We
do
. But not at Lakota. We didn’t get a chance.” The Alliance officer hesitated, then asked his own question. “Do you know anything about what happened there?”
    “No. Security. We never heard anything official except the usual lies. Even the news that my brother had died there came to me by back channels.”
    “The hypernet gate at Lakota collapsed. There was a Syndic flotilla guarding it, and I guess they had orders to destroy it if we beat the rest of the Syndic forces at Lakota. They fired on the tethers.”
    The shuttle pilot twitched, her eyes shutting tightly, before she regained control and opened them again. “They didn’t know. We didn’t hear until after we killed the snakes. Then we found out what happens when gates collapse. They didn’t know,” she repeated.
    “We already guessed they couldn’t have known. It was suicide. Those ships probably never knew what hit them. The shock wave spread through Lakota and wiped out escape pods, merchant ships, anything that didn’t have decent shields. We were lucky. We were far enough from the gate that the shock wave that hit us had spread out and couldn’t do much damage to us. It tore up that star system, though. I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you what happened to your brother.”
    The shuttle pilot nodded, her face working as emotions came and went. “That’s all right. I know how it is.”
    “You a warship shuttle driver?”
    “No.” She jerked a thumb at the shoulder patch on her uniform. “Ground forces. Aerospace.”
    “Regular flights in atmosphere? Storms and wind and fog? Better you than me.”
    The shuttle pilot smiled very briefly. “It gets hairy sometimes, but nothing we can’t handle. I work for General Drakon. He doesn’t send workers anywhere he wouldn’t go himself.”
    “What do you do for General Drakon?” a Marine officer asked.
    “Planetary defense actions and ground forces support, usually. I was at Taroa for that op, where we helped kick the Syndicate out of that star system, too. General Drakon tapped us for this run because the Midway mobile forces—I mean, the Midway warship flotilla—doesn’t have many shuttles.”
    The Alliance officers exchanged glances. “What was that about snakes?” another fleet officer asked. “You said you killed snakes?”
    “Snakes. Internal Security Service agents. Syndicate secret police.” The shuttle pilot looked like she wanted to spit but refrained from the action. “They used to run everything. Always watching, looking over your shoulder, hauling people away to labor camps if you did anything wrong, or if they suspected you, or if they just wanted to. We killed them. Wiped them out in this star system.” She straightened, her gaze fierce now. “We’re free of them. We’ll die before we let them back in control here. Nobody owns us. Not any corporation. Not any CEO. Not anymore.”
    “You’re not Syndics?” another of the fleet officers asked with obvious skepticism.
    “Syndicate? No! Never again. We are free. We’ll die free before we become slaves of the Syndicate again.”