Counterstrike (Black Fleet Trilogy, Book 3) Read Free Page A

is kept in the dark about these proceedings.”
    “Such as?” Jackson asked.
    “Not that it’s any concern of the Confederate Fleet,” an older man whose uniform identified him as an admiral in Sol Defense Forces said contentiously. “But the man you’ve so blithely led back to Earth is in possession of eighteen ships that could easily destroy everything in this system, or just as easily repel a Phage advance should they have tracked you here. Either way, if he is who he claims to be we’re not so sure he should be the one left in command of such weapons.”
    Jackson was suddenly alarmed at the line of thought and was about to voice as much when he felt Marcum kick his ankle and shake his head almost imperceptibly.
    “This is just an informal meeting prior to the full Council Session,” Nelson reminded them forcefully while glaring at the outspoken SDF admiral. “Speculation such as this is not needed or especially helpful. Now … let’s begin with a rough overview of the Battle of Nuovo Patria and work back from there.”
    For the next three and half agonizing hours, Jackson was forced to sit and listen as his previous mission was dissected and argued over by people of questionable pedigree to judge such things. It wasn’t long before he quit interjecting or correcting the record, as it became clear the politicians and bureaucrats in the meeting weren’t actually on a fact-finding mission and were, in fact, carefully constructing a narrative that would be fed to the full session of the Council and, in turn, the citizenry of Earth.
    Once the torturous meeting was concluded, Jackson escaped the room, Marcum right on his heels, before he could be cornered by any of the half-dozen attendees who looked like they wanted to speak to him privately. As much as he loved breathing the air on Earth after such a long time away, he was now wondering how difficult it would be to sneak off and catch a shuttle back up to the Ares .
    ****
    “How was the meeting, Captain?” Robert Blake said, taking another long pull of his beer and not bothering to get up from the lounge.
    “What meeting would that be?” Jackson asked, helping himself to one of the local brews before flouncing down on the couch across from the former Air Force officer.
    “The one where you all sat around and tried to make up a plausible tale to feed the Council later this week,” Blake said.
    “Ah, that one,” Jackson shrugged. “About like you’d expect, I imagine.”
    “Just between you and me, the ships my crew and I arrived in do not actually belong to us,” Blake said casually. “I couldn’t hand them over, even if I was inclined to.”
    “I see,” Jackson said carefully. “Any particular reason you’re offering up this random fact?”
    “I’m serious, Captain,” Blake said. “I know what’s being whispered about in this building. Understand that those ships, the seventh generation since we began our work, entrusted to us, are not simply tools to be wielded by whoever is in possession. I cannot even begin to explain the complexities of the Vruahn’s artificial intelligence that each carries.”
    “Why such rigid safeguards?” Jackson asked, dropping the pretense of ignorance.
    “We’re useful to the Vruahn,” Blake said after a few moments of silence. “But they don’t entirely trust us, and for the very reason that we’re useful. Our violent and unpredictable nature has made them leery of simply handing over the keys to ships capable of sterilizing planets.”
    “I suppose that’s understandable, but it doesn’t bode well for our species having any sort of relationship with them,” Jackson said.
    “Would you simply hand over an armed tactical nuke to a playground bully?” Blake said. “No matter what they’ve said before, I have no doubt that’s how they see us. As absurd as it sounds, I’m not sure we’re much different than the Phage in their eyes.”
    “That’s … distressing,” Jackson said. “What