Free Orphan's Alliance (Jason Wander) by Robert Buettner

and took the bait. “Makes sense, Nat.”
    The chairman, who earned his chair by never looking a compromise in the mouth, nodded, too, and said,
    “Done.”
    Wait a minute. General Cobb had told me to shut my pie hole. I had. The result was still that I was going off-world for years, which I didn’t want. Only now I would have to travel in the company of some Zoomie.
    I breathed harder. Nat Cobb had never jobbed me before, but there was a first time for everything. General Cobb tapped a message into his chippad, then slid it across the table. The chairman spun it so he could read the screen, then smiled and nodded. “Well, he’s only a captain, but he’s got off-world experience. His pedigree will impress the hosts. And Captain Metzger’s current assignment ends in a few days.”
    My jaw dropped. Then I hid a smile behind my hand.
    The Zoomie general crossed his arms, and pressed his lips together so hard they turned white. He felt the hook, now that it was set. Nat Cobb could have arm-twisted and plucked a junior officer from another service from a sensitive assignment, and shoehorned him into an equally sensitive mission, just to solve my personal problem. But that would have meant Nat would owe the Zoomies a favor, for doing what they should do anyway. Instead, Nat had manipulated Jude’s boss to insist on doing it. You don’t have to be blind to get around Washington, but it helps.
    The chairman said to me, “Your delegation leaves in two days.”
    “Yes, sir.” I cocked my head. “But two days? Is Earth suddenly more desperate for cheap company than a sailor on liberty?” I smiled at the Chief of Naval Operations. He didn’t smile back. Squids take a joke even worse than Zoomies.
    Howard said, “Well, there’s another thing.”
    The chairman raised his palm at Howard. The chairman glanced around the room, at the array of horse holders seated along the walls, then at his wrist ’Puter. “We’re out of time.”
    Hair rose on my neck. The chairman’s glance told me that Howard’s “thing” was so sensitive that the horse holders couldn’t be trusted to hear it. Even though the horse holders were all so senior that they could be trusted to deploy nuclear weapons.
    Washington keeps two kinds of secrets, secrets from its enemies and secrets from its friends. What Washington kept secret from its enemies was often good news for the U.S. An atomic bomb that would win the war, a code cracked. Mousetrap was that kind of secret, so we kept it from the Slugs. Howard said the Slugs probably didn’t bother to spy on us, any more than we spied on wasps. But we couldn’t assume that.
    What Washington kept secret from its friends was usually bad news. Like torture to preserve, in the estimation of the torturers, civil rights. Or like ballot boxes stuffed to save democracy. But sometimes Washington kept secrets from its friends because the truth was too awful, the way a parent might not tell a child about terminal cancer.
    The chairman shared Mousetrap with his horse holders, but not Howard’s “thing.” Therefore, Howard’s
    “thing” was almost certainly the second, bad kind of secret. Or worse, it was the last kind. And that was why a cold knot now swelled in my gut.
    The chairman adjourned the meeting, and as we all stood to leave, I leaned toward General Cobb. “Sir, this idea with the Kodiaks.”
    General Cobb whispered, “Take it up with Howard. They’re buried inside his budget. He’ll explain the
    ‘thing’ to you, too, on the trip out.”
    “Sir?”
    “Howard’s going, too. And Ord. And enjoy your time with Jude.”
    Howard stepped alongside us. I said to both of them, “Thanks. For laying the ground work.”
    Both of them shrugged. Duplicity was legal tender in Washington, but insiders kept their mouths shut when they spent some.
    General Cobb patted my shoulder, then excused himself.
    As Howard and I watched him walk away, I shook my head and chuckled. “Speaking of ground work. When