Chapter Text
There was a knock at the door.
For a moment, she considered simply ignoring it -- it was too infrequently that she had time to just sit and think, to let the creative juices flow entirely unchecked -- but even on Bolthole, that really wasn't how things were supposed to work, especially when you were an admiral. She scribbled down a note and rose to answer the door.
"Admiral Foraker?" the young man on the other side said briskly after saluting. "A guest to see you from the Manticoran delegation, Ma'am."
Shannon Foraker returned the salute. She was still getting used to the presence of the Star Empire on Bolthole, which so recently had been her domain and hers alone, but outside of that aspect, she had little problem working with Manticorans. After all, Admiral Harrington, who she trusted more than almost anyone (bar Admirals Tourville and Theisman, and Warner Caslet), was Manticoran, and so was her (adorable) 'cat companion.
"Please show her in, Joseph," she said, throwing a glance behind her to see if her office was suitable to receive a guest. It wasn't, of course, but then again she wasn't sure it ever had been.
"Admiral Lady Dame Sonja Hemphill, Baroness Low Delhi," the lieutenant announced, and Admiral Hemphill walked through the door. Shannon knew the name, of course -- she felt, in fact, as if she knew the woman better than she knew any Manticoran but Honor and Nimitz, albeit for different reasons. Sonja Hemphill, Fourth Space Lord, was, in effect, the Star Empire of Manticore's R&D department, and it was her breakthroughs, almost by themselves, that had allowed the Star Empire to push the Republic to the edge of defeat. She was an acknowledged genius, and if the Grand Alliance defeated the Solarians it would be largely thanks to her.
She'd wanted to get into Hemphill's head for absolutely ages.
"Admiral," she said, a smile springing to her face, as she offered her hand. The other woman seemed... less intimidating, less larger-than-life, than she'd quite anticipated. It was silly, she knew, but on some level she'd expected Hemphill to be... taller. More imposing. More Honor-like, really.
"Admiral," Hemphill replied, taking the offered hand. "A pleasure to meet you at last, Admiral Foraker. I've wanted to see you for years." She coughed. "To see your work, I mean to say! Or... oh, you know what I mean." She seemed to realize only now that she was supposed to at some point stop shaking Shannon's hand, and dropped it.
Shannon felt a blush sweep over her face; the woman whose breakthroughs had been the cause of every major Manticoran victory had wanted to meet her?
"Please," she said, "call me Shannon. We needn't stand on ceremony." Say it, say it, she thought.
"Only if you'll call me Sonja," Hemphill -- Sonja -- said, laughing, and something in Shannon rejoiced. "You wouldn't believe how much of a relief it is to just be able to talk shop! Even in BuWeaps, it's all 'Admiral this' and 'Ma'am that' and everyone's saluting each other, and I can't get through drafting a single blueprint without being hauled off to another meeting!"
"I know!" Shannon exclaimed. "It's a lot better here than some places in the Republic, but there's still so much bureaucracy and formality, and I know it's important, and I know it matters, but I just want to do my research!"
Sonja grinned. "Exactly," she said. "Talking over ideas with someone who really gets it is like drinking a really good Gryphonian brandy after months of nothing but water."
"And we have a great deal to talk about," Shannon replied, and Sonja nodded, her anticipation evident. "I'd particularly like to go over the Apollo and Mistletoe systems, and how we can incorporate them into Havenite missile designs..."
The whole time, Shannon couldn't stop smiling.