Jack Campbell - Invincible

“Are you saying that some order bound you from saying anything before this?”

“It wasn’t an order, Admiral,” Benan spat. “Have you been told about Brass Prince? Have they told Black Jack about Brass Prince?”

“Brass Prince?” Geary mentally ran through the many classified project and plan names that he had seen since awakening from survival sleep. “I can’t recall hearing of that.”

“You would remember if you had.” Benan’s voice had sunk to a whisper. “A very secret project undertaken by the Alliance government. Do you know what we were working on, Admiral? Biowarfare,” Commander Benan said, his voice barely audible now. “Strategic biological warfare. You might have believed that’s the one rule the Syndics and the Alliance didn’t break during the war. But the Alliance conducted some research.”

“Strategic biological warfare?” Geary repeated, not believing what he was hearing.

“Yes. Things able to wipe out the populations of entire planets. Things that could sit dormant inside human bodies long enough to be transported to other star systems before they became virulent, then wipe out populations so quickly that no countermeasures could be successful.” Benan’s hands shook. “Purely for defensive purposes, of course. That’s what everyone said. If we had that capability, the Syndics wouldn’t dare use a similar capability against us for fear of retaliation in kind. That’s what we told ourselves. Maybe it was true.”

Geary realized that he had stopped breathing and slowly inhaled before speaking. “Does the Europa Rule still exist?”

“Of course it does. But we were told that things had changed. That we needed to take into account new realities. The Syndics would do anything. Strategic biowarfare didn’t seem beyond them.”

“But… the Europa Rule,” Geary said again, bewildered. “In my time, they showed vids of that in high school. To ensure everyone knew what happened. That colony moon in the Sol Star System wasn’t rendered uninhabitable for humans for all time by an attack. The pathogen was accidentally released by a so-called defense research facility on Europa. If it hadn’t been so virulent, caused death so quickly, it might have reached Earth itself before our ancestors realized what had happened.”

“I know that! We all knew that!” Commander Benan glowered at the deck, then spoke in a more controlled fashion. “They still show the videos in school. Images, as clear as the day they were taken by surveillance cameras whose operators were already dead or by uncrewed probes sent down from space. The people on Europa lifeless, bodies strewn everywhere within the habitats. Some lying there peacefully, and others revealing final moments of panic and pain. If you’ve seen them, I’m sure you remember them as clearly as I do.”

“I don’t know how anyone could forget them. And the afterimages?” Geary asked.

“Yes. Centuries later, hallways and rooms still empty of life, filled only with the slowly crumbling remnants of those who had lived there.” Benan shook his head. “We were told that we were working to prevent that by having the capability to do it. Is it odd, Admiral, what humans can convince themselves makes sense?”

“You were part of this?” Geary wondered if the revulsion he felt could be heard in his voice.

Benan bared his teeth in a grimace. “For a while. But one of my ancestors was aboard one of the warships enforcing the quarantine of Europa. His ship intercepted and destroyed a merchant ship packed with refugees.”

“That’s a hard memory to carry,” Geary said.

“Harder than you think, Admiral. My ancestor knew that his sister’s family was aboard that ship. They might have already been dead from the plague, but he never knew. And I… now I was working on the same sort of hell project.” Benan slammed his fist down. “But I regained my sanity! I told them I would not work on it anymore. I told them it was criminal and insane, that it must be shut down.”

“Did they?”

“I don’t know. I was transferred out, given a fleet assignment.” Benan bared his teeth in a grimace. “Doubtless in the hope that I would die valiantly in action and take my secrets with me. We were sworn to secrecy, but when I was transferred I was also mentally programmed for it. Not just an order. A block. Did they have blocks in your time?”

“Blocks?” What did personal configuration of communications have to do with— “What kind of blocks do you mean?”

“Mental blocks. Inhibitions implanted in the mind.”

A memory finally flashed to the surface. “Mental blocks? But—Those are— They imposed a mental block on you?” Geary knew he sounded appalled again.

“Yes. I could literally say nothing about it. I knew what was working at me, eating at my head. But I couldn’t say anything! ” He yelled the last, then subsided again.

Geary rubbed his mouth with one hand, trying to find words. “But the block allowed you to talk if ordered to.”

“Only if ordered by a fleet commander. Because regulations required that. And only if no one else was present. Small risk there. What were the odds that a fleet commander would talk to me personally, that the commander would order me to talk about something of which they had no knowledge, and no one else would be with us when that question was asked?” Benan stared at Geary. “Did you know?”

“No. I just had an instinct that I needed to talk to you alone. Something told me that was the right thing to do.”

Benan nodded, much of the tension draining out of him, replaced by the slump of mental and emotional exhaustion. “Of course. Black Jack, sent by the living stars. As much as I hate you for what you did, they do seem to talk to you.”

“I never claimed such a thing.” Geary thought about what Desjani had said, that Benan must have been tortured by the Syndics. “When you were a prisoner, did the Syndics find out anything about this?”

“No.” Benan laughed bitterly. “Blocked. I told you it was all blocked. I couldn’t say anything. Not a thing. No matter what. No matter… what… they did.” His voice fell to a whisper again. “I can’t remember what they did.”

Geary nodded to cover up his inability to find words again. “How can we help you now? What can we do?”

“I have no idea.” Benan shrugged. “My fate isn’t important. I had to stop caring about me. Victoria. She’s all I care about.” His gaze on Geary tightened with anger, and Benan looked away again. “Something is driving her. Something she does not want to control her. It’s not you. I suspected that. It’s not.”

“She recently finally told me that someone she wouldn’t or couldn’t name gave her some kind of orders before she joined us for this mission.”

“She’s told me less than that,” Benan grumbled, then laughed. “You’d think I wasn’t judged stable enough to be trusted. What could anyone use to force Victoria Rione to do their bidding? She does not bend easily. What could buy her obedience and silence?”

Geary felt a sudden ugly certainty fill him. “She has told me, and I believe it, that you and the Alliance are everything to her. I’ve been trying to understand what kind of lever someone could use against her. Maybe this is that lever. Maybe someone with knowledge of your involvement in Brass Prince has threatened to make it public unless she does what they say.”

“Yes! I am sure that has to be it! I would be demonized! They would blame me for Brass Prince, say that I had conceived it and pushed it along until they shut it down! She thought me dead, unable to defend myself!” Benan trembled again with barely suppressed rage, but Geary realized with surprise that this time the rage was directed at Benan himself. “Victoria compromised herself, was blackmailed to protect the memory of me, of who Commander Paol Benan once was. And look at me, Admiral! Look at what I have become! For this ruin of a man, the only woman who matters in all the universe has compromised herself!”