Jack Campbell - Invincible

Colonel Rogero wore a uniform similar to General Drakon’s. He seemed as straightforward as his general though speaking steadily as if reciting from a script or prepared speech. “For Captain Bradamont, commanding officer of the Alliance battle cruiser Dragon , this is Colonel Rogero, Midway ground forces. Much has happened in recent months.”

Rogero provided a careful rundown of those events, giving details about activity not only here at Midway but also in some of the surrounding star systems. There had been fighting in many places, revolts and Syndic attempts to suppress rebellion. Midway had gotten heavily involved in those nearby star systems, plainly aiming for a leading role in… what? A small personal empire for Iceni and Drakon? Or, at the other extreme, a small alliance of free star systems? That last seemed very unlikely, but if it were true…

If only he knew more about Iceni and Drakon.

Rogero must have known that this message would be seen by people other than Bradamont. Drakon and Iceni must have known that, too. This was, then, not just a personal accommodation for Rogero but also a means to pass information to Geary under the cover of that.

Which also meant that Rogero’s and Bradamont’s personal feelings for each other were still being used by those in authority over them. Perhaps, to former Syndic CEOs like Drakon and Iceni, that was a matter of no consequence. But Geary felt a little unclean despite his own lack of involvement.

Colonel Rogero paused, his carefully controlled manner cracking. “Captain Bradamont… I must inform you that… my feelings will never change. That is why I must ask you to forget me, because it is impossible and can only harm you. I am now free of the forces that sought to use our feelings for their own purposes. I hope that, with the end of the war, you are free as well. But, if not, you may inform those people that I will provide no more reports. You can no longer serve them as a source of information. You have acted as a patriot and noble person at all times, and I will freely offer a detailed, official statement to anyone who questions your role over the last several years.

“Farewell, Captain Bradamont.”

Geary sat back, one hand rubbing his forehead lightly. What Rogero had said confirmed what Bradamont had told him and what Lieutenant Iger had partially confirmed as well. As far as Geary knew, though, Iger wasn’t aware that Bradamont was the officer who had been working for Alliance intelligence under the code name White Witch as part of a highly classified program. Once Iger saw this message, that particular rabbit would be out of the hat for certain.

“Captain Bradamont, I need to speak with you privately as soon as possible.”

Her image appeared to him within minutes, standing at attention. Dragon was close enough to Dauntless that only a little more than a light-second’s delay affected their communications, a lag too small to notice.

“Captain Bradamont,” Geary began, feeling awkward. “This is both a personal and a professional matter. Please sit down.”

Bradamont sat stiffly, watching him warily. “Does this pertain to the matter we discussed some time ago?”

“Everything surrounding White Witch, yes.” Geary offered her his comm pad, putting it on the arm of her seat and activating the message. “This message is for you, even though parts of it were also clearly intended for other people here.”

She listened while he tried not to watch her reaction. Finally, Bradamont reached as if to turn off the pad, forgetting that her virtual presence couldn’t do that, then withdrew her arm, her expression now revealing nothing. “Thank you, Admiral.”

He shut it off. “Is there anything you want to tell me?”

“I’ve already informed you of the circumstances, Admiral.”

“Do you have any wishes in this matter? At the very least, I can ensure that a reply is sent, in whatever form you choose.”

“A reply.” Bradamont shook her head. “What can I say? He’s right. It must end. It has ended. Neither of us can be used anymore. The contents of that message will alert the fleet’s intelligence personnel as to who I must be. I’ll have to live with that. I’ve lived with worse things. I must live without him.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, Admiral. I don’t know why this had to happen. I didn’t ask for it. I know that you can understand.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

Bradamont’s smile was bitter. “Not even Black Jack can solve this matter, Admiral. Why the hell—” Bradamont stopped speaking. “Pardon me, sir.”

“Forget it. I’m going to wait awhile before I forward this attachment to intelligence or show it to anyone else. If you want to talk, call me.”

“Yes, Admiral.” Bradamont came to attention again. “Thank you.”

Barely half an hour later his hatch alert chimed. “Come in.”

Rione entered, walking in as if she owned the place, went to a seat, and dropped into it. “I had a thought that I wished to share,” she began.

He watched her warily, wondering why Rione seemed so casually cheerful. She hadn’t acted that way since she had rejoined the fleet at the start of this mission. “And what would that be?”

“Wouldn’t it be of great benefit to the Alliance to have an officer assigned to duty here long term? In this star system? What do you call it, a liaison officer?”

Now what was Rione up to? “A liaison officer. Left here.”

“Right.” Rione paused as if thinking. “Of course, that officer would have to be relatively senior given the importance of the assignment, and given the suspicions between our people and those here, it would be very helpful if she already had some sort of liaison among them.”

“Liaison?”

“A personal relationship. Perhaps with one of their officers. I know that’s a crazy idea, but—”

“How the hell did you break into my conferencing software this time?” Geary demanded.

“In any event,” Rione continued, as if he hadn’t spoken, “you’d have to find someone willing to accept official orders to remain here. Someone who knows the Syndics well enough to spot some of their tricks because even though these Syndics have changed their spots, they still doubtless play the same games.”

“Official orders?” Was she actually helping?

“The Alliance needs someone to keep an eye on things,” Rione said, studying her fingernails as she spoke. “Someone who can offer guidance to these people on proper military and governmental relationships. Someone who can perhaps suggest democratic reforms.” She cocked her head sideways as if a thought had just occurred to her. “Perhaps even a little advice on how to fight battles if the defenders of this star system needed it.”

“You’re suggesting the perfect solution to both my problem for offering support to this star system, and to Captain Bradamont’s personal problem. Why?”

Rione frowned in thought. “It could be my inner compassionate nature asserting itself.”

“It doesn’t do that very often,” Geary observed. “Especially not lately.”

“Then maybe my inner bitch, which doesn’t differ too much from my outer bitch, wants to ruin the plans of certain parties back in Alliance space.” Rione met his eyes. “A fleet officer who communicated with the enemy after she was liberated from being a Syndic prisoner of war? Who passed information to the enemy? To an enemy officer for whom she had personal feelings? Think of the possibilities if a leak of that information was threatened.”

Geary leaned toward her, his voice hardening as he spoke. “If you’re aware of that much, then you also know that those communications were at the orders of military intelligence to pass false information to the Syndics.”