Captain Vorpatril's alliance

I’m not the only one, Ivan wanted to snap back. In fact, he didn’t even go back the farthest. Talk to your own damn people. What, had By gone off to bed without filing a report, the rat? “In my, what, nine hours of observation, all I’ve seen is some very jump‑lagged people glad to find their daughters alive”‑that, without doubt, had not been some show for his benefit‑“and grateful to be taken to a hotel.” Hang on… By was Domestic Affairs; Raudsepp had named himself Galactic Affairs. Was this another fricking ImpSec right hand not talking to the left screwup, again? Ivan was so used to Byerly by now, he perhaps forgot just how high and restricted a level By worked on, however erratically. Should he direct Raudsepp to Byerly, or not? Maybe it ought to be the other way around. Isn’t trying to cover for By how I got into all this trouble in the first place…?

But Captain Raudsepp was going on. “Looking ahead, then.” He rummaged in his uniform jacket and withdrew a card, which he glanced at and handed to Ivan. “This is my secured comconsole code, by which you may contact me directly at any time. Should you find anything suspicious to report, anything at all, please call me at once.”

Ivan didn’t reach for it. “Uh, you’re asking me to spy on my wife’s family for you?” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a slight wince cross Desplains’s usually impassive features, although in reaction to just what aspect of this he couldn’t guess.

“You did take formal responsibility for them, Captain Vorpatril.”

As a Vor lord. Not as a military officer. Different chain of command. Oh, crap, that sounded just like one of Miles’s arguments, didn’t it. Ivan knew he was on thin ice if he’d started channeling his cousin. Gingerly, he took the card, glanced at it‑code only, no other identifying information, right, one of those – and tucked it away in his wallet.

“Although…” Raudsepp hesitated, looking around the admiral’s tidy but resource‑crammed office‑one whole wall was taken up with Desplains’s professional library, including a few rare volumes going back to the Time of Isolation. “It does occur to me, nearly everything to do with Ops passes through your comconsole, Captain Vorpatril, one way or another. Until this entire situation is clarified, it might be more prudent for you to take some personal leave. Unexceptionable enough, for a family emergency, certainly.”

Ivan’s jaw tightened. So, he noticed, did Desplains’s. “If my loyalty is suddenly that suspect,” he ground out, “that should certainly not be my decision to make, eh?”

Raudsepp’s brow wrinkled. “True enough.” He looked to Desplains.

Desplains looked back and said blandly, “My aide and I will discuss it. Thank you for your concern, Captain Raudsepp, and for your information and your time on this busy morning.”

It was a clear dismissal. Raudsepp must have run out of questions for now, or else he’d decided Ivan really had run out of answers, because he allowed himself to be shifted. The Ops clerk saw him out.

This left Ivan still standing. Studying him, Desplains rubbed his jaw and grimaced. “So, have you become a security risk, Vorpatril?”

“I don’t know, sir,” said Ivan, as honestly as possible. “Nobody tells me anything.”

Desplains snorted. “Well, then, go back to work, at least for the moment.” He waved Ivan out, but then added, “Oh. And call your mother.”

Ivan paused on the threshold. “I suppose I should, at that.” Actually, he’d totally forgotten that little task, in the rush of events.

“I should perhaps say, call your mother back.” The voice could have dehumidified the room; Desplains was giving him That Look.

“Ah. Yes, sir. Right away, sir.” Ivan retreated to the outer office.

He evicted the clerk from his desk, who was glad enough to get back to his own interrupted tasks, settled himself, and tapped in a familiar code. Lady Alys’s face formed over his vidplate all too promptly, which suggested she must have been lying in wait for this.

“Ah, Ivan. Finally,” she said, unconsciously echoing Desplains.

Dammit, he’d been busy. Ivan nodded warily. “Mamere. It’s been quite a night. I guess you’ve heard? Something?”

“Actually, our first word was a copy of Captain Morozov’s memo from Komarr, which he had strongly requested ImpSec Vorbarr Sultana forward to Simon. Happily, General Allegre can recognize need‑to‑know when he sees it. It came in while we were having breakfast. We had a first‑hand update a bit later. Not from you, I must point out.”

From who, then? Ivan wanted to ask, then realized it would be a redundant question. And Byerly had probably also acquired breakfast and bed by now, of both of which Ivan was deprived, and looked to stay that way. “I kind of had my hands full,” Ivan excused himself. “Everyone’s settled now, though. Temporarily.”

“Good. How is Tej taking it? And Rish?”

“Overjoyed. Well, imagine how would you feel, to get your family back from the dead, all unexpected?”