Rogue Powers by Roger MacBride Allen Page A

pocket that would have deeply impressed anyone who knew what they all meant. "I take it you haven't heard the latest, then," Metcalf said. "I got it through the Navy scuttlebutt. I doubt it'll hit the news services for a day or two. They convicted Mac."
    "My God."
    "Busted him back to lieutenant commander, confined him to base at Columbia at the Survey Service training center. He's going to be a prisoner and an instructor there at the same time. He suggested the sentence himself, of course, as the best way he could still serve the war effort while doing his time."
    "But why did they do it?"
    "We've been through this. Because Mac said they could blow the Eagle the way we took out Leviathan."
    "I know what the charges were. I just can't believe they'd really do it."
    "That's something you've got to learn, George. You want to think we're all angels in white at this end. Well, you keep telling me there are decent people among the Guardians, and I believe you, because you're one of them. Here's proof that we've got some flaming bastards on our side."
    George Prigot grunted and sipped at his beer. Suddenly his good cheer was gone.
    Prigot was a Guardian, born and bred on Capital. He had met Mac Larson on New Finland, become his friend, fought at Mac's side, against his own people, when the brutality of the Guards became too much for his conscience. Prigot needed to believe in the lightness of his choice, and that made it difficult for him to accept that
    League people could pull a rotten stunt like throwing the book at Mac. Illusions die hard with George.
    Metcalf sipped at his Scotch. He had been on New Finland too, had earned his Distinguished Flying Cross there. He knew Mac, could very easily understand George's loyalty to the man—because he felt it himself. He thought back to the time when Berman had died, and Mac found himself forced to take up the command he had never wanted. Mac had saved them. The League forces and the Finns had wanted to curl up and die then, but Mac—Mac had found the way to pull them all together, had found the reserves of courage and hope that hadn't even been there before Mac went looking for them.
    Metcalf had good reason to share Prigot's loyalty to Mac. Without Mac, they'd both either be dead or Guardian prisoners right now. Metcalf felt a strong urge to do something about Mac, help him in some way. But there was nothing he could do. Except maybe fight the war. And there was no war to fight—and wouldn't be until the bright boys found Capital.
    Supposedly, he and George had been shipped to Bandwidth for reasons that had something to do with the search for Capital. No one had quite known what to do with George after New Finland, and Metcalf half suspected that had much to do with why the two of them had found themselves on Bandwidth.
    The whole thing was a military jury-rig. Certainly there was value in questioning prisoners, and there were any number of Intelligence officers from across the League right here on Bandwidth, very happily doing just that. Whatever prisoners of war from New Finland that could be pried loose from the Finns were here. But there hadn't been many prisoners to start with, and the Finns, as the party most aggrieved by the Guards, were reluctant to give many up. But here the available P.O.W.s were. And so George was here. Perhaps there was even value in having George around as a tame expert, catching the P.O.W.s in lies and suggesting questions that might be
    asked of them. It might even make sense to have Metcalf there, because he had experience in Guard battle tactics and might have something to contribute. Metcalf rather suspected he was really there because there wasn't much call for fighter pilots at the moment and because the higher-ups wanted some around who could keep Prigot company—and keep an eye on him. George, after all, was a turncoat, and he might turn again. . . .
    But Prigot didn't seem to need much watching, though he was glad of Metcalf s company, glad to