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Tales from the Academy

A Fan Fiction Novel set in the Worlds of Miles Vorkosigan

By Scott Washburn

This story includes characters and settings created by Lois McMaster Bujold and are used without her permission or knowledge.

Prologue

Countess Cordelia Naismith Vorkosigan often felt that the Barrayaran penchant for pomp and circumstance—particularly when she was obliged to sit through it—was taken too far. But not today. This was one ceremony she was perfectly willing to sit through. Indeed, she had to struggle to keep the expression on her face from morphing from stately satisfaction to outright glee.

She was sitting in the garden courtyard of the Count’s Residence in Hassadar, capital of Vorkosigan District, watching her grandchildren being presented to the people of the city. It was a tradition that stretched far back into the Time of Isolation when the birth of a Count’s heir, or in this case, the heir’s heir, was an event of great significance and a time for celebration. It had also been a way to show that the heir was mutation free—something that was still of particular significance in many minds. Her gaze drifted over to her son, Miles. He and his wife, Ekaterin, were standing behind the two display cribs and grinning ear to ear. Miles was holding little Helen Natalie and chatting with a townswoman. Cordelia knew full well how important this was to him. It was vindication on more levels than she could count at the moment.

Miles’ impeccably tailored brown-and-silver Vorkosigan house uniform could not disguise the fact that he was scarcely five feet tall, nor completely hide the slight hunchback that he’d had his whole life. And while he had learned to ignore the hurtful whispers of mutant, to be able to show off his two perfect children, produced by him and his lovely wife, must eclipse all his other accomplishments. Although, Cordelia noted with a wry smile, Miles wasn’t being shy about displaying those other accomplishments, too. His uniform coat was adorned with a selection of his many medals and awards, and the gold Imperial Auditor’s seal hung around his neck on its elaborate chain.

A line of people wound past the flowering roses and out the garden gate and, from reports, went for many blocks through the city. They had been coming to pay their respects and see and praise the children for several hours now and would continue to do so for the rest of the day. The Vorkosigans were popular rulers and this was the first excuse for a major celebration since Miles’ and Ekaterin’s wedding a year and a half ago.

But it made for a long day. They had agreed to take things in shifts to give themselves a break from time to time. Aral was off somewhere now and ought to be back shortly, unless some local politician had gotten hold of him. Cordelia rose from her chair. She would take her turn now, she decided. After all, she hadn’t held her grandchildren since breakfast.

But as she smoothed her skirt, she caught sight of a small commotion in the line of people. A young woman was talking intently with one of the armsmen, who was shaking his head emphatically. What was this all about? Oh. Cordelia caught sight of the envelope in the woman’s hand. A petitioner. Why hadn’t she left her petition in the basket at the gate? The armsman was offering to take the envelope, but the woman pulled it away and gestured in Cordelia’s direction.

As she did so, their eyes met and locked and the woman froze. The armsman, Holt, it was, turned to follow the woman’s gaze, saw his countess, and frowned in annoyance. He turned back and grasped the woman’s arm. The people next to her in line were growing angry, too. After waiting hours to get in, they didn’t want the moment spoiled.

And neither did Cordelia. Making up her mind, she strode quickly down the line to stand next to Armsman Holt. “Is there a problem here?” she asked.

Holt, startled, turned to look at her, his face coloring slightly. “No, my lady. Nothing you need trouble yourself with.” The nearby townspeople and the young woman, were all staring, wide-eyed. The woman, scarcely more than a girl, she saw now, clutched her envelope, clearly mustering her courage to dispute Holt’s statement.

“Is that for me, Miss…?” asked Cordelia, indicating the envelope.

“Yes, my lady,” said the girl, bending a knee in an awkward curtsy. “Or… or for the Count. Or the Lord Auditor. Anyone who…”

“Anyone who’d pay attention?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“There’s a basket at the gate,” growled Holt. “And I offered to take it if that wouldn’t do.”

“That’s true,” said Cordelia. “And there are several official channels for electronic mail, too, that you could try.”

“I have tried!” cried the girl, who clapped her mouth shut in shock at how loudly she had spoken. The line was moving forward and a number of people cut around the woman, but she didn’t seem to care. Her eyes remained fixed on Cordelia. “Please, my lady, I’ve sent messages to everyone I could think of and nothing’s happened.”

Cordelia frowned. It was probably something trivial then. Miles, acting in his capacity as Aral’s heir while they were away on Sergyar, had set up a very good system for people to register complaints or petitions and get results if they warranted them. If this girl’s petitions had gone unanswered it was unlikely they had much substance. Still, it would be simple enough to hear her now and avoid a scene. She put out her hand. “What’s your name?”

“Anny… I mean Andreanne Payne, my lady.” She held out the envelope and Cordelia took it. She smiled when she saw that Aral’s, Miles’ and her names and full titles were neatly hand-written on it. The girl wasn’t leaving any route untried. She’d give her points for persistence, if nothing else. She popped open the seal and drew out a sheet of paper—real paper, not a flimsy—and unfolded it. She quickly scanned down the page—and stopped.

“Heavens. Are you serious about this, Anny?”

“Yes, my lady!” The look on her face screamed sincerity—and fear.

“Anywhere else I wouldn’t have to ask this, but here I do: why?”

“M-my family has always served, my lady. But my older brother was killed in a logging accident and…” she drew herself up and her expression of fear became one of determination. “And I’m the eldest now.”

“I… see. What in the world makes you think that you can do this?”

“He did.” The girl jerked her head in Miles’ direction. Cordelia wasn’t sure if she was pleased or offended by the answer. But then she sensed someone coming up behind her and she knew it was Aral even before he spoke.

“What’s this?” he asked. Holt, the girl, and all the nearby townspeople bowed and curtsied and ‘m’lorded’ right and left.

“Ah. Dear, this is Anny Payne. Anny, this is… well, I guess you know who this is, don’t you?”

“Yes, m’lady,” gulped Anny.

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Payne. What can we do for you?” Aral looked from the girl to Cordelia. She held out the paper.

“It seems that Anny has been unfairly denied admittance—to the Barrayaran Imperial Service Academy.”

Cordelia had to give Aral credit: he barely flinched at all. “Indeed?” he rumbled, taking the paper and looking it over. “You took the entrance exam? How?”

“Y-you can take the academic parts on-line, now, m’lord. I… I put down my brother’s name. But when I passed the first tests they asked for more information and… and…” She held out her hands helplessly.

“I see…”

“Dear, let’s not all stand here like this,” said Cordelia. “People are beginning to stare. Why don’t we all go over there where we can talk?”

“Certainly, dear Captain. A good idea. Come, Miss Payne.” To Armsman Holt’s obvious dismay, Aral unhooked the velvet-covered rope that was herding the visitors past the cribs and ushered Anny through. There was no security risk: everyone was thoroughly scanned before they were allowed through the force field guarding the Residence, no, Holt’s concerns were propriety, not security. Anny’s face had gone nearly as white as the paper of her petition to find herself trapped between her count and countess, but she didn’t falter. The girl certainly had courage, Cordelia granted. But did she really understand what she was doing? The Barrayaran military was a males-only bastion that clung to the old ways more obstinately than almost any other part of Barrayaran society.

They walked down a short path to a shaded spot where there were some chairs and refreshments, out of sight of the visitors. Coming in the opposite way was Miles who handed off Aral Alexander to a nurse for a diaper change. Miles strolled over with his hands in his pockets and nodded at each of them and looked quizzically at Anny. “Hullo,” he said.

“Miles, dear, this is Anny Payne,” said Cordelia. “Anny has an interesting… situation.” Aral handed him the paper. Halfway through it he glanced up sharply at Anny.

“These are really your test scores?” he asked.

“Yes, my lord auditor,” whispered Anny.

Miles whistled. “Only two points below mine, although I imagine the test has changed a bit.” Cordelia smiled. Not just because Miles could remember the exact score he received fifteen years earlier, but because she could remember her own entrance exam scores from the Betan Astronomical Survey Academy from half a century ago. “Still, you must realize what you are up against here, Anny.”

“Yes, my lord auditor.” The girl set her jaw and looked stubborn.

“The law is quite clear,” said Aral. “Men only.”

“Laws can be changed,” said Cordelia.  “You’ve changed enough over the years to know that.”

Miles scratched at his nose. “Sooner or later, someone was bound to try this. Actually, I’m kind of surprised that it took this long, what with you here, mother.”

“This would be very… unpopular in certain circles,” said Aral.

“But probably more popular in others,” countered Cordelia. “Why, I imagine Count Dono would be quite happy to sponsor a bill…”

Miles cleared his throat noisily. “I don’t know if this would be the best time, mother. And I don’t know if it would even be necessary. The Academy has always had quite a bit of latitude to make… exceptions.” He glanced at Aral and her pointedly. “Perhaps if I had a word with General Vorgarin.” Miles frowned and looked unhappy. In his role as Imperial Auditor his Word was very nearly law, but it was not a power to be used frivolously or often.

“Now love,” said Cordelia, “you are still on vacation. And it’s been far too long since I stirred things up around here.” She smiled and took Anny by the arm.

“Let me take a crack at this.”

* * *

BOOK  ONE

* * *

Chapter 1

“Come on, Anny! Hit me! You fight like a girl!” The woman darted in, seized Anny by her tunic, and tossed her to the mats. She landed heavily, but rolled and was back on her feet in a moment as she’d been trained. I am a girl, darn it! What do you expect? The session had been going on for nearly an hour. She was tired and sweaty and getting very frustrated. She knew that she was incredibly fortunate to be getting these lessons from Drou Koudelka, but it was hard to accept that this woman who was forty years her senior--almost sixty years old, for God’s sake!—was mopping the floor with her.

They circled each other for a few moments and then Anny made a tentative lunge. She was rewarded with a blow to her protective helmet that sent her sprawling again, stars floating in her vision like glowflies. Drou stood over her, shaking her head. “Anny, you can do better than that! You have to concentrate!”

She sat upright and pulled off her helmet. “I’m sorry, Drou. You’re right, I can’t pay attention to this right now. Countess Cordelia should have been back an hour ago with the word! What do you think is happening?”

Drou stared at her for a moment longer and then put out her hand to haul Anny to her feet. She smiled: “Why do you think I was pushing you so hard? I was trying to take your mind off it.”

“Fat chance of that,” muttered Anny.

“Yeah. Well, it’s almost lunchtime. Let’s take a break.” Anny nodded in grateful agreement. They each grabbed a towel and left the small gym on the third floor of Vorkosigan House. They headed down the steps, mopping off the sweat as they went. They had been heading for the kitchen, but an armsman intercepted them on the second floor landing.

“Ah, Madam Koudelka, Miss Payne, I was just coming to get you. The Countess commed a moment ago and asked that I have you meet her in the Yellow Parlor for lunch. She should be here shortly.

“Oh,” said Drou. “All right. No time for a shower. I guess she won’t mind us being all smelly.”

“Did… did the Countess say anything else?” asked Anny nervously.

“No,” said the armsman. “But she did sound to be in a good mood.” The man winked at her and went back down the stairs. Anny stared after him, but decided that any further questions probably wouldn’t yield anything. She looked to Drou and raised her eyebrows, pleading.

“No use guessing in a vacuum, Anny. We’ll know soon enough. Come on.” The Yellow Parlor was on the second floor so it only took a few moments to reach it. Ma Kosti, the Vorkosigan’s amazing cook, was there putting out some appetizers at a table set for three. Anny sat down but could scarcely force herself to nibble on the exquisite dainties. Her stomach was tying itself in knots.

I can’t believe I’m doing this!

It was also hard to believe that nearly a year had passed since that fateful day in Hassadar. She could still feel the raw terror that had filled her when she found herself face-to-face with the Count and Countess. But they had both been kinder and more helpful than she’d dared to hope for. The legendary Countess Cordelia Vorkosigan had taken an interest in Anny and decided to make her case a personal ‘project’.

But even with her full support, nothing had happened quickly. Anny had been expecting a simple yes or no (in all probability a no) and that would be the end of it. Either she would be sent home in failure or sent to the Academy. It wouldn’t take more than a day or two for a decision like that, right?

Wrong. The Countess had set the ball rolling before she returned to Sergyar with the Count, but even though the ball had considerable momentum, it could not just roll straight to the goal. Instead, it bounced and banged and clanged around like one of those remarkable pin-ball machines imported from Earth that had become all the rage in the city. The ball never seemed to come to a complete stop, since few people had the nerve to give a flat no to Cordelia Naismith Vorkosigan, but for the longest time it never got any closer to the goal, either. One obstruction after another was thrown up and Anny had to miss entering the Academy with the next class. She found herself taking new tests and retaking old tests and then waiting weeks for the results—even though the computers could grade the darn things in micro-seconds. Men in officer’s uniforms glared at her and asked lots and lots of questions.

Days passed and then weeks and Anny had to return home. Her mother, who quite openly thought Anny had lost her mind, reminded her daily that she couldn’t just keep waiting for something that was never going to happen. She had to find a job, or even better, find a husband! Her younger sisters, who had been so excited for her at first, were now making fun of her behind her back. The Countess had told her that with her school grades she could probably get a scholarship to a good college and as the time dragged on, that was looking like a better and better idea.

But just as Anny was getting ready to give up, the Countess returned to Barrayar to give the ball another shove. She shrewdly appraised Anny’s situation at home and suggested that she come to Vorbarr Sultana for some ‘advanced training’. With more than a few trepidations, Anny had agreed.  She had never been to a city larger than provincial Hassadar before, so the capital of Barrayar had frightened and dazzled her. And when the Countess had told her that they would ‘find a place for her to stay’ she had never imagined that meant Vorkosigan House! The huge, old Count’s Residence probably had more square footage than all the houses in her home village combined. She’d been given a very nice room on the third floor and introduced to a mob of new people.

“Drou…?”

“Hmm?” Drou answered around a mouthful of pastry.

“I… I just wanted to tell you that no matter what answer I finally get, I’m so grateful for all of your help. And the Commodore, too. You’ve all been so kind to me.”

Drou swallowed and smiled. “It was our pleasure, Anny. With our girls all married and out of the house we were both at loose ends—or at least we will be until the grandchildren start coming.”

Two of the first people Anny had been introduced to were Drou and Kou Koudelka. Drou had once—over thirty years ago—been the personal bodyguard of the ill-fated Princess Kareen and later of Countess Vorkosigan. She took charge of Anny’s physical and close-combat training. The officers who were opposing Anny’s entry into the Service Academy—and there were a lot of them—insisted that she meet the same physical standards as the male cadets. Fortunately, Anny was a big, strong girl to begin with, but under Drou’s instruction she was now in better shape than she had dreamed possible. She still couldn’t match most of the men in raw strength, but she could pass every one of the tests. The close-combat training had been ‘optional’ since she’d get that training at the Academy, but Drou insisted that she learn it now, hinting she might need it for other things than passing tests. Anny didn’t like close-combat and wasn’t much good at it, but Drou had been very patient with her.

Equally patient had been Commodore Clement—‘Kou’—Koudelka, Drou’s husband. The Commodore had once been Count Vorkosigan’s military aide and had recently retired after a long and accomplished career. He schooled Anny in military matters and the ins and outs of the Academy. Unlike most of the officers she had met, the Commodore did not seem to have any objections to what Anny was trying to do. Drou had joked that was mostly due to some not-so-subtle threats made by their four headstrong daughters, but Anny didn’t believe that. Kou had become like a father to her and it was obvious that he really wanted her to succeed. He wasn’t just going through the motions because the Countess had asked him to. All these people doing so much to help me. What if I fail?

“Drou?”

“Yes?”

“Am I crazy? To want to do this, I mean.”

“Probably.” Anny looked at her sharply, but the woman was smiling. “The people who bring about the big changes are all probably a little crazy. Look at the Countess. Ha! Look at Miles!” She snorted a laugh. “But where would we be without them?”

“I’m not trying to change things! But if… if it had been possible for you, back when you were my age, would you…?”

“Anny, I would have grabbed it with both hands and run like hell and never looked back.”

“Really?”

“Really. Oh, that’s not to say that I’d do it differently if I had the chance to go back now. I love the life I’ve had and I wouldn’t give up my marriage or my children for any prize. But without knowing about this future, if I’d been allowed to actually wear the uniform and hold the rank that went with my job, then, yes, I’d do it.”

Anny nodded numbly. She envies me! That’s just not right. “To wear the uniform,” she whispered.

“That is what you want, isn’t it?

Was it? That was a part of it, she supposed, but what did she really want? Another part was family tradition. The Paynes had served the Imperium and the Vorkosigan counts before that for a dozen generations or more. There was an ancient sword that hung over the mantelpiece back home that supposedly had been given to some great-great-etc-grandfather by one of those counts after doing something heroic somewhere. Other martial heirlooms cluttered shelves and closets that no one could quite remember the stories about. So, it was a family duty, but was it her duty? Her father had been a twenty-year man and very proud of it. He’d thrilled Anny with his stories of travelling with the squadrons escorting the trade fleets. Tales of different worlds and the close-knit comraderie of the service had kindled a fire in her heart. So that was another piece of this puzzle, but there were other ways to see the universe and other people she could give her loyalty to. Why do it the hardest way possible?

And then there was her brother.

Peter had been two years her senior and growing up there had never been a doubt in anyone’s mind that he would uphold the family traditions and enter the Imperial service. She had envied him, just the way Drou seemed to be envying her now. But life wasn’t easy in the Dendarii Mountains and Peter had taken an after-school job with a logging company until he was old enough to join up. It was dangerous work and one day it killed him.

It killed her father, too, it just took a little longer.

Her Da had always seemed just the right age to Anny, but in reality he was an old man. He’d waited until he retired from the service to marry. He’d been forty-five when Peter was born. His health was already failing when his son died. Anny had watched her father’s life just drain away after that. On his deathbed he said his only regret was that the long family tradition of service would end with him. Weeping, Anny had promised him she would take Peter’s place. Her Da had smiled and patted her hand and then he was gone. You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.

“Anny?” Drou was looking at her with a puzzled expression.

“Oh! Yes! Yes, that’s what I want.” Is it?

“Actually, I should be thanking you,” said Drou. “If—I mean when—you do this, it will open up worlds of possibilities for my own granddaughters—possibilities I never had.”

Anny looked at her in horror. Don’t say that! I’m carrying enough as it is! But before Drou seemed to notice her reaction there was a high-pitched squeal from out in the hallway and she turned and smiled. “Speaking of grandchildren…”

Another shriek and the patter of tiny feet announced the entrance of 18-month old Helen Natalie Vorkosigan. The toddler ran across the room and ricocheted off the sideboard and then stood in a patch of sunlight, turning in circles. Following at a more sedate pace was the Countess and behind her came Helen’s mother who was holding her brother Aral. Anny and Drou got to their feet automatically. The Countess was never a stickler for ceremony, but somehow she just did that to you. Helen careened over and grabbed Anny’s trousers in a tiny fist to steady herself. “Hi, Anny! How doin’?”

“I’m fine, Helen,” replied Anny, but her eyes never left the Countess. She was smiling and came over and scooped up little Helen and proceeded to tickle her, producing gales of laughter that was so high-pitched it neared the edge of hearing. This went on for a minute or more until Drou finally spoke up.

“Cordelia, are you going to tell us what happened or are you going to keep this poor girl dangling?”

The Countess stopped tickling and shifted the breathless child in her arms. She sat down and looked right at Anny. “Relax. You’re in.”

Anny found herself back in her chair although she had no memory of sitting down. She just goggled for a few moments and then managed to choke out: “I am? Really?”

“Really,” said the Countess. Drou clapped her hands and then came over and gave Anny a hug.

“You are going to have to tell us everything, Cordelia!” said Drou.

“Everything would keep us here far into the night. And some of it is even classified, although I can’t see why. But let’s just say that it went all the way to the top before it was resolved.”

“The top,” gasped Anny. “You… you mean the Emperor?”

“Higher than that: his wife,” said the Countess with a laugh. “Laisa pointed out to Gregor that his hope of reconciling Komarr’s people to being a permanent part of the Empire was doomed if half the population was barred from the surest path to advancement. Smart woman, that one. Of course, no Komarran women have even tried yet, but once they get a look at you, Anny, who knows?”

Anny sat there in a daze. She was really going to the Academy. ‘Thank… thank you. Thank you all.”

The Countess gave a sour laugh. “You might not be thanking us a few months from now. This was the easy part, girl! We could help you get in, but that’s as far as the help is going to go. Staying in is another matter and it will be entirely up to you!”

 Anny felt like a huge weight was descending on her shoulders. First her father and Peter, then Drou’s hypothetical granddaughters. Now all the women of Komarr. She was amazed that her chair didn’t collapse under the load. But all these people had enough faith in her to give her this chance. Drou, the Commodore. The Countess.

 She forced herself out of her chair and stepped next to Countess Cordelia. She sank to one knee and looked up into her surprised face.

“I won't fail you, my lady."

Chapter 2

“Yes, I’ve seen the order! I’ve seen all the orders! I’ve got orders from the General Staff, orders from the Council of Counts—countersigned by the Emperor, himself!—orders from the Bureau of Personnel, orders from the Chief Surgeon and a dozen others! Half of them contradict the other half! What the hell am I supposed to do with this girl?”

Anny sat bolt upright on the edge of a chair in the room outside the Academy Commandant’s office. She was fairly certain she wasn’t supposed to be hearing the half of the comconsole conversation that was coming through the thin walls. She glanced at the Commandant’s aide working at his desk, but he made no sign that he even heard the tirade, although there was no way anyone could have missed it.

“Treat her like any other cadet? Yes, that’s what the order from BuPers says! But am I to take that literally? Payne is due to report for her physical testing—yes, I know she’s passed all of them already but she’s taking them again today with the other cadets anyway—and do you remember what the regulation uniform is for the testing, Emil? It hasn’t been that long since we were here as cadets, has it? That’s right: shoes and shorts—and nothing else! Do I send her out there topless?”

Anny paled and she automatically crossed her arms across her chest. Most of her was horrified at the possibility, but a tiny part of her almost wanted to do it just to let them know she could take anything they could dish out. Almost.

She’d arrived at the Academy early that morning. Drou had borrowed a bright red lightflyer from the Vorkosigans and flown her here herself. Anny had suggested taking the monorail alone, as most other arriving cadets did, but Drou wanted a last chance to talk to her. She’d been so excited and nervous she scarcely remembered what they talked about but the Academy was only a few hundred kilometers north of Vorbarr Sultana so it had been a short conversation anyway. The hug that Drou gave her on the landing pad seemed to last longer than the flight. The woman seemed reluctant to let go of her.

Her arrival had caused as much confusion among the processing staff as it now seemed to be causing to Colonel Sylvanus. Surely, they knew I was coming! They all acted as if she was some alien creature who had just fallen out of the sky into their midst. I guess it probably seems exactly like that to some of them. No one knew what she was supposed to do or where she should go. Even a relatively simple matter like issuing uniforms and gear had caused a commotion. She tried to explain that she already had a full set of uniforms. She didn’t mention that they were custom-tailored to fit her female body-shape and paid for by Countess Vorkosigan. But it wouldn’t have mattered anyway: the quartermaster sergeant insisted that every incoming cadet must be issued a full set of uniforms—‘regulations, miss’—so now she had two enormous duffle bags and two sets of uniforms. Identical, except that one set fit and the other set probably did not.

At least they admitted that she existed. She was on their computer rosters: A. Payne. She had no doubt the sort of jokes that would soon generate! She’d already heard them all on her journey through school. After several hours of passing the payne up the chain of command, she’d ended up in the Commandant’s Office.

“Use my common sense?” bellowed the Commandant. “If I was allowed to use my common sense, she wouldn’t even be here! And what about the shower and toilet facilities? What about the barracks? They are not co-ed, Emil! I’ve got another order here from the Adjutant General’s Office reminding me that no harassment of Cadet Payne will be tolerated except—and I quote—‘such as is normal for any cadet at the Academy’. What the hell does that mean? Upperclassmen harassing plebes has been going on as long as the Academy has existed! If a 1^st Battalion cadet swats Payne on the a…the backside to hurry her along is he going to be hauled up on charges? And that’s not the worst thing that could happen by any means. Put a young woman into a company of young men full of testosterone and you know damn well what’s going to happen! What? Yes, she’s attractive. I’ve seen her pics and she’s very pretty. But after a month or so here it wouldn’t matter if she looked like Sergeant Major Szytko! Can you imagine the nightmare if we had to court-martial a dozen Vor lordlings on rape charges?  I’m telling you, Emil, this is going to cause chaos!”

Now Anny was blushing. The Countess had given her some very frank information on the dangers she might face. There had been an odd tone in her voice that had made Anny shiver. Drou had given equally frank advice on just what to do if the dangers materialized. She felt she could fight off one or two attackers, but not a whole mob. Would they really do something like that? Now even the secretary was stirring uneasily and he threw a glance in her direction.

“Perhaps you should wait outside, cadet,” he said quietly. Anny immediately sprang to her feet.

“Yes, sir. Uh, where…?”

“Out on the porch should be okay. Just don’t wander off.”

“Yes, sir.” She left the office and retreated down the hallway and through the double doors and onto the porch where her two duffle bags sat forlornly. The Commandant’s office was in a big, old house that dated from the Time of Isolation. It had once been part of an estate owned by the Vorbarra family, but Emperor Ezar had given it and the land around it to become the Academy. The porch thrust out from the front of the house and was covered by a roof set on thick, white pillars. A white balustrade ran between the pillars except where the steps went down to the ground. Immediately to the front was a vast parade ground over a kilometer square. It was flat as a griddlecake with lush, closely-mowed grass, starting to yellow slightly with the end of summer. A battalion of cadets were drilling in the bright sunshine, their black fatigues a sharp contrast to the grass. Anny put her back to the wall beside the door and watched.

She decided they must be the junior or possibly even the senior class because they were very good; certainly not raw recruits. Commodore Koudelka had drilled her for weeks and she knew every paragraph of Vorcasey’s Tactics like the back of her hand. School of the Soldier, School of the Company, School of the Battalion, she felt like she could carry out the moves in her sleep. Of course, except for the manual of arms and a few basic marching maneuvers that could be executed in the garden of Vorkosigan House, she had never actually done any of it.

These cadets were doing it and doing it very well. Each company, though composed of sixty or seventy men, moved like it was a solid object; the building blocks of the battalion. They wheeled and obliqued as the battalion went from line to column and back again. She whistled silently as they formed a square: a defensive formation against cavalry attack. A few generations earlier there might have been cavalry drilling on this field, too. It was impressive. Totally impractical for fighting with modern weapons, but still impressive. And that was the whole point, of course. Close order drill instilled a sense of pride and solidarity. The battalion on the field was accompanied by a small fife and drum band which helped keep the cadence. Some of the tunes sent chills down her spine. Anny’s heart beat faster and she longed for the chance to get out there and do it herself.

She became so caught up in watching that she almost didn’t notice the approach of a pair of officers coming along the walkway. When they started up the steps, she spotted them and instantly came to rigid attention. A captain and a lieutenant in undress greens, they were talking about some administrative matter and didn’t give her a glance until they reached the doors. When they did look at her they both stopped dead as if they’d run into a force barrier. Now that they had noticed her existence, she was obliged to salute, which she did. The captain very slowly returned it. “What… who are you?” he asked.

“Cadet Payne, sir.”

“Good God, so the rumors were true for once. What are you doing, standing here?”

“Waiting to see the Commandant, sir. I was told to wait here by his aide.”

They stared at her for a moment longer and then passed through the doors, shaking their heads in unison. She heard the captain say: “There’s going to be Hell to pay now!”

She waited and waited and wondered if they had forgotten about her. Deliberately, perhaps? The drilling battalion was dismissed and dispersed into the buildings along the edges of the parade ground. A bugle sounded the mid-day meal but Anny did not dare leave to search for a mess hall. More people entered and left the headquarters buildings, most giving her a surprised look, but saying nothing. She saluted when appropriate and listened to her stomach growling. She grew progressively more worried; the physical testing that she was supposed to repeat started at 1400, she’d been told. What if she missed it standing here?

Perhaps fifteen minutes after the lunch call another man approached. He was wearing the uniform of a regimental sergeant major and he moved with an easy precision that bespoke a lifetime in the military. He wasn’t particularly tall, but seemed to project an aura of authority mixed with menace. His dark hair was cut short and was distinctly white at the temples. His face was rugged with a slightly crooked nose and a faint scar running down his left cheekbone to his jawline. There were multiple rows of ribbons on his chest and hashmarks on his sleeves denoting many years of service to the Imperium. Anny came to attention, but did not salute as he marched past her. His eyes flicked in her direction, but he didn’t pause or change expression.

Anny sighed and slumped slightly against the wall. This was becoming ridiculous. Hurry up and wait, just like the Commodore said. Stay cool, don’t let it get to you or you’ve lost half the fight right there. She took off her cap and ran her hand through her own closely-cropped hair. She’d once had long brown hair which she liked to weave into elaborate braids. All gone now, per the regulations. Countess Cordelia had told her, when she asked about those regulations, that they should try to win the important battles and not waste ammunition on minor items. She could hardly argue and went to a barber the next day. It was the sensible thing to do, but she didn’t quite recognize the person in the mirror these days. If I make it through this, will I recognize myself at all?

“Cadet Payne! Front and center!”

She snapped to attention and scrambled for the door so instinctively she almost fell over one of her duffle bags. The shouted command had seemed to bypass all the higher reasoning sections of her brain and go directly to the parts controlling her motor nerves. She quickly returned to the office where she’d been sitting. The door to the Commandant’s personal office was now standing open and the aide indicated she should go in.

Colonel Sylvanus was sitting at his desk and the sergeant major she’d seen earlier was standing off to one side. Both of them were looking at her. She stopped in front of the desk, came to attention and saluted. “Cadet Payne reporting as ordered, sir.” The Commandant was a broad-shouldered, balding man in his mid-fifties. His undress greens sported a host of ribbons—but not quite as many as the sergeant major. He returned her salute with an irritated flick of his hand.

“Cadet, this is Regimental Sergeant Major Szytko. He will be… overseeing your introduction to the Academy. You will follow whatever instructions he gives you, understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Anny glanced at Szytko but the man stood at parade rest and looked right past her.

“Cadet, you are due on the obstacle course in forty-two minutes. Move out.”

Anny hesitated for an instant and then saluted. “Yes, sir!” She faced about and headed for the door. Szytko was already two paces ahead of her. She caught up but then fell behind again when she had to stop and grab the two duffle bags. They had shoulder straps, but they probably weighed twenty kilos apiece and she struggled to get them up and positioned properly. Once done, she could only move forward in an awkward waddle. It wasn’t the weight so much as the size and mass that defeated quick movement. Szytko was thirty paces ahead by this time but he halted and looked back until she caught up. He did not offer to help. He then led the way with Anny puffing along behind.

After a few minutes Anny realized that they were passing by the cadet barracks and heading for a patch of woods in the distance. “Where… where are we going?” she gasped.

“Your quarters,” replied the Sergeant Major.

“Aren’t I staying in the barracks?”

“No.”

“But… but I thought I was to be treated like any other cadet.”

Szytko was silent for a dozen paces before he replied. “The Colonel has decided that the equal treatment should be limited to those things on which cadets are graded or evaluated. Sleeping, washing and… certain other activities are not graded and do not fall under the equal treatment orders.”

“Separate but equal, eh?” snorted Anny.

“Something like that, cadet. It’s for the good of the service.”

“Maybe you should just take me off in the woods and kill me, Sergeant Major. That would simplify everyone’s life, wouldn’t it?”

Another lengthy pause. Perhaps he’s considering it. “Less talk and more walk, cadet. You have thirty-five minutes.”

They reached the woods and Anny saw an overgrown path leading into it. They followed this for three or four hundred meters and came to a clearing with a small house in the center. Some sort of guest cottage? The place had clearly been unoccupied for a long time. Szytko had to throw his weight against the door before it squealed open on badly rusted hinges. Inside, the place was covered in dust, the furnishings old and shabby, and a few empty liquor bottles were scattered about. The Sergeant Major looked around in distaste. “You can police this later. Dump your kit and change into your PT gear, cadet. I’ll wait outside.”

Anny dropped the duffle bags with a grunt of relief. “No need, Sergeant Major, I’m wearing it under my fatigues.” She unzipped her tunic and trousers and shucked them off. Underneath, she wore the regulation shorts and a non-regulation black T-shirt. They locked eyes for a long moment. Anny slowly began to remove her top but Szytko put out his hand.

“That will do, cadet.”

“Equal treatment?” she asked, arching her eyebrows. The corner of Szytko’s mouth twitched, but no one would call it a smile.

“Save your breath for running, cadet. The obstacle course is three kilometers from here and you have nineteen minutes. Move out.”

* * *

Three kilometers in fifteen minutes didn’t even have Anny breathing hard. She’d trained with Drou to run at twice that pace for long distances. But Szytko matched her stride for stride and looked no more fatigued than she felt when they arrived—and he had to be nearly Drou’s age.

Clustered around the start of the obstacle course were about a hundred new cadets. Anny suddenly realized that this was her company. She’d be spending the next four years with these boys—at least the ones who made it through. The Commodore had described the close-knit comraderie that normally developed within a company. Not just during the time at the Academy, but for the rest of their careers. How would these boys react to her presence? Would they let her truly join them or would she be an outsider now and for always? She had wanted to become a part of the Imperial military, but it wasn’t really up to her, was it? She could do everything right, pass every test and every challenge, but if her peers refused to accept her, there was nothing she could do about it.

She came to a halt at the rear of the group. They were all looking at a sergeant who was holding a notepad and they hadn’t noticed her yet. But the sergeant had. He snarled out a rather amazing obscenity and then looked at Szytko. “Sergeant Major! By all the saints what in blazes have you got there? Please don’t say you’re bringin’ it to me!”

“’Fraid so, Jon. Punishment for your many sins,” replied Szytko with no sympathy in his voice. He left Anny and went over to talk with the sergeant. Their conversation was inaudible but there was a lot of gesticulating on the other sergeant’s part. By now, all the cadets had turned to face her and were staring with gape-mouthed astonishment. She looked right back at them. One of the things the Commodore had drilled her on was looking people right in the eye. He’d taken her on walks through Vorbarr Sultana and insisted that she look boldly and squarely at each person they passed. Now she was grateful for the practice. What she saw was a mob of young men about her own age (probably a little younger since they hadn’t had to waste a whole year getting permission to come here). They were tall, short, thin, stocky, fair and dark. All had close-cut hair and they were all bare to the waist. Most looked quite fit, although a few were a tad chubby. She swept her gaze across them and looked them in the eyes.

After a few moments she realized that most of them weren’t meeting her eyes. It seemed like they were staring a bit… lower. Anny reddened slightly. Her endowment was about average, but the physical training she had received had enlarged her pectorals and flattened her abdomen and left her looking rather… statuesque.

The other cadets seemed to have noticed.

“All right, you apes! Screw your eyes back into your heads and face me!” growled the sergeant. Everyone obeyed and Anny was at the back of the crowd instead of the front once again. The two sergeants had finished their discussion and Szytko had stepped off to the side and stood there with folded arms. The other sergeant cleared his throat noisily. “Now, as I was saying before we were interrupted: I am Sergeant Byrne and you are “C” Company! I will have the… privilege of commanding you until such time as you’ve earned the right to have your own company officers and NCOs. As of this moment, I am your company commander and you will address me as ‘sir. Got that?”

“Yes, sir!” A hundred voices, including Anny’s, shouted back as loudly as they could. They had all watched those movies on the vids and knew what was expected of them. Sergeant Byrne looked as though he was going to give them the old I can’t hear you routine anyway, but then thought better of it.

“In a few minutes you will begin the obstacle course. You will start in pairs at thirty-second intervals. Once begun you do not have to remain in your pairs. Proceed at your best speed. Sound off when I call your names and line up over there. Lafney! Land!” A pair of boys shouted back here! and moved over to the start line. “Leignitz! Lentov!” Two more answered and lined up behind the first two. Okay, C Company starts with the Ls, thought Anny. That should put me right about in the middle. I wonder how many of these cadets are Vor? For a long time no one but the Vor class could even come to the Academy. That restriction was eliminated during the reign of Emperor Ezar and during the regency and reign of Emperor Gregor the percentage of non-Vor had risen steadily. Still, Anny was willing to bet that over half her company were Vor, even though that honorific was dropped from every cadet’s name during his time here.

Sergeant Byrne called off a dozen more names; he was up to the Ns now. “Naddel! Nevitch! Halt! Scratch that!” Two boys had started forward but pulled up short at Byrne’s sudden command. He stared at his notepad for a moment and then scribbled on it with his stylus and nodded his head. “Naddel! Payne!” It took an instant for Anny to realize that her name had been called—out of order. But she shouted here! and trotted over to the start line with a dark-haired boy about her own height who looked at her suspiciously. She dared a small smile.

“Hi. I’m Anny Payne.”

“Jer. Jer Naddel.” He didn’t offer his hand, but there was a distinct accent to his voice.

“You’re Komarran?”

“And you’re a girl.”

“You noticed that, did you?”

“I didn’t think Barrayarans had girls. In the military, I mean.”

“Glad you clarified that.”

“So, what are you doing here?”

“We’re about to find that out.” Naddel frowned but said no more. Sergeant Byrne finished calling off the pairs and then went to the front of the line and started sending the cadets out on to the obstacle course at intervals. Anny glanced back and saw that Sergeant Major Szytko was still there, watching her.

Another few minutes and it would be her turn. She took a deep breath and forced herself not to shake. This was it. Everything that had happened up to now was just preparation for what  was to come. She didn’t have any worries about the obstacle course, itself. She’d trained on harder ones than this with Drou. But once she crossed that line, she was committed and could not turn back. Success or failure, it was all up to her now.

“Go!” Sergeant Byrne released another pair. Only one more in front of her. Can I do this? No other choice now, girl!

“Go!” Her turn next. She tensed and took her spot at the start line.

“Go!”

Anny Payne sprinted toward the future.

Chapter 3

Anny poured the chilly water over herself with one hand, while scrubbing with her other hand and hoping she was getting all of the soap off of her. The last of the water dribbled out of the plastic jug and she dropped it and grabbed a towel, spluttering and shivering hard. The weather was turned unseasonably cold and her ‘quarters’ had no heat, aside from a tiny fireplace.

The plumbing didn’t work, either.

She had been here for two weeks and submitted numerous requests for maintenance, but so far nothing had happened. She was obliged to haul water from the nearest source, about 500 meters away, and make do. Although the toilet didn’t work, at least the drain in the bathtub was functioning—so far. Some days she had the time and energy to heat up her bath water over the fire, but not today. Separate but equal—yeah, right. She dried herself with the towel and pulled on her uniform. There was no electricity in the cottage, either, but Sergeant Major Szytko had provided a few field lanterns. Making sure she had everything she needed, she turned off the lanterns and went outside. It was well before dawn, but a brilliant glow from the floodlights surrounding the parade ground gave enough light for her to follow the path through the woods.

“Halt! Who goes there!”

She stopped and sighed. Two figures were silhouetted against the light at the end of the path. They both had rifles with fixed bayonets. “It’s just me, sentry: Cadet Payne.” Who else would it be? I’m the one you are here to guard, remember?

“Advanced and be recognized!” She stepped forward until she was two meters from the figures and halted. A hand light switched on and she squinted as the beam was played across her face. “Present your ID and pass!” She had both items near at hand and passed them over to the sentry with the light. He took them and shined the light on them and then back on her and then on documents again.

“This pass is dated yesterday. It’s no longer valid.” Oh great, they’re going to play their little game.

“It was issued by the Provost yesterday. It’s valid until I can get another one today.”

“It doesn’t say that here. I’ll have to check.” He clicked on his wrist com and spoke into it. “Corporal of the Guard? Post 10. We have a situation here.” He looked at Anny and even in the dark she could see the grin on his face. She said nothing and just went to parade rest and waited. After about five minutes another cadet with corporal’s chevrons arrived but, as she had expected, he wasn’t willing to accept her pass either. The Sergeant of the Guard was summoned and he showed up after a ten minute wait. He looked over her ID and the pass and checked his chrono several times. Finally, he handed the items back to her and said she could go—just as reveille sounded over the loudspeakers. She instantly broke into a run and sprinted for the parade ground.

They were getting the timing down perfectly. The first time they did this they had actually caused her to be late for formation, but they had forgotten that their communications were recorded and when she was able to prove that the sentries had tied her up for nearly thirty minutes on a simple check of ID and pass, they had gotten the chewing out and punishment duty and not her. After that, they carefully left her just enough time to get to formation—if she ran and if she got up a half hour early to be ready. They’re trying to drive me out.

Anny wasn’t exactly sure who They were, but the incidents seemed too persistent and involved far too many people to just be the routine hazing of a new plebe—even a female plebe. But the big question was where did this originate? If it was just something the upper classes had come up with (the freshman class wasn’t well enough organized yet to be behind it) then she could probably handle this. If nothing else, they would get bored with it after a while if she refused to let them get to her. But what if it came from higher up? If the Academy staff were involved, maybe even the Commandant, himself, then what could she do?

She reached the parade ground just in time to fall into ranks with her company and not quite be the last one there. Sergeant Byrne glanced at her but said nothing. Byrne and Szytko had both been fair with her so far, so she wasn’t sure where they stood in all this. In fact, everyone had been fair if your definition of fair was that it fall within the letter of the regulations. They weren’t going to give her any grounds for an official complaint—and that alone was enough to make her suspect a conspiracy from higher up: mere bullies wouldn’t be this careful.

Sergeant Byrne called off the role and everyone was there. After he’d reported this to the battalion adjutant, C Company, and the others, took intervals to give them room for the morning PT. All of them took off their tunics and trousers and left them folded on the dewy grass. Everyone had on their PT gear underneath, just as she had the first day. This was followed by a brisk hour of calisthenics that left them dripping hot despite the chilly morning. Then came the order to get back into their fatigues…

Her tunic was gone.

She’d left it piled with her trousers, right behind her during the exercises. But now it was gone. She looked around, but she didn’t see it and none of the cadets seemed to have it. None of them would meet her eyes, but some appeared to be smiling. Great, now what do I do? There was nothing she could do but fall in with the company. Naturally, she was in the front rank, right under Sergeant Byrnes’ nose. He noticed instantly.

“You’re out of uniform, cadet.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Where’s your tunic?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

Byrne looked distinctly displeased. The sun was just peeking over the rim of the world and it cast horizontal shadows across the parade ground. The other companies were being sent to breakfast, but Byrne called C Company to attention and walked up and down the line. He returned to the center of the formation and glared. “Has anyone here seen Cadet Payne’s tunic?” Silence. “She was wearing it when she arrived. It did not walk off on its own and it did not blow away. Theft is a dismissible offence at the Academy. Now, I’ll ask again: has anyone seen Cadet Payne’s tunic?” Silence, but a very uncomfortable silence now. Byrne’s glare grew darker. “Very well, we shall search for it. Break ranks and sweep the area. Move!”

The company spread out and slowly moved across the parade ground. A black tunic on the closely-mowed grass would have stuck out like an anti-flare in the morning sunshine, but there was nothing to be seen. They reached the edge of the field and in short order her tunic was located in a trash receptacle next to the bleachers that were used by visiting dignitaries. It was returned to her and she quickly put it on. Byrne called them back into ranks. His glare had achieved new levels of darkness.

“There is a thief in the company,” he said. His voice was pitched low, but somehow that was more menacing than if he’s been shouting. “Quite probably several thieves since I saw no one break formation during PT. Now, we could find the thieves. They probably left DNA evidence on Cadet Payne’s tunic. If necessary, we could call in the JAG people and fast-penta the lot of you.” Anny sensed cadets shifting uneasily all around her. “But I’m not going to waste their time on a batch of sneak-thieves. Whoever you are, you have dishonored this company. And since you refuse to come forward, the whole company will have to pay along with you. Company! Right—face! Forward—march! Double time—march!” He led them off at a brisk trot, past the barracks, past the mess hall and onto a road that went into the huge training area that bordered the Academy. On and on…

And on.

By noon cadets were starting to collapse and Byrne finally ordered a halt. They were in a forested area that had to have been at least thirty kilometers from where they started, maybe more. They were all exhausted and even Anny was feeling the effects of her early start and a lack of food. Her legs and feet ached and her stomach felt like an empty sack. She flopped down under a tree and closed her eyes. She had thought about taking a few ration bars with her when she left her quarters that morning, but had not. She silently vowed she’d never do that again.

“Anny!” a voice whispered to her from behind the tree.

“Jer?” she whispered back, but didn’t move. It sounded like Jer Naddel, the Komarran cadet she’d met on the obstacle course.

“Anny, I saw who took your tunic.”

“Well, don’t tell anyone. It doesn’t matter now.”

“What do you mean it doesn’t matter! The whole company is being punished because of them!”

“Yeah, and if you rat on them, what do you think is going to happen to you? Just forget it.” Naddel didn’t say anything more for quite a while. Anny hoped he would realize what a huge mistake it would be to try and turn in the perpetrators. It was extremely unlikely, despite Sergeant Byrne’s dire statement, that anyone would be kicked out of the Academy over what they would insist was just a prank. Naddel would make a lot of enemies for no good purpose.

“It’s not fair,” whispered Naddel.

“Welcome to Barrayar.”

The trip back was a nightmare. The break had allowed their muscles to stiffen and they were all in real pain from the first step. At least they were headed back—or so they hoped. By mid-afternoon some of the cadets could go no farther on their own, so those that still could were obliged to help those who could not. Anny found herself with Jer half-carrying a smaller boy who hardly looked old enough to be a cadet.

“Thanks…I think,” he gasped as they hobbled along. By this time the company’s formation had completely unraveled. Cadets were scattered along a kilometer of road, singly or in small groups. The pace was about that of a slow walk. Sergeant Byrne moved along the column urging them on. The scoundrel hardly even looked winded.

During another short rest break the boy they were helping pulled off his shoes. Anny winced at the blood-stained socks underneath. “Drat, I was rather afraid this was the case,” muttered the boy.

“Next time wear two pairs of socks,” said Anny. “It helps.”

“Next time? Can we expect this bracing exercise frequently?”

“In all probability, yes,” said Jer, looking at Anny with a pointed expression.

“Oh dear. By the way, my name is Alby. Alby V… Worth. I know you, Miss Payne, by reputation. And Mr. Naddel, I’ve seen you around the barracks. You might have missed seeing me, being at the short end of the line as I am.” Anny would have known to put the Vor in front of Alby’s surname even without his slip just from his demeanor. Still, he didn’t seem as stuck-up as a lot of Vor.

They all groaned when Byrne ordered them up and back on the march. Alby had tears on his cheeks by the time he had his shoes back on, even though he didn’t make a sound. It must have hurt like hell. A short while later a truck appeared on the road in front of them. It stopped and waited for the cadets to approach. Anny was interested to see Sergeant Major Szytko standing next to it.

“You’ve got another eight klicks back to base,” he said to the group, as a whole. “Anyone who can’t make it, climb aboard.” A number of the cadets hobbled over and flopped into the open back.

“Alby, you should go on the truck,” said Anny.

“What? I’m just starting to get my second wind! No, if you’ll permit me to continue leaning on you, I think I can make it.”

“All right.” Silently she wished he would get on the truck. She was nearing the end of her own endurance and half-carrying Alby wasn’t easy. Still, she wasn’t about to say so. They aren’t going to beat me! They continued past the truck. Several of the cadets inside were watching and two of them gave a curse and got back out and followed along. Szytko was watching her, too.

The last eight kilometers, which Anny normally could have covered in forty-five minutes, took three hours. It was dark by the time they stumbled and dragged themselves onto the parade ground. Of the ninety-eight members of C Company who had left that morning there were still seventy-five left in the ranks when Byrne called the roll. “I hope you have all learned something today,” he said. “The company is dismissed. Break ranks-march!”

Slowly, painfully, the company dispersed. A few headed for the mess hall, but most turned towards their barracks. Anny, contemplating the kilometer back to her own quarters, nearly curled up on the grass right there.

“Thank you, Miss Payne.” She looked up with a start. It was Alby. “I wouldn’t have made it without your help.”  Anny started to smile, but then another voice snarled out from close at hand.

“Yeah, thanks a lot!” She turned and saw a cluster of cadets shuffling past. They all had looks of raw hatred on their faces. Anny just stood there and watched them pass. Alby looked on curiously.

“Whatever is the matter with that batch? They act as if you were to blame for our unfortunate day.”

“I suppose I was,” replied Anny glumly. “Alby, you better go to the Infirmary and have them do something for your feet. Can you make it on your own?”

“It’s that building over there? Yes, I can make it. And thank you again.” He turned and hobbled away.

“My pleasure,” whispered Anny.

She briefly considered going to the mess hall for a proper meal, but the ration bars she had stashed in her quarters would just have to do. She slowly walked towards the woods.

“Halt! Who goes there!”

Oh, for God’s sake!

The sentries halted her, demanded her ID and her pass, and then absolutely refused to let her through because she hadn’t gotten a new pass from the Provost. She tried to reason with them, toyed with the idea of just killing them, but eventually, she found herself trudging to the Provost’s office—which was a kilometer in the opposite direction. There was a half-hour’s delay in getting the new pass since it was past normal office hours. Then another kilometers back to the cottage. The sentries let her through without comment this time.

She flicked on one of the lanterns and dug out a ration bar and munched on the tasteless thing. As tired as she was it wouldn’t have mattered if it was a Ma Kosti meal. The pain in her body slowly gave way to a kind of numbness, a numbness that eventually filled her brain along with the image of the hatred on the faces of those cadets. They can turn everyone against me. It was true. Today’s incident could be repeated with an infinite number of variations. Do something to Cadet Payne and the whole company gets punished. Again and again until every cadet in C Company would be her enemy. She began to shake. What can I do?

She finished the ration bar and realized that she hadn’t brought any water back with her. She was parched and filthy. Nothing to drink and no bath in the morning. She was too tired to even care. She collapsed on the bed and curled up in a ball.

She had sworn that no matter what happened she would never let them see her cry.

But no one was watching right now.

Chapter 4

“Nine ring! Two o’clock!”

Anny lay on her stomach and squinted through the sight of her rifle at the distant target. She steadied the weapon, slowly let out her breath, and then squeezed the trigger. The slug-thrower slammed her shoulder and let out a sharp crack.

“Eight ring! Five o-clock!” said the spotter.

 “Keep the weapon tight against your shoulder, cadet,” said Sergeant Byrne from behind her.

“Yes, sir,” she answered without looking up. Byrne was strolling up and down the firing line giving those helpful little bits of advice to all the shooters. Naturally, he couldn’t have been behind her three shots earlier when she scored a dead-center bulls-eye! She knew that she wasn’t an especially good shot, but as the Commodore had told her, marksmanship was ninety percent technique and only ten percent raw talent. Of course, that ten percent was the difference between an average shooter and a truly great one, but Anny didn’t need to be great—just a bit better than average. She took another breath and aimed very carefully…

“Bulls-eye! Three-o’clock! All right, you’re done.” Anny rolled over and sat up. She got to her feet and handed the rifle to the spotter, who was an upperclassman. He seemed bored but not hostile—which was all Anny could hope for. “Your total score is ninety-two out of a hundred, cadet,” he announced. “Not bad.”

Anny retreated from the firing line to make room for the next section from her company. She sat down on the grass and was strangely pleased when Jer Naddel sat down next to her. “How’d you do?” he asked.

“Ninety-two.”

Jer whistled. “I only managed an eighty-four. You’re a sharpshooter!”

“Not really.”

“Yes you are. Any score over ninety rates a sharpshooter ribbon.” Anny looked at him in surprise. She had known that, but somehow it had never occurred to her that she might actually get one. Anny glanced around at the other cadets.

“You’re taking a risk talking with me like this,” she whispered.

“Why? Because I might make myself unpopular with our comrades? I’ve got news for you, Anny: I made myself unpopular with my friends and family back home just by coming here. And our esteemed colleagues in C Company don’t like me because I’m a Komarran. So to hell with the lot of them, I’ll talk to whomever I please.” Jer spoke in a normal tone of voice and didn’t seem to care that there were dozens of cadets within earshot.

“I hope they don’t treat you as badly as… as…”

“As they treat you? No, with you to focus on they don’t pay much attention to me. It’s no worse than I expected.”

Anny continued to whisper: “I’ve never been… hated before.”

“It’s not who you are, it’s what you are. Any other woman in your spot would be treated exactly the same way. It’s not personal it’s just… just…”

“Barrayaran.”

Jer snorted. “I was going to say stupid, but that will do just as well.”

They had a few rare minutes of free time while the remaining two section of the company took their turn on the firing range. Anny decided to take advantage of it. “So what are you doing here, Jer?”

He shrugged. “Trying to stay ahead of the curve.”

“What?”

“Oh, that’s just a Komarran expression. Basically, I’m taking advantage of an opportunity to get ahead. No one back home would ever admit it, but Komarran society is nearly as stratified as Barrayar is with its Vors. If you’re not born into a family with a lot of planetary shares, there’s damn little chance to ever claw your way to the top. Oh, you can make money, that’s every Komarran’s birthright, but to really get ahead is about as rare as to become a Vor.”

“It does happen from time to time,” said Anny.

“Yeah, about once a generation, from what I’ve read. The Vors dangle that possibility in front of you just to keep the peasants in line. But it hardly ever happens. It’s not that different on Komarr. But military service is a way to outflank it all if you’re good enough.” He paused and smiled at her. “Besides, I have this thing for shiny black boots.”

Anny laughed out loud, the first real laugh she’d had since she got here. It felt good. A number of heads turned in her direction. “Yes, I’m rather partial to the boots, myself. I hope they actually let us wear them soon.” She had a full set of the cadet dress grays in her quarters, but they had not been issued to the other cadets yet: full-dress formations were still a ways off. She grew more serious. “So you are just an opportunist?”

Jer shrugged again. “I’m a loyal citizen of the Empire. Komarr is a part of the Empire and likely to stay that way. Only a fool would think otherwise. And despite what my neighbors think, there are some good people on Barrayar. The Emperor seems like someone… worth following. And there is something about all of this,” he paused and waved his hand at the cadets, but Anny sensed he meant far more than just the company in front of them, “which is rather… grand.”

“Yes. Yes, I know what you mean. I want to become a part of it but… but I don’t know if they’ll ever let me in.”

Jer said nothing.

They sat in silence as the third section finished its target practice. The fourth section took their place and they noted that Alby Vorsworth was at the position right in front of them. He seemed to be having trouble getting his rifle set properly. Eventually, he was ready and fired off a round. “Miss!” declared the spotter, staring into his telescope.

“You’ll have better success if you keep your eyes open when you fire,” said Sergeant Byrne, who came up behind Alby.

“Really, sir? Who would have guessed? I’ll give it a try.” Alby fired again.

“Two ring! Eight o’clock!”

“Heavens, that does make a difference, doesn’t it? Let me try that again.” Alby took aim, but just as he fired, his whole body twitched, pulling the muzzle of the rifle sharply to the side.

“Miss!” said the spotter.

“Are you sure? I could have sworn I hit the target.”

“You did!” snarled the cadet at the firing position to Alby’s right. “You hit mine!”

“Oh, dear.” Sergeant Byrne knelt down beside Alby and Anny couldn’t hear what he said.

“So what’s the story with Alby?” she asked Jer. “He seems as out of place here as… well, as me.”

“The word around the barracks is that he’s the grandson of Admiral Vorsworth and the son of General Vorsworth,” said Jer.

“Ah. Wait, the Admiral Vorsworth? But he must be nearly a hundred years old.”

“Yes, that one. Retired and nearly dead, apparently. But I heard some of the Vors in the company talking about it. The Vorsworths have a military tradition going back a long time…”

“Yes! Centuries!”

“Right. Well, the tradition nearly came to an end when the Admiral’s two grandsons were both killed in action a few decades back—before they had produced any little vorlings of their own. It seems that the General and his wife, both of them in their sixties, used uterine replicator technology to whip up Alby, there, to carry on the tradition.”

“Oh, my.” Anny stared at Alby, who was busy blowing holes in the ground in front of the target. Almost exactly the same situation as me! Except… except…

Except she was here because she wanted to be. Alby was here because someone else wanted him to be.

“He seems awfully young.”

“They say he’s only fifteen.”

“What? But you have to be eighteen to come to the Academy!”

“You also have to be male—and yet here you are,” said Jer with a grin. “With the right connections, anything is possible.”

“True.”

“As you pointed out, the Admiral is nearly a hundred years old. I guess they wanted to get Alby into uniform before the old man died.”

“That’s… that’s not fair.”

“Welcome to Barrayar.”

Alby finished his fusilade and got up. “Your total score is… nine, cadet,” said the spotter. “A record, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Ah, well, we can’t all be destined for the ground forces, can we?” replied Alby. “I see myself more suited for a desk job, anyway.” Alby sauntered over to where Anny and Jer were sitting and plopped down next to them. “I think I’ll stick to weapons where the computer does the aiming.”

“It might be safer—for everyone,” said Jer. Alby grinned and didn’t seem the least offended at this slur on his marksmanship. Sergeant Byrne was conferring with the spotters and the NCO in charge of the firing range, so the whole company had a few moments free.

“So, how are you today, Miss Payne?” asked Alby. “We see so little of you around the barracks.”

“I’ve never been in the barracks. And please call me Anny.”

“I’ve noticed that, Anny. And I must confess that I’m a little mystified by the…”

“Hey, Worth!” shouted one of the cadets. “You’re wasting your time! She don’t like men—not that you qualify, anyway!” He laughed, as did a number of others.

“Well, that was rude,” said Alby. “Do you wish to give him a thrashing, or should I?”

Anny snorted a laugh despite her anger at the remark. “Fighting is against the rules, Alby.”

“I’ve heard that. Rather odd for soldiers, don’t you think? I mean what else are they good for?”

Anny laughed again. For some reason Alby’s irreverent manner lifted her spirits. He’s a misfit—just like me.

“How are your feet, Alby?” It had been nearly two weeks since their Death March and he seemed to be getting around with no trouble.

“Oh, very well, thank you. They have some amazing remedies at the Infirmary. One of the techs there gave me a complete history of the Imperium’s long struggle against blisters. I’m right as rain now. And the tech endorsed your advice about wearing two pairs of socks. I have on two right now. You did mean two on each foot, didn’t you?”

“All right! Enough goldbricking!” shouted Sergeant Byrne. “Fall in! We’ve got work to do!” They scrambled to their feet and fell into ranks and Byrne marched them away from the firing range and back toward the main part of the campus. When they reached the parade ground he halted them and stood out in front.

“The easy part is over gentlemen! It’s time to start turning you into soldiers. The first step is to get you to march like soldiers. To do that we have to get the company properly organized. For the purpose of this instruction I’m going to appoint some temporary officers and NCOs. Those of you who are selected, don’t get a swelled head! These aren’t even brevet promotions. You will just be placeholders until the company rates real officers and NCOs. You cannot give orders to anyone, so don’t try. Got that?”

“Yes, sir!” Everyone looked on with interest. Anny began to get excited over the prospect of doing some real close order drill. Byrne took out his computer pad and looked it over.

“I’m going to be placing you based on a number of factors including your scores on those things for which you’ve received scores. For those of you who aren’t named right now, don’t get your noses out of joint! Everyone will have a turn over the next few weeks. As I call your name, step out of ranks and wait over there. Levis! Lompoc! Maddan…!”

As Byrne called off their names, the cadets went where they were told. Most had large grins on their faces. “Naddel!” Oh good, Jer got chosen. “Payne!”

What? She was so startled that she froze for a few seconds until the boy next to her gave her a nudge. Feeling awkward and incredibly conspicuous, she went over with the others. Jer was grinning at her. “He can’t be serious, can he?” she whispered to him.

“Looks like.” But the other cadets didn’t look like they could believe it any more than she could. Some looked surprised, others looked outraged. Byrne finished his selection, sixteen cadets in all. That left about sixty to be the privates. C Company had shrunk quite a bit in the month it had existed. Some of those who had left simply couldn’t stand the pace, others got fed up and resigned. Seven had left the day after the Death March.

“We’ll start by placing the corporals,” said Byrne. “One on the flank of each section, eight in all.” He began shifting cadets around and inserting the ‘corporals’. Anny fully expected to be one of those. Jer was placed at the right of the third section. They were supposed to be positioned by height, the tallest at the right end of the line. She ought to be next… But she wasn’t. He finished placing the corporals.

A sergeant? Me? As Byrne had said, this was only temporary, but still…

“Lompoc! First sergeant, right end of the line, rear rank. Payne! Second sergeant, left end of the line, front rank.”

Second sergeant! Anny couldn’t believe it. While the first sergeant of a company had a lot of important administrative duties, when it came to the drill, the second sergeant had more responsibility than anyone except the captain. Apparently, at least one other couldn’t believe it, either.

“Sergeant!” Exploded a Vor cadet named Levey. “You can’t be…serious…” The boy’s protest fizzled into silence under Sergeant Byrne’s icy gaze. Anny didn’t hesitate this time, she trotted over to her position and stood there at attention. Alby, shortest cadet in the company, and thus near the left of the line, right beside the shortest corporal, gave her a friendly wink.

Byrne, having silenced the opposition, placed the other three sergeants, the two lieutenants and the cadet who would play captain. They were all Vor and that came as no surprise. Test scores were important, but few things counted as much as having those three letters in front of your name—no matter what the regulations might say. No, the only surprise was Anny, herself.

“In each rank, count twos!” commanded Byrne.

For the rest of the afternoon Sergeant Byrne drilled them in the School of the Company. Anny had studied the tactics manual intensely before coming to the Academy and knew exactly what she was supposed to do in each maneuver. Most of the other cadets, however, did not.

Instinctively, Anny tried to help out and immediately her help was rebuffed by the cadets—some of whom were openly contemptuous. Alby, on the other hand, seemed grateful for her advice and he surely needed it: he seemed to have two left feet.

But in spite of the snubs, Anny thoroughly enjoyed herself. The company made a lot of progress just in those few hours and by the time Byrne was ready to dismiss them, they were actually starting to look like soldiers. And feel like soldiers; the pride and confidence in the air was almost palpable. As the company dispersed, Byrne called Anny aside.

“Good job today, cadet.”

“Thank you, sir,” replied Anny, very pleased that he’d noticed.

“You seem quite familiar with the post of second sergeant.”

“I did a lot of studying before I came here, sir.”

“It shows. Keep up the good work and pay no attention to the twits.”

“Yes, sir, I’ll try.” They exchanged salutes and Anny made her way to the mess hall. The upper classes were just starting to assemble on the parade ground to conduct their evening dress parades. She was tempted to stay and watch because it really was a grand sight. But she was hungry and she had a lot to do. She caught up with Jer and Alby in the chow line.

“Nice job, Sergeant,” said Jer with a grin.

“Yes, you do seem to have a knack for this marching about business,” said Alby.

“Thanks. You were doing pretty well, yourself, Jer.”

He snorted. “Nothing for me to do except remember if I’m a One or a Two—although I’ll admit even that seemed beyond a few of our comrades.”

“If that remark was directed at me, corporal, I was quite busy differentiating my left from my right. Surely, you don’t expect me to remember two things at once,” said Alby. They all laughed.

A cadet, coming the opposite direction with a full tray, suddenly lurched right into Anny—hard. Some of the drink on his tray splashed her. She turned and looked at him angrily. It was Levey.

“Don’t think for one second you’ll ever be a sergeant, Payne!” he snarled. “You’ll never even be a soldier!” He moved off before Anny could think of anything to say.

“Bastard!” hissed Jer.

“From what I’ve heard of the Vorleveys that’s a real possibility,” said Alby. “But heavens, what a lout. They are supposed to be turning us into officers and gentlemen here. He might become one, but never the other.”

Despite the incident, Anny’s good mood quickly returned as she ate with her two friends. They are my friends! It was almost astonishing. She’d made a hundred enemies, but also two friends. Just at the moment it seemed like a very good deal.

Later, as she made her way back to her quarters she found herself smiling. Second sergeant! And a sharpshooter ribbon! It had been a good day. A day like she’d dreamed about before she got here. Maybe things were looking up at last. Even the sentries gave her no trouble. She’d managed to get an open-ended pass from the Provost and they hadn’t figured out any new way to harass her yet. Perhaps she’d reward herself with an actual hot bath tonight…

She froze when she saw that the door to her quarters was standing half-open. There was no lock on the door, but she was always careful to make sure it was shut when she left. She was quite certain that it had been closed. Slowly, silently, she crept up to a window, on full alert. She tried to peer inside, but it was too dark to see anything through the filthy glass. She moved around to the door and listened. Nothing, except some insects chittering loudly in the trees. She slipped inside and felt for the lantern she kept next to the door. Her fingers found the switch and flicked it on. She tensed for combat, but no one was there.

But somebody had been.

The place was a wreck. Furniture had been smashed or upended. All her uniforms had been scattered on the floor. They looked oddly red in the lantern light…

Paint. Red paint. All over her uniforms and her gear. It was still wet. Then she saw the message painted on the wall:

Get out Bitch!

She stood there for a long while surveying the disaster. Her blood alternately boiled with rage and froze in fear. What should she do? If she reported this there would have to be an investigation: Academy property had been destroyed. The thought of whoever had done this being punished was incredibly satisfying, but could they actually find the person (or persons)? Would it end up like the Tunic Incident? Another Death March for C Company? What good would that do?

But how could she avoid it? All of her uniforms were ruined. Or were they? She got a bit of water and… no, the paint wasn’t water-based. She’d need a solvent to get rid of this and it would never come completely clean. Hell, even the uniform she was wearing had grape juice on it thanks to Levey! So, even if she didn’t report this, there would be no hiding it for long.

Wait a minute! Did they get everything?

The second set of gear! The huge duffle bag she’d been issued against her will on the first day! She’d stuffed it into a closet at the rear of the cottage and forgotten about it. She dashed to the closet and sighed in relief when she found it untouched. Yes! She’d roll with this punch and pretend it had hit nothing but air. The bastards were probably watching and waiting for her to come running out of the woods crying for the guard. But if she did nothing… They’d be puzzled and then frustrated. Perhaps they would even make a mistake.

Her decision made, she got to work. One of her tunics, which had been completely saturated, she turned into an impromptu paint brush. She carefully painted out the message on the wall, turning it into an odd, but not incriminating, red rectangle. Then all the ruined uniforms went on the trash pile behind the cottage. They weren’t Academy property, after all, they were a gift from the Countess. She cleaned up the remaining mess as best she could. The intruders had spent most of their energy on her kit so it actually wasn’t as bad as it first appeared. Two hours work had the place looking almost normal. As she was unpacking the second duffle bag she realized that they could easily come back and do this again and there would be no replacement this time. But there was little she could do about that—unless she could wheedle a few fragmentation grenades from the Ordnance Sergeant and set a tripwire... A very satisfying fantasy came and went.

She was just about to call it a night—no hot bath, darn it—when she spotted something under the little table by the door. Ah, one of her fatigue caps. Not even any paint on it, they must have missed…

It wasn’t her cap.

Carefully printed on the inside sweatband was P. Mederov. It must have been dropped by one of the intruders! Mederov, he was a tall husky fellow, as she recalled. Not Vor and not one of the ones who had been openly rude to her. But he’d been here.

She’d found two friends today.

Had she found her enemy?

Chapter 5

“Jer, I need to talk to you.”

Jer Naddel looked quizzically at Anny. They were sitting across from each other in the mess hall and they had been talking, around bites of their breakfast. “What about?’ he asked.

“Something happened last night. Are you about finished? We’ve got ten minutes until formation, could we go out and talk in private?” Jer nodded and they took their trays to the kitchen and then hurried outside. There were people everywhere, but none paying any particular attention to them. They found a spot on the side of the building which seemed like it would do.

“So what happened? Are you all right?”

“No damage to me, but someone trashed my room, ruined all my gear.” Jer looked her up and down. “I had a second set,” she said in explanation. “Jer, you said that you saw who took my tunic on the day of the Death March, who was it?”

“A little late to be pressing charges now, isn’t it?”

“Please, Jer, I need to know.”

He shrugged. “You probably won’t be surprised to learn that it was Levey. I saw him grab it when you weren’t looking. He couldn’t break ranks without drawing attention, so he tossed it to Runna and he tossed it to Palen. After that I couldn’t see who passed it along, but obviously it was sent hand-by-hand to someone near the edge of the field who dumped it in that trash can.”

“Was Mederov one of them?”

Jer looked surprised. “The big guy? No, I don’t think so. No, he couldn’t have been: with his height he would have been up the line the other way. Why?”

“Has Mederov ever said anything nasty or threatening about me around the barracks? More than the others, I mean?”

“Not that I recall. In fact, I can’t remember him saying much at all. He tends to be pretty quiet. Anny, what’s going on?”

“I’m not sure. And until I am sure, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You must think he’s involved with the incident last night or you wouldn’t be asking about him. Please credit me with a few brains.”

“Well, all right. Yeah, I found a cap with his name on it in my quarters.”

“That was pretty careless. In fact, it seems damn suspicious. I mean, how could he lose his cap without noticing?”

“He couldn’t,” said a voice from right behind them. They spun around…

“Alby! What are you doing there?”

“Why, eavesdropping, of course, what does it look like?”

“Alby, you shouldn’t have been listening to this. It doesn’t involve you,” said Anny.

“Yeah,” added Jer, “and it’s not something you would want to get involved with, either.”

“Hmm, it seems to me that only I can be the judge of that, Mr. Naddel. And as I find myself branded as one of your friends by our comrades, I will probably be involved whether I want to be or not.”

Anny considered that and had to admit that Alby was probably right. “So how much did you hear?”

But before Alby could answer, the call to fall in rang across the parade ground and they had to go. “We’ll talk later,” said Alby and he trotted away. The rest of the morning was spent in close-order drill. Anny was still in the second sergeant’s position and she was quickly absorbed in carrying out her duties. Under Sergeant Byrne’s watchful and relentless eye, there was no chance to speak with Alby or Jer, but at least there was also no opportunity for anyone to give her much trouble.

They managed a few words during lunch, but Alby really had nothing to add except his conviction that the hat Anny had found was probably deliberately planted. She wasn’t certain: it did seem too obvious, but who said that her tormenters were smart? They agreed to keep a closer eye on Mederov.

In the short time she had after lunch Anny performed her daily ritual of carrying two five-liter containers of water back to her quarters. She stopped in dismay when she found the door to her quarters standing open. Oh no! Not again! She slowly crept to the door and looked inside. She was surprised to see Sergeant Major Szytko standing there. He turned to face her when he heard her small gasp. He was holding one of her ruined tunics. He must have gotten it off the trash pile. The rest of her quarters were untouched.

“It looks as though you had an accident here, cadet,” he said. “Is there anything you’d like to report?”

Anny hesitated. Should she tell him what had happened? What would that set in motion? Investigations? Arrests? Chaos? She would dearly love to see the perpetrators hauled up on charges, but would that really accomplish anything? There were dozens more ready to take their place. And she would be branded as a stool pigeon for ratting on her comrades. The Commodore had warned her to keep a low profile. There’s nothing the bureaucracy hates more than to have its nice routine upset. The Commandant hadn’t been happy to have her here in the first place. He’d be even less happy if she forced him to take official notice of what had happened.

“No, Sergeant Major. Nothing to report.”

“I see. Well, I suggest you put in a request to get the lock on your door fixed.”

“I have, Sergeant Major. And for the plumbing and for the electricity.”

He looked around in distaste. “Captain Vorthalon is in charge of Physical Plant. I don’t have much influence there, but I’ll put in a word.”

“I’d appreciate that, Sergeant Major.”

He checked his chrono. “You have formation in ten minutes. You begin close combat instruction this afternoon?”

“Yes.”

“Sergeant Jervis will be your instructor.” Szytko took a step closer and his voice fell to a near-whisper:

“Watch out for him.”

* * *

“All right, gentlemen, listen up and pay attention. I am Sergeant Jervis and for the rest of this afternoon, your asses belong to me! I am going to introduce you to the arcane mysteries of close-combat. If you learn your lessons, they might just save your lives someday! Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir!”

Anny studied their close-combat instructor. He wasn’t a particularly big man, but he was trim and fit and obviously in fine physical condition. He had a rugged face with a hooked nose and his scalp was shaved bare. He didn’t look as old as Byrne or Szytko, but he was clearly a veteran of long experience who knew his business. The Academy staff all tended to be the best the Imperium could find. C Company was in the huge gymnasium the Academy boasted. It was big enough for battalion drill, but today it was divided up into smaller areas for individual company exercises. Anny’s company was standing in its PT gear around a large, padded floor mat. Sergeant Byrne had marched them here and turned them over to Jervis for instruction. She was interested, and a little worried, to see Sergeant Major Szytko watching from a distance. What was he expecting to happen?

“We are going to start you off with the simple stuff: take downs,” continued Jervis. “Getting your opponent on the ground is a big advantage and puts you in position to finish him off. There are many different ways to accomplish this. I’ll start off by demonstrating some of them. Let me see, I need a volunteer… You! Cadet… uh… Payne! Step forward!”

Anny froze. Was this what Szytko was warning her about? Jervis was staring right at her and a very unsettling smile was on his face. “Come on, cadet! Are you afraid?” There was nothing for it. Anny stepped forward. “Good! Just stand there and don’t move. Now, as I was saying, there are many ways to take a man—or a girl—down. Observe.” Without warning, he seized Anny and flipped her across his hip and flung her to the mat. She’d been expecting it, but not quite so soon. She landed heavily and slowly got to her feet. “Let me demonstrate that again.” He threw her down again. She was prepared this time and broke her fall as Dru had taught her. She got back up. “Now here’s another method.” He grabbed her arm and tossed her over his shoulder in a classic throw. She rolled as she landed, so it didn’t hurt much. He kept throwing her and she kept going down. Five, ten, a dozen times, until Sergeant Byrne interrupted.

“I think they get the idea, Jervis.” Anny looked over to Byrne. The expression on his face was unreadable, but he didn’t seem pleased. Jervis just smirked.

“Relax, Byrne, I’m not hurting your little pet.” He looked out at the other cadets. “Of course, you have to realize that in actual service you’ll face real opponents who are just a bit more dangerous than Cadet Payne.” He laughed and moved in to throw her again.

Drou Koudelkas had taught Anny one move that she called the sucker throw. It was something you could use against an unsuspecting opponent. She used it now. As Jervis came at her, she grabbed him, fell backwards, and tossed him over her head. He landed on the mat with a very satisfying thud. Anny got up and stared down at him. Jervis twisted around with a look of astonishment on his face which quickly changed to raw anger. He slowly got up and Anny backed away. She saw Sergeant Major Szytko grimace and shake his head.

“Well! That was an interesting move!” exclaimed Jervis who seemed to have quickly gotten control of his anger. He smiled at her. A smile that wasn’t the least bit friendly. “Yes, a very interesting move, indeed. However, it is a move that is quite easily countered. Cadet Payne, when I attack, you will try to do that again. The exact same move. Do you understand?”

A shudder of fear went through her. The move would work against an unwitting opponent. But against someone expecting it, you were left wide open.

“I said: Do you understand, cadet?”

“Yes, Sergeant, I understand.”

He came at her and she tried to throw him as she’d done before. She knew it wasn’t going to work… He rammed his forearm and elbow into her chest at the level of her collarbone. The impact knocked her down and a cry of pain escaped her lips. “There, do you see? Stand up, cadet, I want to let them see that again.” Gasping for breath, Anny struggled to her feet. He came at her again. She couldn’t even attempt the sucker throw before he flattened her with another blow. Jervis stood over her and then faced the class.

“Watching is good, but there’s no substitute for doing. I want each of you to try what I just showed you. Cadet Payne has kindly volunteered to continue to be our demonstrator, haven’t you? Good girl. Let’s get started. Uh… Palen, you’re first.” One of the cadets moved in front of her and then rushed forward. She braced herself and tried to use the sucker throw, but it was no use. He slammed into her like a thugby player going for the ball and she was thrown to the mat with another stab of pain. “Good!” cried Jervis. “Exactly how you do it! Next!”

Anny got to her feet and was quickly knocked down again. She managed to twist a bit just before impact and take some of the blow on her shoulder instead of her chest, but it still hurt. The whole company? Seventy-five of them? Another cadet loomed up in front of her and down she went again. Stars danced in front of her eyes as she struggled back to her feet. She couldn’t even brace herself before she was hit again.

“If you’re getting tired, Cadet, just let me know,” she heard Jervis say. “All you have to do is stay down and we’ll move on to something else. Just stay down—where you belong.”

Anny stood up.

“I’m fine, Sergeant.” She stared him right in the eyes. He stared back at her for a few moments and then chuckled.

“Good. Next!”

It began again. Another cadet, another impact, another collision with the mat. More pain. One of them, accidentally or deliberately, hit her high, in the face. Her head was snapped back and when she dragged herself up this time, she was spitting blood.

“For God’s sake, Anny! Stay down!” hissed someone. She thought it was Jer.

She got up again.

A half-dozen more impacts. She staggered to her feet. The next cadet merely nudged her, but she still fell.

“Oh no, that wasn’t right!” called Jervis. “Cadet…uh…Naddel, you’ll have to do that again. Do it again until you get it right.” Strong hands hauled Anny to her feet and she was facing Jer. His face was twisted in anger.

“I’ll do it to him, the bastard!” he whispered.

“No, Jer, no! Just get it done with. Hit me. He’ll just have you do it again if you try to fake it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right.” Jer was close to tears, but he backed off and rammed into her. Not nearly as hard as some of the others, but she didn’t have to fake her groan of pain.

“Better! Next!”

Through the fog of agony that enveloped her, another cadet rushed forward. She had an instant to see that it was Levey. His arm slammed her square in the face and a bolt of white pain blasted her to the ground. She landed face-down and she could feel the blood leaking out of her nose. Stay down you idiot! What the hell are you trying to prove? But somehow, automatically, her arms started pushing her up. There was a roaring in her ears but through the noise she could hear a babble of voices. Some of them seemed to be telling her to stay down, but others were urging someone on.

“Hit her! Hit her! Come on, Mederov, hit her!”

Mederov! The red haze of pain floating before her eyes turned into a boiling sea of anger. The enemy! You… can’t… beat… me! She surged to her feet to see the large man moving toward her. But this time she didn’t just stand there and take it. As he neared her, she dodged to the side, pivoted, and drove out her foot with every ounce of strength she had left. She connected with the side of Mederov’s knee and there was a crunch loud enough to be heard above the clamoring voices. Anny fell and so did Mederov. There was a howl of pain and for once it wasn’t hers.

Silence. Except for the pounding in her ears and the groans of Mederov, there wasn’t a sound for a long, long moment. But then a strong hand gripped her by the back of her T-shirt and yanked her to her feet. She found herself staring at a grinning Jervis from only a few centimeters distance.

“Cadet Payne, you have disobeyed a direct order and deliberately caused serious injury to another cadet.  This is a very serious infraction and I’m going to see you brought up on charges—after we complete this exercise!”

“The exercise is over, Jervis.” The hand released her and Anny fell to her knees. Sergeant Major Szytko was standing a few meters away.

“I’m in charge of this detail, Sergeant Major,” said Jervis, but all the mockery and confidence was gone from his voice. “You have no business interfering.”

“I’m making it my business.” Anny stared at Szytko. His face was as expressionless as ever, but his hands were twitching at his sides. She had never seen a more lethal-looking man in her life. He stepped right up to Jervis and said in a whisper that only she and Jervis could hear: “And if you want to leave this building alive, you’ll leave right now.”

Jervis stepped back, his face twisting in a quick series of emotions. He stared at Szytko for a few moments longer. Then he turned and snarled: “Byrne! The company’s yours!” Then he stalked off, walking just a bit too fast.

“Jon,” said Szytko, “Call a medic and then get the rest of them out of here.”

“Already on the way,” replied Byrne. “C Company! Fall in!” Anny tried to stand up. But Szytko put out his hand.

“Not you. We need the medic to have a look at you, too. Then, unfortunately, we’ll have to go and see the Commandant.”

“The C-commandant? Why?”

“Because you’re up on charges, cadet.”

* * *

“Your nose is broken,” said the doctor. “You have a greenstick fracture of your… uh breastbone. And your whole upper torso is a mass of bruises and contusions. Just what the hell were you doing?”

“I’m sure you’ll hear the story, sir,” replied Anny awkwardly. Her lips were swollen, too. They had taken her and Mederov back to the Infirmary for evaluation. This had caused a bit of commotion. The staff was entirely male and they weren’t quite sure how to go about handling her. Finally, they had summoned an older, married doctor and he had taken over. The scans showed that she was hurt more seriously than she’d guessed.

“Well, I’ve reset your nose and I’ll tape up your chest. The synergine I gave you will help with the bruises and swelling. How do you feel? Are the painkillers helping?”

“Yes, sir. Quite a lot, thank you.” In truth, she felt like she’d been run over by a ground car. A big heavy one like the Vorkosigans had. There wasn’t a part of her that didn’t hurt, but at least in most places it was just a dull ache now, instead of a red-hot pain.

“Good. Well, you just rest here a bit. I’ll be back in a while to see how you’re doing.” The doctor left the small exam room where she was sitting and closed the door. She leaned back and shut her eyes. This had not been a good day. Charges! God, what have I gotten myself into? As the drugs and the fatigue took effect, she sank into misery and then finally into sleep.

She woke with a start and a groan of pain and was amazed to see the morning sunshine streaming through the window of a room she had no memory of. She was in a bed, wearing a hospital gown. She’d slept a whole night away? Apparently so, an orderly brought her breakfast on a tray. After a while she decided that she felt well enough to move. She still hurt, but it wasn’t too bad. There was an attached bathroom and she took a gloriously hot shower and attended to other necessities. She was shocked to see herself in the mirror. Both of her eyes were as black as road tar. A white bandage covered her nose. She looked like hell.

When she came out, she could find no trace of her PT gear. But while she was looking, there was a knock on the door. She pulled the gown around her and retreated to the bed. “Come in.” She was delighted to see Jer and Alby.

“Good morning!” said Alby. “Cripes, you look like hell, Anny!”

“Thanks, I know.”

“They had us bring you a fresh uniform,” said Jer. “Took us a while to find it: you have your stuff hidden pretty well.”

“They are actually making you live in that dump?’ asked Alby.

“Yeah. And I guess I didn’t hide it well enough.”

“Anny, I’m so sorry I hit you yesterday.”

“You didn’t have any choice. Don’t worry about it. So, what’s happening?”

“The company is in an uproar. Hell, probably the whole battalion.”

“The whole Academy from what I’ve observed,” said Alby.

“Why? You mean because of what happened?”

“Yeah. Seems like you’ve split things right down the middle.”

“I don’t understand.”

“What you did yesterday, I mean the way you kept getting back up when you could have stayed down. That… that was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen. And it really got to a lot of us. Even some of the ones who hit you at first were ashamed of themselves, You could see it in their eyes later. They were trying to get you to stay down and end it. But you wouldn’t.”

“You said there was a split. I assume that means that not everyone feels that way?

“No. Unfortunately not. The twits were crowing and strutting and bragging about how badly they pasted you. That seriously pissed off the rest of us. We had half a dozen fist-fights in the barracks last night.”

“Good God! Serious?” Anny looked more closely at Jer and realized he had a bruise on one cheek.

“Not really. Nothing that needed the Guard to put down or anything. Byrne had to come and break things up a couple of times.” Jer looked uncomfortable. “Oh, and I’m afraid we were wrong about Mederov.”

“What do you mean?”

“He isn’t one of the twits. I’m sure his hat was planted in your quarters. You were too stunned to see, but he really didn’t want to hit you yesterday. He tried to refuse. Tried to hold back, but Jervis was threatening him with punishment if he disobeyed a direct order. Finally, he went ahead.”

“Just at the moment I decided to fight back,” said Anny bitterly. “Damn! How bad did I hurt him?”

“You smashed his knee pretty good. He’ll probably be a week in here.”

“Hell.”

“Anny?” said Alby. For some reason he was blushing.

“Yeah?”

“Anny, I want to apologize.”

“What? What for?”

“I… I, uh haven’t been honest with you.”

“About what?”

“When I was acting like your friend earlier. I… wasn’t really.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I was only doing it because it seemed to tick off the other Vor so much. Bunch of stuck-up jerks. They don’t dare touch me because of the connections my parents have. I was just rubbing their noses in it.” His blush was deepening and he wouldn’t meet her eyes. “But… but after yesterday that all changed. I am your friend now. Really. I’ll do anything I can to help you. Anything.”

She was moved. She reached out to touch his arm. “Thank you Alby. I really, really appreciate that.”

There was an awkward silence for a moment and then Jer held out the bundle of clothing. “Here, you better get dressed. You have to report to the Commandant’s office in less than an hour.”

* * *

Sergeant Major Szytko escorted her from the Infirmary to the Commandant’s Office. Her company was on the parade ground drilling and she desperately wished she was out there with them. “What’s going to happen?” she asked.

“The charges against you will be reviewed by the Commandant. What happens then will…depend.”

“Depend on what?”

“Do you know why you are up on charges, cadet?”

“Uh, because I disobeyed Sergeant Jervis’ order and because I injured Cadet Mederov.”

“You are up on charges because Sergeant Jervis said you were up on charges in front of a whole company of witnesses. We have a certain way of doing things here, cadet, and I’d advise you to remember that.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You made two mistakes yesterday. Twice, you let your anger get the best of you and you did something stupid. Don’t let it happen a third time. Keep your head, say as little as possible, and you might just come through this.”

“Yes, sir.”

They walked on in silence for a time and then Anny said: “Sergeant Major?”

“Yes?”

“Would you really have killed him yesterday?”

Szytko didn’t answer.

They reached the headquarters building and passed the sentries. A few moments later they were ushered into the Commandant’s office. Colonel Sylvanus was seated at his desk, just as he was the last time Anny had been here. The Sergeant Major took up his position of parade rest just as he had before.

“Cadet Payne, reporting as ordered, sir.” She saluted, even though she could barely raise her arm above her waist, and the Colonel returned it.

“Yes. Stand at ease, cadet,” said Sylvanus. He looked her over and his frown deepened.  He shuffled some papers around on his desk and then cleared his throat.  “Cadet Payne, charges have been made against you. There are two ways we can deal with this. You can elect to have an Administrative Review which means that I will look over the evidence, make a decision, and decide on any punishment. You will not be permitted legal counsel and any decisions I make cannot be appealed. Do you understand?”

Anny gulped and nodded. She wished the Commodore had spent more time on military legal matters. “Yes, sir, I understand.”

“The other option is for you to demand a general court-martial. In such a case all the usual legal procedures will apply. Which do you prefer?”

Anny’s stomach seemed to fall away into a dark hole. Court-martial! She hadn’t realized that this was so serious! The Commodore had told her not to upset the bureaucracy and she could think of few things more upsetting than a court-martial. But if she gave up that right, her fate would be entirely in Sylvanus’ hands. He could throw her out of the Academy with a word—and no one would be likely to challenge it. Could she trust him? She looked at Szytko, but he was staring past her again. Don’t make that third mistake! But which was the mistake? You let your anger get the best of you. With a court-martial she would be able to testify, give her side of the story, level counteraccusations against her tormentors—in other words, give vent to her anger! Was he warning her not to do that?

“Cadet?” Sylvanus was waiting for her answer.

“Sir, I request an Administrative Review.”

There was a palpable lessening of the tension in the room. Sylvanus leaned back a little in his chair and even Szytko seemed more relaxed. “Very well,” said Sylvanus. “Let me review the charges. Cadet Payne, did Sergeant Jervis order you to use only that one specific close-combat move against the cadets sent to attack you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And did you willfully disobey that order and use another, completely different move, against Cadet Mederov?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did your move result in serious injury to Cadet Mederov?”

“Yes, sir.”

Sylvanus leaned farther back in his chair and stared at her for a long time. What was he thinking? Had she made the wrong choice after all? Finally, he leaned forward again. “Cadet, your actions could easily be considered a dismissable offense.” She caught her breath. “However,” Sylvanus’ hand went briefly to his nose and then dropped back to the desk. “Having heard testimony from Sergeant Major Szytko, Sergeant Byrne, and several other witnesses, I have to conclude that there are a number of mitigating circumstances that must be taken into consideration. Therefore,” he paused and let out a long breath, “you will remain here at the Academy, and there will be no permanent record of this incident in your files. You will, however, be required to serve a certain number of rounds of administrative punishment, the specifics of which shall be determined later.”

Anny gasped in relief. “That… that’s it?”

“That’s it, cadet. You’re dismissed.”

“Thank you, sir!” She saluted. It hurt.

He returned it and added: “I trust I won’t be seeing you again anytime soon, cadet. Now get back to your company.”

She didn’t waste a moment. She faced about and was out of the office in two seconds. Szytko was right beside her. As they marched down the hallway they heard the Commandant bellow to his aide:

“Scoggins! Tell Sergeant Jervis to get his ass over here! And I mean right now!”

* * *

“I’m here to see Cadet Mederov,” said Anny to the clerk at the Infirmary desk. The man looked at her in surprise. She wasn’t sure if it was because of her sex or because of her black eyes and bandages.

“Uh, room twelve.”

“Thank you.”

She went down the corridor and found the correct room. She hesitated outside the door and peered abound the frame. Mederov was sitting up in a bed with some large contraption encasing his left knee. Anny softly rapped on the door frame. Mederov looked over and his eyes got very wide when he saw her. “Can I come in?” she asked.

“Uh, sure! Come on in.” He tried to sit up a little straighter. She walked over next to the bed.

“Mr. Mederov, I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry I hurt you the way I did.”

“I… Uh, that’s okay. If I’d been in a fix like you were I probably would have done the same. And I’m real sorry about trying to hit you, Miss Payne. I didn’t want to.”

“I know. How’s the knee?”

“Oh, it’s getting better fast. I’ve had worse working back on the farm.”

“Really? I’m from a farm, too. Where are you from?”

“South Continent. You?”

“Vorkosigan District. The Dendarii Mountains.”

“I’ve heard of those. I’d like to see them sometime. It’s flatter’n the parade ground where I live. Uh… how are you, Miss Payne? It made me mad to see them hurting you that way.”

“I’m all right. And please call me Anny.”

“Fine, Anny. If you’ll call me Patric.”

“Okay.” She held out her hand and smiled. After a moment he took it.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Patric.”

Chapter 6

D ear Drou,

I’m sorry that I haven’t written before now, but this is the first time I’ve been able to get access to a comconsole since I’ve been here. They don’t leave us much time for writing letters, either! I did receive the four letters you sent and I want you to know how much they meant to me. I can’t thank you enough. Please say thank you to the Commodore for the notes that he added as well. Word from home is very welcome!

Anny paused in her typing and sighed. She hadn’t received anything at all from her real home. Granted, that letter writing was a chore for both her mother and her sisters, but still. None of them understood what she was trying to do. Her mother probably still believed that she would give up and return home any day. She should probably send her a letter, too, but this was the first time the cadets had been given a Sunday afternoon off and she had so much else she wanted to do.

I’ve been here four months now and despite all my preparation it has been much different than I expected. Harder, more challenging, but with unexpected rewards, as well. That’s not to say all the preparation I received from you and the Commodore wasn’t needed. Far from it! I never would have made it past the first week without your physical training. The close-combat instruction has also been very useful. The instruction we receive here is pretty rudimentary compared to what you gave me. In fact, our new instructor (the first one was transferred) has made me his assistant in some of the drills.

Anny paused again. She didn’t know who might look at this message before it made its way to Drou so it was probably better to stick to generalities and not include any serious complaints or criticisms. But she had been so relieved when Sergeant Jervis was transferred. The thought of having to deal with him again was enough to make her physically ill. But she had never seen him again after that day and Sergeant Major Szytko had taken over the close-combat training. She had no idea where Jervis had been sent, but she hoped it was to the other side of some collapsing wormhole.

We got our first snow here yesterday and many of our activities are being moved indoors. All during the autumn nearly all of our training was of the physical variety, but now we are starting to get some classroom instruction, too. I’m looking forward to that. So far things have been going pretty well. I did get into a little trouble a month or so ago (stupid mistake on my part) but it only led to administrative punishment and it’s all been forgotten now—except by me. An important lesson learned.

Administrative punishment seemed to consist of cleaning latrines. She had done that for two weeks after the review by the Commandant. But only during her ‘free’ time, so it really hadn’t amounted to much. She had scrubbed floors and sinks and toilets and urinals but only in the classroom and administration buildings. They had not let her into any of the barracks as that would have been too disruptive. Most of the cadets probably never knew she even had the punishment. Certainly, no one had mentioned it.

I have made a few friends here and that has really helped me keep my spirits up. As you can imagine, not everyone has been very friendly, but I’m learning to deal with it. The members of my own company seem to be coming to accept my presence. If this trend continues, I should be okay.

Actually, there was a trend taking place in C Company and it was not nearly as reassuring as her words to Drou. Following the incident with Sergeant Jervis (and all the incidents following the incident with Sergeant Jervis) there had begun a slow but steady trickle of cadets out of C Company. They weren’t resigning or being kicked out, they were transferring to other companies. Normally, the Academy didn’t allow that: you sank or swam with the company they assigned you. But somehow cadets were getting out—and they were all Vor. Clearly, they were using their connections to get the rules waived.  And since the Academy also liked to keep its companies nearly the same size (the drill looked prettier that way) they were transferring cadets in to C Company to equalize the number—and all the incoming cadets were not Vor. At the start, Anny guessed that over two-thirds of the cadets in C Company were Vor. Now, the percentage was probably less than one-quarter. And unfortunately, many of the cadets who were being transferred in didn’t exactly seem to be the cream of the crop. Apparently, the other companies when told they had to send a few cadets to C Company took the opportunity to get rid their inept and their goof-offs. This influx had resulted in a noticeable deterioration in their drill, which annoyed Anny quite a lot.

Please tell the Commodore that I was selected to fill the second sergeant’s post for several weeks and since then I’ve been rotated around to some of the other NCO positions. Thanks to his instruction, I’ve been able to perform well in each post. Oh, and I’m afraid that there was a bit of an accident that happened to the Countess’ gifts to me. I feel really bad about that. If you have a chance, please pass on my apology to her.

There! That might get a subtle message across to them. She wasn’t going to complain openly, but she was still angry about the incident. Perhaps if this piqued the Countess’ curiosity she might use her formidable resources to investigate further.

Well, I have to run. We are supposed to get some leave at Winterfair. I don’t know if I’ll be able to go anywhere, but if I can get away I’ll try to drop by and see you.

Fondly,

Anny

She shut down the comconsole and stood up. She was in the library and this was the first time she’d been allowed to use the facility. She checked the time and saw that she had nearly four hours until evening formation. What a luxury! She had some reading to do for one of her instructional classes and some laundry to do, but she might even be able to take an hour for an actual nap! The pace had been grueling and she was lucky to squeeze in six hours of sleep a night. She was tired, that was for sure.

Anny sealed up the front of her overcoat as she left the library building. Some very cold weather had followed the snowstorm and the forecast was for a hard winter. They had gotten about twenty centimeters of snow the day before and there were enormous piles of it around the edges of the parade ground. The daily dress parades had to be done come rain, sleet or snow and the Academy had a small fleet of ingenious power sweepers that could shove the snow off the parade ground without damaging the grass. Most of the sidewalks and roads were cleared that way, too. She followed the swept paths towards her quarters, but she would still have to trudge through a half-kilometer of snow since the plowing program didn’t include the little path through the woods. At least the Sergeant Major had provided her with a few portable heaters so she didn’t have to depend on the fireplace to keep warm.

She had nearly reached the woods when her wristcom pinged. There was a text message on the tiny screen reading:  C Company, 4^th Battalion: Assemble at the front of your barracks immediately. “Damn,” she muttered. “Now what?” She reversed her course and headed back the way she had just come. The cadets were just starting to pour out the door when she arrived. Patric Mederov spotted her and came over. “What’s going on?” she asked.

“Don’t know. We just got told to get our coats on and come out here.” The rest of the company quickly arrived and Anny nodded to Jer and Alby. After a few minutes Sergeant Byrne came up with an officer she’d never seen before. He was wearing the white cord of a staff officer on his overcoat. Byrne bellowed at them to fall in. Anny’s current assignment was as the fourth sergeant, which put her two paces behind the main line of cadets. She took her spot and waited.

“Company, attention to orders,” said Byrne. “This it Lieutenant Vordura, the Officer of the Day.”

Vordura stepped forward and looked them over. “C Company, you have reached the next step in your training.” For a moment Anny grew excited. Did he mean that they were going to have their permanent NCOs and officers assigned? Perhaps they would finally be allowed to participate in the dress parades and Sunday reviews. But why would he be only telling that to one company?

“It is a long-standing and time honored tradition,” continued Vordura, “that the duty company for the week be selected from the juniormost battalion. Up until now your training schedule hasn’t allowed for that, but that is about to change. It is also policy that from within the 4th Battalion the duty be given to the company with the greatest number of demerits. C Company currently holds that honor. Congratulations. Sergeant, take over.” Vordura exchanged salutes with Sergeant Byrne and then walked away. Byrne watched him go for a few seconds and then turned back to face them.

“All right, you heard the man. We are the duty company for the next week. That means we provide all the sentries and also do any other work that needs to be done that isn’t handled by the normal maintenance personnel.” A number of cadets groaned at this news. “There will be a schedule set up that will allow you to continue with the rest of your normal duties. We’ll relieve the current duty company on guard at 1800 hours. But for the rest of the afternoon we have a lot of snow to shovel! I hope you all brought your gloves!”

* * *

Anny pulled her scarf more closely around her head and tried to stop shivering. God, it was cold! A biting wind was sweeping down from the northeast and it seemed to cut right through her despite the many layers of clothing she had on. She shifted the rifle to her left shoulder and stamped her feet. She was standing sentry duty at one of the more remote gates along the Academy’s perimeter. It was still an hour until her relief was due. She walked back and forth in front of the gate to try and keep warm. It wasn’t working.

C Company was nearing the end of its week as the duty company. During that time they had shoveled snow, unloaded trucks, run errands, and mounted the guard. The only mercy was that they didn’t have to scrub latrines. Apparently, that was a privilege reserved for individual screw-ups rather than entire companies. It still irked her that her company had ‘earned’ this duty. Prior to the exodus of the Vor and the influx of the ‘dregs’, the company had been one of the best in the battalion (at least in her opinion). Well, the week was nearly done.

She was stamping her feet some more when she noticed a figure approaching. She was very surprised when she realized it was Alby Vorsworth. Alby was acting as corporal of the guard for this shift, but he wasn’t due with the relief party for another hour. What was he doing out here in this cold? As he got close, she went through the ritual motions—there was no telling who might be watching. “Halt! Who goes there?”

“Just me, Anny,” replied Alby. Who’d ya think it was?”

“It is pretty hard to not recognize you,” she admitted.

“God! You look just like that painting in the library, Anny!”

“Which one?”

“The one with the sentry standing in the snow. You know: General Piotr’s army that winter in Forge Valley during the Cetagandan invasion.”

“Oh, right. I hope I don’t look quite as bad as that poor fellow.”

“Almost.”

“So what brings you out here in this delightful weather?”

“Anny, we have a problem.”

“Oh no, what now?”

“I think we’re screwed.”

“What do you mean?”

“This duty company thing: are you enjoying it?”

“About as much as you are, I would guess.”

“Yeah. Well, how would you like to be the permanent duty company for the next year?”

“What?”

“I’ve been doing a little research.”

“What kind of research?”

“Oh, just looking through the Provost’s records.”

“What? How?”

Alby’s cheeks were already a rosy red from the wind, but it looked like he was blushing. “My… uh, hobby has always been computers,” he said. “I’m really good with them. Really good. And the security systems here are years out of date…”

“Alby! You mean you hacked into the Provost’s computer system?”

“Yeah, it was a piece of cake.”

“You could get in so much trouble!”

“Only if I get caught, which I won’t. Do you want to know what I found?”

“What?”

“We’re screwed.”

“You said that! How do you mean?”

“The duty company is selected from the company in the battalion with the most total demerits, right?”

“Yes.”

“Note that the regs say the most total demerits, not the most demerits for any given week.”

“Right, and when they transferred in those guys from the other companies, some of them had a lot of demerits.”

“Well, what is not in the regs, but what is very apparent from the Provost’s records is that the standing policy here is that during the week the duty company is on duty they don’t accrue any more demerits.”

“Okay, that makes sense,” said Anny. “Considering that the duty company will have less time than ever to clean the barracks and shine their shoes, they would probably collect a bunch of them and never get out of their hole… wait, are you saying that’s what’s happening to us?” A wave of panic swept through her.

“Exactly. I was only able to go back about ten years in the records, but every duty company was listed as having the same number of demerits at the end of its week as it did at the start. Every company except us. We’ve already accumulated seventy-five new demerits this week.”

“Which means we’ll be the duty company again next week.”

“And the week after that and the week after that until the new incoming class reaches this point next year. That’s assuming that any of us are even still here by then.”

“What do you mean?” she demanded, afraid that she knew exactly what he meant.

“It’s a feedback loop, Anny. The more demerits we get, the more extra duty we get which means we’ll collect even more demerits the next time around. Anny, they can kick some people out if they get too many demerits.”

“I know that. By ‘some people’, you men the non-Vor!”

“Well, yeah, although you’re probably safe.”

That was true: she had almost no demerits for the simple reason that no one ever came to inspect her quarters or her kit. She could guess why that was, too. But for the other non-Vor in the company, people like Jer and Patric…

“This isn’t fair.”

“Welcome to Barrayar.”

Anny thought furiously, now unmindful of the freezing weather. There was only one reason they would have changed a policy that stretched back years and years.

“They’re doing this because of me. That’s why they let most of the Vor transfer out.”

“Seems very likely.”

“Hell. So what do we do?”

“Anny, I don’t know. Once the others figure out what the score is—and it won’t take them long—morale in the company is going to be rock bottom. And… and…”

“They’ll blame me.”

“Probably. Whoever is behind this is very clever.”

“Then you do think someone really is behind this?”

“There has to be. Those earlier incidents could have just been cases of small-minded individuals acting on their own. But this is bigger. You can bet Lieutenant Vordura didn’t come up with this all by himself. Nor the Provost.”

“But… but I can’t believe the Commandant is behind it!”

“Maybe not. But he wouldn’t normally be concerned with minor stuff like this. He might not want to interfere with his subordinates—especially if there is someone powerful outside the Academy pushing this. Anny, I promised I would help you any way I can, but I don’t know how much I can do. Unfortunately, my father is one of the one’s who is not in favor of what you are doing and don’t even ask about my grandfather! They’ll look out for me, but not for you. I suppose I could write my mother…”

“Alby, I’m not going to quit!”

“No, you definitely shouldn’t do that. But I’m afraid things are just going to get tougher. Of course, there is one thing I can do…”

“What?”

“Well, I could go back into the Provost’s computer and erase a few hundred demerits…”

“Alby! Don’t you dare!”

“Why not? They’re screwing with us, why don’t we screw with them?”

 “You couldn’t possibly get away with it and then we’d all be in trouble. Plus, I’m honor-bound to turn you in if you try.”

He stared at her for a few seconds. “You would, too, wouldn’t you? You really believe all this honor and duty crap they sell us.”

“Don’t you?”

“I refuse to answer. Just let me say that the view from inside the Vor class is a bit different from the view outside it. But, no, you’re right: I couldn’t get away with it. If I’m right about this, there is someone who is expecting us to be duty company again next week and if we suddenly weren’t they would get suspicious. And the preliminary company demerit reports are still done by hand on flimsies. No way I could alter those.”

“So, what can we do?”

 “I don’t know. Like I said: we’re screwed.”

Chapter 7

Anny was standing guard—again. As Alby had feared, C Company had been the duty company for the last three weeks. It was now Winterfair and they had not been granted leave. Even though nearly all the other cadets were gone and a great deal of the staff, too, the Academy still had to be guarded lest someone walk off with it. At least the weather had moderated a bit. There was still snow on the ground, but the sun was out, the wind mild, and if she wasn’t so depressed, it might have seemed a nice day.

Morale in the company was about as low as it could get. Nearly all the Vor had managed to get out and more high-demerit non-Vor had been transferred in. Only Alby and a couple of other Vor remained. She wondered how long it would be before they left, too. Alby had sworn he would not go, but she wouldn’t blame him if he did. Two months ago she would have been thrilled to see the last of the likes of Levey and Palen, but now… Be careful what you wish for.

There had not been any ‘incidents’ directed against her recently but she wasn’t sure if that was a result of apathy, of because her company-mates hadn’t quite realized that she was the source of their troubles. If it was the latter, then it was only a matter of time before this respite came to an end.

“Hey, Payne!”

She spun around and saw Hal Lindvig, the acting sergeant of the guard coming toward her with another cadet. “You’re relieved. Report to the Commandant’s office.”

“Why? What’s up?”

“No idea. Just go.”

“Right.” The other sentry took her spot, she gave her rifle to Lindvig and trotted toward the Commandant’s Office.  Now what’s going on? Her post was not too far from the office so it only took a couple of minutes to get there. But that was plenty long enough for all sorts of disaster scenarios to pop up in her head. She reached the building, went up the steps and made her way to the outer office. The Commandant’s aide was there. His expression was… odd.

“You have some visitors, cadet. The Commandant isn’t here, but they’re waiting in his office. Go on in.”

Totally mystified, she opened the door, went in and…

“Drou! Commodore!”

Without consciously moving she was hugging Drou and trying not to cry. She’d never been happier to see anyone in her life. Drou was hugging her back just as tightly and the Commodore was standing close by with a large smile on his face.

“Oh! Oh, this is the best Winterfair gift ever!” she exclaimed when they finally let go of each other.

“Well, when we heard that you weren’t able to get away, we decided that we would come and see you instead,” said Drou.

“Thank you so much! But… but I’m on duty right now.”

“Not for the next six hours,” said the Commodore happily. “Rank hath its privileges, even when the rank is retired.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” said Drou. “You have a six-hour pass and we have the lightflyer, where would you like to go?”

“Oh… anywhere!”

“Anywhere but here, eh?” said the Commodore.

“Well… yeah.”

“Understandable. But let’s not waste a minute. We can decide where we’re going once we’re airborne.” A short time later they were in the red lightflyer, climbing skyward.

“Actually,” said Drou, “at max we are only twenty minutes from Vorkosigan House. They have it all decorated for Winterfair. We could have lunch there and spend the afternoon and still get you back in time.”

“What do you say, Anny?” asked the Commodore.

An enormous wave of homesickness swept over Anny. And yet her thoughts were not turned to the modest cottage where she grew up, but to the huge house where she had lived for only six months prior to coming to the Academy. Ma Kosti, Lady Ekaterin and her children, the armsmen… “I think that would be a wonderful idea.”

“Good! We’re on our way!” Anny was pressed back in her seat as the sleek machine accelerated to its maximum velocity.

“This is so nice of you,” said Anny. “But I feel guilty about all the others in my company who have to stay behind.”

“Uh, yes,” said the Commodore. “Well, to be honest with you this trip has more than one purpose. We’ve been hearing some… rumors about what’s been going on there and Miles and I wanted to have a little talk with you.”

“The Lord Auditor?” asked Anny in surprise. “Will he be there?”

“Kou!” said Drou sharply. “You’re giving it away!”

“Oops.”

“Well! Whatever talk you plan to have, it can wait until after lunch! For right now, no business! Anny, tell us about the Academy.”

Anny suspected that there was more than a simple lunch waiting for her at Vorkosigan House. The people there never did anything by halves! But for the next fifteen minutes she just talked about the good things at the Academy. The interesting things she had done, the friends she had made, her hopes for the future. Still, it was impossible to hide everything.

“So, you’re not living in the barracks?” asked Drou.

“No, there’s this little house out in the woods. I guess it used to be a guest cottage or something. They have me there.”

“Private quarters!” said the Commodore. “Quite a luxury!”

“Is it nice?” asked Drou.

“Uh, well, it could use some fixing up.”

“How much fixing up?”

“Electricity and running water would be nice,” she admitted.

Drou gave an outraged snort. “You can’t be serious!”

“Sadly, I am.”

“Kou! That’s disgraceful! Something has to be done!”

“I thought you said no business until after lunch,” replied Kou.  Drou fumed the rest of the way to Vorkosigan House.

Anny’s suspicions proved right when they entered the huge, old mansion. The Lord Auditor, his wife and children were there along with all of the Koudelka girls, and most of their husbands. She was a bit disappointed that the Count and Countess were still on Sergyar, but the warm welcome given by everyone else more than compensated.

“Anny! Anny!” screamed young Helen when she saw her. The girl ran over and demanded to be picked up.

“Goodness! Look how big you are!” exclaimed Anny, hoisting her high. “What have they been feeding you to make you grow so much?”

“She eats anything she can get her hands on,” said Lady Ekaterin. “And around here it’s not hard for her to find things.”

“Speaking of eating,” said the Lord Auditor, “I believe lunch is about ready. Considering how little time Cadet Payne has, we shouldn’t dally.”

‘Lunch’ was a Ma Kosti affair that would have been called a banquet in most places. The food at the Academy was really very good, for the most part, but compared to this it was like processed cardboard. Anny savored every bite.

Conversation around the table was as carefully choreographed as the meal itself, it seemed to Anny. Questions about her experience at the Academy were very generalized and most of the talk concerned local goings-on. She was interested to learn that two of the Koudelka girls, Olivia and Delia, and their husbands had started their first children using uterine replicators. She gave them her congratulations. Lord Mark, Kareen Koudelka’s… intended was off-planet, but his business involving those amazing little bugs was doing very well. Martya’s husband, the Escobaran scientist who invented the bugs, spoke at length about the progress being made in adapting them to eat native Barrayaran vegetation. Apparently, parts of the current meal had been created with some of their by-products, although the Lord Auditor interrupted him before he could mention which ones. Anny thought everything tasted wonderful.

Afterwards, Lady Ekaterin, Helen and Aral gave her a quick tour of the house to show off the Winterfair decorations (which were beautiful). But before long the Lord Auditor, Commodore Koudelka, and Delia’s husband, Commodore Galeni, collected her and took her to one of the smaller rooms for a private conversation.

“Anny,” said the Lord Auditor after they were all seated. “I’d like you to give us a frank account of what’s happened to you at the Academy. The unusual incidents, I mean—and I think you know what I’m talking about. We have our own sources of information, but we’d like to hear your side of things. And please don’t hold anything back for fear of appearing to be complaining or whining or getting anyone in trouble. We—and since I’m acting on the Emperor’s behalf, you can consider that to be a we with a capital ‘W’—need to know the full story.”

The Emperor! Why does he want to know?

Despite her considerable trepidations, with quite a lot of nudging and penetrating questions, the trio got pretty much everything out of her in about a half an hour. She really didn’t want to complain or whine, but the Lord Auditor clearly already knew enough of her troubles that it was impossible to hold much back. They seemed particularly interested in the incident with Sergeant Jervis. By the time she was finished with that, Commodore Koudelka was fuming.

“The bastard,” he muttered.

“You’d already seen the medical report, Kou,” said the Lord Auditor.

“Yes, but that’s only half the story. Jervis ought to be arrested!”

“Ultimately, he might be, but we don’t want to tip our hand too soon.”

Anny looked from one man to the next. “Please, My Lord, what’s going on?”

The Lord Auditor looked at her in silence for a few moments, as if considering how much he wanted to tell her. Anny had the feeling of falling into water that was way over her head. Finally, he leaned forward and fixed a penetrating eye on her. “Anny, I’m going to tell you some things you have to keep in confidence. Can I depend on you for that?”

She gulped and nodded.

He smiled slightly. “Don’t look so tense. No great State Secrets, Anny, but just some things that ought not to be spread around, okay?”

“Yes, My Lord Auditor.”

“Good. Now, I think you already know that the Emperor has taken some interest in your case, correct?”

“Yes, your mother, that is, the Countess, mentioned that the final decision to allow me to go to the Academy was made by the Emperor.”

“Right. Well, his decision was considered overly-progressive by some of the more conservative counts and some high-ranking officers. There was quite a lot of opposition to it in some quarters, but they didn’t have the votes to make an open issue of it. I think that most of the opponents were willing to just sit back and watch you fail.”

Anny sat up straighter and frowned.

“Don’t look so surprised, cadet,” said Commodore Galeni. “Considering their prejudices, they would naturally expect you to fail and fail quickly.”

“But you didn’t fail,” said the Lord Auditor. “You were being watched more closely and by far more people than I’m sure you suspect, Anny. You took everything that was thrown at you and kept on going. You impressed a lot of people and surprised a lot more. Those first few incidents, the tunic, the paint, were probably just spontaneous acts that your comrades dreamed up. But the later incidents, Sergeant Jervis and this situation with the duty company, we… suspect that there is more behind it than simple resentment on the part of stiff-necked reactionaries in the Academy staff and the corps of cadets.”

“We… Uh, that is, I thought that there might be something more to it than that, My Lord,” said Anny.

“We,” said the Lord Auditor with a smile. “Yes, tell us a little about your friends, Anny.”

With considerably more reluctance, she told them about Jer and Alby and Patric. She didn’t want to get them involved in whatever was going on. But they’re already involved, aren’t they? “I… I don’t think I could make it without them,” she finished.

“I’m glad you have such friends, Anny,” said Commodore Koudelka.

“Jer Naddel and Patric Mederov are no more than they seem to be,” said Commodore Galeni. Anny glanced at the ImpSec ‘Eyes of Horus’ pins on his collar; he’d have ways of finding out, she supposed. “But this Vorsworth boy is a bit of a mystery. We know surprisingly little about him considering who his parents are. Anny, are you certain he really is your friend?”

Anny twitched in surprise. “I certainly think so, sir. Nothing he’s said or done lead me to think otherwise. And… he was the one who tipped me off about the business with the demerits and the duty company.”

“Ah. Did he happen to say how he discovered that?”

“I… I’d rather not say, sir.”

“Hmmm...” Galeni’s stare seemed to go right through her and she feared she wasn’t concealing anything about Alby’s unauthorized computer foray, but Galeni didn’t pursue it any further.

“So, Anny,” said the Lord Auditor, “what are your plans now?”

“My Lord? I’m going back to the Academy and… try to ride this out.”

“Good. As we discussed: there’s more to this than there seems. You may not have thought about this too much, but you realize that if you do succeed, you’ll be opening the door to every other woman in the Empire who wants to follow you?”

Anny thought back to her conversation with Drou. “Yes, My Lord Auditor.”

“The news media has picked up on this, too. It’s generated quite a lot of interest. A dozen more petitions for admittance have already reached local counts or the Emperor, himself. For now he’s holding them in abeyance, but if you can hang on, he plans to eventually approve them.”

“The newsies on Komarr have also gotten hold of the story,” said Commodore Galeni. “We can expect more petitions from there—and the Empress will be backing them.”

Anny shuddered. This was all too much! I was just doing this for Peter and my Da… and me. How can I carry the hopes of all these other people, too?

“You’re expecting an awful lot from Anny, Miles,” said Commodore Koudelka, as if reading her mind. “Is there anything we can do to help?”

“Well, that’s the rub, isn’t it?” replied the Lord Auditor. “Sure, the Emperor could get directly involved, issue some ‘cease and desist’ orders, maybe send a certain Imperial Auditor on an inspection, and make sure Anny gets a fair shake for the rest of her time there. But the opposition would just cry foul and claim that we coddled her along and that her success doesn’t actually mean anything. It wouldn’t matter that we were just evening things out, they would claim special treatment and we’d be hard pressed to prove otherwise.” He paused and looked right at her. “I know this is tough on you, Anny, but we really can’t give you much help.”

“I understand, My Lord Auditor,” said Anny. But privately, she thought she could use a little coddling right now. Just a little? Please?

“But, Miles,” said the Commodore, “this business with the permanent duty company could sink her. I mean the other cadets in her company are going to see what the score is very soon. Every one of them has just as much at stake as she does. They all want to make it through the Academy and if they see her as a real threat to that goal, who knows what they might do? There’s no way we can predict their actions—or protect Anny from them. This crap with the demerits is all administrative. We could pull some strings to get it put back the way it used to be and hardly anyone would ever know.”

Yes! Please! Just a tiny little string!

The Lord Auditor pursed his lips. “I see what you’re saying, Kou, but there’s no way we could keep it secret. But you know, there might be another way to handle this.” He looked at Anny again. “It won’t be easy, but if you could pull it off, not only would it solve the immediate problem, but it would really impress a lot of fence-sitters.”

“What are you proposing, Miles?” asked Commodore Koudelka.

The Lord Auditor smiled. “Come, come gentlemen, it hasn’t been that long since you were at the Academy! All Anny and her company have to do is win the Vorbarra Pentathalon!”

* * *

After Drou and the Commodore deposited her back at the Academy, the whole incident seemed like a dream. She reported in and got some very strange looks from some of the others in the company. Two hours later she was dismissed for the rest of the day. Even though being denied leave at Winterfair was a drag, at least they had no regular duties at all. At normal times they had to fit in their extra duty around their regular daily activities. Now, once they had taken their turn with the duty company, they were free. Anny spent the evening doing her laundry and polishing brass and leather and thinking about what she’d been told by the Lord Auditor. His suggestion was audacious. But how could she sell it to the others? She was tempted to seek out Jer and Alby and Patric, but two of them had duty and anyway, she was tired. She actually had the opportunity to get a decent night’s sleep. She was getting ready for bed when there was knock on her door.

Cautiously she opened it, telling herself any vandals or attackers probably wouldn’t knock. She was relieved and puzzled to see Jer standing outside.

“Jer! Why are you here?” she asked, ushering him inside and shutting the door. “How did you get past the guards?”

“I totally outwitted them by the unconventional tactic of cutting through the woods rather than taking the path. Reminds me of a Komarran joke about ImpSec guards and an escaping fugitive. And I only got lost once.” He stamped snow off his feet and looked at her. “But as for why I’m here, can you come back to the barracks with me, Anny?”

“The barracks! Why?”

Jer looked nervous. “They’re having a meeting tonight.”

“What sort of meeting?”

“To discuss what to do about… you.”

“Me?”

“The hotheads have figured out what’s going on. They’ve decided that you are the source of our woes. They plan to discuss what to do about it. I think… I think you ought to be there.”

A chill went through Anny that had nothing to do with the weather. She’d hoped that there would be more time, but apparently, time had run out. “When is this meeting?”

“It’s probably already started. Sergeant Byrne is off somewhere and those who have to report for duty in an hour wanted to have their say before they left. Can you come with me now?”

“All right, let me get my coat.” She quickly dressed and followed Jer outside. With all the leaves off the trees it wasn’t as dark as it usually was, but it still took her eyes a while to adapt. Jer led her back the way he had come, following his own footprints in the snow.

“You know, since our company is supplying the guards,” she said after walking a while, “we could have just taken the path.”

“Anny, you haven’t been invited to this meeting. They don’t know you’re coming.”

“Oh. “ Oh!

They emerged from the woods and headed for the barracks. Most of the buildings were dark, but some lights could be seen on one floor of the building where C Company was living. Jer took her in by a back door he had propped open and up the stairs to the third floor. Even before they got there, Anny could hear some angry voices from up ahead.

“I tell you we’ve got to do something!”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Get her to leave!”

“How? She won’t quit!”

“Well, if we don’t think of a way, every one of us is going to be flunked out! You can see what they’re doing to us!”

“I worked too hard to get here, my parents sacrificed everything to give me this chance. I’m not going to lose it because that bitch refuses to… to…”

“To what, Mr. Gerhardt?” asked Anny as she strode into the midst of C Company. Sixty faces looked at her in surprise. “What would you like me to do?” She looked boldly back at all of them, but ended up facing Cadet Gerhardt. She supposed it wasn’t fair to single him out, but he was the one who had been speaking last. He blushed, but wasn’t intimidated.

“To quit! You should quit!”

“Why? I worked just as hard to get here. My family sacrificed just as much. Why should I quit?”

“Because you’re taking all of us down with you!” cried another cadet. “They’re out to get you, we can all see that!”

“So you want to just throw her to the wolves to save your own skins?” demanded Jer angrily.

“You stay out of this, Komarran!” snarled a cadent named Krasner. “You shouldn’t be here, either!” Several others shouted their agreement. Jer bristled and there might have been a fight right there except Anny stepped in between.

“So you want me to quit?” she asked. “All of you?” She looked from face to face. Many nodded their heads or said yes emphatically, but others seemed less certain and some of the original members of the company couldn’t meet her eyes. Still, she was torn. Despite the pep talk she’d received earlier that day, despite all the hypothetical women of Barryaar and Komarr waiting to follow in her footsteps, the boys in front of her weren’t hypothetical. They were real and they didn’t deserve to have their own futures ruined because of the fight over Anny Payne. Maybe she should quit; take a bullet for her company…

“It hardly seems unanimous,” said Jer.

“It’s not!” said another voice. Anny turned and saw Patric Mederov and Alby Vorsworth framed in the doorway. They were just coming off guard duty and still wore their heavy greatcoats. “Anny shouldn’t quit and we have no right to ask her,” said Patric.

“No?” asked one of the cadets angrily. “You expect us to just sit here until they decide to flunk us out for demerits? That’s what they’re going to do, you know! The other cadets are already calling us “L Company”—L for Leper!”

“That’s right,” said Alby. “They think we’re no good. But if you try to force Anny out then they’ll be right: we aren’t any good!”

“Easy for you to say, Worth!” snapped another cadet. “With your parents you don’t have to worry about being kicked out!” Alby frowned and didn’t have any comeback. It was true and they all knew it.

“We have to stick together,” said Patric. “They’re trying to turn us against each other. If they succeed then were finished. Even if Anny were to quit and they stopped trying to wreck the company, do you think that would be the end of it? Everyone would know what we did. They’d know that we turned our backs on a comrade to save ourselves. No one would ever trust us again! We might survive to graduate from the Academy, but our careers would be over before they ever began!”

That struck home. Anny could see that Patric’s words had gotten through with an idea they hadn’t considered before. Anny hadn’t thought in those terms, either. But he was right: something like this would put a stain on them that nothing could wipe away. It would follow them like a curse forever after.

“But what can we do?” moaned Gerhardt. “We’re screwed no matter which way we jump!”

“Then we jump in a new direction!” said Anny. “A direction they don’t expect, and we beat them at their own game!”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re trying to crush us with demerits—so we get rid of them/”

“Yeah, right! How do we do that?”

“By winning the Vorbarra Pentathalon.”

A few faces lit up, but most looked puzzled. “What the hell is that?” demanded Gerhardt.

“It’s a competition held by the Academy every spring,” said Alby who had obviously caught Anny’s drift. “The companies in each battalion compete against each other in a series of five athletic events.” Alby paused and a devilish grin appeared on his face. “And the winning company has its demerits—all its demerits—erased!”

“Exactly,” said Anny. And we are going to win!”

Chapter 8

“The equestrian phase is really going to set us back, Anny”, said Alby Vorsworth. “Three-quarters of the company have never even been on a horse and the rest of us are all casual riders at best.”

“I know,” replied Anny, “we’ll just have to make up for it in the other phases.”

“That much? Some of the other Vor-heavy companies have got some good riders and shooters. I can ride pretty well, I guess, but you know how poor a shot I am.”

Anny nodded and rubbed her eyes, These late night planning sessions were wearing her down. She could get by with six hours sleep, but four wasn’t nearly enough. “We’ll just have to do the best we can. I think we can do really well on the other three phases. But the howitzer haul will make or break us, I’m thinking.”

The Vorbarra Pentathlon consisted of five phases: The Obstacle Course, which was little different from what they’d been training on, The Long Distance Run, which was like a marathon except with full field gear, The Equestrian Ride and Shoot, which involved riding a horse over a course with halts to fire a pistol at targets, the Rifle Competition, which was just a scored shooting match and finally, The Howitzer Haul. This last phase was always the big attraction of the competition. Each team had to haul a small cannon over what amounted to an obstacle course, including a wide chasm which required the gun to be disassembled and taken across in pieces on a rope and pulley system—which had to be carried along and erected by the team. There were several stops along the course where the team had to fire at a target—using ammo that had to be carried along, too.

“It’s a shame that this is all so archaic,” said Alby. “If they had some modern events like Computer Hacking, we’d be a shoo-in.”

“These were all things that were still important to the military when the competition was invented. I guess they didn’t want to change anything.”

“Still planning for the last war,” said Alby shaking his head.

“In any case, we have to plan for this war. Here are the rosters I’ve put together for the obstacle course, distance run and rifle shoot. What do you think?” The rules of the Pentathlon required 25-man teams for each of the phases except the Howitzer Haul. They also specified that each person in the company had to participate in at least two phases, but no more than three. The Howitzer Haul included everyone in the company.

Alby yawned. “Can I look this over and get back to you tomorrow? I can’t keep my eyes open, let alone make any rational judgment.”

“All right, but we’ve only got six more weeks to prepare. We’ve got to get our teams set and training.”

Alby said good night and left Anny in her little house. She put out the lights and got into her bed. Despite her exhaustion, sleep did not come quickly. So many thoughts were swirling around in her head. To her amazement, she had managed to sell the idea of winning the pentathlon to C Company. But turning the idea into reality was proving to be an enormous challenge. They were still duty company and they still had their normal daily activities. The only place the additional hours for planning and training could come from was out of their sleep. Anny feared that by the time of the actual event they would all be too tired to compete.

Still, things were going better than she’d expected. Her comrades seemed truly inspired, not so much to help her, or even themselves, but to stick it to the other companies who held them in such contempt. Everyone was working hard to prepare. There had also been some unexpected help. Sergeant Byrne was clearly on their side. He had cut back on the normal training as much as he dared and quite a bit of that training now seemed to be applicable to the pentathlon. Even better, someone was pulling some strings—in their favor, for once. Normally, the duty company was composed of the First Form company with the most demerits. But every company in the Corps of Cadets had screw-ups and goof-offs who got assigned extra duty. Usually that meant scrubbing latrines the way Anny had. But lately, those people were being assigned to the duty company instead. With that extra manpower available, Sergeant Byrne had been able to meet all their requirements for sentries and such and still give a lot of the members of C Company time off to train. Anny wasn’t sure who was helping them out, but she wasn’t about to complain!

Somehow, she had found herself in charge of the whole operation. She’d fully expected one of the few remaining Vor to try and take control, but none of them had. The others were willing to follow her lead. She wasn’t sure if it was really because they trusted her to do the job, or if they wanted to put themselves as far away from the blame as possible if they failed. We aren’t going to fail! We can do this! We can! Anny fell asleep running obstacle courses in her head.

The weeks both sped and crawled by. The training and the duties and the crushing fatigue seemed endless, but the time left to get ready slipped through her fingers like sand. They had their teams selected: the quickest and most agile for the obstacle course, the toughest and most hardy for the long distance run and the best shots for the rifle competition. For the equestrian phase they had the twenty-five cadets least likely to fall off their horses. The fact that the upper classes were monopolizing the limited number of horses at the Academy for their own training wasn’t helping things. Anny had assigned herself to the obstacle course, rifle competition and equestrian. She wasn’t much of a rider, but at least she’d been on a horse a few times.  Jer, who was obviously very uneasy around horses (nobody rode on Komarr), was slated for the obstacle course, long distance run and rifle shoot.  Patric was one of their better riders, so he had the equestrian, obstacle and long distance run. Alby was also in the equestrian event, despite his terrible marksmanship. His second event was the obstacle course and he had no third event.

For the first month of their preparations no one paid much attention to them, which was fine. The Pentathlon was primarily for the upper classes, who put huge amounts of effort into it. The first year cadets were allowed to compete, but much less emphasis was placed on it for them. Anny was grateful that C Company wouldn’t have to compete against the upper classes: they would have no chance at all. But eventually, the other companies of their own battalion started their preparations and it wasn’t long before whoever was out to get her figured out what she was planning. Suddenly, the other companies were training like maniacs. There would be no easy win. Maybe no win at all…

“Take a look at the figures, Anny,” said Alby one day, handing her his computer pad.  Her eyes opened wide in surprise. It was an event by event breakdown of the likely scores of the companies based on their training scores.

“Where… how did you get this?” she demanded.

Alby shrugged. “All of our esteemed competitors are tracking their progress—just like we are—and recording it on their computers. Military-issue computers, I might add. It wasn’t hard to get this.”

Anny looked again at the computer pad and realized that it wasn’t military-issue. It was a very expensive and very capable private model. “Alby, someday you are going to get caught!”

“Maybe, but not today. Look at the numbers.”

Anny did as she was told and was soon frowning. Alby leaned over her and started pointing items out on the screen. “If the margins stay as they are, G Company is looking to be our toughest competitor. We have a slim edge on them in three of the events, but they are going to clobber us in the equestrian. To make that up we would have to beat them by nearly ten minutes in the Howitzer Haul.”

“Then that’s what we’ll have to do,” said Anny, firmly.

Alby shook his head. “No one’s ever won by that big a margin, Anny. The only exceptions have been a few rare times when the closest competitors all suffered some major disaster like broken ropes that dumped their cannons into the gorge. We can’t count on something like that—unless you wanted to try and arrange something…”

“You mean sabotage? No, if we can’t win fairly, then I don’t want to win at all.”

“How did I ever let myself get hooked up with a pureheart like you?” asked Alby in mock-exasperation. “But seriously, Anny, if you want to win this, I don’t see any other way.”

“We need to increase our margins on the three events we can win and we have to do… something to win big on the Howitzer Haul.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. I’ll have to think on it.”

“Don’t think too long: we’ve got barely a month left.”

“I know! I know!” she cried, letting far too much frustration slip into her voice.

Alby stared at her for a few moments and then said: “So what’s Plan B?”

“Plan B?”

“Plan B: if we don’t win.”

“We are going to win!”

“Of course. But what if we don’t?”

Anny returned his stare for an even longer time and then finally said: “I guess I’ll have to quit.”

Alby raised his eyebrows and then excused himself. Anny sat and stared at nothing for a long time. Eventually, she got up and left her cottage. Winter wasn’t quite over, but the weather had turned milder and most of the snow was gone. Thanks to Sergeant Byrne’s manipulation of the duty schedule, she had a free hour this afternoon and she used it to walk and think.

Did you mean what you said? Will you quit? What other choice do I have? I all but promised everyone else that we would win. If we don’t, then we’re right back where we started—with no options left at all. What else could I do?

Her feet seemed to be able to stay focused on the problem better than her brain, because they took her to the course for the Howitzer Haul without her having told them to. There were a number of teams from the upper classes practicing. They had the priority, of course, since their competitions actually mattered. The first year teams would have to practice at odd hours; fortunately, there were lights installed along the course for that very purpose. She followed one team, trying to learn what she could about the proper techniques.

The cannon, itself, was a small ‘pack’ howitzer. The original design was for a weapon that could be disassembled and carried through difficult terrain on pack animals. The current model was a far more modern version meant to be transported in assault shuttles. It was a weapon considered obsolete in most militaries, but the Barrayaran military still found uses for it besides this traditional athletic event. It was small and sturdy and weighed about a thousand kilos. It could be broken down into four main pieces: the gun tube, the carriage, and the two wheels.

The team she was watching was pulling the gun along the course, which consisted of small hills, ditches, mudholes and various other obstacles that could be overcome with brute force. There was a second, identical, course running parallel about fifty meters away. A gravel path for observers ran in between. Traditionally, the competition was run with two teams at once. About twenty cadets were harnessed to the gun like draught animals, while many of the others stood ready to push, yank or lift as necessary. Anny couldn’t see any way to do it more efficiently. A number of the cadets were carrying six long metal poles and lots and lots of rope and pulleys for the gorge crossing. The rest had specially made backpacks for carrying the ammunition, although for this practice they just had dead weights.

Despite the obstacles, the team moved at a good clip and she was obliged to trot to keep up. Most of the course ran through the woods, but there were two cleared areas where the teams stopped to fire at targets prior to reaching the gorge, although for this run they just pretended to load and fire. Accuracy of fire was a very minor factor in scoring compared to the elapsed time, so the stops to fire took no longer than was needed to feed in the shells and yank the firing lanyard five times. The cadets carrying the gear for the gorge crossing did not stop when the howitzer did. They kept going, but the weight and the awkward poles didn’t allow them to move all that fast and they didn’t reach the gorge more than a minute before the gun, itself.

The gorge was a rocky creek bed about fifteen meters wide and five or six meters deep. In many places the sides had been reinforced with concrete to prevent further erosion, but there were still plenty of natural rock exposed. This was fortunate, because the only legal way for the competitors to get their first people across was to scramble down one side, jump or wade the creek, and climb up the other. There was also a sturdy modern bridge spanning the gorge between the parallel courses, but that was only for spectators and officials. The woods, which came to within about twenty meters of the gorge on either side, had been cut back near the bridge to provide room for a small set of bleachers.

By the time Anny arrived one batch of cadets had already made it across and were busy driving the anchors for the small foot bridge that was to be installed. It wasn’t large or strong (or stable) enough to use for the gun, but it would allow the pole carriers to get across. Apparently, there had been some teams in the past who had dispensed with the footbridge and just manhandled the poles and gear down and up the sides of the gorge, but much experimentation had proven the footbridge faster and safer. Meanwhile, three of the long poles were being erected on the near side of the gorge in a tripod to act as the support for the pulley system that would carry the gun. Another batch of cadets were taking the gun apart. There had been other experiments with trying to pull the gun across in just two pieces instead of four, but they had all met with disaster

As she watched, the foot bridge was dragged across and secured. Then the other set of three poles were carried over and set up. Ropes were thrown across and the pulley system started to take shape. This team was good, but the whole crossing would still probably take then a half hour or more—far longer than the entire rest of the course would take. Was there any way to do this faster? It seemed to Anny that this was the key to the entire problem.

While she pondered, she suddenly noticed that Sergeant Major Szytko was standing off to the side, also watching the activities. She walked over to stand next to him. “Good afternoon, Sergeant Major.”

“Afternoon, cadet,” he replied. “Here trying to pick up some pointers?”

“If I can. We have to do really well on this event. Really well.”

“They’ve been doing this for nearly a hundred years. A lot of different things have been tried. Still, the current methods haven’t changed much at all in fifty years or more. Usually, I’m all for tradition, but a lot of other things have changed.”

Anny looked closely at Szytko. He was one of the least talkative individuals she had ever met. But when he did say something you’d be a fool not to listen. “Like what, Sergeant Major. What has changed?”

“Oh, well, the gun, itself has changed. Up until about ten years ago they were still using the old ones with the wood carriages and spoked wheels. They’d been around almost since the Academy was founded. Pretty darn sturdy, but nothing compared to these new alloys. When the old batch got hit with dry rot they had to replace them with these. I bet these could take a real pounding.  And the ropes they’re using: not ‘rope’ at all anymore. The old hemp ropes were pretty strong, but they could still break if you weren’t careful. These new synthetics are practically unbreakable.” Szytko paused and looked around. “Even the setting’s changed. Most of these trees were just saplings when I first came here. They’re getting pretty near full grown now.” He fell silent for a while and then nodded to Anny. “Well, I have to be going. Good luck to you, cadet.”

She thanked him and watched him go before turning her attention back to the team in front of her. They had their pulley set up and were slowly hauling the gun carriage across. The tripods held the lines about four meters above the lip of the gorge, but the weight still made the lines sag alarmingly. Pulling the weight ‘uphill’ once it had past the midpoint took all their strength. There had been some attempts at making the far tripod shorter to reduce the angle, but apparently it hadn’t worked very well.

What did he mean? He wasn’t just passing the time of day! He was trying to tell me something , but what? The gun is stronger, the lines are stronger, but we aren’t any stronger! And what do the trees have to do with…?

She saw it.

In her mind’s eye the solution to the problem materialized like an engineering diagram. She stood there with her mouth hanging open as she tried to detect the flaw. There had to be a flaw. Didn’t there? Try as she might, she couldn’t find one.

The other team was still struggling to get the last piece across when she turned and ran back the way she had come.

* * *

“Can this work?” demanded Jer Naddel.

“The engineering looks, solid,” said Alby Vorsworth, pointing to the display on his computer.

“I’m no expert, but I can’t find anything wrong using this program. The trick will be pulling the gun up to that height and praying the pulleys don’t jam.”

“What about the ropes? Can they take the weight?” asked Anny.

“With margin to spare,” replied Alby, pointing to a batch of figures near the bottom of the screen. “Szytko wasn’t kidding about those. They could take twice this amount of stress before they would break.”

“We have to get the main cable really, really tight. If it deflects too much the gun will hit the far lip of the gorge.”

“Yeah, that’s true. I’m sure a trained engineer could tell you just how tight, but I can’t. We really need to test this out.”

“We don’t dare,” said Anny. “If anyone else sees what we’re doing, the cat will be out of the bag. There’s nothing magical about this, just no one’s thought of it before. Anyone else could do it this way and then we’d be sunk. Our only hope is to surprise them.”

“You’re sure there’s nothing in the rules against this?” asked Jer.

“Nope, not a thing,” said Alby. “I’m an expert on getting around the rules and there is not one thing in the Pentathlon rules to forbid this.”

“We have to test it,” insisted Jer. “The rig is all different from the usual method. If we try to do this on the fly we’ll end up losing more time than we gain.”

“You’re right,” conceded Anny. “Maybe late at night, right before the Pentathlon starts. In the meantime we’ll practice using the normal methods.”

“Yeah, that way we’re covered if this new setup doesn’t work.”

“It has to work,” said Anny.

“Okay,” said Alby. “I’ll work up an alternate loading schedule for the team, but in the meantime, not a word about this to anyone else!”

* * *

“The coast looks clear,” said Patrick Mederov. “I didn’t see anyone else around. So what’s the big secret?”

“Let’s get out there and I’ll tell all of you,” replied Anny. She glanced around and hoped that all the rest of C Company was here with her. It was three hours before dawn and the others were just dark blobs against a slight less-dark background. Up ahead the Howitzer Haul course was brightly lit, but Anny had held them back to make sure the area was deserted. As far as they could tell, it was. Now she led them to the area where the gear was stored. The guns were kept in an unlocked shed, but each company had a locked storage container for their individual gear. Past experience had shown that the competition was desperate enough for a little sabotage, but the guns, themselves were used by everyone and carefully checked. Anny had wheedled the key to their locker from Sergeant Byrne. There was no way they could have arranged the duty schedule for this expedition without his help anyway, but he did not seem to have any problem with it.

She opened up the locker and the cadets began pulling out their gear. They were surprised when she told them to put some of it back. They were more surprised when instead of taking them to the start of the course she headed backwards toward the gorge. The course was actually laid out in an oval so the finish was near the start. “We’re only concerned with the gorge crossing tonight,” she told them.

“What?” demanded one of them, “we’re going to try something new? The competition starts in two days!”

“That’s right,” said Jer. “And this is going to blow the competition away—which is why we have to keep it secret.”

There was a great deal of excited chatter—and entirely too much noise—on their way to the gorge. Anny could hardly believe that the competition was finally near. They had all worked so incredibly hard to prepare for this. Everyone was exhausted from the workload of their normal training, preparations for the Pentathlon, and the duty company. But tomorrow they could rest. All normal duties were cancelled during the event and even the sentry posts would be occupied by someone else: the Emperor usually attended the Vorbarra Pentathlon and Impsec would be taking over all security for the Academy.

They reached the gorge and took the bridge to the other side. This is where they would be during the actual event. Alby unpacked his computer and called up the diagram he’d created. “Okay, gather round,” said Anny. “Take a look at what we are going to do.”

Two hours later they had tried it three times. The first time, as Jer had predicted, had been a mess and taken nearly an hour. The second time had only taken twenty-five minutes and the third time they did it in less than fifteen.

And it had worked every time.

The company sat next to the howitzer, catching their breath, rubbing sore muscles, and exulting.

“It worked! It really worked!” said Patric Mederov. He wore an enormous grin

“And in fifteen minutes!” added Jer Naddell. “That’s over ten minutes off the all-time Academy record—let alone what we can expect any of our competitors to do!”

“We can do it,” said Cadet Gerhardt. “I never really believed it, but we can win!”

“We can if we keep this secret,” said Anny loudly, addressing everyone. “The Pentathlon starts the day after tomorrow. Our class goes first to get us out of the way for the upper classes. The Howitzer Haul is the last event. So that means six days until we do this for real. We all have to keep our mouths shut! Not one word to anyone outside the company! Understand?” Everyone nodded emphatically. “Okay, let’s get everything cleaned up and all the gear back to the locker before someone sees us.”

They set to it with a will, but after only a few minutes Alby suddenly said: “Where’s Fallon? Anyone seen him? He was here earlier.” Everyone stopped and looked around, but Cadet Fallon was nowhere to be seen.

“Maybe he’s off taking a leak, or something,” suggested Jer, pointing to the nearby woods. They looked but there was no one. Anny had never had any particular reason to even notice Cadet Fallon, except that he was… Vor!

“Oh shit!” snarled Alby.

“What’s wrong?” asked Patric.

“He’s been acting twitchy all week,” said Alby. “I’ve kept my eye on him. He’s going to spill the beans on us!”

Oh God, no! Anny looked around frantically. Betrayed! “Alby! Patric! Get this sorted out! Jer! Follow me!” Without waiting to see if she was being obeyed, she broke into a run and headed for the barracks. She ran like she’d never run before. She had no clear plan, just the overwhelming need to stop Cadet Fallon. She had no idea how. She veered into the woods to cut off a loop of the road. Dead undergrowth grabbed at her legs and branches slashed at her face, but she didn’t slow. She burst out of the woods into the cleared ground near the campus buildings. She stopped, gasping for breath, and looking hard… where… there! A figure, following the road, was just emerging from the woods about a hundred meters away. She had no doubt it was Fallon. He looked back the way he had come several times, but he didn’t seem to see Anny. In her black fatigues, against the black woods, she’d be nearly invisible.

Crouching low, she sped across the ground separating them and got between Fallon and the buildings. At the last moment he spotted her and came to a halt with a cry of surprise. “Going somewhere, Fallon?” she said. “We still have to put all the gear away.”

“I… I… uh, I’ve got something to do,” he stuttered.

“I bet you do. Why don’t we go back to the others and maybe you can explain what.”

Even in the dim light Anny could see Fallon’s face go pale. “You… you’ve got no authority over me! Let me pass!” It was true: she had no authority of any kind over Cadet Fallon. Right at the moment, she didn’t give a damn. But what could she do? And where was Jer? She suddenly realized that he wasn’t with her.

“We’re going back to the others. Come on.” She took a step toward Fallon.

“No! Leave me alone!” Fallon dodged to the side and tried to run past her. She lunged out and tackled him. They rolled on the ground, Fallon thrashing and punching at her. She just held onto his legs and prayed that Jer would show up soon to help. Help what, she still didn’t know.

“Why?” she hissed through clenched teeth. “Why are you trying to do this?”

“You… don’t… belong… here!” Fallon pulled free of her and lurched to his feet. Anny managed to grab one of his arms and hang on. He threw a punch at her but she ducked and tried to twist his arm around behind him. “Help! Someone, h—urk!” When Fallon began to shout Anny drove her fist into his solar plexus and he doubled over, the wind knocked out of him. He staggered around in a circle trying to get his stunned diaphragm to suck some air into his lungs. Just then, Jer ran up.

“Anny! I lost you in the woods! What… what do we do now?” he asked, looking at the wheezing Fallon.

“I don’t know.” What could they do? Tie him up and lock him in a closet for the next six days? No good, he’d be missed at roll call in just a few hours. Her adrenalin high was seeping away and a feeling of gloom was descending on her. It was over. Fallon would betray their plan to the other companies and their advantage would be lost. So would the Penatathlon. So would her dream… Her lip was quivering and tears filled her eyes. It wasn’t fair. Welcome to Barrayar.

“Is there a problem here?”

Anny spun around and there was Sergeant Major Szytko, standing a few meters away.

“Uh…” said Jer.

“Gwerk,” gurgled Fallon.

“No. No, Sergeant Major, no problem,” sighed Anny.

“Good! I was just on the com with Sergeant Byrne. I told him I needed a strong back from the duty company for a little errand and he said that you were all out on the practice field and that I should take whoever I wanted. So… you, Cadet…Fallon, I’ll be needing your services for the next… oh… six or seven days. I’m afraid you’ll miss the Pentathlon, but that’s just the way things are in the service, I’m afraid.”

“B-but…” Fallon shook his head and looked dazed. Szytko spoke into his wrist com and in an amazingly short time an air car landed on the road a few meters away. The Sergeant Major took the protesting Fallon firmly by the arm and hustled him aboard. “Where are we going?” he demanded.

“Oh, just a little trip up north—to Kyrill Island.” Fallon’s squawk was cut off as Szytko shut the door from the outside.

Anny stared at Szytko. “Thank you, Sergeant Major. Thank you very much.”

“I don’t want your thanks, cadet,” he replied. “But there is one thing you could do for me.”

“What?”

Szytko’s lips twitched up in the nearest thing to a smile she’d ever seen on his face.

“Kick their asses.”

Chapter 9

“Hold still, you miserable sack of oats!” Anny pulled sharply on the reins in hopes that would get the horse’s attention, but the beast just spun in a circle, defeating her attempts to get a steady shot at the targets.

For an instant, her pistol was pointed directly at a cringing scorekeeper, but she didn’t fire. The man was in no danger: the pistols only fired blanks and their accuracy was determined by a low-powered laser mounted next to the barrel. A tragic accident a decade earlier had brought about that change. A good thing, too, or Alby Vorsworth might well murder half the officials on the equestrian course.

Anny’s horse finally settled down enough that she could draw a bead on the six man-sized targets about fifty meters away. She fired off the shots as rapidly as she could and she was reasonably certain she had hit all of them, but there was no time to wait and find out. “Okay, you want to run, so run!” she cried, digging her spurs into the horse’s flanks. The beast sprang away, nearly leaving Anny behind. She hung on and fortunately the animal headed in the right direction. With all the practice runs by all the classes, the critter could probably do this in its sleep.

At a full gallop, they charged up hills and down dales, splashed across streams and wove between the trees, Anny ducking to avoid low-hanging limbs. She reached the next target range and reined in the horse and reached for her pistol. She cursed under her breath when she saw Hal Lindvig, one of her teammates, on foot and chasing after his horse. There was nothing she could do to help him under the rules, so she maneuvered her horse where she wanted it—and for once the horse consented—and fired off her shots. For some reason, this time the noise startled the animal and it reared up, almost forcing Anny to join Lindvig afoot. She stayed aboard somehow and got it under control again and headed down the trail toward the finish. She galloped across the line and brought her horse to a stop next to a bored-looking scorekeeper.

“Name?” he asked.

“Payne, C Company.”

“Twenty-two minutes, four seconds.” He entered it into his computer pad and paid no further attention to her. She moved off to where the horses were being collected and dismounted. Glancing back, she saw Lindvig emerge from the course and at least he was back on his horse. She spent the next half-hour walking her mount to cool it off and then gave it a rub-down and turned it over to the handlers. From there she headed back to the main spectator area where she would find the rest of her team. She was the last rider for C Company—or she would have been if Lindvig hadn’t fallen off—so everyone else was there. They didn’t look very happy—not that she expected them to be. She spotted Alby with his ever-present computer pad. “So, how’d we do?” she asked.

“Well, everyone finished,” he replied. “No dead or wounded left on the field of battle, so I suppose you could count that as a major victory.”

“Alby… how’d we do?”

“Pretty bad. Well, terrible to be brutally honest. There are still two more teams to go in the Equestrian, but unless there are any big surprises there, we are now in sixth place among the first year companies.”

“Sixth!” she groaned. “We had been in first!”

“I warned you. And we’re only in sixth because we did so well in the first three events. But, hey, no need to look so glum: if we do as well as we hope tomorrow, we can still win.”

“Really?”

“Yup. As I predicted, G Company is in first place. We need to beat them by ten minutes and eighteen seconds in the Howitzer Haul to win.”

“We can do that,” said Jer emphatically and then looked around to make sure they couldn’t be overheard.

“Yes we can,” said Anny. “And we will.” She sat down on the grass with the others and pretended to watch the huge video monitor that was displaying the ongoing events of the Pentathlon. It was Day Four of the competition and the first day for the senior class. On the first day the first year companies had competed alone in the Obstacle Course and scarcely anyone else had even paid attention. C Company’s team had won the event and that was a great way to start off.  On the second day the second year companies did the Obstacle Course and the first year moved on to the Long-Distance Run. They had come in second and it was a close second, so they were still in first place on Day Two. Day Three saw the third year companies join the cycle and first year moved to the Rifle Competition. They had done really well there, better even than they’d hoped. Although a lot of the non-Vor cadets transferred into C Company weren’t the best at shining shoes or polishing brass or making their beds the regulation way, many of them were from the hinterlands and knew how to shoot. Anny scored a personal best of ninety-six out of a hundred and C Company extended its lead.

They had given all of it back today, of course, but they had known this was going to happen. They all put on cheerful, confident faces, but Anny suspected they were all as worried underneath as she was. One slip, just one tiny little mistake and we’re finished.

When the last two first year companies finished their runs on the Equestrian Course, they were called back into ranks. Sergeant Byrne marched them back toward campus. Just as they neared the barracks, a loud roar from overhead had them all looking up. A phalanx of five assault shuttles screamed past a few hundred meters above the treetops. The center shuttle was bigger and painted blue and red, a glittering gold crest blazoned the side. They disappeared in the direction of the Academy’s landing field. “He’s early,” said Byrne.

“Sir?” said Anny.

“The Emperor, or at least that’s his shuttle, I assume he’s aboard. He usually shows up for the last two or three days of the Pentathlon. He’s early this year.”

I wonder why?

On the parade ground, Sergeant Byrne called them to attention, looked them over and then stood back. “Tomorrow’s the big day. Stand by each other and you’ll come through fine. But no matter what happens tomorrow, you’ve all earned the right to feel mighty proud of yourselves for what you’ve done. Now go and get some rest. Dis-missed!” The company broke ranks and headed for the mess hall.

The other first year companies were either already there or filed in shortly after. The companies leading the Pentathlon were all loud and boisterous, regaling their comrades with their glorious exploits. The cadets of G Company were in first place and were, thus, the loudest. By some bit of cosmic irony, Anny’s old nemesis, Olaf Levey, was now in G Company and apparently the team leader. The last thing in the world she wanted right now was to talk to him, but unfortunately he spotted her and came sauntering over with a batch of his friends.

“Well, well,” he chortled, “it’s C Company and its Amazon leader! You made quite a spectacle out there today. I trust you learned why riding is considered a sport for gentlemen?”

“Really?” said Alby Vorsworth. He consulted his computer pad. “I guess that’s why you weren’t on G Company’s equestrian team, then, eh, Olaf?”

Levey’s face reddened and he clenched his fists. “I yielded my spot to men I knew were better riders,” he said stiffly. “As any true Vor would! But your rabble must have been truly desperate to let you anywhere near a horse, Worth!”

“At least I didn’t fall off,” replied Alby. “But speaking of falls, I’m sure you’ve heard about how the bigger they are, the harder they fall. And if they were talking about egos, you’ve got a hell of a fall coming, Levey.”

“Ha! You’re living in a dream world! All of you! It’s over and you know it! You may as well start writing out your resignations right now—unless you come to your senses and get rid of the Payne that’s causing all your troubles!”

“You just wait!” cried Cadet Gerhardt. “Wait until you see what—mmmpf!” Jer Naddel clapped a hand over Gerhart’s mouth.

“Wait until I see what?” demanded Levey with a huge smirk.

“What real loyalty can accomplish,” said Patric Mederov, stepping in between Gerhardt and Levey. Anny breathed a sigh of relief over the distraction.

“You’ve given your loyalty to someone who isn’t worthy of it,” snapped Levey, but he eyed Mederov warily. Patric was nearly a head taller and much stronger.

“Come on, guys,” said Anny. “We’ve got a big day tomorrow. Let’s eat.” The two groups backed off and ended up eating on opposite sides of the mess hall. Anny quietly warned everyone to watch their mouths and then left for the evening. She went back to her own little cottage, marveling at the lack of sentries: ImpSec apparently had not seen any need to post one of its men there and there was no duty company this week. She did all her chores and went to bed early. Despite her worries, she slept like the dead.

* * *

The morning dawned bright and clear for the first year’s Howitzer Haul competition. Despite the lack of interest in their earlier events, Anny suspected there would be quite a few spectators to watch them today.  The potential for amusing disasters would be a strong draw if for no other reason. The company formed up and marched off to the competition area. They got there plenty early since they would be in the third group. Normally, the teams went in the order of their scoring so far in the competition. The tenth and ninth place teams would compete against each other first and so on down to the first and second place teams, one of which would probably be the overall winner. Since they were in sixth place, they would be matched with the fifth place team. Sergeant Bryne let them break ranks and relax. The tenth and ninth place teams were getting their gear ready, even though they weren’t scheduled to start for nearly an hour. It would probably be noon before C Company had its turn.

“Uh, ooohhh…” said Jer suddenly.

“What?” asked Anny.

“Look there.” Anny followed his pointing finger and to her surprise and dismay she saw Cadet Fallon walking in their direction accompanied by Sergeant Major Szytko.

“What the hell’s he doing here?” demanded Alby.

“I don’t know.”

“Well, don’t panic,” said Jer. “If he spilled the beans now it would hurt the other teams more than it would help. Remember what a mess it was the first time we tried it. With no chance to practice, the other teams would be fools to try our method.”

“Unless they file a protest and get our method banned or something,” said Alby.

“Always looking on the bright side, Alby,” said Jer.

But as Fallon got closer, it didn’t look as though he was any happier to be here than they were to see him. He looked distinctly uncomfortable and cast a nervous glance in their direction. Szytko took him over to meet with Sergeant Byrne but they couldn’t hear what was said. By this time most of the company had gathered to watch and there were more than a few grumbles of outrage. After a minute or two Szytko moved aside and Byrne brought Fallon over to them. “Cadet Fallon has something to say to you,” said Byrne. He motioned the young man forward.

Fallon stood there nervously and then said: “I’m sorry for what I tried to do. I haven’t told anyone about what you’re up to. I want to be back on the team.”

“Like hell!” cried Cadet Gerhardt.

“Not bloody likely!” added Alby. The others added similar or even less polite comments.

“Why should we trust you?” asked Anny after things had settled down.

“You don’t have any reason to, I’ll admit,” said Fallon, his face reddening. “But I give you my word I won’t betray you… my name’s word.”

“What?” exclaimed Anny. A quiet gasp came from the assembled cadets.

“I give you my word as Vorfallon that I will not betray you and will serve the company faithfully.”

Anny just stared at him, shocked into silence. Finally, someone from behind her said: “We still can’t trust him!”

“We don’t have any choice,” said Alby, looking very somber. “None at all.”

“No… we don’t,” said Anny slowly. And it was true: they didn’t. A Vor had given them his name’s word, a binding oath among the Vor class. In theory, he would die before breaking such an oath, although certainly many a Vor had broken them over the centuries. But more importantly, they couldn’t refuse to accept his word, not without being as thoroughly disgraced as any oathbreaker.

“Betray and serve are words open to interpretation,” said Jer. “Let’s be a little more specific, shall we? Do you swear to do everything you can to help us win the Howitzer Haul competition today and promise to do nothing to help any of the other teams?”

“Yes,” said Fallon.

“On your name’s word?”

“On my name’s word.”

Jer raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “Good enough for me. I’m not happy, mind you, but it would be a legal contract on Komarr.”

“It’s good enough for me, too,” said Alby.

“And me,” said Anny with a small sigh. “Welcome back, Mr. Fallon. But might I ask you why?”

Fallon glanced in Sergeant Major Szytko’s direction. “It’s a long story. Too long for right now.”

“Well, you might trust all this Vor crap,” said Cadet Gerhart angrily. “But I’m going to be keeping a close watch on you, Fallon! One false move and…”

“There won’t be any false moves,” said Alby. “But just to be sure, I’m switching you to Ammo Carrier #1, Mr. Fallon.” He had his computer pad out and was entering data. Anny nodded: they had one spare ammo carrier, just in case of mishaps, so even if Fallon deliberately dropped his load in a creek or something, they still had a safety margin. And once his ammo was expended at the first target…

“Just carry your ammo and stay the hell away from the gun after that, understood?” said Alby.

“Right. I understand,” said Fallon. He clearly followed the line of reasoning. With that settled, the company dispersed again to await the start of the competition. The conversations were considerably more animated than they had been before. Fallon sat down by himself, Anny stayed with Jer, Alby and Patric.

“Can we really trust him?” asked Patric.

“I hope so,” said Anny. “In fact, I think we probably can.”

“But why would he change sides so suddenly?”

“Maybe he wasn’t all that willing a spy to begin with,” said Alby. “The other Vor might have put all sorts of pressure on him. Fallon’s family doesn’t have much influence at all, so it would be easy to twist his arm.”

“Maybe,” said Anny. “Well, I’ll ask him later—when this is all over.”

“Hell, what now?” said Jer suddenly. Anny looked up and saw that Olaf Levey was heading their way with one of the Pentathlon officials, an officer in undress greens. A chill went through her. What if Levey had found out about their plan and just as Alby had said was trying to get the technique banned? From the smirk on Levey’s face it seemed a distinct possibility.

But the official looked bored and he walked right up to them. “C Company?” he asked. They nodded. “The G Company team is offering a challenge match in the Howitzer Haul. If you accept you’ll be paired with them for the last run of the day. The other team that would have been paired with G Company has already yielded its spot. Do you accept?” Anny breathed a silent sigh of relief. Apparently, Levey just wanted the satisfaction of beating them face-to-face. Well! That was fine!

“We accept, sir,” said Anny. The official looked the tiniest bit surprised to be getting the reply from her and his eyes darted to the others, but when they said nothing or just nodded, he shrugged and made an entry into his computer pad.

“You’ll be in the fifth pairing. Make sure you’re all here no later than 1400. You step off around 1500.”

“We’ll be ready, sir.”

“You wish!” snorted Levey. “Ready to lose!” The official just rolled his eyes and walked off, his duty done.

“Your ego’s showing again, Olaf,” said Alby. “Be careful you don’t trip over it.”

“And you’re a disgrace to the whole Vor class!” snapped Levey. “Your father and grandfather won’t live forever! And when they’re gone who’s going to watch out for you then?” Levey turned and stalked off before Alby could think of a reply, but then pulled up short when he caught sight of Cadet Fallon. The two stared at each other for an instant, but then Fallon turned away. Levey shot a puzzled glance back in Anny’s direction and then frowned and left.

“Whew!” said Jer. “I was afraid that the jig was up!”

“No, we’re fine,” said Anny, “even if we do have six hours to wait now.”

It was a very long six hours.

The first pair of teams went out and they watched their progress on the big video monitors in the spectator area. Both teams put on a very workmanlike performance and there were no surprises. The teams used the standard bridging methods that had been used for fifty years and got their guns across the gorge in pieces without mishap. They crossed the finish lines about an hour after they started—not very good times, but for the last place teams the goal was to finish at all. They didn’t see much of next teams’ runs because today the senior class was beginning its competition and the video monitors switched to follow their activities on the obstacle course. But each team that went out was carrying the standard gear and finished in about the expected times.

All except F Company. They tried something clever and paid the price. They attempted to send the gun carriage and the wheels across the gorge in a single load. But the main cable sagged so much under the added weight the carriage hung up on the opposite lip of the gorge and got stuck there. This was amusing enough that the man in charge of the video monitors switched them back to the Howitzer Haul. It took F Company nearly an hour to get their gun freed from its predicament and then get back on the course. Their finishing time was so bad they dropped from fourth place to last and many of the spectators—mostly older officers—had a good laugh at their expense.

“That could be us if we’re not lucky,” said Jer

“If we’re careful, luck will have nothing to do with it,” said Anny. She hoped she was right.

Noontime came and they broke out the field rations they had brought with them. They seemed unusually tasty and Anny almost laughed out loud when she looked at the wrapper. They were made by the company owned by Lord Mark Vorkosigan, the Lord Auditor’s clone brother. She’d heard all about that enterprise during her stay at Vorkosigan House, but this was the first she’d heard that they was making rations for the military now. Her comrades were also commenting on the improvement and she had to restrain herself from telling them where they had come from. C Company: powered by bug vomit!

As she finished up her meal, Jer suddenly nudged her. She looked up and saw a small group of people in civilian clothes, carrying bags of gear talking to one of the officials. He shook his head, but then shrugged and pointed in their direction. The people came over and stared at them like they were exhibits in a zoo. They unpacked some items and then one of them stood a few meters away with his back to Anny and started speaking at the others.

“In addition to all the usual pageantry of the Vorbarra Pentathlon, this year’s competition has a new and unprecedented addition: Andreanne Payne, the Academy’s first female cadet, is not only taking part, but is actually the team captain for her company. While their team isn’t expected to win top honors, her mere presence makes this a special event. Sadly, we’re not permitted to speak with any of the cadets, but you can see Cadet Payne behind us…”

It’s a news crew! She realized in surprise. “Who elected me team captain?” asked Anny after they finished up and moved on.

“Well, you are, aren’t you?” asked Jer.

“Not that I was told.” Jer, Alby and Patric just smiled at her.

At last it was time for them to get ready. They went to their locker and pulled out their gear and checked it over very carefully. Every pulley, every meter of line was inspected and tested. No slip-ups today! The ammo carriers went over to the armored ordnance van and were issued their rounds, which were placed in their carrying backpacks, two per man. Everyone watched Cadet Fallon closely, but he did exactly as he was supposed to. The gun haulers checked out their harnesses and the gun, itself. The superstitious ones in the company were happy that it was a different gun than the one used by the ill-fated F Company. Anny ran back and forth between groups trying to supervise everything. She had no specific task during the competition but would be giving the orders. I guess I really am the captain. It wasn’t something she’d planned for or aspired to, it had just happened. Finally, when all was ready, they moved to the start line.

Immediately, they began to attract attention: they were not carrying the long metal poles for the tripods, nor the parts for the foot bridge. People began to point and talk excitedly. It wasn’t long before Cadet Levey came over. “Forgotten something, haven’t you?” he asked. He tried to act as arrogant as ever, but there was a nervousness in his eyes.

“Nope, we’ve got everything we need to beat you,” said Jer.

“What are you planning to do? Fly over the gorge?”

“Yup,” replied Alby. “Cadet Fallon brought back a weather balloon from Kyrill Island and we’re gonna fill it with all your hot air and float right across!” Levey snorted, but he cast a glance in Fallon’s direction before returning to his own team.

C Company wheeled its gun up to the starting line and got ready to go. About half the company was directly involved with pulling the gun. The rest were hauling ammo or the equipment for the gorge crossing. Without the long tripod poles or the footbridge, they had managed to spread out the load so that these cadets could move pretty quickly. Anny hoped they could outdistance the G Company men and get a head start on the crossing. 

Levey’s challenge had handed them one piece of good fortune: as the challenged, they could pick which of the two courses they wanted to run on. Each course was as nearly identical as they could be made, but the trees on the right-hand course near the gorge were placed just a bit better for their purposes than on the left-hand course. They had practiced on each course, but had been hoping to get the right-hand one. Now they could just choose the one they wanted. And in one last bit of pre-event jitters, Alby and Jer had made a scouting expedition that morning to make sure the trees hadn’t been cut down or blown over or sucked into some other dimension.

“Teams, take your positions!” shouted the official. They were already in their positions, but now they tensed for the start. The official looked them over and raised his starter’s pistol.

“This is it, guys,” said Anny. “Just like a drill.”

Pow! They were off.

They shot forward like horses out of a starting gate. The twenty main haulers were harnessed like horses, too. Patric Mederov was the biggest and strongest man in the company, so he was the center lead hauler. Several guides were in front, looking out for obstructions and making sure the haulers were going the right direction. Everyone else followed along, most carrying burdens of their own. The first few hundred meters were just a straight run and they got up a pretty good speed. But then there was a sharp turn and they nearly took it too fast, the gun rising precariously on one wheel.

“Take it easy, guys,” called Anny. “Not too fast, not too slow.”

After the turn they hit the first series of hills. These were just steep mounds of compacted dirt about three meters high that the course went up and then down again in a washboard-like sequence. The trick here was to maintain the right momentum. Not enough and you would stall partway up and lose time. Too much and you might lose control coming down again. And that was a real danger beyond just costing time: a 1,500 kilogram pack howitzer, out of control, could crush someone unable to get out of the way. There were ropes attached to the rear and sides of the gun where cadets could act as brakes, if necessary, but serious injuries had happened all-too frequently over the years. Anny was determined that no such thing would happen today!

They made it over the first four humps in good order, but got stalled on the last one. Muscles strained and shoulders were applied and they were over and down and on the flat again. The same thing happened on the next series of hills, but only a few seconds were lost and then they were approaching the first target range. They steered the gun onto the firing platform and then turned it around so the muzzle was pointing downrange. The team members carrying the other gear kept right on going. Jer Naddel had shown an affinity for hitting targets with the howitzer, so he was their gunner. He threw himself into position and squinted through the sight, spinning the aiming wheels like mad to line it up on target. Cadet Fallon was in his position and the loaders pulled the shells out of his carrying rig.

Anny grimaced when she heard the crack of G Company’s gun a few seconds before the first round was slammed into the breach of their own. It doesn’t matter! The gorge crossing is what counts! Jer and the gun crew fired off the five rounds in a matter of seconds, the howitzer recoiling sharply with each discharge despite the light load and dud projectiles.

“Go! Go! Go!”

The haulers pulled the gun away and back on the course again. The next section was rougher, winding through trees, over ditches and into mud holes. Here they discovered the disadvantage of being the last group: many of the muddy areas had been churned to a sticky goo by the previous teams. Still, they managed to get past without too much lost time, although they were covered with mud to the knees by the time they were through. They reached the second target range and this time they got their first shot off a few seconds before they heard the report of the G Company gun. Good! They’d picked up some time in the mud.

“Come on, move!”

Back onto the trail, they pulled toward the gorge. It wasn’t far and they arrived in just a minute or so. Their teammates were already hard at work, and the G Company counterparts had barely begun. Alby and two other cadets had climbed a dozen meters up a large tree on this side and some of others had scrambled across the gorge and were sending men up another tree over there. Both trees were well back from the edge of the gorge so they were over a hundred meters apart—an impossible distance for any hemp rope that was light enough to carry easily, but well within the capacity of the new synthetics. Anny directed the haulers to move the gun over next to the tree Alby was in.

A light-weight line was tossed across the gorge and this was used to pull the heavier main cable. It was dragged over to the far tree and the end was tied securely to it at a height of about five meters above the ground. Once that was done, another light line was used to carry the other end of the cable up to Alby and his helpers in their tree. The cable was fed through a set of pulleys and then passed between a fork in the tree and the end tossed back down to the waiting hands below. There was a lot of slack in the cable that had to be taken up. The husky gun haulers, led by Patric, seized hold and pulled. They quickly had the slack out of it, but now they had to really put some tension into it. They pulled with all of their might, grunting and groaning. Anny dashed over to the edge of the gorge, trying to judge the strain. The far tree was actually starting to bend a bit. She looked up at Alby; he had a locking mechanism fastened around the cable to secure it in place. He waved at her.

“Looks good from here!” he shouted. She looked to Patric and his crew: they weren’t making any more progress. Okay, this would have to do.

“All right! Lock it!” she cried to Alby. He latched down the mechanism and the pullers relaxed. The tree leaned slightly once the strain was transferred to it. The main cable was now stretched tight as a fiddle string. “Good! Get the gun hooked up!”

While some of the team had been working to get the main cable strung, others had removed the pull harness from the howitzer and attached a lifting rig that would hold it securely. Lines were now run through the pulleys that Alby had installed on the main cable. There was one pulley that was for lifting and it was attached to another that just rode on the main cable like a trolley. This was secured to the tree to keep the whole assembly from rolling away until they were ready. They had to lift the gun up almost to the height of the cable. Once the line was sent back down again, Patric and his crew grabbed hold and pulled again.

One-and-a-half metric tons of cannon slowly left the ground and headed skyward. “Heave! Heave!” the pullers chanted in unison. The pulleys squeaked and the lines gave off strange creaking sounds, but they held and the gun moved up in a series of jerks. Five meters, ten meters, nearly there… One more heave…

The gun didn’t move.

“Another half-meter!” cried Alby. There was another locking mechanism on the pulley, but it wouldn’t engage until the gun reached the right height. “You’re almost there! Keep pulling!”

“We are pulling!” gasped Patric. “It’s stuck!”

“More men on the rope!” cried Anny, running over to them. Two or three cadets added their strength, but that was all that could fit. Any more would just get in the way of those already pulling. The gun moved up a tiny bit more, but refused to go the rest of the way. Damn! They could lower the gun down and reset the lock, but that would cost precious time, and they needed every centimeter of height they could get. Anny ran around the straining mass of cadets trying to figure out what to do.

“Give me a boost!” She spun around and Cadet Fallon was standing there. He pointed to the cable just above the clutching fists of Patric Mederov. Patric was actually completely off the ground, adding all his weight to the effort, but it wasn’t enough. If another person could grab on just above that point…

Anny made a split-second decision. She said: “Okay!” and bent over locking her fingers together like a stirrup. Fallon backed off a few steps and then sprinted toward her. His foot went in her hands, his hands on her shoulders, he sprang, she heaved, and up he went. Anny stumbled backwards but Fallon seized the cable just above Patric and let his weight jerk downward. There was an alarming squeal from the pulley overhead, but the howitzer lurched upward and there was a loud click.

“You got it!” screamed Alby. “The gun is secure!” A groaning cheer went up from the pullers as they let go and stumbled away. The howitzer hung fifteen meters above them. A pair of guide lines came down from the sides of the gun and these were used to stop any spin and get it pointing the proper direction: toward the gorge. Alby sat on the tree limb with a small mallet, ready to hit the release mechanism that would send everything sliding down the cable and, hopefully, across the gorge.

Anny ran back and forth surveying everything in a last check. It all looked good. Taking a deep breath she shouted to Alby:

“All right! Let ‘er go!”

Alby gave it a whack, but nothing happened. He reared up and hit it again. There was a crack like a rifle shot and the release popped open. Immediately, the whole assembly began to move. The pulleys and the gun rolled down the cable, faster and faster until it was moving at what seemed a terrifying velocity. No one breathed as the gun flew over the gorge. The cable was sagging and Anny’s heart stopped beating when it looked as though the gun would smash into the far edge. But it cleared by centimeters, hit the bank beyond, bounced, and then careened crazily along the ground until it came to rest, nearly at the foot of the far tree. For one more instant there wasn’t a sound from anyone and then every member of C Company was cheering at the top of their lungs.

“It worked! It worked! We did it!”

“We’re not done yet!” screamed Anny above the tumult. “Come on! Move! Move!”

The cadets came back to the senses and got to work. The rules required them to take every last bit of equipment with them, so they had to pack up everything and get it all across the gorge. Fortunately, taking it all apart was a lot easier than putting it together had been. Alby released the main cable and it was pulled across to the other side. Patric and his team scrambled down into the gorge and pulled themselves up the other side on a couple of ropes that had been let down for them. Alby and his helpers slid down from their perch and everyone else grabbed up any loose gear and followed Patric. Anny looked around for any stray items, but didn’t find anything.

“Anny! Come on!” cried Jer. “Let’s go!” She was the last one across and pulled up the rope behind her. She coiled it up and slung it over her shoulder. The howitzer and most of the others were already gone by this time. She glanced over at G Company: to her astonishment they were just getting their foot bridge secured! They hadn’t even gotten the poles for their second tripod across the gorge yet! God! We must have done this all in ten minutes! It felt like an hour! As she turned to sprint after her team, she noticed Cadet Levey shouting at one of the officials, pointing in her direction and then waving his arms and jumping up and down. She ran down the trail with an enormous grin on her face.

She had fallen behind and she had to catch up. Their official time would depend on when the last member of the team crossed the finish line and she wasn’t about to cost them any seconds! Still, she heard the crack of the howitzer at the last target range before she emerged from the trees. They were done firing and back on the trail just as she arrived.

“Another hundred meters!” screamed Alby. “Go! Go! Go!”

The finish line was just ahead and everyone who still had breath to spare started to cheer. Anny darted next to Patric and grabbed hold of his harness and helped drag him across the line. They were almost run over by their own speeding howitzer, but managed to stop it with no injuries. They all collapsed on the ground, gasping and grinning ear to ear.

Only then did they look around.

A huge crowd had gathered. The bleachers had overflowed and filled the area around the finish line. A lot of them were cadets from teams not currently competing, but there also many officers in undress greens and even some civilians. Most of them seemed to be cheering and applauding. The announcer could barely be heard above the noise:

“The C Company team has finished in twenty-seven minutes, forty-two seconds, a new Academy record! And it looks like G Company is trying a desperation move in hopes of making up some of the time!”

Their eyes were drawn to the huge video monitors and Anny saw that it was true. Despite the object lesson provided by F Company that morning, G Company was trying to take their gun across in just two pieces, the carriage with the wheels still attached and then the gun tube.

“They’ll never make it,” said Jer.

Nor did they. The gun hung up, just the way F Company’s had, although it took G Company far less time to free it.

“Okay, folks,” said Alby, looking at his computer pad. “We have all the other companies beat and unless G Company teleports across the finish line in about thirty seconds, we’ve got this in the bag!”

The official commentator figured this out at about the same moment, and the scores and times were superimposed over a close-up of a foaming–at-the-mouth Olaf Levey. The clock was ticking down to a C Company victory. They started to chant:

“Five… four… three… two… one…” The cheers erupted anew as the number reached zero.

“C Company has won the first year competition at this year’s Vorbarra Pentathlon,” said the announcer, but no one needed to tell them that.

They sat there, physically drained, but emotionally filled, exulting in their accomplishment. Sergeant Byrne came over to join them, with an uncharacteristic smile on his face. Anny looked around hoping to spot Sergeant Major Szytko, but she couldn’t find him in all the mob. We kicked their asses, Sergeant Major.

Eventually, G Company dragged itself across the finish line, but the time they had lost on their desperation move dropped them to seventh place overall. Things slowly began to quiet down and Sergeant Byrne reminded them that they still had to clean and stow all of their gear. This produced a groan, but they slowly pulled themselves up and got to work.

They were interrupted almost immediately when an officer trotted up and demanded: “Where’s the C Company team captain?”

Everyone froze and looked around. Then Jer pointed at Anny. Alby and Patric did the same. A few moments later everyone was pointing at her. “I guess that’s me, sir,” she said.

“Well, follow me to the judges’ stand, cadet. A protest has been filed against you.”

“What?” cried a dozen people at once. But the officer didn’t reply and Anny was obliged to follow along. Oh no, what now?

The eyes of the whole crowd seemed to be following her and the noise had almost stopped. She reached the raised platform and trotted up the steps, her eyes wide. There were a dozen officers there, including the Commandant, several generals and at least two admirals. A harried-looking major with a computer pad seemed to be caught between them. Over in one corner was a red-faced Olaf Levey. He caught sight of her and gave a nasty sneer. But no one else seemed to be paying any attention to her.

“It was an entirely illegal action!” said one of the generals. “They should be disqualified!”

“Sir, as I tried to explain,” said the major, “there is nothing in the rules forbidding what they did…”

“I don’t care what’s in the rule book! This violates the spirit of the event! It is supposed to simulate a mountain campaign!”

“There are no trees in the mountains?” asked the Commandant in an innocent tone.

“Not in every location!” snapped the general.

“But surely if there were trees, they would use them, wouldn’t they?” asked one of the admirals.

“That’s not the point!”

“Well, what is the point, Johann?”

“It’s not fair to the other teams!”

“Why not? They could do this too, if they had thought of it.”

“It’s the tradition, damn it! If we start letting in things like this, what next? Lift vans?” The officers all started talking at once. It seemed like they were fairly evenly split, for and against. Could they disqualify us? After all this work? Anny started to quiver. Tired muscles? Terror?  The major was being browbeaten from all sides and he seemed as uncomfortable as Anny felt. But who was in charge? Who had the final say?

“I’m warning you,” said the general, “if you don’t put a stop to this right now, all the upper class teams are going to try to use this and without a chance to practice, someone’s going to get killed!”

That seemed to make an impression, and the voices supporting C Company faltered. They’re going to do it. They’re going to take it all away…

“What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?” A soft, but penetrating voice entered the mix and all the others were instantly silenced. Anny spun around.

Even without the escort of armsmen in Vorbarra colors, Anny would have instantly recognized the tall, dark-haired figure that had silently mounted the judge’s platform.

“Sire!” a dozen voices blurted out in unison. Anny kept her mouth shut and just goggled, suddenly very aware of her sweat and mud-stained fatigues.

No one answered the Emperor’s question, so he asked again: “Is there a problem? When this much brass assembles in one spot, there has to be a problem.”

“Uh…”

“That is, Sire…”

“A protest has been lodged against the C Company team, Sire,” blurted the major. “We… we’re trying to figure it out, Sire.”

“A protest? What sort of protest? I was watching and I can’t recall seeing anything illegal. Unconventional, to be sure, but not illegal.”

That opened the floodgates and all the generals and admirals began to talk at once. The Emperor stood silently, taking it all in. For one instant his gaze fixed on Anny, but his expression revealed nothing. Finally, the officers paused for breath.

“Major,” said the Emperor. “You say that there is nothing in the rules against this?”

“No, Sire, nothing that I could find.”

“And you, General Vorzarren, you object on the grounds of tradition?”

“Yes, Sire! And safety as well!”

“Well, tradition is a fine thing, most of the time,” said the Emperor. “But we’re training future officers here, General. Surely, you wouldn’t want those officers to ignore superior methods simply because they go against tradition. Seems to me that’s a good way to lose wars.”

“I didn’t mean that, Sire!” protested Vorzarren. “But there’s still the safety issue!”

“True, that can’t be ignored. Uh, Major…”

“Hanley, Sire!”

“As I recall, Major Hanley, by tradition…” The emperor paused and glanced pointedly at General Vorzarren. “By tradition, the Emperor holds the honorary position as chief official at the Pentathlon, isn’t that correct?”

Yes, Sire! You have the final say in any disputed ruling!” The Major looked enormously relieved. Someone to pass the buck to!

“Very well. Then my ruling is that the results of today’s event shall stand.” Anny was so relieved that she missed the next few words. “…remains the winner. But for safety sake, all the other classes will not be permitted to use this new technique—or anything similar—in the upcoming competitions over the next three days. As for the future, well, you can make new rules or just cut down all those trees.”

“But, Sire!” said Vorzarren, looking at Anny angrily. “This… these… plebes set a new all-time record! By nearly ten minutes! It will be in the record books!”

A small smile flickered across the Emperor’s face. “You may have to put an asterisk next to them in the book, General. But for now, let’s see what happens.” He nodded to the Major, who bowed back with a look of gratitude. Then the Emperor turned to Anny. “Congratulations, cadet. That was ingenious. Please pass along my compliments to your team. And I’ll see you at the awards ceremony on Saturday.”

Anny was so flustered, that she nearly dropped a curtsey instead of bowing. She caught herself at the last instant. “Thank you, Sire. Thank you, very much!” As she straightened up she saw a fuming Olaf Levey on the opposite side of the platform. She retreated as quickly as she dared and fairly ran back to her company.

She got there just as the announcer confirmed their victory. She didn’t have a chance to say anything before they hoisted her up on their shoulders and cheered.

They carried her all the way back to the parade ground.

Chapter 10

“Almost time, Cadet-Captain.”

Anny Payne looked up to see Cadet-First Sergeant Jer Naddel standing in her doorway. She smiled and waved him inside.

“That’s acting Cadet-Captain, Sergeant,” she corrected.

“Bullshit,” snorted Jer. “If you’re not the captain, who is?”

“Good question. How do I look?”

“Like the captain. You look fine, Anny, come on, we can’t be late. Not today.”

She lingered for one more moment in front of the small, cracked mirror hanging on the wall. She was wearing her cadet dress grays for the first time (well, the first time on duty) and she wanted everything to be perfect. She was so glad the vandals hadn’t managed to ruin these when they got her other stuff. They’d been stored in a rear closet and since the other cadets hadn’t been issued them yet, they hadn’t thought to look for hers. The tunic and trousers were closely tailored and standard issue would not have fit her well. The gray fabric, picked out with black piping, looked very different from any other uniform worn by the Barrayaran military—and that was the whole point: cadets were not real soldiers yet.

But today, a whole batch of cadets would become real soldiers. It was Graduation Day for the senior class and it was an even bigger event than the Vorbarra Pentathlon. It would be a day of pomp and circumstance and everyone would be a part of it.

Anny brushed a few microscopic bits of dust off her uniform, checked for the hundredth time to make sure that her rank tabs were on straight and then carefully set the dress shako on her head. The leather-and-felt contraption added almost twenty centimeters to her height—forty if you included the tall black plume. The gold double-headed eagle, symbol of the Imperium, gleamed on the front of it. Damn, it looked sharp!

“Anny, come on!” growled Jer.

She picked up her sword from the table and clicked the carriers onto the scabbard and then hooked it to her belt. They went out the door and Jer picked up his rifle from where he’d left it leaning against the wall. As an officer—acting officer—she carried no rifle.

It was a beautiful spring day, the trees were in full-leaf and you couldn’t ask for better. They walked side-by-side, in perfect step, down the path. Anny quickly put the weather and the trees out of her mind and started worrying about the upcoming ceremony. Winning the Vorbarra Pentathlon two months earlier had not only eliminated all their demerits and relieved them of being the duty company, it had also automatically made them the battalion Honor Company. In every battalion formation, C Company would have the post of honor in the center of the line and would have the color guard attached to them—once they had been given their colors.

That was going to happen today, too.

Just as cadets were only considered potential soldiers, the members of the first year class were technically just potential cadets. They had so much to learn and usually had so many people flunk out, that they were not formally integrated into the Regiment of Cadets until the very end of their first year. Today, after the senior class was graduated and their battalion disbanded, each of the other classes would move up. The first year class would become the second year and they would receive their battalion colors. This would call for the honor company to come forward, receive the colors from the Emperor’s own hands, and then ‘troop the colors’ back and forth across the battalion front.

Anny was a tad nervous about being in command of that.

If, indeed, she was going to be in command of that.

She was still amazed that she had been selected to be the cadet-captain of C Company. Normally, the top slots always went to the Vor. But C Company only had a few Vor left in it and those that remained had made it known that they would not accept the post of cadet-captain even if it was offered to them. She suspected Alby had a leading hand in that small bit of near-mutiny. Discounting a Vor-birth, the selection of officers and NCOs was usually based on grades, demerits, and most importantly, the recommendation of the veteran sergeant who had been the acting commander through the year. Sergeant Byrne had made his recommendations and Anny had been at the top of his list.

Not surprisingly, this had not pleased a certain group of people.

Having Anny in the Academy at all was bad enough. Having her the team captain of the upstart winners of the Pentathlon Howitzer Haul was worse. But to have her standing out in front of her company with cadet-captain’s tabs on her collar! Well! Outrageous!

She had heard that Sergeant Byrne had been put under tremendous pressure to change his recommendation, but he had stuck to his guns and apparently the Commandant was refusing to overrule him. Even so, there had been a series of ‘delays’ in actually confirming her promotion. So, even though all the other companies had been assigned their permanent officers and NCOs and C Company had all of its junior officers and NCOs, for some reason, C Company’s cadet-captain was just the acting cadet-captain, and Sergeant Byrne continued to command at all the battalion formations.

“It’s gonna look damn silly if Byrne is still leading us today,” said Jer, suddenly.

“I was just thinking that.”

“I know. As first sergeant, it’s part of my job to read your mind. But honestly: one guy in dress greens in the middle of a whole line of gray cadets? He’ll stick out like a sore thumb!”

“Well, the battalion staff are all still regular officers, so he won’t be the only one in green, but you’re still right.”

As they reached the barracks, they saw that the object of their conversation was standing there and the cadets of all the companies were spilling out the doors. Jer hurried to take his post.

“C Company! Fall in!” he bellowed.

            Anny walked up to Byrne. “Good morning, sir,” she said and saluted. He returned it very formally.

“Good morning, Cadet-Captain.” He had not said acting! Anny’s eyes widened. She stood there, watching Jer form up the company with one eye, and glancing at Byrne with the other. When all was ready, Jer came up and saluted both of them.

“Sir, the company is formed.”  Byrne returned the salute, but Anny did not, as she was not technically in command. Jer went back to his post and Byrne stepped forward, pulling a flimsy out of his pocket.

“Company, attention to orders,’ he commanded. “By order of the Commandant, Imperial Service Academy, Cadet Andreanne Payne is hereby confirmed as cadet-captain of C Company, 4^th Battalion, effective this date. Signed, Colonel Thayer Sylvanus, Commandant, et cetera, et cetera.” He turned to face Anny. “Congratulations, Cadet-Captain.”

A cheer began to come from the company, but Jer snapped out: “Quiet in the ranks!” and it died aborning. Anny stood there blushing and flustered. The silence dragged on for several seconds until Byrne raised his eyebrows and looked at her expectantly.

“Oh!” said Anny, even more flustered. Remembering her duty, she stepped directly in front of Byrne, came to attention and her hand flashed up to her shako’s visor in salute. “Sir, I relieve you.”

Byrne returned the salute. “I stand relieved.” His hand came down, but not all the way to his side. Instead, he extended to Anny. She took it and squeezed.

“Thank you, Sergeant. For everything.”

“No thanks, necessary. I didn’t recommend you for this position because I like your smile. You’re smart, you work hard and you showed some outstanding leadership. You’ve earned this.” He released her hand and stepped back. “Now, give ‘em hell, kid.” Before she could think of any reply, he faced about and marched off.

Anny watched him for a moment and then turned back to the company—her company! She suddenly felt incredibly nervous. Byrne had been letting her run the company for the last month in everything but the battalion formations, but somehow, now that he wasn’t there looking over her shoulder, the job seemed a whole lot bigger than it had before.

“Cadet-Captain?” said Jer.

“Yes?”

“Permission to cheer, sir?” His face broke into a grin.

“Uh, well, I suppose so. Just not too lou…” her caveat was drowned out by a very loud ‘three-cheers’ that had all the other companies looking in their direction. Anny blushed redder than ever. “Thank you,” she said quietly when they were finished. She cleared her throat and tried to regain control of herself and the situation. She checked the time and saw that they had quite a while to wait before anything happened. “First Sergeant, open the ranks and we will inspect the company.”

“Sir!’ Jer did as she directed and for the next half-hour she went up and down the ranks inspecting the weapon, uniform, and gear of each cadet. They were all in perfect order, even Alby who was notoriously sloppy. Just as they were finishing up she spotted the battalion adjutant coming her way with a small group of cadets. Ah, the color guard.

The adjutant was only a lieutenant, but he was a real lieutenant, so Anny saluted him when he came up to her. His return gesture hardly qualified as a salute, but she could see that he was looking rather harried so she didn’t think it was deliberate disrespect. “Payne,” he began immediately, “I don’t have to tell you how important that there are no screw-ups today. As Honor Company, you are going to be right out in front of everyone. You are the 5^th Company in the line. You understand what you have to do?”

“Yes, sir. I’ve studied the procedures thoroughly and we’ve been practicing it all week.” As you well know!

“Good. Now the color guard goes on the left end of your company, in three ranks…” Anny patiently allowed the adjutant to tell her a lot of things that she already knew. He personally arranged the color guard, even though she was perfectly able to do so herself. The guard consisted of eight corporals and a sergeant, one man taken from each of the other companies in the battalion. The sergeant would be the one actually carrying the flag. Except… “…of course we don’t have the colors yet,” droned on the adjutant, “but you should just pretend that we do. I’ll be standing out on the color line with the general guides and you come up to me and pretend to take the flag. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” said the color-sergeant, a cadet named Paley.

“Good.” The adjutant turned to Anny again. “We’ll be starting in about thirty minutes, Payne. Remember: your company steps off as soon as the bugler starts playing ‘To the Colors’. The rest of the companies won’t start moving until the call is finished, so don’t get flustered that you’re out there all alone, okay?”

“I understand, sir.” We did this a dozen times last week—with you watching us, of course I understand!

“All right. I have to go. No screw-ups!” The adjutant hurried off.

“Cripes!” said Jer after he was out of earshot. “That guy better throttle back or he’s gonna have a coronary!” Everyone laughed.

“I guess this is the first time for him, too,” said Anny. Heck, he’s probably only five or six years older than we are.

As the minutes slowly passed, Anny walked up and down the lines of her company, exchanging a few words here and there, exchanging nods or smiles elsewhere. There were still a few hardheads who resented her being there, but just a few. For the most part, the company seemed to be solidly behind her now and that was more flattering than the praise of Sergeant Byrne or the Emperor or even the two tiny pins on her tunic for winning the Howitzer Haul and the First Form Vorbarra Pentathlon. Comrades. They’re my comrades. What more could I possibly ask for? A wave of affection passed through her. Jer and Alby and Patric were her friends, but the other sixty-four members of C Company were her comrades. They had suffered and endured and worked together, side by side. They had come through the fire together and they were all better people for the experience. I wasn’t really sure what I wanted when I came here. Now I know: I want this.

“Looks like they’re getting ready, Anny,” said Jer. Yes, out on the vast parade ground, the four battalion adjutants and their general guides were moving into position. The adjutants of the other three battalions were all carrying their colors, but not 4^th Battalion. The battalion command staffs were also out there and the regimental band was taking its spot on the far right of the line. A crowd of spectators was growing on the far side of the field: family and friends of the cadets, here to watch the ceremonies. A large reviewing stand had been erected opposite the place where the senior class would be, but it was too far away for her to see anyone clearly. She supposed the Emperor was there along with a lot of important people.

Oh yes, he’s here all right…

A pair of officers with ImpSec insignia on their collars came down the line of companies and ran a scanner over everyone in the company, including her. No chemical explosives, no high-energy power cells, no poison gas or toxins, no assassins. They don’t seem to be worried about our swords or bayonets… The pair moved on to the next company. A few minutes later a bugle call rang across the field, calling them all to attention. Anny drew her sword, brought her troops to shoulder arms, and waited. A few more minutes passed while some last-second adjustments were made and then the bugle sounded again.

To the Colors was one of Anny’s favorite bugle calls. It sent chills down her spine every time she heard it and this time was no exception, even though she had no time to stop and listen. “Company! Left—face! Forward—march!” She led her company out onto the field. The color companies of the other three battalions were doing the same. The adjutant and the two general guides, sergeants carrying the small battalion guidons, were posted on the color line at the exact center of where the battalion was supposed to be. Anny directed her line of march to a spot about forty meters to the right of them. Halfway across the field, the bugle call ended and there was a crash of drums and a blare of brass as the regimental band struck up a lively march. As they did so, all the other companies began to move. Forty parallel columns of troops moved in unison. When Anny had watched the upper classes doing this months earlier, she thought it was the grandest thing she’d ever seen. Now she was a part of it and she swelled with pride.

They neared the color line and she ordered a turn to the left. She led them just past the adjutant and halted with the color sergeant directly opposite him. “Company—front!” The color sergeant stepped up to the adjutant and Anny posted herself slightly to his left. She looked down the line and saw Jer step out and position himself in line with the two general guides. “Company, Left—dress!” All the cadets, in both ranks, moved up into position, heads turned to look at her and lined themselves up precisely. “Front!” Every head snapped back to look straight ahead.

The other companies of the battalion were now approaching on either side of them, four on their right and five more on their left. The captain of the 6th Company halted right beside her. Anny stepped back and he took her spot and dressed his company to the right. When he had finished, Anny commanded: “Fifth Company, Support—Arms!” All her cadets brought their rifles up onto their left shoulders. Each company, one by one, did the same thing. Eventually, all ten companies were on the line, dressed and at support arms. The adjutant stepped back and looked them over.

“Battalion! Shoulder—arms! Guides—post!” Anny moved across the rear of her company and took her post on the right in the front rank. Jer was right behind her. The battalion commander put them at parade rest and she let out a sigh of relief. That had gone very well. No screw-ups that she had seen. She could relax for a while.

The ceremonies involving the graduation of the senior class went on for nearly two hours. There were speeches and awards and Anny didn’t pay a great deal of attention, except when it came time for the graduates to swear their oaths of loyalty to the Emperor. That she listened to intently. Far down on the right of the formation, the graduating class, dressed in their new red-and-blue parade uniforms, knelt down and took their oath to Gregor Vorbarra, Emperor of Barrayar. The wording was carefully chosen to have the maximum emotional impact and Anny found herself tearing up. Someday that will be me!

Finally, the ceremonies drew to a close with an enormous cheer from the graduates. But the day wasn’t over yet. There was still the Grand Review of the entire regiment, but before that could happen, 4^th battalion had to receive its colors. Anny was suddenly very nervous. Jer nudged her in the back. “Just like we practiced, Anny.”

“You’re getting too good at this reading minds business, Jer,” she whispered back at him.

“I can lie real good, too: hell, I’m sweating bullets back here! You ready for this?”

“No choice.”

There was a stir in the crowd off to her right and shortly she saw a party headed her direction. A pair of Vorbara armsmen led the way in full dress uniforms. The Emperor, and a short woman who surely must be the Empress, were guided to a position in line with Color Sergeant Paley. The Commandant and a few aides followed, one of them carrying the flag in its case. The battalion commander, a regular captain named Veluska, marched up to the Emperor and saluted. They exchanged a few words and then he saluted again. He turned around, stepped slightly to the side and then bellowed:

“Fifth Company! To the front and center!” This is it! She took two paces forward, turned left and moved to the exact center of her company and then faced front.

“Company! Shoulder—arms! Forward—march!” The company stepped out and marched straight forward. This was the easy part: no turns, no fancy maneuvers, just keep going until… “Company—halt!” They stopped with the color sergeant exactly four paces short of the Emperor. “Company! Present—arms!” With a slap and a crack, her troops brought forward their bayonet-tipped rifles and saluted their emperor. Anny brought the hilt of her sword up in front of her eyes and then slowly lowered it until the point was near the ground. The Emperor solemnly acknowledged the salute and Anny ordered them back to shoulder arms.

The officer with the flag removed the cloth case and unrolled it and then handed it to Commandant Sylvanus. He stepped forward and presented it to the Emperor with a bow. The Emperor tilted the pole slightly and shook out the folds. A gold imperial eagle floated on a dark blue field. A red scroll was in one beak that read: Imperial Service Academy. Another scroll in its claws identified it as the banner of the 125^th Class of Cadets. The 122^nd class was graduating today, in three more years it would be their turn. The Emperor put the butt of the flag pole on the ground and began to speak:

“Cadets of the 125^th class, it is my honor and privilege to present to you this day the banner of your battalion. It represent the long and proud tradition of this Academy and a long and proud tradition of service to the Imperium.” The Emperor went on with what was obviously a prepared speech. Anny tried to remember every word, but about halfway through she suddenly realized that the Empress was staring right at her. She had scarcely noticed the short, slightly plump woman, but now she was unable to look away. Her gaze was piercing. They locked eyes for a dozen heartbeats and then the woman smiled slightly, nodded almost imperceptibly and then turned her attention back to her husband. Anny fixed her eyes on a distant building and forced herself not to look at the Empress again. Almost.

The Emperor kept his speech blessedly short—it was turning into a very long day—and then the battalion commander stepped forward again. “Color Sergeant! Three paces forward—march!” Cadet Paley, must have been the most nervous person on the field, but he took those three paces without tripping or passing out and stopped directly in front of the Emperor. The Emperor lifted the pole and handed it to Paley who took it and set the butt end into the socket attached to his belt. “Color Sergeant! To your post—march!” Paley, slowly walked backwards until he was back in his spot. Now Captain Veluska’s eyes were on Anny. “Fifth Company! Troop the colors!”

Okay, this was the tricky part. They had to swing ninety degrees to the right and march down the line. But they couldn’t do their wheel from where they were without forcing the Emperor to give way and that wouldn’t do at all. Equally unacceptable was to do an about face and turn their backs on him. So, the only thing left was to march backwards until they had room to wheel. “Company! Backwards, half-step—march!” Slowly, carefully, the company walked backwards. Anny silently thanked God that Alby kept his mouth shut. During practice—every damn time—Alby had made a beep beep noise like they were a truck with its back-up alarm! But this time he was quiet and the lines remained reasonably straight until they had opened up enough room to maneuver. Anny halted them and then commanded: “Company! Right wheel—march!”

The whole company swung to the right like a door on its hinges. Jer Naddel was the hinge and at the left end of line, Cadet Sergeant Lindvig was the swinging edge of the door. To keep the line exactly straight, each cadet had to adjust the length of his step depending on his position in the line. It wasn’t easy, but today they did it just about perfectly. As the swing neared ninety degrees, Anny ordered forward march and they headed down toward the right end of the battalion. A light breeze made their new flag billow out nicely. During the Time of Isolation this was more than just a ceremony, it had an important practical function. Regimental banners often had very unique designs and it was vital that the troops knew exactly what their own banner looked like so that they could spot it in the smoke and confusion of battle and know where to rally. Today, all the banners were nearly identical and were never carried into battle, but the tradition remained.

As they approached the end of the battalion, Anny ordered another right wheel. This time they had to do a full one-hundred-and-eighty degree turn to come back the other way across the front of the battalion. The line bent a little bit during the swing, but not too much and they made it around and headed back the other way. As they passed by the Emperor they did an ‘eyes right’ and Anny saluted him with her sword. Then they went down to the left end of the line and on past. A pair of left wheels in close succession took them behind the battalion and then one final left wheel brought the company back into its proper place in the line. Anny halted them and dressed the line and then stepped back into her position on the right of her company.

“Whew! Well done, C Company!” she whispered.

“Damn right,” said Jer.

“Battalion!” cried Captain Veluska. “Present—arms!” One last salute to the Emperor and the ceremony was over. He acknowledged it and then the Imperial party headed back to the reviewing stand.

“One more thing and we’re done, guys,” she said. “Hang in there.”

The Grand Review would conclude the events of the day. Fortunately, it was fairly simple. The entire regiment, all four battalions, presented arms to the Emperor and then all forty companies wheeled to the right simultaneously into a column one company wide and forty companies long. The band took the lead, followed by the Commandant and his staff and then all the rest followed along. First they marched to the right and then two left wheels reversed their direction to bring the whole regiment right by the reviewing stand where the Emperor waited. The band peeled off to the left and the Commandant and his party to the right and the regiment passed in between.

The newly graduated officers were in the lead and 4^th Battalion was last, so they passed each other at the halfway point. Anny thought that her own battalion was looking pretty sharp, but she had to admit that the seniors made them look shabby by comparison. Their ranks were laser-straight and they moved in perfect unison, like they were a machine. Someday… someday we’ll look that good—or even better!

The 4^th battalion reached the turning point and made its counter-march to come past the reviewing stand. The band was playing one of Anny’s favorite marches and the hair was standing up on the back of her head. As each company marched past the reviewing stand they made their salute to the Emperor and he returned it. But now it was C Company’s turn and they were the Color Company. “Company! Eyes—right!” commanded Anny. Every head snapped to the right and she saluted with her sword. Color Sergeant Paley brought the staff of the flag to a forty-five degree angle and dipped the battalion’s colors. The Emperor returned the salute as he had for all the companies, but every other person in uniform on the reviewing stand—and there were a lot of them—saluted the colors as well.

As they marched past, Anny noticed a short figure in a brown and silver uniform to the right of the Emperor. And just behind him was… The Countess! And there’s the Count! Wait, was that Drou…? But the company moved on and she didn’t dare twist around and search the crowd. I’ll have to look for them later! But the thought that the Countess and the Lord Auditor and maybe Drou and the Commodore were here and that they had seen her filled her with an incredible pride. I didn’t fail you, My Lady! Somehow the full realization of what she’d accomplished only now began to sink in. I did it! I really did it!

She became so caught up in her own thoughts that she nearly forgot to give the order to wheel when they reached the turn at the far end of the field. But they avoided disaster and shortly the entire regiment was back where it had started and all the companies wheeled back into line. One final present arms and it was over. The senior class gave an enormous shout and tossed their hats into the air and their formation disintegrated as the 122^nd Class of Cadets figuratively and literally was dissolved.

The other battalions were not dismissed in such a chaotic fashion, but it was just a short march back to the barracks where they were dismissed. Anny gave her company a heartfelt well-done and then let them break ranks. “Remember,” she called after them, “our leave doesn’t begin for another week. We’ve got the day off tomorrow, but there’s an inspection the day after! No slacking off!” That brought some laughter and a few groans, but the cadets quickly dispersed, either to get out of their stiff uniforms or perhaps to find family who had come to watch. Speaking of which… Anny started walking back toward the parade ground in hopes of finding Drou and the others.

At first it seemed pretty hopeless. Nearly two thousand cadets and former cadets and easily five times that many spectators were swirling around the field. Trying to find a few specific people out of the mob… Why don’t I let them find me? She took off her shako and just stood there. Her hair had grown out a bit (although it was still within regulation) and as the only woman in uniform on the parade ground, she hoped she would stand out.

She did. But the attention she attracted was not from the people she was looking for. Lots of folks paused and gawked, but where were…?

“There she is!” cried a familiar voice. Anny turned and…

“Drou!” The older woman wrapped her arms around her and she nearly dropped her shako.

“Anny! Oh, Anny, look at you! I’m so proud I could burst!” Drou had tears on her cheeks and alternately hugged Anny and then held her at arms’ length to look her over.

“Thank you so much for coming! I had hoped you would.”

“Well, we weren’t going to miss this,” said the Commodore who was coming up behind his wife, leaning on his stick. But right beside him was…

“Sergeant Major Szytko,” said Anny in surprise. “Do you know the Commodore?”

The Commodore laughed. “Oh, we’ve run across each other a few times over the years.”

“Just a few,” said Szytko. He looked at Anny and then at the Commodore. “But I should have known that someone had given Miss Payne some training: she was just too damn good to be a raw recruit.” Anny frowned, she had mentioned the Sergeant Major several times during her ‘debriefing’ at Vorkosigan House at Winterfair, but the Commodore hadn’t said a word about knowing him—the scoundrel! But then she smiled.

“I thought I saw the Countess on the reviewing stand.”

“Yes,” said Drou, “she’s here with the Count. And then there’s Miles and Ekaterin and Martya and Duv and Alys Vorpatril with Simon Illyan and a whole gaggle of others. They’re not all here to see you, of course,” she laughed.

“Of course not,” said Anny in a small voice.

“But most of them will be expecting you for dinner at the officers club.”

“Uh… but, cadets aren’t allowed…” protested Anny in near-panic.

“No, but cadets can be guests of people who are allowed,” said the Commodore.

“I… I ought to go and change out of this uniform…”

“Don’t you dare!” cried Drou. “You look fabulous just as you are! And a cadet-captain, too!”

“Yes,” said the Commodore. “No more back-talk, cadet! Fall-in and come with us!”

“Yes, sir,” said Anny.

* * *

Something was pounding inside Anny’s head and she groaned. The pounding got louder and she dragged the pillow over her head, which muffled it slightly.

“Anny! Come on, wake up!”

Wait, that wasn’t inside her head… She reluctantly pulled off the pillow and squinted when the light hit her eyes. Someone was calling her name and knocking on her door. She rolled over and a dagger of pain shot through her head.

“Ooohhh, damn… There’s a regulation against cadets drinking, why the hell didn’t someone enforce it?” The memory of last night’s (she hoped it was last night’s) ‘dinner’ at the Academy’s officers club slowly returned. The food had been wonderful and the company even better. The look of pride on the Countess’ face had made all the pain and effort of the past year more than worthwhile. It had been a marvelous evening… but all those toasts! Anny’s tolerance for alcohol was small, but there was no avoiding the toasts. She had probably drunk more last night than she had in her whole life leading up to that point. She had always smirked when she heard other people talk about hangovers. “I didn’t mean it! I swear I didn’t!”

“Anny! Are you in there? Come on, Cadet-Captain, we have work to do!”

It was Jer Naddel. What the hell was he doing here? What time was it? “Whaddaya want?” she mumbled. “No duty today. Go’way!”

“Anny, it’s 0900 and the day’s wasting! Get up!”

“All right! All right! Give me a minute.” She forced herself to a sitting position on the bed and the room spun around her. A wave of nausea swept through her and she grabbed the nearest container in case she vomited. Fortunately, the spell passed. Doubly fortunately, she realized when she saw that the container she had grabbed was her dress shako. Her dress grays and gear were scattered on the floor. She had no memory of taking them off. In fact, she had no memory of how she got back here… She searched around for something else to wear and finally found a set of utility coveralls and dragged them on. She was still wearing her shirt and underwear from yesterday.

“Anny!”

“Coming, damn it!”

She stumbled out of the bedroom and yanked the front door of the cottage open, ready to bite Jer’s head off.  “What the hell…” she snapped—and then stopped.

All of C Company was standing outside.

She blinked in the morning light.  A crowd of cadets, all wearing coveralls just like hers, had gathered outside her cottage. But what was all that junk they were carrying? She rubbed her eyes and looked again. Bundles of pipe, coils of electrical conduit, buckets of paint, boxes of tools, rolls of carpeting, sheets of plywood… what the hell…?

“What the hell…?”

“Cadet-Captain,” said Jer, “as you mentioned yesterday, there will be an inspection tomorrow. And it has come to our attention that the quarters of our company commander—our very own company commander—is an absolute disgrace.”

“Yeah,” said Alby Vorsworth, “and if you think that after all the work we did to get rid of our demerits that we’re going to let you start piling them up again, well! You got another think coming! Sir.”

“Exactly,” continued Jer. “Therefore, we have decided to take matters into our own hands and fix this dump up! So, if you’ll just stand aside, sir…”

“But…” Despite her protest, Jer and some of the others began pushing past her. Another group had already started scraping old paint off the outside walls. Still others were digging a trench, apparently to lay new pipes and conduit. They even appeared to know what they were doing. A lot of farm boys in the company, they know how to fix things.

She briefly tried to tidy up inside and hide her personal items, but gave up. Well, if they haven’t noticed by now that I’m a woman, I guess it’s time they learned! She went back outside. She was amazed at all the tools and materials and she grabbed Jer when he came past. “How’d you get all this stuff?’ she demanded. “I’m not going to be bailing you out of the stockade for theft, am I?”

Jer laughed and pointed towards the wood. “Ask him.” She turned and saw a figure standing among the trees. It didn’t surprise her a bit that it was Sergeant Major Szytko. She walked over to him.

“I understand I have you to thank for this, Sergeant Major.”

“Not at all,” he replied. “But I did happen to see Commodore Koudelka huddled with Captain Vorthalon outside the OC last night. This morning Vorthalon ordered me to put together a detail to deal with this. Amazing what a little rank can accomplish.”

Anny nodded. “But you still have my thanks, Sergeant Major. I owe you another one.”

“I’m not keeping track.”

No, but I am.

* * *

Anny decided that she had packed everything she needed and zipped up her bag. Drou would be there in about an hour to pick her up and she wanted to be ready in plenty of time. Two weeks leave! As hard as she had fought to get here, she had to admit that she’d be very glad to get away from the Academy for a while. Of course, now that she had such nice quarters, she was almost tempted to stay. The boys had done a marvelous job. Lights, running water, fresh paint, even carpet on the floor and curtains on the windows.  I am one lucky girl.

She was certain that the next three years would present her with all sorts of challenges, but she was confident that she could meet them now. That first step had been a doozy, and it landed her flat on her face. But she had picked herself up and kept going. And that was all she had to do: keep going.

After wandering through the cottage about a dozen times, Anny decided she didn’t want to wait inside any longer. She’d take a walk through campus and meet Drou at the landing field. She slung her bag over her shoulder and went out, locking her door behind her. The boys had worked on the path leading to the cottage, too. The trail was paved with gravel and the undergrowth cut back on either side. There were no sentries at the end of the path: nearly everyone was on leave. She didn’t know if the duty companies would be posting sentries there in the future, but if they did she would manage.

Anny emerged from the woods and wandered aimlessly for a while. Large sections of the campus were almost unknown to her: classroom and laboratory buildings that she had never been inside. That would all change in the coming years. This year had been almost all physical training and learning basic procedures. Next year—that was to say in about two weeks—she would begin training for the career path she would follow as an officer. She looked forward to that eagerly.

She checked the time and turned toward the landing field. Drou was going to take her back to Vorkosigan House. She wanted to spend some time there before the Countess left again. She supposed she really ought to go home—to her real home—for at least a few days. But the few communications she’d had with her mother since she left had been strained. She wasn’t looking forward to it. Alby had invited her to come visit him in his home and she was seriously considering it. Maybe I’ll just sleep for a few days…

She turned a corner and noticed a cadet with a travel bag heading for the monorail station. She recognized Cadet Fallon. On impulse she trotted to catch up. “Fallon, wait up.” He stopped and turned toward her, looking surprised.

“Cadet-Captain?” he said, his voice and face expressionless.

“Headed home?”

“Yes.”

“Uh… I never got around to asking… I mean, when I asked you why. You said it was a long story. Have you got time for it now?”

“I suppose.” He didn’t look at all happy.

“If you don’t want to, it’s all right.”

“No, I guess I owe you that much.” He set his bag on the ground and then grimaced. “Levey put me up to it, as I’m sure you’ve guessed. I didn’t want to. Not so much because I objected to it in principle, but because I didn’t want to be stuck in the duty company forever. But Levey promised… well, never mind. Anyway, after you caught me and I found myself on an aircar to Kyrill Island with the Sergeant Major, well, it’s a long flight up there. The Sergeant Major doesn’t talk much…”

“No, he doesn’t” agreed Anny.

“Have you ever taken a look at all those ribbons on his chest? A close look?”

“Not really,” she admitted. There were so many of them…

“You ought to sometime,” said Fallon. “Ask him about them. He’ll open up like you wouldn’t believe. By the time we got to Kyrill I was amazed. He’s been just about everywhere and done more stuff than you could imagine. A real hero. A real soldier. And then after we got up there, the way all the troops there—including the officers—treated him! Everyone seemed to know him and you’d think he was a general the way they acted. We spent a couple of days up there—just killing time—and I talked to some of the people.” He paused as if searching for the right words.

“Szytko is a better soldier… a better man than I could ever hope to be. That’s not an easy thing for a Vor to say about a commoner, but it’s true. And well… he… he seems to think a lot of you. That’s not something I could ignore. So we talked. About things like loyalty.” Fallon looked her right in the eye. “You stand by your comrades not because you like them, but because they are your comrades. You do it or you’re no good. That’s about all there is to it.”

“I see,” said Anny. “Well, thank you for telling me. And thank you for…”

“I don’t want your thanks!” said Fallon angrily. “Don’t misunderstand me, Payne: I’m your comrade, not your friend! Not your friend and not your admirer! I don’t like what you’re doing here and I don’t like you!” He paused and a long silence ensued while they stared at each other. “I’m your comrade and that’s all!”

“Well,” said Anny, “I guess that will have to do.”

Fallon picked up his bag and turned away. Anny watched him until he vanished behind a building.

Not my friend, but a comrade I can trust. Fair enough.

She laughed out loud.

“Welcome to Barrayar.”

END OF BOOK ONE