Tales from the Academy
Second Interlude
Two men, one young, one old, strolled through the park that lined the river which bisected Vorbar Sultana. They often met here in good weather at the lunch hour to discuss their mutual passion: Barrayaran politics. Today the early summer weather was very pleasant and there were many other people in the park. Perforce, the pair kept their talk to less than sensitive subjects as eavesdropping would be far too easy.
"So," asked the young one, "what do you think of this latest proposal by the Progressives to give seats in the Council of Counts to representatives from Sergyar and Komarr?"
The old one snorted. "Naturally I don't like it, but it was inevitable that this was going to come up sooner or later. While Sergyar only had a tiny population and while Komarr was still actively plotting rebellion it was easy to ignore any 'requests' for representation. But now…"
"Yes, now Sergyar has nearly the same population as all of South Continent. Hard to pass them off as some inconsequential colony anymore. And things have been quiet on Komarr for a long time now. The Emperor's marriage is having the desired effect there, I think."
"So it would appear. But now they think their good behavior entitles them to a say in how the whole empire is run!"
"Well, it's hard to blame them…"
"Bah! We mishandled the Komarr situation from the start! We should have set up counts' districts there right after the conquest. Appointed some new counts from the worthy younger sons and given all the larger domed cities to them. Import some solid Barrayaran yeoman to back them up and left the damn Komarrans to run their shops!"
"Hard to entice people to live in those dreary domes," said the young one.
"Not with the incentives we could have given them,' said the old one. "Too late now, though, damn it."
"Yes, if we tried to transplant Barrayar's Vor system there part and parcel now there would be a planet-wide revolt!"
"So instead, they want to transplant their prole system here!"
"Of course this current proposal would only have the representatives as non-voting members of the Council…"
"That won't last!" snapped the older one. "Once they've got their feet in the door, they'll want a real say. Before you know it our own proles will be demanding to elect their counts and the emperor, too! Madness!"
They walked in silence for a while and the younger one noticed a well-dressed man in the pathway ahead. He was looking around as if searching for someone. Then he caught sight of the pair, stiffened and then came purposefully in their direction. "Say, isn't that…?" began the younger.
"Sven Vorlevey, I wonder what… Sven, hello, old fellow, nice to…"
"Don't 'old fellow' me!" snarled Vorlevey, stopping in front of them. The man was quivering with rage. "How dare you—how dare you—involve my son in one of your schemes?"
"Why, Sven, whatever are you…?"
"Don't pretend you don't know! I just heard from him and he's been interrogated by ImpSec! ImpSec! With fast-penta! My own son treated like some common street criminal! And he's been stripped of his cadet rank! All because of your vendetta against that bloody Payne girl!"
"Sven, calm down…"
"Just stay away from him! You and your thugs! Leave me and mine alone!" Vorlevey spun on him heel and stalked off.
A dozen heartbeats passed in silence and then the young one spoke: "Well, I'd been meaning to ask how things had been going on that front. Not too well, I'm guessing."
The old one frowned. "No. Even worse than I realized, apparently. There's no way anything can be traced back to me… but perhaps it's time to lay low for a while."
"So it would seem."
[Scene Break]
Colonel Thayer Sylvanus, sat at the conference table and listened to his staff give their annual reports. Another year had gone by and another class had been graduated. And a new year was about to begin. The returning cadets would be back from their summer leaves in a few days and shortly after that the new incoming class would arrive. The cycle would begin again.
"… and I'm afraid that ImpSec still hasn't approved the security clearance for Professor Glickman," said Major Vordenny, head of the Social Sciences Department. "If they continue to drag their heels I'm going to have a rather gaping hole in my faculty, sir."
"Did they give any reason for the delay?" demanded Sylvanus.
"Apparently Glickman wrote some letter to his college newspaper when he was a freshman condemning the invasion of Escobar," sighed Vordenny.
"That was almost forty years ago!" snapped Sylvanus. "There probably isn't anyone from Pol who was alive then who didn't condemn the invasion!"
"I know, sir and I pointed that out to ImpSec, but they can be rather… narrow-minded on issues like this."
Sylvanus frowned. Yes, ImpSec—and a lot of other officers—didn't like the idea of bringing in off-worlders as faculty members. But what was he supposed to do? Seven years earlier—four years before he became the commandant—a major reorganization had taken place at the Imperial Service Academy. Prior to that time the Academy had offered a three-year course of instruction whose focus had been almost entirely on turning out combat officers. The curriculum had been on equipment and tactics and leadership and not much else. There had been almost no time off for the cadets and nearly all the cadets had been Vor. Sylvanus, himself had gone through that mill and as one of the few non-Vors to make it through he was well aware of just how tough it had been. The times had demanded warriors.
But times had changed.
Barrayar had not attempted a new conquest since the ill-fated Escobar Adventure that Professor Glickman has so objected to, almost forty years earlier. There had been intermittent skirmishing with the Cetaganadans for a few decades afterwards, but even that had petered out in the last decade. Except for the threat of piracy and a few minor conflicts between minor powers, the Wormhole Nexus was at peace and looked to stay that way. Barrayar had gone from being conquerors to being occupiers and had now become administrators and colonizers.
It had taken a while, but eventually the realization had occurred that Barrayaran officers needed to be more than just warriors. They needed more skills than just how to plan an assault landing or lead a platoon of soldiers or command a warship. So, year by year new courses had been added to the old curriculum. Eventually there was no way to fit it all into three years so the course had been lengthened to four. Many of the more advanced courses on strategy and command had been shifted to the Imperial War College and several other post-graduate schools that were created to meet the need. The Academy was now as much a university as it was a training school for officers. It turned out well-rounded, educated young men—who could also fight if necessary.
Sylvanus wasn't sure how he really felt about this transformation. The old warrior traditions died hard, even among the non-Vors. But his personal feelings didn't matter. As Commandant it was his job to make sure his young gentlemen received the education that the regulations mandated. And at the moment he was short one professor of Galactic Sociology. Barrayar was unable to provide one from its own scholars, so there had been no choice but to look elsewhere. This Glickman was one of the very few who was qualified and also willing to move to Barrayar.
Sylvanus sighed. "All right, I'll have a word with ImpSec and see if we can move this along."
"Thank you, sir," said Vordenny. "That's all I have." He sat down.
Sylvanus looked to the next officer, Captain Pohanaka, his adjutant. "Everything square with the battalions, Brian?" he asked.
"Yes, sir, no problems there—especially since we had that bit of luck last semester."
"Not exactly what I'd call luck. A silver lining perhaps…"
"As you say sir," said Pohanka, but he couldn't keep a small smile off his face. And Sylvanus had to admit he was probably right. The matter they were both not referring to was the field and staff officers for the incoming junior class. The freshman class didn't get its own officers and NCOs until the end of their first year. The sophomores had their own officers and NCOs at the company level, but the battalion officers were still real, commissioned officers. At the start of their junior year they would have these replaced by cadet-officers. A cadet-lieutenant colonel, cadet-major, cadet-adjutant, and several other cadet-lieutenants in various staff positions. The top post, the cadet-lieutenant-colonel, always went to the Vor cadet in the class with the highest academic and military scores. But the other positions would go to the next best cadets, Vor or non-Vor.
Until a certain unfortunate incident involving a fight between two of the companies, the cadet in line for the major's post was one Cadet-Captain Andrianne Payne of C Company. Except for the hundred demerits that resulted from that fight, Payne would have-should have—had that post. She'd nearly won it anyway. Her company came within just a few seconds of winning the Vorbarra Pentathlon for a second straight year which would have erased all those demerits. While there was a part of him that was sorry she hadn't done it, Sylvanus had to admit that he was relieved. There were enough important people annoyed that Payne was here at all, that she was a cadet-captain. To have her a field officer as well… no, he was glad to avoid having to deal with that, too.
Especially considering all the new problems that would be arriving in a few days.
"All right, gentlemen, I think that covers routine matters. But as I'm sure all of you know by now, we have a rather large issue that is in no way routine…"