Tales from the Academy

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 Pentathalon 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 Pentathalon 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 pentathalon 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 pentathalon. 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 Pentathalon was primarily for the upper classes, who put huge amounts of effort into it. The First Form 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 Form 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.

[Scene Break]

"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 Pentathalon 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 Pentathalon 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!"

[Scene Break]

"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 Pentathalon, 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 Pentathalon 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 Pentathalon 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 Penatathalon. 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 Pentathalon, 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."