Tales from the Academy

Chapter 14

Alby marched fifty paces west, halted, faced about and marched fifty paces east. He'd been at this for nearly two hours. His feet hurt and the heavy rifle was digging a groove into his shoulder. It was unusually warm for early fall and he was dripping with sweat.

"Squad… halt!" The bellow caught him by surprise and his feet took a few more steps on their own before he convinced them to stop. He turned and saw Sergeant Cutlus standing there.

"Done already?" asked Alby. "I was just getting warmed up."

"Two hours by the clock, cadet," said Cutlus. "You're done. Scram, kid."

"Right. See you next week, Sarge." Alby eased the rifle off his aching shoulder and started to walk away.

"Next week?" said Cutlus in puzzlement. "They don't schedule the punishment rounds that far in advance what makes you think you'll… oh."

"What do you think, Sarge?" said Alby with a sour smile.

"What's with you, kid? Until two months ago I never laid eyes on you and since then you've been here walking rounds almost every week." Cutlus was one of the veteran NCOs that were often chosen for duty at the academy. He was attached to the Provost Office which, among other things, was responsible for overseeing cadet punishment. Alby had seen quite a bit of the Sergeant lately.

He shrugged. "Square peg in a trapezoidal hole, I guess."

"You must have seriously pissed someone off to get stuck here today of all days."

"I seem to have a talent for that. But hey, I couldn't ask for a better day: they are all in Vorbarr Sultana doing a hell of a lot more marching and standing around than I had to. And now I can go back to an empty barracks and goof off for the rest of the day!"

Cutlus smiled and shook his head. "Enjoy yourself. Now get out of here so I can do some goofing off."

Alby smiled and did as he was told. He left the Provost compound and headed across campus toward his barrack. The place was totally deserted, not a person to be seen anywhere. The entire corps of cadets, along with most of the academy staff, were all in the capital taking part in the celebration for the birth of Princess Kareen, the Emperor's new daughter. A part of him regretted missing out, but it was only a small part. A steadily shrinking part, actually.

It had been two months since his transfer to G Company and it had been two months of pure hell. He hadn't realized just how important the friends he'd made in C Company were until he'd had them taken away. Anny and Patric and Jer were still his friends, but he hardly ever saw them anymore and they couldn't lend him the kind of support that had made academy life tolerable.

He'd protested the transfer, of course, and naturally it had done no good. He could still remember the clerk telling him with a straight face that his transfer could not be reversed and no, he couldn't apply to transfer back to C Company because cadets weren't allowed to transfer! It quickly became clear that the transfer order had come from very high up and that almost certainly meant his father. There was no way anyone—not even the Commandant—was going to overrule something like that.

So he was stuck in G Company. He was a stranger, a newcomer, and his old nemesis, Olaf Vorlevey had wormed his way into a lieutenant's rank and was able and willing to make Alby's life as miserable as possible. Somehow it didn't surprise him a bit that his father had pulled the strings to arrange the transfer out of C Company but hadn't bothered to find out what he might be transferring him into. He probably just glanced at the roster, saw that G Company held the scions of the most prominent Vor families and said: put him there!

As in most of the companies there was a dominant Vor clique and a non-Vor clique that had formed for self-preservation. Alby didn't fit into either one. After the events of the Vorbarr Pentathlon he was a pariah with the G Company Vors and the non-Vors had the sense not to befriend him either and risk the wrath of their Vor cadet-officers. So Alby was shunned by half the company and actively tormented by the other half. There hadn't been any physical abuse yet (aside from his aching feet and shoulders) but it could still come to that.

For Alby had struck back in the only way he could: by becoming the poorest cadet possible. Why not? His tormentors could hardly treat him any worse and what loyalty did he owe them? Owe anyone at this point? He'd racked up more demerits in two months than most cadets accumulated in four years, dragging the company standing in the battalion down three places all by himself. The others had not been pleased.

He was actually starting to relish his punishment rounds. It got him away from the barracks and every step he took was a black mark not just against himself, but against his tormentors. This latest punishment had been the result of some back-talk he'd given Volevey. He was going beyond mere sloppiness to actual insubordination. His Vor status protected him from being kicked out entirely for these minor offenses, but he wondered just how far he could push things…

He got to the barracks and put his rifle back in the rack and then flopped down on his bunk and pulled off his boots and massaged his feet for a while. It wasn't even noon yet and the others wouldn't be back until late tonight. Obviously, there were no classes or formations scheduled. Paradise!

He lay there for a while, but eventually became restless. He didn't even have any studying that needed to get done. For some reason he had not been able to bring himself to deliberately screw up his class assignments. All the military bullshit was one thing, but education was… something else.

He took a shower and prowled around the company office for a while –just because he wasn't supposed to. Eventually it was time for lunch but he ended up having to walk halfway across campus to the enlisted mess to find anyone serving food. The main mess hall was shut down with everyone being away. There was a vid screen on the wall and it was showing the festivities in the capital. Most of the shots were of the Emperor and Empress and the Crown Prince and the new princess, but there were a few shots of the parade and he spotted the cadets among all the other troops and military hardware on display. He imagined that Anny was eating it all up. She loved that sort of thing.

There was a time when you did, too.

He had to remind himself that his current hatred of the military was something new. It had become so all-consuming that it was easy to forget that when he was younger, before he'd figured out what was really going on, he'd been as military-mad as any other Vor boy. Maybe more. His father, or more often Cahill, had taken him to parades and reviews and exercises where he could watch troops and military hardware being put through their paces. Once his grandfather had pulled some strings to allow him to watch some of the fleet maneuvers from a ship in space. He had been thrilled and being told that someday he'd go to the Academy and become an officer had not bothered him a bit.

So why am I so pissed about it now?

He supposed that it started with the realization that other boys his age didn't have parents who were in their seventies. While that might not have been unusual on planets like Beta Colony or Earth, it wasn't usual at all on Barrayar. And then there was the mad rush to complete his education as quickly as possible. They pushed and pushed and pushed. It hadn't been all that hard, he was naturally bright, but again, it just wasn't normal. Alby had a knack for seeing patterns—or something that didn't fit the pattern—and it slowly became clear that his life just didn't fit the normal pattern, even for a Vor.

And then there had been the one brief meeting with his sister…

He'd known that she existed, although he couldn't quite remember when or how he'd learned that fact. The only picture he'd ever seen of her had been taken when she was even younger than he was so it came as a shock that Gabrielle was a middle-aged woman with a husband and children older than him. The introduction at that funeral had been short and stiff but later Gabrielle had managed to intercept Alby and speak to him alone for a moment before his mother had hustled him away. All she'd said was: Don't let them make you something you're not! Live your own life!

From that point on, the pieces had slowly fit together.

They were trying to make him live the lives of his two dead brothers. He could only assume that they had both willingly gone into the military—nearly every male Vor did. Not all of them made a career of it, of course, but most did a ten-year tour before moving on to something else. His brothers were in their second ten years when they died. If either of them had left after ten they might have had kids and then Alby never would have been… made. But they'd both managed to get themselves killed and left Vorsworth House with no heir.

He hadn't started thinking of himself as the heir until recently, but he had to admit that the prospect of inheriting the house and the land and the family fortune—he assumed there was one unless Mother had spent it all on clothes—wasn't unappealing. But to get it…

To get it he would have to be a good little Vorsworth and do as he was told and put up with all the bullshit and get his commission and serve honorably—at least until his grandfather and his parents were dead. It wasn't a bad bargain if you looked at it that way.

So why is it sticking in my craw like this?

He was only sixteen. Three more years at the Academy, ten years of active duty and then out at twenty-nine. His parents would probably be gone by then and he could do anything he damn well pleased at that point. Surely he could put up with the bullshit for long enough to gain that. But if he walked away…

Live your own life, she said. But what is my own life? Damn it, he wished he could talk to someone. But the only people he could talk to about this were off marching in that stupid parade…

He suddenly grabbed his computer pad and switched it to communicator mode. Cadets weren't permitted unauthorized outside communications, but he'd managed to find a way around that the first week he was here. It only took a minute to get the code he wanted and after a few seconds more the screen lit up and he was looking at a young woman he recognized as his niece. It was pretty obvious that she didn't recognize him. "Hello?" she said.

"Can I… can I talk to your mother?"

"Who shall I say is calling?" she asked politely.

"Cadet Worth."

The woman looked puzzled, but called over her shoulder: "Hey Mom! A call for you! Some kid wearing a uniform."

After a few moments Gabrielle came to the comconsole. Her eyebrows shot up as she looked at him. "Alby…?"

"Hi, Sis. Hope I'm not interrupting anything. Got a minute?"

"We were… we were just watching the parade. I had assumed you were in it. Is something wrong?"

"Not really. I just… wanted to talk to you."

She glanced away for a moment. "Let me take the call in the other room." She put him on hold and then shortly she was back again with a different room in the background. She looked a bit more composed, too. "It's good to see you again, Alby. But this is certainly a surprise."

"Yeah, I guess I should have called you sooner than this, huh?"

"I've tried calling you a few times but they have me blocked from Vorsworth house."

"Really?" anger flared in him. "They had no right to do that!" She just shrugged and gave an ironic smile.

"So what do you want to talk about, Little Brother?"

"When you… when you left. Was it hard?"

"I kind of thought that was it," she said, nodding. "Are you thinking about leaving, Alby?"

"Thinking about it, yeah."

"Well, don't do anything rash. When I left I had a darn good reason."

"Charles?"

"Yes. I was in love—really in love—and the man I loved didn't have 'Vor' in front of his last name. Mother and Father couldn't tolerate that. So it was either give up Charles or give up everything else. I made my choice… and I never regretted it."

"Really?"

"Really. I'm still in love, I have three wonderful children and I wouldn't give them up for anything. I made the right choice, Alby. But it was still the hardest thing I ever did. If you're thinking about walking away from them, you better be sure about what you want—not just what you don't want."

Alby didn't know what to say to that. He suddenly realized that she was right: he was reacting solely to what he didn't want without any idea of what he did. Gabrielle stared at him and then said: "But if you do walk away, you are welcome to come here for as long as you need to. No matter the circumstances or the years, you're still my brother."

Alby was deeply and truly touched. But before he could think of anything to say there was a faint beeping sound and his sister glanced aside and looked annoyed. "I've got an incoming message marked priority. Can you hold on for a minute, Alby?"

"Sure." It was more than a minute but despite the delay he still didn't know what he was going to say next. But he needn't have worried because the look on Gabrielle's face when she came back froze him in place. What?

"Alby," she said. "Grandfather is dead."

[Scene Break]

His grandfather's funeral was a series of surprises for Alby. For all his life his grandfather had just been the old man who lived upstairs. He'd known about some of Admiral Vorsworth's exploits but somehow he'd never really connected the stories in the history books with the relic he saw around the house. But now those stories were all over the news and Barrayar pulled out all the stops honoring the last of the great resistance fighters from the Cetagandan occupation. The body lay in state in Vorhartung Castle and there was a solemn procession through the city with a huge escort, including the Emperor and a nebula of counts, admirals and generals. In some bit of cosmic irony Alby's cadet company was part of the honor guard. It was almost comical watching the cadets paying homage to the grandfather of the kid they held in such contempt. But it all went without incident and eventually the venue shifted from Vorbarr Sultana to Vorsworth House for the interment.

Most of the throng was left behind, but not all. The Emperor and Empress, most of the Imperial Auditors, selected counts, and much of the Imperial General Staff along with family members were all there for the burial and the reception that followed. Gabrielle and her family were not excluded and Alby made a point to spend time with them. With his father and mother so wrapped up in the activities, they weren't able to interfere. Alby, emotionally exhausted, but wound tight as a spring, slipped into the same reckless mood that he'd been in during the confrontation with his father. He dragged Gabrielle and her family around and introduced them to everyone whether he knew them or not. His sister was startled at first, but quickly fell into the swing of things and seemed to relish it all as much as he.

Alby made a point of talking with Lady Ekaterin and her husband, Lord Auditor Vorkosigan, thanking them for their hospitality when he had been there. "Ah, yes," said the Lord Auditor, "I was sorry to miss you and Anny and the others. But you are all welcome to come back any time." He nodded at Gabrielle and her husband, too, implying the invitation wasn't just for Alby. "I remember seeing your grandfather at Vorkosigan House fairly often when I was young," he continued. "My father and my own grandfather had a lot of respect for him. I was too young to have much interaction, of course. But this is a sad day, the end of an era, really. Growing up, whenever anyone said 'The War', you knew they meant the resistance against the Cetagandans rather than any more recent conflict. But that generation is all gone now." The short man shook his head.

"My memories of him are mostly good ones," said Gabrielle. "As the only girl in the family I think he doted on me. Of course he was still on active duty when I was young, so I didn't see that much of him. Later… well, later I didn't see him at all, of course. Now I wonder how much of that was his decision…" She blinked and seemed to realize she was talking in front of strangers. Lord Vorkosigan raised his eyebrows and gave her an odd, but knowing look.

"So how are things at the Academy, Alby?" he said, changing the subject. "My Cousin Ivan—your father's aide over there—tells me you've been transferred to a different company. I guess you don't see much of Anny now, do you?"

"Not much. I… I really miss her. She was a real inspiration for me. All the shi.. all the obstacles they threw in her path and she never faltered."

"Are they still throwing a lot of shit in her path?"

"Not so much now, I guess. As a cadet-captain, and not a plebe anymore, she'd be safe from most of the minor crap that the cadets can do. Still, a lot of people are really pissed about her being there at all." He glanced toward his father. "And not just the cadets." Vorkosigan followed his gaze and quirked an eyebrow.

"I wonder what Grandfather would have done if I had tried to go to the Academy?" said Gabrielle with a smile. "I've heard about this Anny Payne. She must be very dedicated—and brave."

"She is," said Alby. "I hope she can make it through." But what about you? Are you still hoping to make it through? He had no answer.

Eventually the long day wore to an end and the guests departed and Alby was able to retreat to his room and shuck off his dress uniform. He flopped down on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He was exhausted. He was just glad that he didn't have to report back to the Academy for another two days. What if I just don't go back…? As tempting as that seemed, he couldn't see himself following through. He lay there and let his mind wander. The events of the last few days swirled around in his head.

So the Old Man was gone. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. He could hardly consider it tragic: a hundred years old was hardly being cut off in his prime. And it wasn't like he'd been particularly close to him. But still… And how was Father going to react? He'd clearly been hurt and stunned despite the inevitability of this. Try as he might, he couldn't imagine his father ever being his age and grandfather being in his forties. What had their relationship been like? Surely nothing like the one that existed between Alby and his father now! He remembered how close his sister's family seemed, the Vorkosigan family. What would it be like to really belong…?

He woke with a start. He'd fallen asleep on his bed. There was a faint beeping sound and he slowly realized that it was coming from his comconsole. A priority message. For me? Here? Now? It made no sense, but he rolled to his feet and staggered over to the chair by the desk and sat down.

The call identifier read: Robert Vorstein, Esq. A lawyer? Why would a lawyer be calling him? Today of all days? Curiosity aroused, he hit the accept key. Immediately a face appeared; a middle-aged man with a long, narrow face and bald forehead. "Ah, Master Vorsworth," he said. "Please forgive the intrusion on this sad day. I'm Robert Vorstein, a lawyer retained by your late grandfather. I have instructions to contact you and deliver a message."

"A message? From who?"

"Why from your grandfather, of course. I believe the message will be self-explanatory, but if you have any questions about it, feel free to contact me at any time. My contact information is attached to the message, which I'm transferring to you now. Again, let me convey my deepest sympathy for your loss. Good day, sir." The man vanished from the screen and now a new incoming message alert was flashing. Alby reached for the accept key but his hand pulled up short. A message from a dead man? A feeling of awful anticipation filled his stomach. He didn't want to see this… But, no matter how long he put it off, the message would still be waiting for him. He bit his lip and hit the key.

There was a short introductory screen certifying that the following vid message had indeed been recorded by Vice Admiral Albustus Vorsworth. The date was a little over a month ago. Then his grandfather was on the screen. He was propped up on his bed surrounded by a lot of medical equipment. He looked much worse than he had the last time Alby had seen him. He only had a month left to live…

"Well, Grandson," said the recording, "if you're watching this it means that I'm dead. An event not unexpected and certainly not before its time. I don't imagine you are grieving and I can hardly expect you to." He paused and Alby couldn't tell if it was to marshal his thoughts or catch his breath, which was coming in short, raspy gasps. "I had initially intended to send this message as a kind of apology to you, Alby. An apology for what's been done to you. But then I realized that you might take that as a regret that you were ever born. That's certainly not what I mean. The more I thought about it, the more confusing it became. I thought about making excuses, like telling you that I had no idea your parents were planning this, that I never asked them to do it. But what would be the point of that? And again, it might seem like I was sorry you exist. I'm not. Then I thought of apologizing for how you were treated once you were here. But there are worse places to grow up than Vorsworth House and worse parents or grandparents. So again, what's the point? Should I apologize for forcing you down a path that wasn't your choice? I certainly didn't chose the path that led down into the swamps of the delta and the long struggle against the Cetagandans. Few people ever get to choose their path. If you're Vor the choices are even fewer.

"So, no apologies!" The old man paused and took some oxygen from a mask. Alby was starting to feel angry. If this wasn't an apology what was it? Get to the point! If you have one!

"No apologies," continued his grandfather, "but, perhaps, some explanations. I know you must feel angry, being thrown into this life. I was certainly angry down in the swamps with my home destroyed and my pony dead or gone. The easiest focus for my anger was the Cetagandans. Probably the focus for your anger right now is your parents and probably me, too. Well, fair enough. You've a right to be angry, just as I had.

"But we can't choose the life we're born into, Alby. The fishermen down at our docks couldn't choose, the Cetagandan soldiers I helped kill couldn't choose and neither your parents or you or I had a choice, either. Our choices only come later. We can choose how we live the life we've been handed. That's the choice facing you now." His grandfather paused to take some more oxygen and Alby stared at him, stunned. Not so much at his words, but that he'd spoken them at all. That he'd known of Alby's anger, that he even cared about it. He'd never expected…

"It all comes down to duty, lad," Grandfather continued. "Being Vor is all about duty. Duty to your liege-lords, to the empire, to your people and to your family. It's all part and parcel. As Vors we have privileges, but there's a price, always a price. And we Vorsworths have always done our duty. Always. Your parents felt it was their duty to have you, Alby. Because duty passes on, each generation paying back the one that came before in the only way they can. And now it's your turn. Unfair as it might be, it's your turn now.

"Your parents expect you to carry on the family tradition and I'd be lying if I said I didn't expect it, too. But I'd rather you broke with tradition and not become an officer rather than become a bad officer. When you're in combat you have to trust the man next to you, the man leading you. Better to have an empty file than one filled with someone you can't trust. Why I remember one time when…" The old man paused and shook his head. "Sorry, starting to ramble. Hard to concentrate these days. But what I'm trying to say is that the decision is yours. You have to decide and you have to really mean what you decide. And it can't be your decision if someone else is holding a sword over you ready to strike. So, I wanted to let you know that in my will I've left a tidy sum to you, Alby. The house and most of the estate goes to your father, of course, but I'm leaving you enough so that you can get by no matter what you decide. It's only fair." He stopped and looked very old, very tired.

"God keep you, Alby. I doubt that we'll meet again. But make me proud. Whatever you decide, whatever road you choose, make me proud. Goodbye, Grandson." The screen went blank.

Alby stared at the empty screen for a long time.