Tales from the Academy

Chapter 30

"Take your ready positions! Two minutes!"

Jer Naddel looked over the C Company team for the Howitzer Haul and exchanged glances with Anny. They both nodded: they were as ready as they could be. Twenty cadets, led by Patric, were harnessed to the small cannon, everyone else was carrying ammunition or the equipment that would be needed for the gorge crossing. He eyed the long poles for the support tripods and wished they could do it the way they'd done it the first year. The officials for the Pentathlon had responded to their unorthodox methods of using the trees near the gorge instead of the traditional tripods in true military fashion: first they had approved the methods—and then they had cut down all the trees. Still, C Company had a trick or two up their sleeves.

And they were going to need them.

It was the fifth and final day of the Vorbarra Pentathlon for the junior class. C Company had done very well so far. They had placed first in the obstacle course and in the rifle competition. Anny had scored a personal best with a 99 out of 100 on the rifle range. They had come in a close second on the long distance run. The equestrian phase had cost them, as it always did, but not as much as in previous years. Alby had managed to find a riding simulator program and persuaded Lieutenant Dubrovin in the computer department to allow the company to use the simulator pods in off-hours. It wasn't quite like the real thing since every horse is different, but it was still far better than nothing and with the seniors still having first call on the real horses, that was the usual alternative. So, they had done better in the equestrian event and as a result they were in second place, just a handful of points behind F Company, the first place team. If they could win the Howitzer Haul by forty-five seconds they would win the Pentathlon.

And they really wanted to win. While most of the attention was on the senior class, their competition really didn't mean all that much. The seniors would be graduating in another month and be gone. But the junior class, whoever won the Pentathlon now, would be the Honor Company all during the next year, right up to the next Pentathlon. Every man in C Company wanted that privilege—for Anny.

Jer had not said a word about what had happened on Komarr and he was certain that no one else had, either, but the rumors had been swirling and almost everyone was now convinced that something had happened. Something bad. But Anny's rediscovered good humor and closeness had also convinced them that whatever it had been, she had endured and triumphed. She hadn't let them down and they sure as hell weren't going to let her down, either. They were determined to win this for her.

"Ten seconds!" cried the official. Everyone tensed. The F Company team was fifty meters away on the parallel course and also ready to move. "Get set… Go!" The starter's pistol banged.

The company surged forward dragging the awkward cannon behind them. Jer was the gunner again and he had no specific task except to watch for trouble and lend a hand when necessary. They reached the first turn and then hit the first series of hills. All their practice paid off and they kept just the right momentum to carry the gun up and over the five inclines without losing control of it. Some poor kid in the plebe battalion had gotten his leg crushed two days earlier when they tried to take it too fast. No mishaps like that today!

They nearly stalled on the second set of hills, but made it over and then headed for the first target range. They swung the gun up onto the low platform and Jer flung himself into the firing position and pressed his face against the sighting eyepiece while his hands found the two aiming wheels by touch. He spun the wheels bringing the crosshairs onto the target three hundred meters away. He heard the breech being worked and then someone tapped his shoulder and shouted: "Ready!"

He made one last adjustment to the aim and then squeezed the trigger as he pulled himself back from the eyepiece. The howitzer barked and jumped up and back despite the buffer of the recoil mechanism. The crew pushed it back into position and he was already re-sighting the piece as the loaders slammed in another round. The accuracy of the fire didn't count for much in the competition, but Jer was determined to do the best he could without wasting precious time. He fired again and again until all five rounds were expended. Then he leapt up and out of the way as the haulers grabbed the gun and dragged it back onto the course. As he did so, he heard a shot echoing across from the other course. Good! They were ahead!

The next section of the course was rougher and they had to navigate the mud holes left by the previous contestants. They reached the second firing station and he fired five more shots downrange, quickly and—he hoped—accurately. Then it was back on the trail with the gorge-crossing next!

The ones with the equipment for that were already at work when they arrived. A hundred meters away so was the F Company team. Their gun hadn't arrived yet, but that really didn't matter unless it had actually gotten stuck. The gorge-crossing was the make-or-break point.

Jer stood there watching and forcing himself not to interfere. Each of the teams knew what to do and didn't need his input—although they would need his muscle soon enough. The near-side tripod was already up and the team with the foot bridge hauled it into place and secured it, allowing the second tripod to be carried to the far side. The gun was being disassembled and the cables and pulleys started going up. Here was where they hoped to gain an edge. A few weeks earlier Anny had gotten a message from Lord Vorkosigan. A friend of the Lord Auditor had pointed out a rather obscure engineering text from the previous century that had an unorthodox, but superior set-up for the cable system. It had been intended for another use entirely, but the Lord Auditor's friend suggested it might work for the cadets as well. They'd tried it and it did work. The advantage was that it could be set up and taken down faster. Not a lot faster, it was true, but here every second counted.

"Everyone to the ropes!" shouted Anny. Jer went over to the near tripod and grabbed one of the ropes coming from it. The tripod raised the main cable to about three meters over their heads, but unless the cadets used their own weight to counterbalance the load from the gun, the weight would just topple the tripods right over and dump everything into the gorge.

"Pull!" They pulled and the first load, the gun carriage, rose up into the air and started to slide across the gorge, pulled by more ropes. The cables and pulleys were working perfectly. Jer glanced over toward where F Company was working and was heartened to see that they were still getting their first load hooked up.

The carriage swung its way across and they lowered it to the ground. The carrying rig was unhooked and quickly reeled back to attach the next load. These were the two wheels and the lightest load of the three. They were going next so that the crew on the other side could be putting them back on the carriage while the rest of them tackled the gun barrel. The wheels made it across with no problem and now it was time for the gun barrel. It was smaller than the carriage, but heavier.

Jer grunted and the other cadets groaned and the metal tube went up and then slowly across the chasm. Meter by meter it went in a series of jerks. By the time it reached the other side the carriage was ready and waiting for it. They carefully let out the slack and the barrel settled into place and was locked down. The cadets gave a cheer.

"No time for that!" cried Anny. "Gun team, get moving! The rest of you, pack up this gear!"

Jer made his way across the footbridge as quickly as the wobbly structure would allow. By the time he was across, Patric had the haulers harnessed up again and the gun moved out, leaving all the others to pack up the crossing gear. F Company was still moving the last piece of their cannon across the gorge. "We can do this!" he shouted.

They arrived at the last firing station and Jer dropped into his position. He forced himself to aim carefully as he put the five rounds into the target one after the other. When the last shell casing popped from the breech he sprang up and got out of the way of the haulers. Just a few hundred meters more!

As they left the firing platform they joined up with the rest of the team, carrying all the gear. They had to take it all with them and naturally it wasn't packed as neatly as it had been when they started! Anny was urging them on and Jer grabbed up a bunch of rope that had spilled out of a bundle. "Go! Go! Go!"

The finish line was in sight when he heard the F Company gun fire five shots in impossibly rapid succession. They can't be aiming those! They're in a panic to get done!

But there was no way they could beat C Company now! Jer and the others dashed across the finish line and braked their cannon to a safe halt. All around them people were cheering and applauding. They had won the Howitzer Haul—but would it be enough to win the Pentathlon?

The big video monitors were showing F Company and also the relative times of the two teams. C Company had crossed the finish line in thirty-eight minutes, twenty-seven seconds. If F Company didn't finish before thirty-nine, twelve, they had it made… The seconds were clicking by—but much too slowly.

"Damn it, trip or something," hissed Alby, watching the monitor. But no one tripped and a moment later the F Company gun appeared from around a bend in the trail, sprinting toward the finish line. Thirty-eight, fifty-seven… thirty-eight, fifty-eight…

"They're going to do it," sighed Patric.

And they did. F Company crossed the line at thirty-nine, oh-two. Ten seconds faster than they needed. A groan seemed to pass through C Company, although it could not be heard because of all the other noise. Sixty-five sets of shoulders drooped a little. Darn! Ten seconds! They'd come so close…

"We won three out of the five events," said Fallon. "Nothing to be ashamed of."

"Wait!" said Alby. "It's not over yet!"

"What do you mean? We only won by thirty-five seconds we needed…"

"Look!" he said pointing at the big monitor. It was showing both times, but then another line appeared reading:

Gunnery Modifier:

"That's' right!" cried Patric. "They modify the time with the shooting scores! I'd forgotten about that!"

"The scores aren't usually close enough for it to matter," said Anny. "But maybe this time…"

There was an agonizing delay. Jer supposed that the targets were being examined and the results sent to the scorekeepers. Hope began to grow in him. Those last five shots… they can't possibly have aimed them… Suddenly the screen changed:

C Company Gunnery Score: 139

"Out of a possible one-fifty!" said Anny. "Not bad, Jer!" Then the screen changed again.

F Company Gunnery Score: 105

"It's one second off the time for every point of difference, isn't it?" demanded Patric.

"I think so," cried Alby.

They all held their breaths and then the times for each team changed:

C Company Final Time: 37:53

F Company Final Time: 39:02

"That's… that's sixty-nine seconds!" screamed Alby. "We won!"

"We did it!" shouted Jer.

"You did it, our eagle-eyed sharpshooter!" cried Anny. "Way to go, Jer!" The company erupted in cheers and a moment later the announcer confirmed that C Company had won the 2nd Battalion competition in the Vorbarra Pentathalon. They whooped and hollered and tossed their caps in the air. Somehow, somehow this felt even getter than the first time they'd won. The first time they'd worked to win it just to survive, this time it was… something else. Jer didn't have words for it, but it sure felt good.

Before long he and Anny had been hoisted onto the shoulders of their comrades, but then they spotted the company commander and first sergeant of F Company headed their way and they all paused. The memory of Olaf Vorlevey's protest of their first win came to everyone's mind. Anny slid to the ground and so did he. But there was no official with the approaching pair and their faces didn't look angry. Anny walked up to her opposite number and he stuck out his hand.

"Congratulations, Captain," he said. "That was very well done. My compliments to you and your team."

Anny looked very pleased and took his hand and shook firmly. "Thank you, Captain. Your team did wonderfully, too. Please pass on my compliments to them."

The cadet smiled and nodded and then said: "We'll get you next year." Jer exchanged nods with the cadet-sergeant and then they parted.

"Well!" said Anny, "That's a welcome change from the other time!"

"There are some good people here," said Jer.

She looked at him and smiled. "Yes there are. Some very good people."

[Scene Break]

"Company, left wheel… March!"

At Anny's command Jer's eyes looked to the ground in front of him. The slightly flattened path in the grass left by the passage of 1st Battalion and the first four companies of 2nd Battalion showed him exactly where he had to step to make the arc they needed for the wheel. Every other eye in the company was looking to him as their guide and he could feel the light pressure of Patric's right elbow against his left. No slip-ups now!

It was Graduation Day at the Academy and the Regiment of Cadets was passing in review for the Emperor.

C Company completed its wheel in perfect fashion and then marched straight ahead, past the bleachers filled with family and friends of the cadets and toward the reviewing stand where the Emperor and a galaxy of generals, admirals, and officials waited and watched as 1st battalion marched by. The seniors were in their parade red-and-blues and blazed in comparison to their gray-clad comrades. The day had dawned with the threat of thunderstorms, but they had held off so far and the sun was even peeping through now, although it was still warm and muggy. Sweat dripped down from Jer's shako and trickled down his back.

But he didn't care. He was the first sergeant of the Honor Company in the 2nd Battalion of Cadets. The Color Guard was attached to the opposite end of the company carrying the battalion's colors and two paces out if front was Cadet-Captain Andreanne Payne, the best damn cadet in the whole Academy! His eyes flicked down to the ribbons on his tunic, the Distinguished Service Star, the Unit Citation, the Pentathlon pins. He was proud of them, but just as proud that Anny wore a duplicate set—plus a wound ribbon. She had showed them, showed all of them, what she was made of. That he'd been able to help her do that made him as proud as he was of his own decorations. More.

The seniors were finished and now it was 2nd Battalion's turn. The band struck up a new tune, Sabre and Spurs, and the hair stood up on the back of Jer's head. If there was one thing the Barrayaran's could do it was write military marches!

The first four companies passed the reviewing stand and then Anny shouted: "Company! Eyes—right!" She saluted with her sword and the color sergeant dipped the flag and every head snapped to the right. Except his. As the guide, he kept his head looking straight forward so that wouldn't wander from the precise path they needed to follow. For one instant he risked glancing to his right. There was the Emperor, returning the salute and another thrill passed through him. Jer knew that Gregor Vorbarra took his position as commander-in-chief very seriously. Not just because of the enormous power it bestowed, but because of the enormous responsibility. These were his officers passing in front of him. Sworn to him personally, sworn to lay down their lives in his service. It wasn't something to take lightly and the Emperor did not.

And then they were passed. Anny commanded 'front' and all eyes were forward again. They marched down to the end of the parade ground, made two more left wheels, and then came back to their original position and wheeled back into line. One final present arms and it was done. Off to the right, the newly-graduated seniors yelled and threw their shakos in the air.

Next year it's our turn.

[Scene Break]

Jer hated this time of year. For reasons he couldn't quite fathom, the Academy scheduled graduation for a full week before the end of the year. During the week that followed there were a few inspections and other meaningless activities, but every cadet's thoughts were on the upcoming leave and trying to maintain any sort of discipline in the company was almost impossible.

Right now there was a pillow fight—a pillow fight, for God's sake!—going on in the barracks. Jer just shook his head, dodged a flying pillow and flopped down on his bunk. Wow, he was tired. It had been a hell of a year! He figured he'd sleep for about a week-and-a-half of the two week leave.

He glanced over as Patric crashed down on the bunk next to his with Alby close behind, beating him unmercifully with a pillow. Patric laughed and tried to fend Alby off and finally grabbed him by the ankles and held him upside down until he stopped.

"No fair!" gasped Alby. "Your arms are twice as long as mine!"

"Not my fault," said Patric, smugly. The pair settled down and looked at him.

"So you're headed back to your home on South Continent for your leave, Patric?" asked Jer.

"Yup, got to. My brother is getting married and he wants me to stand in the circle with him. Wants me in my dress uniform and all. Can't miss that."

"No, I guess not. I guess I'll be staying at Vorkosigan House again," said Jer.

Patric gave Alby a very strange look and Alby grinned and nodded. What are they up to now?

"Well, as a matter of fact you won't," said Alby.

"What? What do you mean?"

Without replying, Alby dashed off to his footlocker and in a moment returned with an envelope which he tossed to Jer. He looked at it and his eyes widened. It had the logo of one of Komarr's biggest shipping lines embossed on it. "What's this?" he demanded suspiciously.

"Look at it!" said Patric.

Jer opened the envelope and drew out a long plastic card. It was a round trip ticket to Komarr. First Class. "What…?"

"We felt bad about you missing your family when we were there," said Patric. "Figured you could try again."

Jer looked sharply at Alby. "This must have cost a fortune! I can't…!"

"It's not all my money," denied Alby. "Everyone chipped in."

"Everyone!" exclaimed Jer. His eyes went to where most of the company were still pummeling each other with pillows, but a few were looking in his direction. "You didn't tell them what happened did you?" he hissed.

"Jer, they'd pretty much figured out that something happened on Komarr," said Patric.

"Well, yeah, but…"

"We didn't give out any details," said Alby. "Just that Anny ran into some trouble and you helped her out and missed seeing your folks."

"It wasn't just me!"

"Details… details…" said Alby waving it away.

"But… but…"

"Just say thank you, Jer," smiled Patric.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," said Alby.

"And you are, too," added Patric. "Y'know, sometimes when we're all saying how we've got the best Captain at the Academy—which we do, of course—we forget to mention how we've also got the best first sergeant."

Jer blushed and looked away. "Thanks, guys. That… that really means a lot." He looked down at the ticket. They actually like me…

When he looked up, all the others were gathering around. "Thanks, guys," he said to them. "Thanks a lot." They nodded or made replies of various sorts. This was amazing. A small part of him was a bit annoyed because he'd hoped to spend some time with Anny at Vorkosigan House, but he realized that this was probably for the best. Don't fall into the same trap Alby did! Not the time or the place. Patience, boy!

"Uh… where is Anny?" He hadn't seen her all morning.

"She got a message to go see the Commandant," said Denis Fallon.

"The Commandant!"

"Bloody hell, what now?" said Alby.

"It's not automatically trouble," said Patric.

"Yeah, right!"

But just then the door to the girls' quarters slid open and there was Anny. She had an odd, but thankfully not distressed, look on her face. She walked right over to the group.

"Everything all right?" asked Jer.

"Oh, yes. Everything's fine," she replied and then hesitated for a moment. "The Commandant… the Commandant offered me the major's position in the battalion."

"What?" "Hey, that's great!" "Congratulations, Anny!" Everyone seemed to be talking at once.

"You're leaving C Company?" said Alby suddenly. Everyone got quiet.

"It's a big honor for her, Alby," said Fallon. "The highest ranking position open to a non-Vor."

"I know, I know, it's just…" Everyone knew exactly what he meant. The thought of losing Anny, just when they'd got her back was… painful.

"Don't make it hard for her," said Patric. "She's earned this."

"Guys…" said Anny.

"I'm not!" said Alby. "I know she's earned it, but…"

"Guys!" said Anny more loudly. Everyone looked at her and she smiled.

"I turned him down."

"What!" Jer tried not to smile, but he couldn't stop himself. Alby was grinning ear to ear.

"But, Anny," said Fallon, "This would be a huge feather in your cap! It could mean all sorts of things once you graduate!"

"Hey, trying to get command of the company, Fallon?" asked someone.

Fallon's face turned red and he sputtered: "That's not what I'm…!"

"I know, I know!" laughed Anny, reaching out and patting his shoulder. She turned slowly around, looking at all of them. A warming smile was on her face.

"Don't worry, I know what I'm doing. And I know exactly where I belong."

"I belong right here."

END OF BOOK 4