Tales from the Academy

Chapter 36

They let them sleep in the next morning. That is, they let the normal reveille wake them along with the rest of the base. Having no orders to the contrary they dressed in their black fatigues and went to the mess hall for breakfast. They were stiff and sore, but ravenous. Anny packed away twice what she'd normally eat. She hoped she wouldn't have cause to regret it later.

"So, any bets on what they do to us… I mean what they have us do today?" asked Alby around a mouthful of eggs.

"It was basic physical training yesterday," said Denis Fallon. "If they only have two days to sweat us out…"

"No time for anything fancy," said Patric. "No null-g or vac suit drill."

"Marksmanship training is too easy, physically anyway," added Jer.

"Close-combat training," said Anny, hoping she was wrong.

"Yeah… probably…" said Patric.

"Of course. They want to see what we're made of, what better way than to crack us open and look," said Alby. "What fun."

Unfortunately, she was right—again. While they were still in the mess hall a runner found them with orders to assemble in the base gymnasium in half an hour. He said to wear their fatigues but bring their PT gear. Anny and the others hurried back to their barracks. Anny shook out her PT gear as best she could and then put it on underneath her fatigues. It was a trick she used often back at the Academy. When they got there they were directed to a locker room where they could stow their fatigues. Anny shucked hers off and put them in a locker and then got out so the boys could change.

When they emerged they found a group of other troopers waiting for them. She saw that many were from the batch of 'recruits' they had marched with yesterday. She wasn't sure if they really were new men joining the regiment or had just been plants used to test them. There were also several officers and a batch of NCOs although none of them were in PT gear. She smiled when she saw McGill with them. It turned out he wasn't the regimental sergeant major, but he was a company first sergeant. He nodded to her, but said nothing.

They then spent a half hour in exercises to work out the kinks left by yesterday's exertions. Then it was an hour of drills with the basic close-combat moves. After a short break they got down to the real business. They were broken up into small groups with an NCO instructor and ordered to fight each other in pairs while the others watched. They were issued helmets, gloves and knee and elbow pads to reduce injuries, but they were expected to really fight, not just go through the motions. They deliberately put the ensigns into separate groups, so Anny found herself with a batch of strangers. They eyed each other warily. The NCO gave them their instructions: certain especially dangerous moves were not permitted along with things like ripping out eyeballs and such. Other than that, anything went. Put your opponent down as quickly and efficiently as possible, but try not to kill or disable him if you could avoid it. Anny tried to prepare herself mentally. She knew the moves, she'd practiced this before, but she still hated it. But she had to do it. She was being watched and Szytko's words of warning about how assault troops felt about close-combat training came back to her. She had to do well in this if she was going to win their respect.

Fortunately, she wasn't in the first pairing. She got a chance to watch two of the others fight while she got herself into the proper mood. She was heartened when neither of them seemed especially skilled. If the oppositions wasn't any better than this… She was next up and she put her opponent down pretty easily. He was clearly surprised and it seemed like the others in her group and the NCO in charge of it were, too. But the next time, against a different opponent, the man was more careful. She still managed to beat him, but it was harder. They kept at it until lunch. Anny had won eight of her ten bouts and made a respectable showing in the two she had lost. She was tired and bruised, but basically intact. She felt pretty good about her performance.

They didn't go back to the mess hall for lunch, a carton of field rations was delivered and they munched them down while they rested. "You okay, Anny?" asked Jer.

"Fine. How about you?"

"Sore, but alive."

Alby, are you all right?" she'd suddenly noticed that he had blood on his T-shirt and traces on his face.

"Oh yeah. Just a bloody nose. Had worse a zillion times."

"You mean like when Vorlevey and his buddies beat you to a pulp after the Great Rabbit Hunt?" asked Patric.

"That one does come to mind, yes. Today I even tried my most effective defensive tactic of curling into a ball and whimpering, but the instructor said that was illegal. Pity, I was really wearing out my opponent."

"Some of these guys are pretty good," observed Fallon. "I don't think they are all recruits."

"More ringers like yesterday, d'you think?" asked Jer.

"Maybe." Conversation lapsed into silence. They were all too tired for much else.

All too soon they were ordered back on their feet. Then it was announced that the best sixteen of them would participate in an elimination tournament while the others watched. To her dismay Anny was announced as one of the competitors. I should have lost a few more bouts. Patric and Jer were also named and she hoped she wouldn't have to fight either one of them. They'd try to let her win and that might get them all into trouble.

But both of her friends were eliminated in the first round and she didn't have to face either of them. The man she did face was the best she'd fought so far, but somehow she managed to win two out of three falls and moved on to the next round. She was finding that her fatigue was actually working in her favor. She wasn't able to think so much and overanalyze things the way she usually did. She was starting to fight on instinct. Szytko had tried to get her to do that during his training and while there had been a few moments, she'd never really let herself go before.

The eight survivors were allowed to rest a bit before the next round. The men were staring at her with strange expressions. Not exactly respect, not exactly fear, a sort of cautious calculation. She noticed McGill in an animated discussion with an officer but they both stopped abruptly when they saw her watching them. Apparently she was making an impression. But what sort?

The next round was the worst. Her opponent was fast, strong and skilled. He took her down in the first fall in a humiliatingly brief encounter that left her ears ringing and stars dancing in front of her eyes. As she hauled herself up someone said something and a few others laughed. She hadn't caught the comment, but she could guess what it might have been. Anger flared inside her. What are you going to do? Roll over and die? Szytko's words came back to her. I want to win, Sergeant Major! When the next fall started she launched herself at her opponent so quickly and so violently she took him by surprise and put him down even quicker than he'd done to her a moment before. There were no laughs this time, just a stunned silence among most of the watchers and a hastily hushed whoop from Alby.

But now they were lining up for the last fall and there would be no quick win this time. The look in her opponent's eyes sent a chill through her. Damn, now she'd gotten him mad. They went at it and she had no idea how long it went on. Blow and counter-blow, grappling, rolling, and pain, pain, pain. Finally, her face was being mashed into the mat and her arm was being pulled out of its socket and she had no choice but to slap the mat with her free hand and surrender. She'd lost.

But then a strong hand was pulling her to her feet and her opponent was there with a huge grin on his face. "Damnation, girl! Who the hell's been training you?" She couldn't do anything but mumble an incoherent reply. The man slapped her on the back and she stumbled over to the side and collapsed with her friends.

"Holy, shit!" said Alby. "Sure glad I never got you mad like that, Anny!"

"That was impressive as hell, Anny," said Patric.

"I still lost…"

"I don't think so," said Jer.

"Huh?"

"That was the regimental champion. I overheard some of the others talking."

Anny just blinked and slowly began taking off her protective gear. Jer helped her. There were two more rounds and she was very glad she could just sit and watch. Her last opponent went on to win and she had to admit that he was way better than she'd ever expect to be. Her one win was surely a fluke. Still, she'd take it.

"All right, on your feet everyone!" shouted the officer who seemed to be in charge. They scrambled up and got themselves into a line. "A very instructive afternoon, I would say. Good job, everyone. Now, get yourselves showered and dressed and report back here in ten minutes. Dismissed."

Anny had just started to relax, but now she tensed and came to full alert. Damn. The other men headed for the locker room and reluctantly Anny followed. Her friends closed around her.

"Anny maybe we can work something out…" began Patric.

"No time for that," she replied steadily.

"Anny, you don't have to do this!" hissed Jer.

"Yes I do. It's an order and I have to obey it." She looked at him and forced a smile. "It will be all right."

She grabbed a couple of towels and went to her locker. She stripped off her t-shirt and draped one of the towels around her shoulders and then removed her bra. She tied the other towel around her hips and then pulled off her shorts and underwear. She took a deep breath and headed for the showers.

It was full of naked men.

Keeping her eyes fixed on a spot on the floor about three meters ahead of her she found a shower in one of the corners. Taking another breath she took off the towels and hung them on a hook. She turned on the water and scrubbed herself with the soap and then rinsed off. She'd never been happier about her short hair than at that moment. She turned off the water, dried herself and put the towels back in place and then returned to her locker.

Aside from the running water there had been a dead silence the whole time. Now there were several loud hoots and somewhat to her surprise, angry retorts to shut up. She didn't think it was any of her friends talking. She sure hoped they didn't get into a fight over her. She dressed quickly and was one of the first ones back out in the gym. The others soon joined her. Jer was fuming.

"Damn them! They had no right to…"

"Yes they did," she interrupted and she looked him square in the eyes and then swept her gaze across the others. "When I'm on active service there are going to be times when no privacy is going to be possible. If I can't deal with that then I've got no business trying to command combat troops. They have a right to know whether I can handle it. Frankly, I'm surprised it's taken this long for it to happen." She turned back to Jer. "It's all right. Really."

After a moment he nodded and dropped his eyes. All the others did, too, except Alby. He gently punched her in the shoulder. "You did good, Anny, you did real good."

"Attention," commanded the officer. "Except for our eight new ensigns, you are all dismissed." The others broke ranks and quickly dispersed. The officer, a captain, Anny realized it was the same captain who had gotten them up the morning before, walked down the line looking at each of them and then stood out in front. "Gentlemen, welcome to the Forty-second. Colonel Vordavid is giving a little dinner tonight and you will all attend. 1900 hours at the HQ. You have until then free. Dismissed." He walked away.

Anny checked the time and to her surprise saw that they had almost three hours until the dinner. The day had already seemed weeks long. Her hands were trembling. "Come on, we gotta get our uniforms cleaned up," she sighed.

As they left the gym she heard the others talking behind her and then Denis Fallon trotted off. "Where are you going?" she called after him.

"Meet you back at the barracks," he shouted back without pausing. Anny just shrugged. Her feet felt like lead. Damn she was tired! She was going to fall asleep in her soup at the Colonel's dinner…

They got to the barracks and she slumped down on her bunk. Undress greens. She needed to get out her undress greens. Brush the dust off of them from their arrival. Polish her boots…

"Anny, here." She started and there was Fallon with his hand held out. There was a pink pill in the palm of his hand.

"Whazzat?"

"Pain pill. Got it from the infirmary."

"Now you take it like a good girl and then have a little nap," said Alby.

"What? Gotta get ready for tonight."

"We'll take care of everything," said Jer. "Now do as you're told."

She stared at them and then slowly took the pill and swallowed it. "Yessir." Jer gently pushed her back on the bed, pulled off her shoes and threw a blanket over her. She was out in seconds.

[Scene Break]

They let her sleep for two hours. When she woke up her spotless greens were hanging there with a pair of gleaming boots underneath. The others were mostly dressed already and on their advice she took another shower. She started it out hot and then gradually turned down the temperature until it was icy cold, shocking her awake. Dried, dressed and her hair combed, she joined the others. They were all looking pretty sharp, although there were bruises and cuts on every face.

"So what do we know about this Colonel Vordavid?" asked Patric as they walked toward the headquarters building.

"Solid record," said Denis Fallon. "Old military family. Been in command of the Forty-second for five years, was second in command for quite a while before that. Hasn't seen much combat, but who has these days?" It was true: with the last major war over a generation earlier, few had much combat experience.

The regimental headquarters building was the same sort of concrete construction as nearly all the others at Fort Vormeyer. From the outside there was nothing to distinguish it from the administration building or the mess hall. A pair of sentries stood outside and they came to attention as the ensigns approached. They passed through the doors and a sign directed them down a corridor past rows of standard offices toward what was called the Regimental Hall. There was another set of double doors and they could hear voices beyond.

The doors swung open and Anny's eyes grew wide and several of her friends made exclamations of surprise and pleasure. While the fort and the buildings might all be standard construction, something special had been built here. Rich wood paneling covered the walls and thick beams held up a coffered ceiling. A parquet floor with intricate inlaid patterns stretched out before them. Heavy drapes flanked the tall windows along one wall. The Imperial flag and the regimental colors stood at one end of the room and rows of other flags and banners hung from the walls. Some of them were quite old and Anny's eyes were drawn to one that was all in tatters. It was faded almost to illegibility, but she could just make out the letters 'CTF' in one corner. She realized that some of the tatters were actually bullet holes… Anny knew perfectly well that she was in a concrete building with a metal roof, but the illusion of being in a castle or some large country estate was completely convincing. And it had probably all been paid for by the officers themselves.

There were several dozen of those officers milling about and what appeared to be the regimental band setting up in one corner. Long tables created a 'U' shape and stewards in white tunics were bustling about with plates, silverware, and glasses. A table near one wall had an array of bottles and more glasses. One of the officers turned as they entered and Anny saw that it was the captain who had routed them from their beds on their first morning there and supervised the close-combat exercises. But unlike then, this time he was smiling. He came over to them.

"Welcome, gentlemen," he said, waving off their proffered salutes. "No salutes here, we're quite informal at dinner. Well, less formal anyway. I'm Captain Vortaglia, the regimental adjutant. Please feel free to mingle and help yourselves to the drinks over there. Dinner won't be starting for a while yet, but make yourselves at home." They all thanked him and began to disperse. Alby started heading for the table with the bottles. Anny caught his eye and gently shook her head. He winked at her and kept going. Then she realized that Vortaglia was still standing there, looking at her.

"Ensign Payne."

"Sir?"

"We've received a number of instructions concerning you and your… ah, situation, but none of them mentioned the proper form of address. Do I call you 'mister' or 'miss'? Are you one of the 'gentlemen' or are you a 'lady' with the 'gentlemen'? It's all a bit confusing." His demeanor seemed friendly and curious.

"I imagine it is, sir," she replied. "At the Academy we keep everything male for simplicity. So 'mister' and 'gentleman' would do fine."

"I see. Well, you've managed to survive the Academy—and vice versa—for over three years now, so I suppose it can be made to work. At least under controlled conditions. I'll be most curious to see what happens under field conditions." Vortaglia's manner had grown noticeably colder and Anny's hope that she had found an ally faded.

"It's worked in some conditions that weren't exactly controlled, too, sir." Vortaglia's eyes flicked briefly to the ribbons on Anny's chest. Although the captain had several rows of his own decorations Anny could see there weren't any for gallantry. And no wound medals, either. He opened his mouth to reply, but just then another officer approached.

" Erik, old boy, are you going to try and hog her all for yourself? That's rather selfish, isn't it?" The speaker was a major and he'd obviously gotten an early start on the drinks. Vortaglia turned and then bowed slightly.

"Ensign Payne, let me introduce Major Lou Fullard, 3rd battalion. Lou, this is Ensign Payne."

"Oh, I know who she is, Erik! Pretty hard not to, eh?" the man chuckled and nudged Vortaglia with his elbow.

"Pleased to meet you, sir," said Anny.

"And I you! Damme, Erik, but doesn't she brighten up this dreary place? They should have done this years ago! Years and years ago! Very good to have you here, my dear."

"She'll be leaving with 2nd Battalion in the morning, you, know," said Vortaglia.

"Yes, yes, isn't that always the way of the service?" said Fullard, shaking his head sadly. "They give you a brief look at paradise and then snatch it away again, the bastards." But then his face brightened. "But we do have this one evening, don't we? Live for the moment, I always say! Can I get you a drink, m'dear?"

Other officers had started to congregate around them and Anny was spared having to turn the major down. She had no intention of drinking anything beyond what the inevitable toasts might require. A flurry of introductions followed and Anny had no hope of remembering all the names, but she'd already memorized all the senior officers in the 2nd Battalion, the one she'd be shipping out with, so she did manage to identify any of those who were part of the crowd. But the battalion commander wasn't among them, nor Colonel Vordavid. Would they be coming tonight?

She responded to all the greeting as best she could but did feel a bit uncomfortable with all of them crowing around her. More were entering the hall through the doors. She caught a glimpse of a worried Jer watching from a distance, but there was nothing threatening or even unfriendly about the men.

"I understand that you made quite a showing today in close-combat exercises, Miss Payne," said one of the captains loudly enough to be heard above the others. "Are they training all the cadets that thoroughly these days?"

"Uh, no, sir. I've been getting some advanced training in preparation for coming here. I was told that assault regiments take their close-combat very seriously and I can see that it is true."

"She threw Sergeant Hotchkiss on his ass!" said another officer "You should have seen his face!"

"No way! Her?"

"I was lucky," said Anny, blushing. "And then he very thoroughly beat me to a pulp, sir."

"Not surprised! Not surprised! That would have pissed him off to no end!"

"He was very, uh, gracious in victory, sir."

"And how were you in defeat, ensign?" asked another.

"Truthfully, sir? Relieved. I was way out of my depth by that point."

"I'd think you'd be used to being out of your depth by now, Ensign. Haven't you been way out of your depth for the last three years?"

Anny froze. Was this an honest question—however tactless—or a provocation? "At first. sir, perhaps. But I seem to have grown into it with time."

"And now you think you can grow into being an officer in an assault regiment."

"That is my hope, sir."

"Oh stop interrogating her, Jacob!" snorted one of the other officers. "This is a social occasion and you're being rude to our guest."

"Just idle curiosity, Franz. No offense intended, Miss Payne, I assure you."

"And none taken, sir." She looked at the surrounding throng. "And thank you all for your welcome. I hope that me and my fellows can live up to the glorious traditions of the Forty-second, even for the short time that we'll be with you."

"Well said, miss!"

"Ensign Payne has informed me that the proper form of address for her is 'mister'," said Captain Vortaglia.

"Really?" laughed the one who had spoken. "That might take some getting used to! Perhaps we should extend our first-name privileges to our guests, eh?"

But before anyone could respond to that suggestion, there was a commotion near the door and in walked Colonel Vordavid. She'd seen pictures of him and she also recognized the man with him as Major Lurray, commander of the 2nd Battalion, and the man she'd be serving under on the upcoming cruise. Everyone turned to face the Colonel and a chorus of polite welcomes erupted from around the room. He motioned for quiet and instantly got it.

"'Evening everyone," he said. "As you all know, but perhaps our young ensigns do not, it's traditional when the regiment or a part of the regiment departs on an extended mission to have a farewell dinner. Tomorrow 2nd Battalion will be joining Admiral Vorkoff's task force and they'll be gone for four or five months. So tonight, we say goodbye to Major Lurray and his officers and bid them fair jumps and a prosperous voyage." A polite round of applause started and Lurray bowed slightly to everyone.

"At the same time that we are saying goodbye," continued the Colonel, "we are also saying hello to eight jaygees on loan to us from the Academy. It's been some years since the Forty-second has been so… honored." He paused with a grin on his face and many of the officers laughed. "And I must say I've been a bit curious about just what sort of product the Academy has been turning out these days. Well, as most of you know, we ran a little test over the last two days to see for ourselves. I'm happy to report that the current model seems to be entirely up to snuff." He turned slowly and looked each of the jaygees in the eyes. "Welcome to the Forty-second, gentlemen." Anny and the others stammered out their replies. Colonel Vordavid then nodded to the principle musician and the band began to play. Apparently this concluded the formal remarks because everyone began talking and drinking again. Anny took the opportunity to slip out of the ring that had formed around her and seek refuge with her friends.

"Seems friendly enough," said Patric.

"Who?" asked Alby.

"Well, all of 'em, I guess. Nice bunch."

And so it seemed. Anny found herself talking with a number of the officers and they were all quite cordial. Part of her kept wondering if this was some sort of new test and what trap might be waiting for her. I'm getting as paranoid as Denis and Alby. She tried to force herself to relax and enjoy herself, but it was hard.

Eventually, there was a roll of drums and a crash of cymbals from the band and an announcement that dinner was ready. Stewards appeared to guide them to their spots as there were no name cards on the table. As was to be expected, the colonel was seated at the head table at the base of the 'U'. To his left the officers of the regiment not in the 2nd Battalion were arranged in order of rank stretching down the side tables. But to his right, in the places of honor were the 2nd Battalion officers. And rather than being in order of rank, the eight jaygees were interspersed with the other officers. As a result, Anny found herself sitting directly between Colonel Vordavis and Major Lurray. Somehow she didn't think this was just a matter of chance. She nodded and smiled briefly to the two men as she took her seat and she could tell that Vordavid was resisting the urge to stand and help seat her. She focused on the table setting in front of her: china plates, gleaming silverware and fine crystal glasses. A steward appeared and filled one of the glasses with an amber liquid. She didn't know what it was, but she suspected it was something potent.

Suddenly a bugle rang out and dead silence followed. Vordavid stood up and all the others did as well. Anny sprang to her feet. The Colonel looked down to the far end of the tables. "Mister Vorsworth, I believe you are the junior here," he said.

Anny held her breath, but Alby didn't falter. In fact, the expression on his face was as serious as Anny had ever seen. He took his glass and raised it and said in a loud voice: "Colonel, gentlemen, the Emperor."

"The Emperor!"

Anny had resolved that she would just wet her lips for the toasts, but for this, for the Emperor she would drain her glass. And she did. The drink was brandy and it burned going down and then sat like a fire in her belly. But it wasn't unpleasant and as she retook her seat a warm glow seemed to pass all through her and an amazing realization came to her:

I passed their tests!

She had been so tired, so focused on immediate tasks—and immediate worries—that she hadn't stopped to think about just where she was. The regimental officers' mess was the heart and soul of the Barrayaran military. This was where all the lineage, the traditions, the glory, and the honor of the officer class was stored. It was not something casually shared with strangers.

But they are sharing it with me!

For centuries the mess had been a Vors-only bastion, but slowly some non-Vors, like Major Lurray, had worked their way in. And now here she was, too… They didn't have to do this. They could have excluded her. They could have excluded all the jaygees if they'd been afraid of some sort of backlash. They could have just skipped the dinner entirely rather than invite her. But they hadn't. They had let her inside their fortress.

"You're very quiet, Mister Payne," said the Colonel. "I hope we didn't wear you out completely."

"Oh, no sir. I was just thinking."

"What about, if I may ask?"

Before she could answer, a voice rose above all the murmuring conversations. A rich tenor voice raised in song. She glanced over to where the band was and saw a young man with corporal's insignia singing. All there paused to listen. It was a song about war and glory and death… and glory. It sent a shiver through her and she blinked back tears.

"Beautiful," she whispered when it was over.

"Yes," said Colonel Vordavid and she amazed to see a tear glinting in his eye. "We have a lot of talent in the regiment." He pulled himself back from whatever place the song had taken him. "But we were speaking about your thoughts."

"I… I just was thinking about how grateful I am for this opportunity, sir."

Vordavid nodded and she sensed that he knew exactly what she was talking about. "Times change, people change, but some things don't change. The regiment is far more than flesh and blood. It lived long before we were born and we can pray that it will continue long after we're gone. Those of us here are just caretakers. And if a m… person is worthy of it, they are welcome here. So fill your glass again, Mister Payne! The night is young and we have many a tradition to uphold!"

"Thank you sir."

She leaned back in her chair as the first course was served. She banished her cares and resolved to live for this night alone.