DISCLAIMER
What follows is a work of fan fiction. It uses characters and situations created by David Weber. It is not authorized, recognized or, as far as I know, known to exist by David Weber or Baen Publishing Enterprises. My efforts here should be taken as a sincere homage to the wonderful universe of Honor Harrington that David Weber has created. I in no way mean to imply that I can do a better job than Mr. Weber.
Prologue
Rear Admiral of the Green Sylvia Thayer stared at the mass of paper work listed on her terminal and told herself for at least the twentieth time that day that she had one of the most important jobs in the entire Navy. She found it harder and harder to believe each time she said it. With a sigh, she touched the control stud on her power chair and swiveled to face the large window that took up one wall of her office. The endless list of reports had won-at least for the moment.
Although the ancient building the office was part of was not especially tall, Gatchall Hall was located on one of the highest points on Saganami Island and had a good view of the Academy campus. Thayer's eyes looked out at the Quad and the venerable buildings that surrounded it. Dozens of gray uniformed cadets, on foot or riding cycles, moved purposefully along the paths. She thought nostalgically of her days as a cadet when those buildings made up her world. It seemed so complicated then, but now those days seem so clear and simple. The questions were hard, but I knew that each one had an answer. Her gaze wandered past the dormitories and the athletic fields, past the parade ground, past the airstrip and landing pads, past the empty marina and the glittering waters of Silver Gulf, and finally stopped on a mass of new cermicrete and metal reaching skyward in the distance. So many changes. It's been forty years and so much has changed-and not just the buildings.
The Royal Manticoran Naval Academy on Saganami Island had produced officers for the Royal Navy for nearly four hundred T-years. Its reputation for excellence was known throughout the human galaxy. Many extraordinary men and women had come from these halls and it was a place of long established methods and cherished traditions. But now those methods were being changed and those traditions challenged. Because of the war; it's always the war, thought Thayer. The war against the Peoples' Republic of Haven had been going on for nine T-years and there was no end in sight. The war had been consuming ships and men and women-and officers-at an ever-greater pace. The huge shipyards of Manticore and her allies were meeting the demand for new ships. Manpower needs were also being met as the public finally began to realize that every citizen was needed in this crisis. But meeting the demand for officers was straining the fabric of the Navy as never before.
Some could come from the ranks of deserving and qualified enlisted men and women. Others that were needed for strictly technical duty could be trained from talented volunteers relatively quickly. But the command officers, the leaders, they could not be turned out on assembly lines. They had always come from here, from Saganami Academy. But now, there just were not enough. To get them would require major changes. Changes that many in the Navy, and many here at the Academy, did not like. Changes that Sylvia Thayer was expected to implement.
Thayer sighed again and turned her chair back to her terminal, carefully maneuvering the large cast enclosing her right 'leg' to fit under the desk. If it wasn't for the leg I wouldn't be here, she thought. Involuntarily, her mind went back and replayed, for the thousandth time, that day, six months ago. She had been on the flag bridge of HMS Redoubtable, in command of the Ninth Battlecruiser Squadron. It had been one of the numerous skirmishes around Barnett. They had caught a Peep supply convoy just inside the hyper limit and they were chewing it up. But even successful battles have a price and the Peep escorts put up a good fight. Her ships had been forced to split up to catch the scattering convoy and Redoubtable found herself in a one-on-one fight with one of the Peeps' new Mars class heavy cruisers. It was nearly as large as Redoubtable and its electronics and weapons were nearly as good. Fortunately, her crew must have been nearly as new as the ship. Captain Pohanka fought Redoubtable well and his veteran crew quickly gained the upper hand. They took some damage, but they slowed the Peep down enough that after half an hour Virgil was able to overhaul them and add her firepower into the fray. The result then became inevitable.
Thayer had just turned to begin updating the withdrawal and rendezvous plan for the squadron when it happened. A Peep missile penetrated the ship's defenses and its X-ray lasers tore into Redoubtable. Thayer felt the impact and heard the curious noise that the ship always made when hit. She paused, but it seemed that the damage must not have been too serious. The Peep weapon had not penetrated that deeply and Redoubtable's heavy armor absorbed most of the damage. But the hit had severed a major power conduit that was feeding one of the sidewall generators. Built-in circuit breakers and automatic shut-down mechanisms had gone into operation-but a tiny fraction of a second too slowly. The enormous power in the line needed to go somewhere-and ten meters of conduit and the surrounding structure had flashed to vapor just below Redoubtable's flag bridge.
Thayer had an instant to sense that a secondary explosion had occurred-and that it was close-when the blast ripped through the deck. Smoke and flame filled the compartment. There were shrieks of pain and cries of alarm from her staff. A sharp but brief pain stabbed her leg, but it was the gust of superheated air and vaporized metal against the right side of her face that really hurt. She instantly grabbed her helmet off its rack and pulled it over her head and sealed it. Fortunately, the bridge had not lost pressure and the blast had spent most of its force coming through the deck. Thayer tried to see through the smoke, but it was too thick and her right eye was tearing so badly she could see nothing for a moment. She could still hear cries and curses from her staff, some over the com and some faintly through her helmet. The ventilators were pulling the smoke out of the compartment and eventually she could see again. There were bodies lying all over the bridge, some moving and some still, and other people trying to assist them. A large hole had appeared in the deck a few meters in front of her chair. Two command stations had been reduced to twisted wreckage.
Thayer unlocked her shock frame and started to get up to see what she could do-and collapsed back into her chair. She looked down and only then noticed that her right leg was not there anymore. It was just—gone-sheared off above the knee as neatly as if by a cutting laser. Impossibly red blood was spurting out of the stump. In a daze, Thayer activated the automatic tourniquet in her skinsuit and watched the bleeding stop. The next few minutes were like a dream; it was as if she were watching someone else. She turned to her one surviving command monitor and finished updating the withdrawal plan. By this time medics were in the compartment, but they were tending to the people who were down. She then contacted Captain Pohanka, ordered him to forward the instructions to the squadron, and inform Commodore Hutchinson on Stalwart that he was now in command. Only then did she summon a medic. The look on his face when he saw her missing limb had almost made all of it worthwhile.
Thayer's thoughts returned to the present and she regarded the Commandant's office-her office-in which she sat. There was rich wood paneling on the walls, with intricately carved molding. A functioning fireplace stood in the wall opposite the windows with a large mantelpiece and a beautiful slab of Gryphon marble for the hearth. Exposed beams crisscrossed the ceiling and a thick carpet covered the floor. The room was big enough to play a game of tennis in, but it seemed much smaller because of all the...stuff… in it. Her office was a veritable museum and tradition would not allow her to remove anything in it-not that she really wanted to. Each previous commandant had made his or her contribution to the collection and the room was like a miniature history of the Royal Manticoran Navy. Paintings and portraits covered the walls; dozens of model ships were scattered about in display cases. There were numerous bookshelves filled with bound books. Other cases held medals, uniforms, swords, log books, flags and all manner of bric-a-brac that had been important to somebody at some time. Edward Saganami's portrait hung over the fireplace, next to the Queen's.
When she had been returned to Manticore following the loss of her leg, Thayer had already decided to opt for a prosthesis instead of regeneration. The regeneration of something as major as a leg required nearly three T-years and the subject could not be too physically active during that time. A prosthesis could be fitted in a few weeks and Thayer was determined to get back to her command as soon as possible. But the Admiralty had other ideas. They had a standing policy dating back centuries to regularly rotate officers between field and staff positions. This was supposed to prevent the isolation (and fossilization) of the two branches and let each benefit from the experience of the other. It was a good policy in theory, but now Thayer was caught in the gears of the theory. She had been in the field for over seven T-years. There was no set time limit for a field or staff assignment, but whenever a reasonable length of time had passed and a suitable opportunity arose-like a medical leave-BuPers would strike.
It had been one of the hardest blows Thayer had ever taken, far harder than the blow that had removed her leg. The Ninth Battlecruiser Squadron was hers. She had been with it since it was formed, initially as second in command and for the last three years as its commander. She had trained it and molded it into a perfect instrument. The Ninth had a tremendous record and reputation in the Navy and Thayer was enormously proud of it. In her (totally unbiased) opinion it was the finest squadron in the Fleet. She knew virtually all of the senior officers by name and a good number of the enlisted personnel as well. She had given everything she had to the Ninth and they had never let her down.
And now it wasn't hers anymore.
She had no fears for the squadron itself. Commodore William Hutchinson had been promoted to rear admiral and given command. Thayer had full confidence in Hutchinson. "Hutch" had been her flag captain when she was second in command of the squadron and her exec for three years before that. He might not be quite as good a tactician but he believed in the value of training, and Lord, could the man fight! The people of the Ninth loved him nearly as much as they had loved her. No, the Ninth was in good hands-they just were not her hands. And she had not even been able to say good-bye.
Of course she had protested and of course it had done no good. She was to be given a staff position after her medical leave and that was that. Since there was now no reason not to, she had gone ahead with the regeneration therapy. A new leg was growing inside the cast that encased the stump of her thigh but she didn't really like to think about what was going on inside there. The process confined her to the power chair during her waking hours, and she had weekly appointments with the doctors. The initial treatments had taken about two months and then she was available for assignment.
She had been completely surprised when the Admiralty had offered her the Commandant's post. Except for a brief stint as an assistant instructor at the Advanced Tactical Course Thayer had never been involved in education. But apparently, she had impressed somebody, and her record at training the Ninth spoke for itself. She had accepted the offer with only a few misgivings since there was no hope of getting the Ninth back and this assignment would greatly advance her career. Upon completion of her term as Commandant, Thayer could expect promotion to vice admiral and a major combat command-that was traditional, too. Assuming the war was still going on, of course. Unlike most postings, the Commandant's position was for a minimum of four years and possibly more. Still, if she was going to be beached for three years anyway, this seemed like an interesting challenge.
Then she found out what they expected of her.
Thayer looked up at one of the portraits on the wall and said aloud: "Well Helen, I really put my foot in it this time!" The portrait of Captain Helen Loehlin-Zilwicki said nothing.
That portrait was Thayer's sole contribution to the collection so far. Zilwicki was one of the Navy's great heroes, and she had been Thayer's closest friend. Helen Loehlin was a year Thayer's senior at the academy, but they had become almost inseparable. Of course, their duties after graduation had often kept them apart but they saw each other whenever possible. She could still remember her joy when she became Helen's executive officer on HMS Baldur. Thayer attended her wedding to Anton Zilwicki and she had become the godmother of their daughter.
And then Helen died.
It was one of the provocative "incidents" the Peoples' Republic engineered just before the start of the war. Helen had been commanding the escort for an important convoy, and the Peeps caught them in hyperspace with a full squadron of heavy cruisers. The Peeps probably thought the convoy would scatter, so that a few of the ships would have a chance to escape, but they had not counted on Zilwicki. She had taken her small escort straight into their teeth and torn the hell out of them. The Peeps were so badly hurt that the convoy escaped unharmed. Of course, Helen Zilwicki's entire force had been annihilated.
Thayer was devastated. It had only been three weeks since she was detached to take over command of a brand new destroyer. Try as she might, she could never rid herself of the idea that maybe, if she had been there, things would have been different. And she could never rid herself of the guilt of not having died next to her friend. When she was selected to deliver the Parliamentary Medal of Valor, Manticore's highest award for heroism, to Helen's husband, Anton, and little four year old Helen, it had been the proudest and saddest moment of her life.
Thayer continued to stare at the portrait. Like most artwork it tended to idealize the subject. Helen had never been quite that handsome, and of course she never had the opportunity to wear the medal that was hanging around the neck of the image.
"You always told me to scout out a situation before barging in, Helen," said Thayer. "But I didn't do that this time, and they bushwhacked me good."
The buzzer on her com startled Thayer out of her reverie. She quickly glanced to make sure the channel had not been open. That's all I need! she thought with relief. For my staff to hear me talking to myself! She punched a button and said: "Yes?"
"It's nearly 1400, ma'am," said her secretary. "You wanted to be reminded."
"Yes, thank you, Gwen," Thayer replied, and closed the channel.
Thayer moved her chair away from the desk and towards the door of her office. The heavy wood door swung open as she approached. There had been no need to modify that aspect of the office: Thayer was not the first commandant confined to a powerchair. Legend had it that once there was enough room in the office to have a conference table and hold staff meetings here, but it certainly was not possible now. Thayer headed through the outer office and towards the main conference room. In the corridor she was met by her adjutant, Lt. Commander Semancik.
"Good Afternoon, ma'am," said the young man.
"Good Afternoon, Chris," replied Thayer with a smile. "Ready to enter the lions' den?"
"Do you really think it will be that bad?" asked Semancik.
"I hope not, Chris, but there are a lot of ruffled feathers waiting in there, if you'll forgive the mixed metaphors."
As they continued down the corridor, Thayer regarded the young officer. He had been her flag lieutenant when she had commanded the Ninth. He had been wounded in the same action that cost Thayer her leg, although not as badly. Thayer had been delighted when he accepted her offer to become her adjutant at the Academy. She was very glad to have at least one friendly face around. Because there are plenty of unfriendly ones.
The changes ordered by the Admiralty to increase the number of graduates while decreasing the time it took to produce them had been strongly opposed by many. The previous commandant, Commodore James MacFarlane, resigned rather than implement them, and a sizable number of instructors and department heads had followed his lead. Many of those that did not quit had made their displeasure with the situation quite clear. The fact that MacFarlane was an immensely popular and able commandant did not help matters. The large number of resignations and the need to increase the number of instructors badly disrupted operations at the Academy. Thayer had spent her first four months trying to fill in holes and finalize the new curriculum and set up plans for implementing it. This was the first time where all of the department heads and senior faculty were present for a staff meeting.
The door to the conference room opened at Thayer's approach. She could hear several voices raised in argument, that were abruptly cut off. As she rolled in, all of the people present came to their feet. Two dozen sets of eyes watched her steer her chair to the head of the large conference table. Remember, it's not me they dislike, it's the new policies-I'm just a convenient target for their anger.
"Please be seated everyone," said Thayer with a smile. "This meeting will probably take a while and we may as well be comfortable. Chris, would you have the stewards bring coffee or whatever else the staff may want?"
"Of course, ma'am," said Semancik.
As the stewards bustled about the room, Thayer looked over the people who made up her staff. The people who she would depend on to make the new policies work. The people who could, quite possibly, make or break her career. Two-thirds of the total faculty were new, and considering the changes, that was probably a good thing. The Admiralty had chosen people who (unlike Thayer) knew what was expected of them and who would likely not pose problems. However, over half her department heads and the senior faculty were holdovers from the MacFarlane era. Thayer did not know if they had stayed because they believed in the new policies, were indifferent towards them, or simply did not want to leave the Academy no matter what was happening. As long as none of them actively try to fight the changes or subvert the new policies, I'll be happy, thought Thayer. When the stewards finished she realized she could not put it off any longer and she began the meeting.
"Good afternoon everyone. I have met with all of you at one time or another, but this is the first time we have all gathered together," she said. "I think you are all aware of the great task we have facing us." Her eyes swept around the table taking in the nervous smiles and deep frowns that her words had produced. "Our Kingdom is undergoing the greatest trial in its history and our people are making unprecedented sacrifices to meet the demands of that trial. Every citizen must do his or her part. We have the honor of training the men and women who will lead our nation to victory."
Serious, even somber expressions met her now. Pull on the patriotic string, remind them of what's at stake.
"With the expansion of the Fleet and the losses caused by the war, we are facing a critical shortage of trained officers. To meet this situation the Admiralty has decided to revise the Navy's method of training new officers. Perhaps the most dramatic of those changes is the decision to create new, entirely separate, schools for training engineering, technical and other support officers. In the past, all officers were trained here. Everyone received essentially the same training. Those that showed special talent for command, engineering or one of the support fields would receive additional instruction after graduation. In this, Saganami Academy was similar to other military academies dating back millennia. We provided a general, liberal education, including the arts, literature and the social sciences. After graduation the new officers would receive the specific training for their career tracks." Thayer paused for a moment. They know all this, but do they accept it?
"The concept behind the new policy is that the Academy will now only train cadets who are on the command track," she continued. "Preliminary testing will determine which track the applicants are best suited for. Those with engineering, technical or support talents will be sent to the appropriate training school. Those with the aptitude for command will come here.
"The second major change in the program has been made in response to the need to shorten the length of time needed to train the officers. The old program took forty-five months to complete. The new program allows only thirty-five months. In order to achieve this accelerated training we have taken a number of steps, some of which I know are very controversial," Now there's an understatement!
"First, we are demanding more from the cadets themselves. Higher entrance requirements have allowed us to eliminate several introductory courses. As you know, there was never a lack of applicants for the Academy before the war, and the war has generated a greater number than ever. Nevertheless, the increased standards and the fact that a large number of applicants are going to the technical schools has forced us to expand the pool from which we draw our volunteers." Several of the officers shifted uncomfortably in their seats and glared at her as Thayer mentioned this, but she went on.
"The testing standards have been raised across the board-with the usual exceptions which I will discuss later. In addition, there will be less free time in the cadets' schedules. While Saganami Academy has never been known for the amount of free time it allows its cadets," here Thayer paused and smiled and she was met with a number of smiles and chuckles from around the table, "what time there was will be further reduced. This will be hard on the young men and women, but they know there is a war on and they know the sacrifices that will be demanded of them.
"Second, by eliminating virtually all of the non-military courses from the curriculum we have greatly reduced the total load. I realize that to a certain extent we are cheating our cadets out of a well-rounded education. I know that I, for one, will miss those courses on comparative xenosociology," said Thayer. This produced another round of chuckles. "But unfortunately that was a peacetime luxury that we no longer can afford."
Thayer paused and glanced at the people around the room to gauge their reactions. Despite her flippant comment, she realized that they were cheating the cadets. They were turning them into warriors rather than officers in the traditional sense. She was met with a number of stony stares from some of the old time instructors. Captain Henry Delbruck, the Academy's military historian, the only survivor of the academic purge, glared at her, but said nothing.
"On a brighter note, the Admiralty has decided to retain team sports and ceremonial drill both of which are considered necessary for purposes of morale and teaching teamwork.
"Third we have cut back engineering and technical training to the bare bones," she continued. "Some of what has been cut can be made up by the heightened entrance standards, and some can come from the increased number of training cruises. But there is no denying that this new breed of cadet will not have the same level of practical engineering knowledge that we received when we were cadets. This is regrettable, but the Admiralty believes that it is acceptable. Commander Haupt, did you want to say something?" Thayer had noticed that the new head of the Engineering Department was fidgeting in her chair.
"Uh, yes, ma'am." said Commander Harriet Haupt, getting awkwardly to her feet. "My instructors have asked me to voice their concerns to you. We understand the necessity for these new measures, but we are genuinely concerned that the graduates from this program will be unable to perform the basic engineering functions that will likely be required of them during active duty." It was clearly a prepared statement, and having said it, Haupt quickly plunked back in her seat, her face blushing red.
"I share the concerns of you and your people, Harry," said Thayer. "We all had the opportunity to put on coveralls and crawl around the innards of most of the major ship systems with a spanner in our hands during our training. Our new cadets are not going to have that opportunity. It is our job to make sure that they are solidly grounded in the basics so they can pick up the practical knowledge they will need quickly upon joining the fleet. We can take some comfort in the fact that in spite of the Admiralty's expectations, these young officers are not going to be given command of vessels any time soon. They will no doubt spend nearly as much time standing watches in the power rooms, impeller controls and sensor suites as we did when we were ensigns. If these people are as good as they are supposed to be-as good as we can make them-they should pick up what they need on the job."
"Yes, ma'am," said Haupt. "I hope so, ma'am."
"So do I, Harry," said Thayer with a smile. "So do I."
"That just about completes my introductory statements, people," continued Thayer. "We have a hell of a job ahead of us. Now we have to get down to the business of making things happen, and I don't have to remind you that the new class arrives in less than two weeks. Captain Upton will now proceed with the report on scheduling and then we will have the department reports. Thank you."
A tall, slim woman in a captain's uniform stood up and nodded to Thayer. "Thank you, Admiral. Ladies and Gentlemen, if you will look at your com-pads you will see the new curriculum diagrammed for the incoming class as well as the three current classes. As you can see, the Fourth Form class, who will be returning from their 'prentice cruise next week, will have very few changes to their form and will simply graduate a month earlier. The Third Form class will also have few problems, the content of their next two forms will be changed somewhat, but I foresee no unusual difficulties. It is the Second Form class that will have the greatest difficulty. Their recently completed First Form consisted of instruction that has been almost entirely eliminated from the new curriculum. While I would never say that this was wasted time, it does mean that this class has twenty-six months to complete an already much compressed thirty-five month course. Needless to say, this is not going to be possible. While we can make a few shortcuts, the end result is going to be that the Second Form class is going to graduate only a month or two ahead of the incoming First Form class. We may well expect some resentment and possible friction between those forms. If you will look at figure two you will see…"
Thayer had already heard Captain Emily Upton's report and read it several times as well. She tuned out most of it and let her gaze wander around the room. So far things had gone well enough, but how long could that last?
Upton finished her report and the department heads began theirs. One by one around the table it went: Captain Arthur Wagner from the much expanded Tactics Department; Commander Haupt, obviously very relieved to be talking engineering instead of politics; Captain Delbruck and the Warfare Sciences Department, still taciturn but sticking to business. Colonel Ardant DuPique's Leadership and Morale report caught Thayer's attention. DuPique stood out like the proverbial sore thumb. He was not only not from the Navy, he was not even from the Marines. Thayer was still amazed that an Army colonel had allowed himself to become part of the Naval Academy but she wasn't complaining, DuPique was a brilliant scholar and his lectures were a positive joy to listen to. And so it went; Thayer kept expecting an explosion, but none came. Finally, the last report was read and all eyes came back to her.
"Thank you, everyone. Excellent job," she said. "Just a few more items and we can wrap this up. If you will look at your 'pads you will see a list of the incoming cadets who are from the Peerage or other important families. There are a hundred and forty-seven names on the list. While this is a large number by normal standards, it is actually a fairly small percentage considering the First Form class is three times the normal size. As is always the case, it is politically important that these cadets complete the course and be commissioned. You and your instructors are to keep a special watch on the progress of these people. If they fall behind they are to receive special tutoring. Whenever possible from an upperclassman but if necessary by an instructor. If progress is still insufficient, I want to be notified well before the crisis stage is reached. We may have to pass these people, but we are going to do our utmost to see that no half-baked officers reach the Fleet."
Thayer looked around the table and saw a wide range of reactions. A lot of excellent officers came from the Peerage, but a number of real deadbeats had come from there as well. It was a source of resentment and embarrassment, but there was little that could be done.
"One bit of good news I received yesterday from the Admiralty concerns discipline," continued Thayer. "Discipline is to be applied equally, no matter who the cadet's parents are. If any of our young ladies or gentlemen get too big for their britches, you are authorized to take the appropriate action. This applies to all the forms, so some of our older cadets may be in for a rude surprise. If there are any complaints you may convey to them the First Space Lord's words: 'This is an Academy, not a country club.' " That brought a few chuckles from the seated officers.
"There is one other incoming cadet who may require some special attention," said Thayer in a more serious tone. "If you'll check your 'pads you will see the file for Cadet Andreanne Payne."
Thayer paused while the officers looked over the file. After only a few moments heads began to jerk upwards and eyes were staring at her. "Holy Moses!" whispered Lt. Commander Ferraro of the Provost Office. When he realized he had said that aloud, he blushed and said: "Excuse me, Admiral."
"No, no, Commander, I couldn't have put it better myself," said Thayer.
"A female Grayson cadet, Admiral?" asked Captain Wagner.
"It does seem a bit unlikely, doesn't it?" said Thayer. "But I assure you it is true, and it poses a problem for us. You are all familiar with the, um.. peculiarities of the Grayson social system. Currently, even though women make up nearly three-quarters of their population, they are not permitted to serve in the armed forces. Cadet Payne is the daughter of the deputy consul at the Grayson embassy here on Manticore and she has lived here for nearly ten years. She is also a fourth cousin of the Protector himself. Apparently, she thought this up on her own, but when Protector Mayhew heard of it he became very enthusiastic about the idea. As you know, the only women in the Grayson Navy are those officers from the RMN who are on loan from us. The Graysons have accepted them—grudgingly-but they have accepted them. I am told that the Protector hopes that Cadet Payne will receive her commission in the RMN and after a bit of seasoning also be loaned to the Grayson Navy. She could be the foot in the door, so to speak, that will open the way for Grayson's women to join the military. So you can see the very important nature of the situation. Fortunately, Cadet Payne is well prepared academically as you can see from her test scores and evaluations. It will be up to us to see that she becomes an officer."
"I can tell that some of you are already evaluating the task, but there is another aspect to this situation that you probably have not considered," said Thayer. She could see that she had everyone's attention.
"And that is the matter of sexual relations."
Thayer almost laughed; the expressions on the faces of the people at the conference table could not have been more puzzled or surprised if she had said "artichokes" or some other non-sequetuer.
"As you are aware, we have always had regulations against sex between First Form cadets, between cadets of different forms, and between cadets in the same chain of command. Sex between cadets who are under the age of consent is also forbidden, of course. Cadet Payne is now a First Form cadet, so the problem is deferred for a while, but when she becomes a Second Form, we will have a delicate situation. While we have always endeavored to keep our cadets busy enough that they had little time for sex," this got a few smiles and smirks from the assembled officers, "there is no actual regulation against it if it does not violate the conditions I already mentioned. However, Cadet Payne comes from a very different society. Sex between unmarried persons is not socially acceptable on Grayson. If Cadet Payne were to engage in such activity and the word got back to Grayson, it could have very serious consequences. Not just for her, but for the whole idea of getting Grayson's women into uniform. As you can see from her file, she is an attractive young woman, and everything else being equal, she may well be propositioned at some point during her time here. The simple act of asking her could bring a hoard of angry male relatives descending on us to avenge her honor. Frankly people, short of issuing a general order against looking at her sideways I have no idea how to handle this situation. If any of you have an inspiration, please let me know."
There were a number of smiles around the table now. Good time to wrap this up, while they are still laughing.
"Well, if there are no further comments or questions, I believe we are finished for today..."
"Admiral!"
Thayer stopped short, saw who had spoken and thought: Here it comes!
"Yes, Captain Keeler?"
Captain Gabriel Keeler was a huge, bear of a man with iron gray hair and a large bushy mustache. He was in charge of Athletics and Drill as well as Cadet Morale. For reasons lost in ancient tradition, his position was always referred to as "The Master of the Sword". He had sat glowering silently through the whole meeting. Now he slowly got to his feet and stared at Thayer.
"Have you looked over the statistics of the incoming class, Admiral?" He said it quietly, but Thayer could sense the anger behind his words.
"Yes, Captain I have, rather thoroughly in fact."
"Have you noticed anything about the new cadets, Admiral?"
Thayer knew exactly what Keeler was getting at, but she was going to make him spell it out.
"Such as, Captain?" she asked.
"Their ages, Admiral," said Keeler who was clenching his huge fists on the table.
"Some of them are quite young, Captain. Is that what you are referring to?"
"Young!" exploded Keeler. "Young! They're just children! Ninety-seven of them are only fourteen years old! Two hundred and thirty-six more are only fifteen! Somehow a dozen thirteen year olds have gotten permission to enroll! This is wrong, Admiral! No, it's more than wrong, it's obscene!"
"Gabe," said Captain Wagner. "I know it's hard, but we have our duty..."
"Duty?!" shot back Keeler. "Don't tell me my duty! My duty is to protect our children, not train them to kill and then send them off to kill and be killed!"
"Captain, the Admiralty has made its decision..." began Captain Delbruck.
"Well the admiralty must be insane!" shouted Keeler. "I don't see any of the Admiralty's children on that list! Or the Cabinet's or the Parliament's!"
"Now that's enough, Captain!" said Colonel DuPique.
"No it's not enough!"
In a few moments half the people in the room were on their feet shouting at each other. The remainder were shrinking into their seats with looks of embarrassment and horror on their faces. Thayer sat impassively, watching.
After about a minute, though it seemed far longer, Lt. Commander Semancik leaned over to Thayer. His face was pale with shock.
"Do you want me to stop this, ma'am?" he asked.
"No, let them "Hutch" for a while." replied Thayer.
Semancik rocked back in his chair and stared at her for a moment. Then slowly a small smile appeared on his face, and Thayer could tell he was desperately trying not to laugh. Semancik knew Commodore-Rear Admiral-William Hutchinson, of course. Everybody in the old Ninth knew William Hutchinson! Thayer loved him like a brother and would trust him with her life-she had trusted him with her life, on many occasions. But his temper! Thayer had never figured out how he made it through the Academy, much less reached flag rank with that temper. When he got an order he didn't agree with (which seemed to include just about all of them) he would rant and rave and describe the mental, moral and genetic defects of the order's originator in graphic and profane detail. Then, after threatening to resign and generally venting his spleen, he would go and carry out those orders perfectly-and never admit the orders had been any good to begin with. His tirades had become legendary in the Ninth and anytime someone lost their temper they were said to have "Hutched" or "thrown a Hutch". Semancik suddenly realized that the entire staff of Saganami Island was having a giant "Hutch"!
Thayer watched the proceedings for a few more moments. Captain Keeler's original protest had now been joined by every other gripe and complaint her people had been harboring for the last few months. But it had gone far enough. Things were starting to be said that could have sent half her people to the Field of Honor, if regulations had allowed it, and placed the other half under arrest. So Sylvia Thayer did something that would have made her doctors very angry.
She locked her chair in place and then, bracing her hands on the arms of the chair she slowly pushed herself to her feet.
Before she was half way up, there was utter silence in the room. By the time she was fully erect everyone was back in their seats and staring at her wide-eyed. She returned their stare, trying to show neither her amusement at their reaction, nor the agony that was shooting up her leg.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, there are difficult and trying times ahead for us. We are going to be asked to do things we would rather not do. I do not need to point out that our society has quite admirably done away with every bias and prejudice that have plagued earlier cultures. Neither race, nor gender, nor religion, nor sexual preference-nor age-is a bar to any citizen for any position. The ability to do the job is the sole criteria. In the past we have placed an artificial limit of sixteen on the age for entering cadets. That limit had no legal standing, and has now been done away with. But this is not an easy thing. I am not going to feed you any emotional balderdash about these cadets sacrificing their childhoods so other children can keep theirs. I'm not going to insult your intelligence and tell you that all these people are volunteers and know what they are in for-we all know quite well from our own experiences that they have no idea of what is in store for them! And I am not going to insult your honor by reminding you of our duty and obligation to follow orders-whether we agree with them or not."
Thayer paused for a moment and her expression was hard.
"I am, however, going to remind you of our responsibility to the cadets in our charge. These young men and women, the pride of our nation, the best our society has to offer, are coming to us to learn what they will need to know to meet the great challenge that lies ahead of them. We can not fail! If we do, we fail our Queen, we fail our kingdom, we fail the families and loved ones who entrusted these cadets to us, we fail the Fleet, we fail the people who would serve with these ersatz officers, and worst of all, we fail the cadets themselves. We must not fail. I have full confidence that we will not fail. But if we do, may God have mercy on us.
"This meeting is concluded. You are dismissed."
Thayer lowered herself slowly back into her chair. Sweat beaded on her forehead. Semancik was only a few centimeters away but he did not touch her. Without looking at her officers, she backed the chair away from the table.
Everyone in the room stood and came to attention.
Thayer turned her chair and rolled out of the room, Semancik just behind her.
On the way back to her office Thayer glanced up at her Adjutant. There was a smile on his face and a gleam in his eye.
"That was beautiful, ma'am," he said. "Colonel DuPique should use the tape of that in his leadership class."
"Don't give him any ideas, Chris," said Thayer, but she smiled. "In fact, I want a level one "eyes only" lock put on that recording. If one of our cadet hackers managed to get hold of that and send it to the Judge Advocate General's office, we'd end up with half the faculty in the brig."
"Yes, ma'am, right away," smiled Semancik, "Will you be needing me for anything else right now, Admiral?"
"No, that's all for now. Thank you, Chris."
Back in her office, Thayer looked at her shaking hands. It was partly from the exertion, and partly emotional strain. Thayer hated confrontations like that. She had always tried to lead by example, but her staff didn't know her well enough for that yet. In the Ninth, she had rarely needed to get in anyone's face, and if she ever did, she usually sicced Hutch on them. She hoped there would be no more meetings like that one!
The worst of it is that Keeler is right! They are too young. I argued it with the Admiralty, but they were inflexible. God! What are we doing to ourselves? Thayer knew that in ancient times, midshipmen in the British navy had been even younger, but that was thousands of years ago. Aren't we supposed to be more civilized than that?
Thayer propped her elbows on her desk and rested her head in her hands, massaging her temples with her fingers. Then she rubbed her eyes and straightened up with a groan. Her right thigh was throbbing and she suspected she was in for a tongue-lashing when she saw the doctors next. Thayer sat and stared into space for a few moments and then she opened the top drawer of her desk and took out a small holo-display. There were two pictures in it. On the left was a little girl of three. She was all blonde curls and chubby cheeks and a grin with missing teeth. On the right was the same girl, age nine. Longer, straighter hair and a pleasant smile. Thayer put down the holo and tapped a few commands into her terminal. There was one other special cadet in the incoming class that they had not discussed at the meeting. Thayer scrolled down to near the very end of the list and pulled up a record. The girl pictured on the screen had short blonde hair and an expression so stern that few people would have connected her to the images in Thayer's holo-display. Thayer looked at the name on the record:
Zilwicki, Helen
Age: 14
At another time and another place I would have been proud and thrilled to see her in the Academy. But not now, not here, not like this.
Thayer always knew that young Helen wanted to come to the Academy. After her mother's death, Thayer had taken her duties as godmother very seriously. She had watched over and guided the child, and helped Anton Zilwicki as much as her military duties allowed. She wrote to Helen often, and as the child grew, Helen had started writing back. Anton had written, too, voicing vague concerns over the increasing moodiness of his daughter. Thayer had not paid that much mind-until that last time she saw her, four years ago.
Thayer had been home on a short leave, she was celebrating her promotion to commodore and being posted as second in command of the newly formed Ninth Battlecruiser Squadron. She spent a lot of time with Helen and Anton. She was amazed at how much Helen had grown, but was disturbed by how serious she seemed. Helen only laughed if some adult made a joke and she rarely smiled. She asked Thayer endless questions about the Navy and the Academy.
On her last night there, Helen and Thayer were alone. Helen was prying more stories and information out of Thayer and they were up far past Helen's bedtime. At some point during the conversation-Thayer could not even remember now what they were talking about-she had chanced to use the phrase "before your mother died". Thayer had always tried to be as circumspect as possible about the subject of the elder Helen's death, and surprisingly, the young Helen had never asked any questions about it. But now Thayer had said: "before your mother died", and Helen had interrupted her-something she almost never did. The girl had looked straight at Thayer with those pale gray eyes that had always seemed so pretty.
"My mother didn't die, Aunt Sylvie, the Peeps killed her."
It was perhaps the most horrible shock Thayer had ever had. Worse than seeing her leg gone on Redoubtable, worse even than the news of the older Helen's death-those were things you knew could happen but hoped would not. This was something you would never expect. And the way she had said it: with no emotion at all, like she was correcting Thayer on what day of the week it was. But her eyes, those pretty gray eyes. There was hate in those eyes. A hate no ten year old should ever know.
But Thayer knew that hate. Oh yes! How she knew it!
It had met her every time she looked in a mirror. Every day for six years. Every day since she heard the news of Captain Helen Zilwicki's death. She had hated the Peeps! They had not even declared war and they had murdered her best friend! The hate had driven Thayer. Driven her to do things and take chances with her ship and her crew that she shuddered to think about now. Driven her to win her flag and a spot in the Ninth.
And now that hate was staring back at her in the eyes of a ten-year old girl.
Thayer had returned to her flagship shaken. It was fortunate that there was a week's delay for some essential repairs because Thayer was in no shape to do her duty. How? How could it have happened? Anton was a gentle, loving father. As badly as Helen's death had hurt him, Thayer could not believe he had put that hate in his daughter's eyes. Through a sleepless night, Thayer re-read every letter she had written Helen and every letter Helen had written back.
And there it was.
Nothing specific, nothing in any one letter that you could put your finger on. But it was there. Her hate for the Peeps was there. Her desire for revenge was there.
And it had poisoned Helen.
Thayer tried to tell herself it wasn't true. Tried to make excuses. Tried to put the blame on wartime propaganda and news reports. But it was true, she had done it. Poisoned the person she now realized was the most important thing in her world. She had wept. For the first time in six years Sylvia Thayer had wept herself to sleep.
And when she awoke, her hate was gone. A ten-year old girl with gray eyes and blonde hair had drained her hate away.
All that was left was the guilt.
After that, Thayer had watched Helen closely through Anton's letters. She watched a girl who was as driven as Thayer herself had been. Young Helen was perfect in school, not just excellent or outstanding, but perfect. On the rare times she got an exam question wrong, she did something for extra credit to get her grade back up. She joined the Junior Officer Training Program and quickly became the cadet commander. She trained in the martial arts as if she wanted to kill Peeps with her bare hands. She researched the Academy requirements thoroughly, and Helen must have known that who she was and her mother's Parliamentary Medal of Valor gave her a virtual free ticket to the Academy, but she never slowed down. Helen had no close friends and ignored the things that would normally have occupied a child her age. Her whole life was aimed at her sixteenth birthday and her application to the Academy. Then, when they changed the rules on the age limits, she had applied immediately.
And in two weeks she would be here, at Saganami Island, where Sylvia Thayer was commandant. Where Sylvia Thayer would 'train her to kill and send her off to kill and be killed' Keeler's words came back to her like a blow.
Dear God, what have I done?
Thayer looked at the image of the girl on her monitor. Then she brushed her fingers on the images of the two girls in her holo.
She looked up at the portrait on the wall. The senior Zilwicki seemed to be looking down on her with accusing eyes. A tear trickled down Thayer's cheek.
"Forgive me, Helen," she whispered. "Forgive me."