Chapter 11
"Fetherbay can't do anything?" asked Jer in dismay. He looked at Anny, sitting in the chair by his desk. She shook her head glumly.
"He said he tried, but Vorsilva is adamant."
"But why? How can he keep a proven combat officer in a staff job that anyone—well, almost anyone—can do?" The word that the regiment was going to be moving out—for possible combat duty—had spread through the base like wildfire. Jer had been excited and he'd been certain that Anny would be coming with them. But now…
Anny shrugged. "Why'd he put me in Public Relations to begin with?"
Before Jer could reply, his door banged open and Alby burst in with Sven Estaban close behind. "Have you heard?" shouted Alby breathlessly. "We're shipping out!"
"Yeah, we've heard," said Jer.
"'We'?" said Anny. "Does that mean…?"
"Sure does! No more simulator nightmare for me! I'll be on Fetherbay's staff! And have you heard? Fetherbay's being promoted to full colonel and is the official commander now!"
"What happened to Vortaglia?" asked Anny.
"They promoted him to general and he agreed to retire. Guess he didn't want to leave his beach house and go to Nova Paveo. Where the hell is that, anyway?"
"Back of Beyond, about a zillion jumps past Asland," said Estaban. "A hell of a trip."
"And Patric's coming with us!" exulted Alby. "Just got a message from him and his transfer's been approved! He should be here in a few days."
"That's great," said Jer. He glanced toward Anny and she smiled thinly.
"Say, what's the matter with you two?" asked Alby, mystified at his friends' lack of enthusiasm. "Oh cripes, don't tell me…!"
"Anny's not coming with us," said Jer quietly.
Alby swore an oath that actually made Jer blush. "I don't believe this!"
"S'true," said Anny. "I get to make sure everything's fine on the home front so our boys won't be worried while they're away." A note of bitterness crept into Anny's voice.
"There's gotta be something we can do! Anny, why don't you call Lord Vorkosigan? I bet he can fix it!"
"I would think so!" said Estaban.
Anny shook her head. "I can't ask him for another favor, Alby. He just fixed things up for my family!"
"Why the hell not? Isn't that what friends are for?"
"Say, speaking of friends," said Jer, "is there anything your father can do?" Alby's father had been a very influential general before he retired. He'd pulled strings for them several times in the past. But Alby's face fell and he looked embarrassed.
"I… don't know. My father's been fading fast since retirement. His mind's going. The last time I talked with him, he couldn't seem to remember where I was or what I was doing. When I mentioned Anny, he thought I was talking about Abigail. And… and, he kept calling me 'Carl'." Jer sucked in his breath. Carl was Alby's brother—and dead these twenty years. "I mean I can try—I will try—but I don't know if he can do anything now."
"If he could do anything, I'd be grateful," said Anny. "But it looks like I'll be staying."
"That is so unfair," said Estaban.
"Welcome to Barrayar," said all three of them in unison. That actually brought a smile to Anny's face.
"I'm gonna miss you guys."
[Scene Break]
"Patric!" exclaimed Alby Vorsworth. A crowd of people was emerging from the shuttle, but there was no missing the huge shape of Patric Mederov. At two-meters in height he towered over most of the others. Patric grinned broadly as he saw Alby. The two shook hands and Patric gave him a slap on the shoulder than nearly sent him sprawling.
"Ow! Pick on someone your own size!"
Patric looked around and then shrugged. "Sorry, I can't, so you'll have to do. How are you, Alby?"
"Not bad. Damn it's good to see you, big guy! Everything okay at home?"
"Good! Good! The retro-virus seems to be doing the job on my da. The doctors had never seen a mutation quite like that before and it took them forever to devise a fix. Damn good thing he was able to draw on my service health benefits, too; we never would have been able to afford it otherwise." Patric hefted his duffle bag and Alby grabbed his smaller travel bag. He'd forgotten just how much he liked his old friend.
"I assumed they scanned all the rest of your family for the same mutation?"
"Yup. We're all clean. No clue where this came from. Da may get a write-up in a medical journal. But wow, look at this place! They're really in high gear, aren't they?" The landing fields were crowded with shuttles big and small. Equipment being loaded and off-loaded, people scrambling around, it was busy indeed. Fortunately, the weather had moderated from the past few days. Huge mounds of snow had been pushed to the edges of the field after the first big storm of the season.
"Yeah, 1st and 2nd battalions are all getting the new battle armor, 3rd Battalion already has them, of course, and nearly all the other equipment is being replaced, too. When we ship out, we are all going to be incredibly bright and shiny."
"Still set for two weeks from now?"
"No, they pushed it back ten days so we can spend Winterfair at home. Nice of 'em."
"Huh. Well, good, it will give me more time to settle in." They dumped Patric's gear in the back of the utility vehicle Alby had brought. They piled into the front and moved out.
"Got your assignment yet or do you need to go to HQ?"
"Well, I ought to check in there, but my assignment came with my transfer orders: C Company, third platoon."
"Damn…" hissed Alby.
"What?"
"That was Anny's platoon."
"What? Oh shit! She still hasn't figured a way to come along?"
Alby had written to Patric telling him about the screw-up. "No. She's tried just about every official channel she can think of. And she refuses to ask Lord Vorkosigan."
"Your father couldn't help?"
Alby sighed. "I asked him, but at first he didn't even understand what I wanted and then he started trying to call people who are either retired or dead. I don't think he's gonna be able to help."
"Damn, that's scary. I hope I never get like that. Can't the doctors do anything?"
"They're looking into it. But even if they do come up with something, it won't be soon enough to help Anny." He frowned and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel.
"Alby… I know that look on your face. You aren't thinking of… trying something? Are you?"
"I've looked into it," he replied, steering their vehicle around a small convoy of trucks that weren't moving. "But I can't see how I could pull it off."
"Giant pink bunnies won't work this time?" Patric was referring to a prank Alby had pulled at the Academy.
"No," he said in frustration. "Nor blue or green bunnies, either. Too damn many layers of security to start hacking through to issue fake orders. And if I got caught Anny could get caught up in the mess, too. No, my hacking skills aren't going to be of any use this time. But dammit, I'm not gonna let her be left behind!"
"Well, if Anny won't ask Lord Vorkosigan, maybe we should try."
"Yeah, maybe. We sure have to try something!"
[Scene Break]
"Hey, Lieutenant, got a minute?"
Anny saw that Corporal Kane was standing in front of her desk. She'd been drawing little doodles of suits of battle armor on a note pad… "Sure, what's up?"
"It's about the Gazette, sir. I was thinking that with the 61st leaving, but as far as I've heard, all the families staying behind, we really ought to think about sending a reporter along with the men."
"A reporter?"
"Sure! You know, someone to send stories back here. Let the folks know what their boys are up to and all."
"I imagine that most of the news organizations will be sending their own people along to cover this. It's big news at the moment, y'know." And indeed it was. The Barrayaran Expeditionary Force was the biggest thing since Princess Kareen's birth. An unlikely alliance of many of the great powers was sending a peacekeeping force to the distant world of Nova Paveo to help quell a bloody war that had broken out there. Three other regiments, beside the 61st were being sent plus a large contingent of support units. The news organizations were very interested.
"Yeah, but they'll be focusing on the big picture. Doubt they'll give much coverage to our people. The families back here would probably appreciate hearing things of more local interest. We need someone with close ties to the regiment."
In spite of the gloom that had been wrapping her for days, Anny smiled. "Did you have someone in mind, Corporal?"
"Oh, not me, sir!" cried Kane. "Hell, I'm not even from the 61st! I used to be with the engineers until I decided that was way too much physical labor. Anyway, I'm the editor, I hafta stay here. But both Sergeant Elridge and Ed Malakov were making noises like they'd be interested."
"Really?" asked Anny in surprise. "I didn't think either of them would be…"
"Well, neither of them wanted to actually put in for it until we knew if it would even be allowed. Think you could get permission from the general, sir?"
"I… I'm not even sure he'd be the one to ask. He's not going on the expedition."
"But he's in charge of us. I was thinking we'd need his permission to send someone, but we might need other permissions to join the expedition, like you said. But one step at a time."
Kane seemed very earnest, but at the same time Anny suspected that he was Up To Something. Still she couldn't see any harm in it. "All right. I'll call his office and see what they say." She turned to her comconsoles and selected the code for Captain Vordranov, Vorsilva's chief of staff. After a moment the screen lit up and Vordranov scowled out at her.
"Yeah?" he said. Courtesy in the brigade staff had fallen off lately, she'd noticed.
"Captain, my corporal here has approached me with the idea of sending one of the people from my department along with the 61st as a news correspondent. They could send back stories about the troops for the families left behind. As you know, our work load here has dropped significantly recently and I could spare a man if the General agrees."
Vordranov snorted and looked skeptical, but he said: "I'll pass your request along to the General."
"Thank you, sir. Uh, considering the timeframe, a quick answer would be appreciated."
Vordranov's scowl grew deeper. "I said I'd pass it along," he growled and cut the connection.
"Okay," said Anny looking at Kane. "We'll see what happens."
"Thanks, sir!" Kane went away looking happy.
Anny sighed and went back to her doodling. Left behind. She was going to be left behind. Jer and Alby and Patric were heading off—off to a combat zone—and she was being left behind. She might not see Jer again for two years or even longer. She might never have reason to put on a suit of battle armor again… With a snort of exasperation she scribbled over her doodles, wadded up the flimsy, and hurled it into the trash. Damn!
She stared at her comconsole. All she had to do was type in Lord Auditor Vorkosigan's code. He could fix this. He would fix this. He thought he owed her some debt, so he would do it for her. He spoke with the Emperor's Voice and even Vorsilva wouldn't dare tell him no. One little call and she'd be back with her platoon, her regiment… her man. The Vor used this sort of influence all the time, why shouldn't she? Ekaterin had said that he would move worlds for the people special to him. She didn't need a world moved—just a general. Her hand moved toward the keyboard and them she drew it back. Damn. Enough people have moved worlds for you already, girl. This is your problem.
Of course she had used influence in the past. She never would have made it into the Academy in the first place without help—a lot of help—from Countess Cordelia Vorkosigan. And she'd gotten all that help preparing for the Academy from Kou and Drou Koudelka. And she'd always suspected that there was a guardian angel or two watching over her once she finally got to the Academy. But she'd never actually asked for any special treatment. Alby had used his father's influence to pull some strings now and then to get her and him and Jer and Patric all assigned to the same duty, but that was different. She'd been proud that she'd only used influence to even things out, never to tilt them in her favor. She'd made it this far by dint of her own blood, sweat, and tears, she didn't want to change that.
But she was going to be left behind…
She was still sitting there, frozen, when a ping from the comconsole reminded her that she needed to get moving. She pushed herself up from her chair, put on her greatcoat and headed back to her quarters. She changed into her dress greens even though the greatcoat would cover it up again. She had to let out her sword belt two notches to fit over the bulky garment. As she did so, she realized that she'd skipped dress parade for the last three weeks…or was it four? She was getting lax.
But today's parade was different and she wanted to be there.
She went down the steps and out the door. Some low, scudding clouds were dropping a few flakes of snow as they hurried past and Anny turned up the collar of her coat to try and keep out the chill breeze. It was nearly Winterfair. The companies of the regiment—all three battalions—were heading for the parade ground and she followed along.
The band was already there, playing martial tunes, and a sizable crowd of spectators was lining the edges of the field despite the cold weather. The companies took their positions along the edge of the field and Anny walked over to her usual post with the staff. Alby was there and they nodded to each other. The battalion adjutants were placing themselves with their colors and the regimental color guard moved to its spot. Only the colonel was missing.
The colonels.
She looked over her shoulder as a large staff ground car slid to a halt. Several men jumped out and opened the rear doors. There was a bit of a delay and then one of the men leaned into the car and then slowly helped another figure emerge.
Colonel Vortaglia.
The only pictures Anny had ever seen of the 61st's commander had been taken decades earlier so it was a small shock to see the ancient relic hobbling toward her. He was using a cane and leaning on the arm of a captain who seemed strangely familiar, although she couldn't place him. Fetherbay emerged behind Vortaglia and walked slowly, matching the pace and a step to the side.
Vortaglia passed by her a dozen paces away and she stared at his wizened, but well-tanned face. He looked even older than Alby's father, although she knew he was a few years younger. His greatcoat seemed about three sizes too large for him. The captain guided him to the proper spot and then after a moment's hesitation—seemingly to make sure the old man wouldn't topple over—he stepped away and came over to join the rest of the staff. Fetherbay glanced around to see that everything was ready and then nodded toward his adjutant and took his spot a few paces to Vortaglia's right and a step behind.
"Attention—Battalions!" shouted Captain Vorjanis and the dress parade began. It went just like every other dress parade except that when it came time for Vortaglia to run the regiment through the manual of arms there was an embarrassing delay when the un-named captain had to walk over to Vortaglia and remind him to turn on the tiny microphone clipped to his coat. The old man's voice barely carried to Anny and none of the men could hear him at all. Even with the loudspeakers working the Colonel's scratchy voice was hardly intelligible, but they made it through somehow.
As the captain returned to his spot he glanced at Anny and she suddenly realized where she'd met him before. Captain Vortaglia! He had been the adjutant of the 42nd Infantry when she'd been with them for her apprentice cruise in her senior year. Was he the Colonel's son? Grandson? Nephew? His face was set like stone and he didn't look at her again.
The dress parade reached the point where it would normally finish up and the officers would come forward to meet with the colonel, but today things were different. This wasn't just dress parade, it was the Change of Command. Vortaglia was officially turning the regiment—his regiment—over to Fetherbay.
The adjutant called everyone to attention and then extracted a flimsy from his coat which he read from. It was a standard set of orders from headquarters placing Fetherbay in command of the 61st Regiment of Imperial Infantry. He finished quickly and then stepped aside, nodding to Vortaglia.
This time the old man remembered to turn on his microphone. He coughed and then said: "Well, as the saying goes: all good things come to an end." His voice was a little stronger than it had been earlier. "And one of the best things in my life has been the honor of commanding the 61st. When I was first assigned here as a wet-behind-the-ears ensign I never imagined that…" Vortaglia went on for quite a while, recounting his career and his experiences. It was all fairly coherent, although he did repeat himself a few times. But the sun was going behind the ridge and Anny was slowly freezing solid in the wind. The men in the ranks were probably getting edgy.
But then Vortaglia said: "And now the 61st is moving out to a new adventure, new worlds, new challenges. Alas, these old legs and old arms will not allow me to lead you anymore. But the regiment is more than any one man. Faces and names may change but the regiment goes on! Colonel Fetherbay is a fine officer and I know he will lead you well. So, my comrades, I bid you farewell. May Fortune bless your arms and when you meet the foe, remember: Give Them the Cold Steel!"
Any question Anny may have had about whether the men were still paying attention to Vortaglia's words was answered by twenty-five hundred voices roaring a shout that echoed across the parade ground.
The silence that followed lingered for several long moments. Then Captain Vorjanis called the regiment to attention and ordered the sergeant carrying the regimental colors to come forward. The man marched straight up to Colonel Vortaglia and set the butt of the staff of the colors on the ground right in front of him. The old man reached out and grasped them. The sergeant let go, stepped back and saluted and then moved aside. Vortaglia looked the colors up and down and brushed his hand against the silk and fingered some of the battle ribbons dangling from the finial.
After a few seconds, Colonel Fetherbay walked forward a dozen paces and then turned to come back to stand in front of Vortaglia. He saluted crisply and said: "Sir, per the orders, I relieve you." They stared at each for a dozen heartbeats and then Vortaglia slowly raised the colors and passed them to Fetherbay.
"Sir, I stand relieved. The regiment is yours," replied Vortaglia. He saluted and they shook hands. The only other sound was the sighing wind.
Fetherbay called the sergeant forward and gave the colors back to him and the man returned to his place in the color guard. At a signal from the adjutant, Anny and all the other commissioned and non-commissioned staff moved to take their posts behind Fetherbay, facing Vortaglia.
"Battalions!" shouted Fetherbay. "Shoulder-Arms!" Anny drew her sword and rested the blade against her right shoulder.
"Present-Arms!" The regiment saluted their former commander and held the salute for a long time. Vortaglia slowly returned it and nodded.
"Shoulder-Arms! The 61st Regiment Imperial Infantry will pass in review!"
Fetherbay moved toward the right of his regiment and the staff followed. A few other of the men rearranged themselves. The younger Vortaglia escorted the elder a hundred meters or so toward one edge of the field. When all was ready, Fetherbay commanded: "By company, right wheel into column—March!" The band started playing and all twelve companies simultaneously swung to the right and they were off.
By an ancient tradition, the regiment's sapper platoon lead the way, followed by Fetherbay and the staff, then the band, then the rest of the regiment. They marched a few hundred meters and then wheeled left, went another hundred meters or so and then wheeled left again. This brought them directly past where Colonel Vortaglia was standing.
Anny had marched in reviews once a week for four years at the Academy, but she'd never been with the regimental staff during one before. Once they had saluted Vortaglia they didn't just march on by. Instead Fetherbay led them around to the right until they were standing next to Vortaglia. Meanwhile the band was circling around to the left until it was facing them. The rest of the regiment would pass in between.
As the 1st Battalion came abreast, the band struck up the 61st's marching song and the men belted out the words.
"The Colonel said: Give them your steel!
And we crushed the foes beneath our heel;
We'll crush our foes both near and far;
For the Emperor! For Barrayar!
Anny glanced to her left and could see tears on Vortaglia's cheeks. She was blinking furiously and vainly to keep them off her own.
When the last company passed by, Fetherbay led them out and followed along with the band bringing up the rear. Two more left wheels brought them back to where they'd started from. The regiment wheeled into line, opened ranks, and presented arms again and they were done. The Colonel dismissed the regiment and the battalion commanders dismissed their battalions. The officers started to drift away as the sergeants marched the companies off to their dinners. Alby gave her a wave but Anny was staring at the two small figures on the far side of the field. The staff car coasted up and the men slowly got inside. She looked back to where the regiment was being swallowed up in the gathering dark…
… leaving Anny behind.