Of Treasons Born (20 page)

Storch grimaced and Prescott looked incredulous.

Martinson said, “Why wasn't such an issue reported to me? It could have affected everyone at the academy.”

Abraxa said, “Sir, once we corrected the problem, we felt it wasn't necessary to bother you with it.”

York wasn't sure what to think as Martinson nodded slowly and said, “Well, that was kind of you. It is time to vote on Mr. Ballin's continued tenure here at the academy. But given his father's sacrifice in defense of the empire, I recommend we give the young man one more year to see if he can improve.”

Laski stepped forward. “B-but he's a liar and a cheat.”

Prescott spoke for the first time. “Really? Now that is alarming. How did he cheat?”

“I don't know,” Laski said. “But I know he did. That's the only way his kind could have done well.”

Storch looked like he'd just tasted something quite foul. “I agree with Captain Martinson. Let's give the young man another year.”

Prescott said, “I'm good with that.”

“I vote nay,” Abraxa said.

Murtaugh looked back and forth between them, his eyes wide. “I … ah.” Abraxa gave him a furious look. “I … ah … vote nay.”

“Then it's done,” Martinson said. “By three to two.” He looked at York. “Mr. Ballin, you get another year, but see to it you take advantage of our generosity and show us some improvement. You're dismissed.”

York saluted, turned and walked to the door, his legs feeling a little weak. Out in the hall, he tried to recall everything he'd just seen and heard, and was quite certain he didn't understand any of it.

After finals that year, they were all granted a twenty-day leave. The plebes who had made it through the year all celebrated with a couple of loud and boisterous off-campus parties, then they went their separate ways, most to visit family. Karin and York spent a couple of days together, then she went back to her father's estate.

Alone, York did some sightseeing. He took a guided tour of some of the ruins of the civilization that had long ago occupied Terr, but all the major cities were still too hot to enter without shielded radiation suits. And the sites they could visit were so old there wasn't much to see. He grew bored and was quite pleased when his leave ended.

He then spent four tendays on his third-class cruise, supposedly his first time in uniform on a real naval vessel and part of a real naval crew. He and a couple of dozen other plebes were assigned to a patrol ship that made the rounds of the Lunan System, where they were exposed to the day-to-day life aboard ship. Some of York's classmates were quite excited by it all, but for York, most of it was not new. He did enjoy the chance to actually stand on the bridge of a ship and put navigation and ship-handling skills to use; until then, it had all been purely academic.

Following the cruise, the plebes were shuffled into different platoons. They spent one tenday on the surface of Terr running through a series of physically demanding ground-combat exercises. Almost everyone suffered an injury or two, some quite serious, but only a few fatal.

When York returned to Luna, he had another twenty-day leave before it would be time to report for his second year at the academy. He wasn't looking forward to the time off because he knew he'd be wretchedly lonely. He took a shuttle up to Luna Prime and went to one of the bars near the docks. As he had suspected, while they didn't openly advertise it, there were plenty of prostitutes available for the asking, and for the right price. He struck up a conversation with a pretty young girl in a bar, but his heart wasn't in it, so he bought her a drink, had a couple himself, then left and took the next shuttle back down to the surface.

He did get one pleasant surprise: Karin showed up several days early, and they renewed their friendship most vigorously. They weren't in love, and they both knew they couldn't allow it to go that far, but there was something about sex with Karin that meant far more than just the simple physical act. And he also had a thoroughly good time with her when not under the sheets.

Chapter 21:

Just Friends

When York checked in for his second year, he was assigned to a room that he would share with three other second-year midshipmen. It had a private fresher, with a shower and toilet facilities, and closets—not lockers—for their uniforms. York had never had a closet before, or a room for that matter. As a child, he'd slept on a cot in the corner of the main room of Maja and Toll's government subsidized housing. As a spacer, he'd slept in his coffin or in a large bunk room not unlike that in Plebe Hall.

“I'm assigned to the same room,” Karin said. “How'd that happen?”

York looked around the room. “I don't know, but we're going to have to be very careful.”

“Oh,” she said. “That's right—roommates, strictly off-limits.” She gave him a conspiratorial look. “If we're going to share a room, we may have trouble confining our extracurricular activities to off-campus venues.”

Muldoon showed up, and to their surprise, he, too, had been assigned to their room, which they all agreed could not be coincidence. When Tony arrived, also assigned to the room, they got their answer. “I pulled some strings,” he said. Only Tony could get away with that.

“Ballin.”

At the sound of Abraxa's shout, they all cringed.

Abraxa conducted a white-glove, black-sock inspection of York's bunk and study space. Since they hadn't begun to move in yet, and the room had been unoccupied for some months, he uncovered enough dirt to start York's year off with a healthy dose of demerits. The four of them stood at attention for ten minutes while Abraxa shouted in York's face, and it was then that York realized that, for all intents and purposes, his plebe year would never end.

“Sorry, York,” Tony said. “Wish there was something I could do.”

Now that they were upperclassmen, they were free to harass the incoming plebes, but York's memories of his own plebe year were a little too fresh for him to do so with any enthusiasm. He recalled how some upperclassmen overdid it a bit and resolved not to do so himself. Tony, Karin, and Muldoon took their cues from York, and like him, they moderated their participation in the education of plebes.

Lying in bed beside Karin in a hotel in town on one of the few lazy afternoons they could steal, York traced a finger along the curve of her bare hip, and recalled doing the same with Sissy in his coffin what seemed an eternity ago.

Karin said, “You look sad. What's wrong?”

“Oh,” York said. “I was just thinking of my first love.”

“Ballin, you're not supposed to think of her when you're with me.” She sat up, not a hint of modesty about her nakedness. “Not that we're going to fall in love or anything. But it bruises my ego if you can think about her when I'm sitting here like this.” She held her hands out to either side to better display her attractions.

“Don't worry,” he said. “She's dead.”

“That's even worse. You can think of a dead woman when I'm here, naked, available, and drop-dead gorgeous.”

He said, “You reminded me of her, though she was really very different from you.”

“How did she die?”

“I wasn't there, got a letter from one of the marines in her platoon telling me she was gone.”

She swung her legs out of bed, stood, crossed the room, and threw on a robe, then sat down on the bed beside him. “You promised me you'd tell me about yourself before graduation. I learned a little when I saw all the chest candy you'd earned, but I don't want to wait two more years to hear who the real York Ballin is.”

He could trust her not to spread his secrets, but he wondered how she'd feel when she knew the truth. He decided to just hit her over the head with the worst. “Shortly before my twelfth birthday, I was convicted of felony murder and sentenced to life on a prison mining asteroid.”

Her jaw dropped and her mouth opened into a wide, incredulous
O
. He got a little satisfaction from seeing the always unflappable Karinina Toletskva struck so completely speechless.

“They really didn't give me a choice when they pressed me into the navy, told me they'd fake my signature if I didn't willingly sign the enlistment papers.”

He told her about his first months aboard
Dauntless
, and the mistakes he'd made. When he told her of the lash, she reached out and touched the scars on his shoulder, and he saw a tear in her eye. He told her about Sissy, the pain of their separation, the pain in his soul when he heard she'd been killed. He told her all of it.

“I'm the only survivor of the
Andor Vincent
who hasn't shown signs of mental instability. Apparently, they want to keep an eye on me, and the academy is a good place to keep me alive while they do so.”

“Wow,” she said. “You've already lived a whole fucking lifetime.”

He leaned toward her, brushed his lips across her cheek, and said, “By the way, you were right about being drop-dead gorgeous.”

“Well then, I guess you're forgiven for thinking about her. But don't do it again.”

During the second year at the academy, they were required to take more advanced courses, so from an academic standpoint, it was even more demanding. And there was no slackening of the physical requirements, so sharing a lazy afternoon with Karin in a hotel in town proved to be a real rarity.

York thought he did rather well on his first-semester finals, though it came as no surprise when the results were reported that he was again near the bottom of his class. Tony noticed the discrepancy and mentioned it. “You're tutoring me, and yet I'm at the top of the class and you're at the bottom.”

York didn't have the heart to tell him the truth, so he said, “I guess it just sometimes works out that way.”

Tony accepted that answer, but he frowned in thought, as if it had finally occurred to him that all was not as it seemed.

Even though York knew it would make no difference in the end, he continued to study and work hard. If nothing more, he stubbornly refused to give Laski and Abraxa the satisfaction of seeing him fail without their intervention. At year-end when the finals scores were released, there were no surprises. He dreaded the inevitable academic review board. At the last one, Martinson had given him another year on the condition that he show improvement, and now he had shown none, at least as far as his official scores were concerned.

At the appointed hour, he went to the same conference room in the Administration Building, knocked on the same door, and stood before the same table. As before, Laski sat in a chair to one side, and again, Martinson, Abraxa, and Murtaugh sat behind the table as members of the review board, though Storch and Prescott had been replaced with two officers named Charter and Minkowski.

Martinson opened by reading the minutes of the last review, which were a dry recitation of the facts. Laski grew visibly uncomfortable when, in a monotone, Martinson read, “Commander Laski then accused Mr. Ballin of being a liar and a cheat, and when asked how Mr. Ballin had cheated, he stated, ‘I don't know. But I know he did. That's the only way his kind could have done well.' The board agreed that that was not sufficient evidence, so the accusations of lying and cheating were not acted upon. And by a vote of three to two, Mr. Ballin was given another year on the condition he show improvement.”

“Well, there you have it,” Abraxa said. “That's the key: He was supposed to show improvement and he hasn't, so this meeting should be rather short. I move we vote on expulsion.”

Martinson said, “Excellent idea, Nathan. But first there's a discrepancy I'd like to clear up. You said Mr. Ballin has shown no improvement, but I believe he has.”

Laski stood and said, “No, Captain Martinson, he hasn't. Mr. Ballin was in the bottom ten percent of his class last year, and he's in the bottom ten percent again this year.”

Martinson hit a switch and a small screen appeared in the desk in front of him. He manipulated something on the screen, frowned, and said, “I don't know where you got your information, Commander, but while you're right that he was in the bottom ten percent last year, the records show that he finished in the bottom fifteen percent this year, a nice five percent improvement.”

Abraxa frowned and leaned over to look at the screen in front of Martinson.

“That's not possible,” Laski said. “I entered his scores myself.”

Minkowski leaned forward and said, “Commander Laski, you're his academic adviser, but not one of his instructors. You're not supposed to be entering his scores into the system.”

Laski's face turned red. “I … I misspoke. I meant that I
reviewed
his scores myself.”

By that time, all five members of the board had each pulled up a screen and were apparently reviewing York's scores as entered in the system.

Charter said, “Well, Commander Laski, it appears you misread them. Captain Martinson is correct about Mr. Ballin's progress.”

York wanted to laugh and cry and shout and scream all at once, because when he'd checked the night before, he'd been in the bottom 10 percent. Had Martinson somehow done that, or maybe the retired Chief Petty Officer Parker?

Abraxa tried to argue that 5 percent wasn't enough progress, so they should still expel York, but by a three-to-two vote of the board, York got one more year in the academy.

He, Karin, Tony, and Muldoon went out and celebrated rather noisily.

At the beginning of their third year, Karin returned wearing an engagement ring. That saddened York a little because he'd assumed they'd continue their relationship as long as they were both at the academy. They had a few days before classes began so York, Tony, and Muldoon took her out to dinner to celebrate. She was quite excited about it all.

In the middle of dinner, Muldoon asked her, “When's the big day?”

“Not until after graduation and my evaluation tour,” she said. “I told my father I want to do this right, and as long as I don't get anywhere near the real action, he's okay with that.”

Tony ordered some very nice wine, and York's eyes popped when he saw the price tag. They killed the bottle, ordered another, killed that, and ordered another. York figured he'd be in debt for the rest of his life before the night was over, but Tony picked up the tab.

Outside the restaurant, Karin told Tony and Muldoon, “You two go on without us. I want to talk to York.”

York figured she wanted to explain her engagement, let him down without hurting him, which wasn't necessary since they'd both been very careful to allow no emotional attachment between them. When they were alone, he said, “You don't have to explain. I understand.”

She frowned and looked at him oddly. “What are you talking about? I've missed you.”

She stepped in and wrapped her arms around him, kissed him hotly, pressed her body against his. He couldn't help but respond, and when their lips parted, she whispered, “Oh, I've needed that.”

“But …” he said. “But … you're engaged. Isn't it over between us?”

She frowned again and looked quite perplexed. She cocked her head as if she needed to take a moment to process his words, then she threw her head back, and laughed. “I'm not going to see my fiancé for close to a year. Do you think I'm going to remain celibate that long?”

“I …” he said. “I guess … I figured …”

She held up her hand, displaying the ring, which looked like it probably cost more than York would make during his entire life. “This thing,” she said. “This is a corporate merger. He and I are friends, even fond of each other, but we're not in love. The sex is okay, but you're better. We'll bear heirs for his family and mine, and our marriage will act kind of like a treaty between nations. His family's interests and mine will compete, but no nasty stuff, and we might even merge certain operations. He'll have his mistresses and I'll have my lovers. You see, I'm as constrained by my father's fortune as Tony is by his father's titles.”

She kissed him again, almost defiantly. “I meant it when I said he's not as good as you, and I've built up a backlog of need. Let's get a room.”

Karin was quite vigorous that night.

As a second-class midshipman, York took a greater role in the education of plebes. He'd come to realize that the sniping wasn't just hazing. If he excluded the occasional sadist, or those with a hidden agenda like Abraxa, the harassment and all the strange little customs had bonded York and the rest of his class as nothing else could. And as he gained more distance from his plebe year, he realized that the constant pressure had taught him to evaluate quickly and react instinctively, to think on his feet under the most stressful of circumstances. Still, he was careful not to overdo it when it was his turn to dish out the grief.

Abraxa kept the pressure on, sniping York like a plebe at every opportunity. Tony had previously expressed his concern over Abraxa's behavior with a quiet comment or two to York, but at the beginning of their third year, he grew more open about it. It came to a head in the middle of that year when Abraxa cornered York in front of their dormitory and upbraided him in front of a large crowd.

Tony stepped in and said, “See here, Abraxa. Your abuse of an upperclassman makes us all look bad.”

In the middle of shouting in York's face, Abraxa froze and turned a cold look upon Tony. York thought Tony had been unwise to speak in the first place, would be wise now to shut up and leave it at that, but apparently Lord Anton Simma thought his titles and position would protect him, and he continued. “Your petty sniping demonstrates a level of intolerance I find exceedingly distasteful.”

Abraxa was silent for a moment, then he exploded and turned his abuse on Tony. He heaped a wealth of demerits on both Tony and York, and hopefully Tony learned a valuable lesson that day.