Into the Fire

by Elizabeth Moon

  In the bedroom, she faced a huge bed with a massive carved-wood frame; the headboard included the seals of all the branches in the Defense Department, in high relief, in the same left-to-right order as on the Commandant’s insignia on her shoulders. The pointy end of the old-fashioned spaceship in the Spaceforce logo stuck out at least five centimeters. From the rub-marks on the other side, generations of Commandants had decided to sleep on the other side of the bed—the carved waves under the Sea Forces ship had blurred just a little—rather than risk spiking themselves on the head. She shouldn’t—but she lay down, just for a moment.

  The yellow comunit on the bedside table let out a loud buzz before her eyes could close.

  “At least it wasn’t the red one,” Ky muttered, heaving herself out of the bed before she answered.

  “Commandant, this is Major Osinery, in the Academy’s Public Affairs office. I was at your address to the cadets—excellent job—but didn’t meet you as I was supervising the recording.”

  Recording? They’d been recording it? Of course they would, she realized after a moment of shock.

  “The thing is, Commandant, something has come up that—that the Commandant needs to be aware of. I don’t suppose you’re watching the midafternoon news break—”

  “No, I wasn’t,” Ky said, just barely managing not to say It’s my first day I just found out this morning I’d have this job do you really think I have time to sit around watching the midafternoon news all in one breath.

  “There’s something on now, if you could just spare ten minutes or so, that has generated requests for an interview with you, and we will need at least a half hour to brief you—”

  “Perhaps you could just tell me what it is,” Ky said.

  “I’m not sure that’s—could you just come to our office in Old Main for a conference?”

  “No, that’s impossible,” Ky said. “As you can imagine, the sudden and unexpected departure of the previous Commandant has left a lot of loose ends, which I’m busy dealing with. Also, I don’t have a full uniform set yet; that’s supposed to be delivered tomorrow.”

  “But you had on a uniform at the—”

  “Yes, but it was hastily altered from an AirDefense dress uniform at the base. For any formal interview, I should be wearing a uniform that is perfect in every detail, don’t you think?”

  “Oh. Yes. Yes, of course, Commandant. I thought they would have told you sooner—”

  “Kvannis only ran off last night,” Ky said. “No one expected that. I didn’t know about this assignment until this morning. I suggest you offer a written statement from your office, to the effect that because of the suddenness of the former Commandant’s departure, and the unexpected nature of the appointment, Commandant Vatta is extremely busy sorting out—I suppose we shouldn’t say the mess Kvannis left but that’s what the statement should mean, in whatever tactful language you want to use. Commandant Vatta is committed to the Academy and its mission, and to the welfare of all cadets in training.”

  “Oh…yes, Commandant. Uh—may we use a clip from today’s recording?”

  “Very brief, and I hope you spent some time capturing the audience reaction. Come by my office here in the residence so I can see it when you’ve got it together.”

  “Yes, Commandant.”

  She finished the sandwich and thought longingly of a few hours’ sleep. She peered into the bathroom, the walk-in closets—one empty, one with her few clothes hung neatly at one end of the pole. Back to the sitting room. Its window overlooked a small paved area apparently off the kitchen and one end of the Science Complex. She sat down in one of the club chairs. Quiet. Solitude. Where was Rafe? All the others had reported in long ago. She dragged her mind back to the faculty reception, reviewing the names she knew, and checked the time. Her supposed rest period was dwindling; she should freshen up for the reception.

  “Commandant?” A tap on the door. “Major Osinery, from Public Affairs—”

  “Come in.”

  Her first thought was, Oh, not another one, because Major Osinery could have been Jen Bentik’s not-quite-twin sister: older, pretty, perfect in every way. But not, she realized at once, the same attitude, despite what she’d sounded like on the phone.

  “Commandant Vatta, I am so pleased to meet you—I never thought I’d get the chance.” Osinery flushed. “Sorry—I mean, since we didn’t know you’d be the next Commandant until an hour before you arrived. I had heard of you, of course, but didn’t think—Sorry, I’m babbling. Here’s the press release; we can view the video on your desk—”

  “Let’s go down to the briefing room; it’s almost time for me to head for the faculty/staff reception, anyway.”

  Downstairs, she reviewed and approved the brief press release; the video clip Osinery had chosen should play well, she thought. Osinery left. By then MacRobert had shown up, to brief her on the reception; they walked together into the residence’s dining room, where the kitchen staff had laid out refreshments.

  Ky complimented the chef and staff, and then the faculty began to straggle in and introduce themselves. She let her implant record it all. In case some of the faculty were part of the conspiracy—though she doubted it—any detail of expression or posture might reveal it. Later, she circulated through the room. The instructors she’d had seemed glad to see her again; others were simply curious. They all left promptly at the end of the hour, excusing themselves politely, all according to military courtesy, and she looked at the ravaged platters of food ruefully. She hadn’t had time to eat even one pastry.

  Chef Volud reappeared. “If you would like, those could be sent to your suite for snacking. And your dinner will be ready in forty minutes, if that suits. Will you eat down here, or in your suite?”

  “Let me just check before you go up,” MacRobert said, before she could answer.

  “I’m taking one of those pastries now,” Ky said. The sandwich had not been enough. “And I’m sitting down.” She snagged a pastry off one of the platters and sat in the nearest chair.

  “I’ll bring your dinner here, then,” Chef Volud said. “You are tired and hungry; that is something I understand.”

  One of the staff poured her a cup of tea and asked if she would prefer coffee instead.

  “Tea is fine, thank you,” Ky said. “I just haven’t slept much the past two—three—nights.” Her feet were throbbing. She wanted her other boots, not these new ones.

  “It must be difficult,” said one of the staff, a young woman whose name tag read LORIN.

  “It’s been a surprising day,” Ky said. “A good night’s sleep should take care of it.” Only she wasn’t going to have a good night’s sleep because Rafe was somewhere far out in the country and she didn’t know if he was safe or in jail or something. Rodney’s report was many hours old. And she had to sleep in an unfamiliar bed with what looked like the perfect way to get a headache built into the headboard.

  Sooner than expected, her dinner appeared; it smelled delicious. MacRobert came in with his own plate, two sandwiches made with leftover cold cuts from the reception. “May I?”

  “Certainly.”

  He sat across the big table from her; they ate in silence until she was through. The little dessert plate of cheese and grapes and one chocolate truffle had finished it perfectly. “So,” Ky said, “any other useful tips?”

  “You haven’t had time to meet your security detail; you should do that before you go to bed, if you can.”

  “Of course.”

  “They won’t be permanent, most likely—”

  “Neither will I,” Ky said. “I’m interim.”

  “Not as interim as some of these are. You don’t have Kvannis’s detail, but most are still from the Academy list. I haven’t combed them deeply yet.”

  “Let’s go, then,” Ky said. “And—I need to arrange transport for Rafe when he calls in.”

  “Yes. It sounds like something Stella could arrange. Have you called her?”

  “No. No time,
really.”

  “It will come better from you, after last night. It was a very near thing.” When she just looked at him, Mac went on. “You hadn’t heard? The house was attacked after you left—all communications cut off first. That’s what alerted Vatta Security, though it took them awhile to respond. The attackers broke in from above. Stella was alone; she fought them off until help arrived.”

  “Is she all right?” Ky knew Stella would be furious, would connect this to every time Stella had felt unprotected.

  “Yes, but the house isn’t. A lot of damage upstairs, the security office wrecked…”

  “Security detail first, then I’ll call her.”

  When she had met the security detail, she went upstairs and hoped for an early night. No one interrupted her during her shower, or while she dressed again in her own clothes and put her Commandant’s uniform and her personal armor in the ’fresher, but she knew they could. She called Stella’s skullphone.

  “Ky? You could at least have told me—”

  So Stella was comfortable enough now to complain. “I’m sorry. We thought you’d be safer if no one knew; we were wrong.”

  “Yes, you were. I’m at Grace’s house; home is unlivable for now.” She sounded amazingly cheerful about that. Ky tried to think what to say, but Stella went right on. “I’m fine, but for a few scratches and bruises. You know that annoying Mr. Prescott across the street?”

  “Yes…”

  “Well, he was working for Quindlan, and that’s how he afforded the house. Spying on us. You were right about that. He’s under arrest now.” Stella actually chuckled; the hair stood up on Ky’s neck. Was this the same Stella? “He came storming over to complain about the noise and claimed I was having a wild party; once he saw the bodies he nearly passed out and started gibbering.”

  “The bodies—?”

  “I killed them, Ky. Or most of them. But I had to, and I did, and it was different. I was afraid—not just of them, but of being a killer like my father, like Osman. I’m not afraid now. I’m not like him. Not ‘that idiot Stella,’ either. I can kill when I have to, and stop when I don’t have to. It’s a good feeling.”

  “I’m…happy for you,” Ky said.

  “Have you heard more about Rafe?”

  “Not since Rodney’s report yesterday. He drove one of their trucks, to dump it, then didn’t show up at the pickup site. He called Rodney, said he was on the run but fine. A local station in the west reported that a man had killed three men, stuffed their bodies in a truck, and fled over the fence at a train station. His ID was found in clothing on the fence.”

  “He’s very capable,” Stella said. “Maybe he’s hiding out where he can’t get a signal.”

  “I hope so.”

  “You sound tired—where are you?”

  “At the Academy.” The incongruity of the situation hit her suddenly, exhaustion and worry making it suddenly funny. “I’m the—” She couldn’t stop the laughter. “I’m the new—the new Commandant!”

  “You’re what? Are you serious?”

  The urge to laugh vanished as fast as it had appeared. “Yes. I’m just very, very tired and it’s been a long busy two days. And I’m worried. Stella, I’m sorry I was wrong and you were attacked. And I’m so tired—I really need sleep.”

  “Talk to me tomorrow,” Stella said. She sounded calm, reasonable, no undertones of resentment at all.

  “I will.”

  Ky lay back on the bed and hoped for sleep so deep nothing could wake her. She suspected something would. Sure enough, the moment she had turned out the light, one of the coms beside the bed rang. Yellow again.

  “Commandant? This is Major Hemins. We have a situation in the second-years.”

  “Define situation.” She fought back a yawn.

  “A fight. Three cadets. About…um…you. Your selection. Whether it was legal.”

  “What is the protocol for handling fights among cadets these days?” Ky asked. “In my day, cadets fighting would have been confined to quarters overnight and lined up in front of the Commandant’s desk the next day.”

  “It’s…well, that’s it, but I thought you should know.”

  “Of course I should know, if I’m going to be ripping them a new one tomorrow morning. I want them in my office at 0700. And I want a complete report on the fight on my desk within the hour.”

  “Yes, Commandant. By complete you mean—”

  “Complete. Start to finish. Witness names, names of staff in that barracks, full dossier on all three cadets. You can cut and paste, for the background, but I want it all.”

  “Yes, Commandant. Within the hour.” He sounded tired, as she was, and not completely convinced.

  “Major, if you think I’m on the wrong tack, spit it out.”

  “Not wrong, Commandant; it’s your choice. But—it’s not characteristic, and all this is sudden—”

  As if wars weren’t. Ky swallowed another yawn. “And?”

  “This class started with the Old Man—before Kvannis. And then the shuttle crashed and Kvannis took over. Yes, the Old Man had been grooming him for it, but it wasn’t the same, couldn’t be. And now Kvannis is out and you’re the third Commandant they’ve had in a year and a half. And to these cadets it doesn’t matter whether Kvannis ran or was booted, it’s still another sudden switch. They knew Kvannis; he’d been second in command when they arrived; the senior classes all knew him, too. They don’t know you except by reputation.”

  Ky said nothing, waiting him out. Somewhere in there was something he thought important.

  “That’s no excuse, of course. The fight was wrong; they have to be disciplined…”

  “Do you have a suggestion, Major?”

  “The whole class is upset and they’ve been talking it over, arguing. Only three of them actually mixed it up before their cadet officer got there, at least that she saw.”

  “Um. Do you know why they think my appointment wasn’t legal? Just the change or something specifically about me?”

  “That I don’t know. But I know since the Old Man died the tone has changed. You were here; you remember how in the second year a class really begins to come together.”

  She did remember, though she’d paid little attention to her memories of her class. “Yes—for some of us it was earlier, but most—second year.”

  “Well, it hasn’t happened in this class. There are little groups, but not any real unity.”

  “That…puts a slightly different light on it, Major. So you noticed a preexisting disunity, not connected to me because I wasn’t here.”

  “Yes, Commandant. And I think whatever you choose to do, it needs to be something that will meld them together, at least get that started.”

  “Something that will affect the entire class—ideas?”

  “I can’t really think of anything, Commandant.”

  “All right. I’ll sleep on it. Tell them they’ll be seeing me in the morning; don’t specify a time. Confine them all to quarters until then, skip breakfast, mention ‘inspection’ and ‘classwork’ and let them sweat some. I’ll contact you in the morning, let you know if I’ve thought of something more than I planned at first.”

  “Yes, Commandant. Thank you.”

  “I need an idea fairy,” Ky said to the silence in her bedroom. And went to sleep.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  DAY 12

  The great hall was cold in the early-morning light, and the mass of second-year cadets standing in their ranks looked both hungry—they had not had breakfast—and sullen. Ky could feel the mood, as well as see it in their faces. Resentment, not just apprehension. Well…that was unity of a sort, however negative and transitory; all she had to do was make it positive and permanent. Major Hemins, beside her and a step behind, radiated determination, if not confidence in her.

  “I was informed late last night that a new disturbance had broken out among the second-year class.” Ky paused to let that sink in. More apprehension, less resentment, for the moment.
They didn’t know how much she knew. Good. “I was also informed that this is not the first disturbance among you, not the first sign you have not learned the importance of bonding among military officers. Why this was not handled promptly and effectively before, I neither know nor care. What I will tell you is that on my watch, your lack of ability and willingness to trust your classmates—and to be worthy of their trust—will not be tolerated.”

  A vague stir among the cadets.

  “By this time in second year, you should have shown more growth in character. No doubt there are individuals among you who have done better than the rest, and no doubt you are proud of yourselves. But excellence in your own accomplishments is not enough for an officer, and your excellence has not transferred to your classmates. You have not brought them up to your standard.

  “And that is a vital part of leadership: to inspire, enforce, and enable excellence of character and skills in everyone who serves beside or under you. That is what your Academy training is for, not merely personal advancement.” She paused again, seeing chagrin on some faces, stubborn resentment on others, surprise on a few. What had Kvannis been doing, that these youngsters didn’t already know this?

  “Now,” she said, “as far as the cause of various disturbances, it seems that some of you feel qualified to critique the actions of officers who are far senior to you. And you feel it appropriate to incite or take part in arguments and…disturbances…related to your opinions. I remind you of Section Fourteen, paragraph one, in the Joint Services Manual of Courts-Martial, as well as Section Three, paragraph one-f, in the Code of Conduct for this Academy: ‘Cadets are not to engage in discussions of politics outside those classes in which it is relevant.’ Inciting disturbances is an article within the Joint Services Code of Military Justice, an article that, if it appears in someone’s service record, whether a court-martial finds them guilty or not, permanently excludes that individual from having a security clearance above Basic Two. And thus, since officers must all possess a Senior Two or above, it excludes any person awaiting commissioning from being commissioned.”