Of Treasons Born

by J. L. Doty

  York followed the traditional formula, stood at attention, and saluted Laski. The commander returned the salute, but this time did not tell York to stand at ease. York stood there rigid as a post for a good ten minutes, sweat dripping down his back inside his shirt, before Laski finally acknowledged him.

  “So, Mr. Ballin, you falsified your record.”

  York said, “No, sir, I—”

  “Don’t speak,” Laski shouted, rising up out of his chair, his hands flat on the desk in front of him, “unless you’re invited to.”

  Laski took a deep breath to calm himself, then sat down. “Nathan tells me …” He glanced over his shoulder and smiled at Abraxa, who smiled back at him. “Nathan tells me he encountered you on a passenger liner on your way here, tells me you were wearing a spacer’s uniform. Is that true?”

  York opened his mouth, but Laski didn’t let him speak.

  “Of course it’s true, since His Lordship says it is. So you’re a liar and a cheat. You’ve been cheating all along, haven’t you?”

  York had to say something in his defense. “No, sir, I haven’t.”

  “You expect me to believe you got these scores on your own?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Impossible.”

  “Why is that impossible, sir?”

  Laski shook his head, turned slightly and said to Abraxa, “He just doesn’t understand, does he?”

  Abraxa said, “I suppose that’s to be expected.”

  Laski looked at York as if he were something distasteful that had been scraped off the bottom of someone’s boot. “It’s impossible because your kind is just not capable of performing at the level required by the academy. Again, with the benefit of your cheating, it appears that you scored in the upper thirty percent of the class on these midterms. But we know better, don’t we, Mr. Ballin?”

  “And how do you know that, sir?”

  “As I told you, you’re just not capable of scoring well on these tests. So I’m lowering your score to what I’m certain you would have done had you not cheated.”

  “But I—”

  “Don’t speak, Mr. Ballin. If it were up to me, we’d expel you immediately. But Commandant Martinson won’t allow it, says I must have hard evidence, doesn’t realize that you yourself are the only hard evidence we need. But then he’s fundamentally one of you anyway.”

  The new scores Laski applied to York’s midterm results put him in the bottom 10 percent of the class, which meant York’s enrollment would come under review and he might possibly flunk out.

  At the end of his plebe year, after finals, Laski called York into his office to tell him what a piece of shit he was. Again Laski was certain York had cheated because his exam scores were higher than possible for his kind, so Laski adjusted his scores accordingly. York finished the year in the lowest 10 percent of the class, and was called before an academic review board. At the appointed hour, he knocked on the door to a conference room in the Administration Building, popped the door a crack, and said, “Midshipman Ballin reporting as ordered.”

  Someone inside said, “Enter.”

  He opened the door, stepped through, closed it, and marched forward to stand before a table behind which sat Martinson, Abraxa, Murtaugh, and two other company officers he vaguely recognized. York glanced briefly at the two men’s name tags: Storch and Prescott. Laski sat in a chair to one side, and York wondered if that meant he wasn’t part of the review board.

  York squared his shoulders and saluted. Martinson returned the salute with a crisp snap of his hand and said, “Let’s bring this meeting to order. We’re here to review the academic performance of Midshipman Fourth Class York Ballin.”

  He looked to Laski. “Commander, as Mr. Ballin’s academic adviser, would you care to begin?”

  Laski stood. “Certainly, sir.” He took a dramatic breath, then continued, “I feel sorry for Mr. Ballin. It’s not his fault that the academic rigors of the academy are simply beyond his abilities. I think we should show leniency upon his expulsion, perhaps allow him to take a position in the lower ranks.”

  Abraxa said, “As his battalion officer, I am, of course, familiar with his performance, but perhaps you could summarize it for us all, Commander.”

  Laski gave Abraxa a smarmy smile. “Certainly, Your Lordship. I should say that Mr. Ballin has performed poorly from the beginning, always in the bottom ten percent of his class. He tries hard, but he struggles. I even asked Midshipman Lord Simma if he could help Mr. Ballin by tutoring him, and he was kind enough to do so. But unfortunately, this young man is just not up to academy standards. As I say, it’s not really his fault; his kind is just not up to the task.”

  With those words, Storch and Prescott both frowned.

  Abraxa said, “Yes, that’s clear to us all.”

  Prescott’s frown deepened.

  Laski continued. “Part of the problem is that Mr. Ballin does not understand or accept his own limitations. He thinks he is as capable as any of the rest of us. In fact, if you were to ask him, I wouldn’t be surprised if he believes that he did better on his exams than the scores indicate. He might even have some paranoid delusion that his scores have been changed after the fact, as if that were possible.”

  “Yes,” Abraxa said. “It’s always easier to credit some conspiracy with one’s problems than to accept one’s own failings.”

  Clearly, Abraxa and Laski must have feared that York might accuse them of tampering with his scores. But while he’d briefly considered doing so, they’d anticipated him and effectively countered any allegations he might make. He couldn’t prove anything, and it would only make him sound like a petty whiner.

  Abraxa and Laski went back and forth with what appeared to be a carefully rehearsed dialogue. They dissected York’s personality, parentage, intelligence, and moral character, establishing that all were clearly not up to academy standards. And while they had tried desperately to help the poor, dumb fool, it saddened them that they had failed.

  Laski finished with, “I almost feel it’s my fault that Mr. Ballin has done so poorly.”

  “Not at all, Commander,” Abraxa said. “Don’t even consider the possibility.”

  York was never offered the opportunity to say anything in his own defense, and he dare not speak without permission. He could only stand there and seethe.

  Abraxa finished by thanking Laski, who sat down. Abraxa then said, “It’s sad, but it’s clear we have no choice. I recommend we offer Mr. Ballin an opportunity to resign his commission.” He looked at Captain Martinson. “Shall we vote on it now, sir?”

  Martinson smiled. “Yes, in a moment, but first I have one question. As I recall, his first-semester scores were reasonably good”—he looked Laski’s way—“and yet you say his performance has been terrible throughout the year.”

  Laski stood again. “Oh … sir … those earlier scores were incorrect. … A glitch in the computer. We found the error and corrected it.”

  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 ju
st 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 alr
eady 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.”