Against the Odds

by Elizabeth Moon

  "I think I've seen a bit of the real world," Brun said, scowling.

  "Yes. And Lt. Suiza here has seen more. But there's a lot neither of you knows about. Remember when Ottala Morreline disappeared, and there was all that trouble on Patchcock? That's when your father and I began to realize how deep the chasm was, just on the topic of rejuvenation therapy alone. The Familias isn't like the other multistar organizations we know of . . . there's no . . . no coherence to it. It just sort of grew, absorbing anything that lay in its sphere of influence."

  Brun looked thoughtful. "Kate says something like that, but she keeps harping on a constitution."

  "Yes, well, the Lone Star Confederation is a constitutional government. Until we moved in, the Crescent Worlds were a religious one. Most governments start with either a common culture or a common political theory. We didn't. This laissez-faire approach worked very well for a long time, because the founding septs were rich, and the worlds they gathered in brought them even more profits. But it couldn't go on forever. Especially not when most of the people who actually had power started acting like dilettantes."

  "Excuse me—" A brisk woman in a flowered jumper came in. "It's time to turn the tank, Ser Mahoney." Esmay and Brun stepped back as she came to the bed. "Visitors out, please. This'll take about a half hour, to rotate and reposition."

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Castle Rock: Breitis Rehabilitation Pavilion,

  Limb Unit

  Esmay thought about what Kevil Mahoney had said, and the others had said, but none of it satisfied her, and when the nurse told them they could go back into Kevil's room, she spoke up.

  "I think your priorities are all off," Esmay said. Brun and Kate both looked startled.

  "What d'you mean? What could be more important than getting the government straightened out?"

  "Putting down this mutiny," Esmay said. "Look—if you don't have a loyal military, you're easy prey. The mutineers may be trying for a military coup. The Benignity says it won't invade right now . . . but why would you believe them? They admit to murdering one head of state; they say they've done it before. They tried to take Xavier just a few years ago. I'll bet they still want it. And the Bloodhorde—"

  "They're just ignorant barbarians," Brun said. "They're not a real threat."

  "Tell that to the people who died on Koskiusko," Esmay said. "Or the people they've hit on planets and stations with their piracy. They're not as serious a threat to the entire Familias as the Benignity, but I wouldn't call them negligible, either. They could certainly disrupt trade. And if they got hold of some of our front-line ships and weapons—"

  "You think like an admiral," Kevil said. "That's not a criticism; we need that input too."

  "I was looking up some history, last night," Esmay said. "All the way back to Old Earth, political entities had to start with security first, and then worry about organization. Even the old kingships, it said."

  "People gather to a government that makes them feel safe?" Brun asked. "That sounds kind of dull."

  Esmay grinned at her. "Which way would you rather get your thrills, in a sport you chose, or in a war?"

  "Point taken. So, the Fleet officer—"

  "Former officer—"

  "And soon to be again. The officer says look to our security first, which means get the mutiny settled."

  "And then—?"

  "And then we see what we have to work with. There's no way to hold all this together by force, even with the full strength of Fleet."

  "If you're right, Esmay—and I have to say you may be—then we need to get you back in Fleet as fast as possible."

  "I have no idea how a discharged officer gets back in service," Esmay said.

  "Heris Serrano did it," Brun said.

  "With the help of the Serrano family I don't doubt," Esmay said drily, "which I don't have."

  "You have me on your side, that counts for something. I could tackle Admiral Serrano on your behalf."

  * * *

  Another ally appeared almost as soon as they were back at the Thornbuckle town house. A servant announced, "General Casimir Suiza." Brun stared at Esmay, and Esmay, stunned, could not speak for a moment. Then she went to the door.

  Esmay's father, out of uniform, looked just as impressive. "Esmaya . . . I hope you'll let me in . . ."

  "I . . . of course." She opened the door wider. She could feel Brun's curiosity at her back and quickly introduced them.

  "You'll want to be alone," Brun said, standing up.

  "Not at all," General Suiza said. "Please stay—at least until I've explained why I'm here."

  Brun sat back down, but gave Esmay a glance.

  "Yes," Esmay said. "Please stay." Her heart was pounding; her mouth felt dry.

  "Esmay—I know I've failed you in the past, but I couldn't sit home and see you in trouble again without at least trying to help."

  "Sit down," Esmay said, waving to the couch. He sat, and clasped his hands. "How did you get here so fast?"

  "Someone sent word when you were discharged—to your home of record, apparently that's standard procedure—but you'll understand, it took quite a while for news of that to get to Altiplano. Then I heard you'd gotten on a merchant ship."

  "The Terakian Fortune."

  "Yes. There were delays in contacting Admiral Serrano, because she was in transit and because Fleet wasn't too cooperative with me in granting ansible access to what they called `foreign military.' The thing you need to know first, Esmaya, is that Admiral Vida Serrano had nothing to do with your discharge."

  "She didn't?"

  "No. She was angry, and so was I, that you young people chose to get married without anyone's consent. She was angry about what she thought our family had done to the Serrano patrons. But we agreed that history can wait while we deal with the present crisis."

  The thought of her father and Admiral Serrano concentrating their formidable executive powers on her career gave Esmay a shiver of apprehension.

  "Then the captain of the trader ship sent me a priority message from Zenebra, so I knew where you'd be next . . . and here I am. And don't tell me you don't need help," her father said. He glanced at Brun. "Everyone needs help sometimes. You've proven your ability and independence."

  "Thanks," Esmay said, feeling very trapped.

  "But I can ask you what Admiral Serrano can't. Do you want to get back in Fleet and command ships, or would you rather go back to Altiplano? Or settle in the Familias as a civilian?"

  "Space," Esmay said without hesitation. "But what about—"

  "First things first," her father said. "That was first—finding out what you wanted. They weren't going to draft you against your will. Then the next complication is, your status as Landbride. Their regulations and our Landsmen's Guild are both clear and unequivocal. I've argued the Landsmen's Guild into the grudging agreement that you can resign in absentia, and Luci can be invested without delay—we will need several locks of your hair—" He looked at it. "If you could manage even a short braid—"

  "Of course. And do I need to sign anything?"

  "I brought the Order of Renunciation. . . ." He gave her a long look. "Esmaya . . . I want you to know that you will always be welcome at home; Luci says that too. She's still managing your herd; your Starmount award grant will always be yours. Your children—should you and Barin have children, which I hope you do—will be welcome there, as well, and considered legitimate heirs to the estancia."

  Her eyes stung with sudden tears. "Father—I do love the land . . . and Altiplano . . ."

  "I know that. And Altiplano is very proud of its hero." He took a big breath and sighed. "Thank God you're not shutting me out—I was so afraid—"

  From the distance of several years her anger now looked more like a local storm than a planet-circling cataclysm. He had been wrong; he was trying to make amends. A last niggling voice in her mind pointed out that he faced considerable difficulty in securing the Suiza place in the Landsmen's Guild if she hadn't cooperated,
but she suppressed it. He did love her; his convenience wasn't the only measure of worth.

  "I'm glad you're here," she said, surprising herself because it was true. She had been baffled, and now she had an ally of no mean ability, one who was not trapped in a hospital bed. "Are you going to send the braid and certificate back to Altiplano, or carry them?"

  "Carry them. Both Luci and the Landsmen's Guild believe the Landbride's Hair must not be consigned to the post like any ordinary object. I will need to make an ansible call back, to tell them you're willing, and then I can stay long enough to be sure you get back into Fleet without trouble."

  Esmay was suddenly struck with another problem. "I don't have but one uniform—the others were in transit when they discharged me, and who knows where they are now?"

  "Surely this place has some military tailors who can fit you out?"

  "Yes—" She wasn't used to spending the kind of money it would take to replace all her uniforms.

  "Don't worry," her father said. "Consider it my belated gift to you. Now if you don't mind, I should make that call as soon as possible. Luci's wedding is being held up pending—"

  "Of course. There's a terminal over in the banking center—"

  * * ** * *

  While her father went to make his call, Esmay showered and washed her hair. She didn't cut it, having a vague memory that the hair must be cut in front of official witnesses. "Do you want us to go or stay, Esmay?" Brun asked.

  "Stay, please. I don't know if he'll need additional witnesses or not. That is, if you're willing."

  "I wouldn't miss this for the world," Brun said. "This whole Landbride thing fascinates me, and it's not just the fancy dress. I remember my mother telling me about something she'd heard from her grandmother, about customs somewhere . . . can't think where. Anyway, there it was the man who married the land."

  That sounded obscene to Esmay, but she told herself it was just a different culture. When her father returned, he had brought along the Altiplano docent, the representative who had no Seat on Council, but was allowed to submit minutes on Altiplano's behalf. Esmay had never met him.

  The man bowed. "Landbride Suiza. It is an honor."

  "Docent Faiza."

  "It is my understanding that you intend to renounce your position, in favor of a younger relative. Is this true?"

  "It is," Esmay said.

  "In accordance with law and custom, belief and practice, it is my duty to be sure that this is indeed your will. If you will excuse us—" His gaze swept the room; Esmay's father, Brun, and Kate retired into the hall.

  Esmay noticed now that he held the paper which must be the Order of Renunciation. Her stomach clenched. Now that it came to it . . . the very feel of the earth beneath her bare feet that morning when she had sworn to protect the land forever came back to her. Could she renounce that? Tears stung her eyes again.

  "Do you swear, Landbride Suiza, that you desire this of your own will, that no one has threatened you, or done you harm, or coerced you in any way to renounce your status?" He gazed at her solemnly; Esmay could hear the wind of Altiplano blowing through the summer grass, smell the rich fragrance of the summer pastures. Yet . . . much as she loved it, she did not love it enough.

  "I so swear," she said.

  "Do you swear, Landbride Suiza, that your reason for this renunciation is your sincere care for the land of Suiza, and that your chosen successor will, in your unquestioning belief, protect this land better than you yourself could?" Was she sure Luci would be a better Landbride? Yes, for Luci had the undivided heart, as well as the intelligence and the character. The land would be better for having Luci as its guardian.

  "I so swear."

  He lowered the paper. "I'm sorry, Landbride . . . though I am not a Suiza, and it has been years since I was home, I had been so proud of you—you made Altiplano famous in a good way."

  "I can't do both," Esmay said. "And I was away too long—I wanted to do the best for the land, but I don't know enough about it. My cousin does. She's been my agent."

  "Very well." He picked up the paper again. "Now, I'll need three witnesses to shearing your hair and your signature."

  Esmay called the others, and they came back. Docent Faiza spread the document on the table, and said, "Now you sign, and then your witnesses—and, Landbride, you must add a drop of blood."

  "Here, Esmay," her father said. He took a small sheathed knife from his vest pocket. "This is the knife that has been used in the family for generations."

  "Most correct," Docent Faiza said. "Landbride?"

  Esmay slipped the small knife from the tooled leather sheath. She remembered seeing it on her great-grandmother's desk; she'd always thought it was just a letter opener. She pricked her left ring finger with the sharp tip and squeezed a drop of blood onto the parchment. Then she took the pen the docent offered her and signed her name. Her father handed her the Landbride's Seal, and she stamped it in blood . . . the most solemn of all seals. Then her father signed, and Brun, and Kate—the oddest collection of witnesses, Esmay thought, which could ever have witnessed a Landbride's renunciation.

  "In the old days," the docent said, "a Landbride renouncing her position would cut off all her hair, that it might go into the Wind's Offering. But since you're going to have to live here, in the Familias . . ."

  "They've seen bald women before," Esmay said. "Besides, I can get a wig. If you think it's best . . ."

  "If you're willing, it would certainly please the older members of the Landsmen's Guild."

  What Barin would think of a bald wife, if she saw him again before her hair grew out, she didn't know. But the ache below her breastbone told her this was the right thing to do.

  "According to my researches," the docent said, "they did not shave their heads—merely cut their hair as short as they could. Then they went into exile from their former lands until it grew long enough to touch the shoulders." A very practical way, Esmay thought, to ensure that the new Landbride had time to gain control without interference from the former Landbride.

  "I expect I'll be away longer than that," Esmay said.

  "It'll be easier if we braid it," Brun said. "Here, sit down."

  "Good grief, it's fluffy," she said, as she tried to coax the first strands into a braid.

  "I just washed it," Esmay said. "You know that."

  "Well, we'll have to wet it again, or we'll have wisps instead of braids. Kate, bring me a bowl of water."

  Docent Faiza was disposed to be solemn about it, but even his solemnity was no match for the cheerfully irreverent banter of Brun and Kate as they struggled with Esmay's recalcitrant hair. "I know I told you to get a layered cut next time," Brun said, "but this is ridiculous. Nothing's the same length as anything else . . ."

  When they were done, Esmay had little tufts standing up where the braids had been, and even her father and the docent couldn't keep a straight face.

  "You should be glad we're your friends, Esmay," Brun said. "If we wanted to blackmail you—"

  "I've been teased about my hair all my life," Esmay said. "You can't embarrass me that way. And now that I know what a good hairdresser can do—"

  "Now," the docent said, getting formal again, "I wish you the best of luck in your military career, Esmay Suiza. You have brought honor to Altiplano, and I'm sure you will bring more." He rolled up the document, tied a black ribbon around it, and handed it to Esmay's father.

  "You'll join us for some refreshment?" General Suiza said.

  "Forgive me, General, but I cannot at this time. Later perhaps?"

  "Of course. I expect to be here several days."

  * * *

  The planetside headquarters of the Regular Space Service comprised a warren of buildings that radiated from the back of the Ministry of Defense, tunneling under and bridging over streets and tramways and throwing out subsidiary departments into odd corners of other governmental offices. Esmay, her father, Brun, and the docent of Altiplano began at the front end, at the Ministry of D
efense, where a harrassed staff immediately announced they were in the wrong place. "Try recruiting," one receptionist said. "It's in the Michet Building."

  "It's a personnel matter, not a recruiting matter," General Suiza said.

  "Oh—that would be the Corvey Building, but you have to go through security first. That way—" She pointed.

  "That way" led down a long hall that wound to the right, then back to the left, and finally led them up a ramp to an elevated walkway along one side of a courtyard; down below, two people were talking, leaning on some kind of ornamental column. At the far end of the walkway, they came to the first set of guards.

  "We're looking for the Corvey Building," General Suiza said. "They said it was this way."

  "You don't have any ID tags," the guard said.

  "Do we need ID tags?"

  "Visitors are supposed to get ID tags at the kiosk by the entrance."

  "There wasn't one," Brun said.

  "Right by the State Street entrance—"

  "We didn't come in the State Street entrance; we came in the Lowe Street entrance."

  The guard frowned. "You're supposed to have ID tags to come in that entrance at all. Wait here." He stepped back and spoke into his comunit; they couldn't hear what he said; his eyes never left them. Then he stepped forward again. "Which sept are you?"

  "Barraclough," Brun said without hesitation. "Why?"

  The guard changed expression. "You're—you're the old speaker's daughter . . . .you're Brun Meager!"

  "Yes," Brun said. She sounded slightly truculent.

  He beamed at her as if she'd just handed him a fortune. "I never thought I'd get to meet you. You look different in that suit; I'm sorry I didn't recognize you right away. And these are friends of yours?"

  "Yes," Brun said.

  "Oh, well, then, I'm sure it's all right. If I could just see your ID, to have it on the records . . ."

  Brun handed it over; Esmay was appalled. If they called this security—! She was glad Kate had decided not to come with them.