“Ah. Unwise of her, at best. And you suddenly thought of her as a rival, a sneak, and a slut, did you?”
“Mmm . . . yes.” Put like that, it made her seem even more naive than she was. If that were possible.
“And you got mad and reamed her out for it. But, my dear, had you ever bothered to tell her you were in love with the man?”
“Of course not! We hadn’t made any promises . . . I mean . . .”
“Have you told anyone?”
“Well . . . only when I went home for Great-grandmother’s funeral, I told my cousin Luci.”
“Who is how old? And what did she say?”
“She’s eighteen . . . and she said I was an idiot.” Esmay blinked back sudden tears. “But she—she’s had those years at home, and her mother—and no one ever told me—”
The old lady snorted. “No, I don’t suppose how to conduct a love affair is one of the courses taught at the Academy or the prep school.”
“What they said was not to become involved with people above or below in the same chain of command, and avoid all situations of undue influence.”
“That sounds like a recipe for confusion,” Marta commented.
“In the professional ethics segment at Copper Mountain,” Esmay said, “there was more about that—and I started worrying about what I might do to Barin—”
“Professionally, you mean?”
“Yes—I’m two ranks senior, he’s just an ensign. It seemed natural at first—and we weren’t in the same chain of command—but maybe I shouldn’t, anyway. I told myself that,” Esmay said, aware of the misery in her voice. “I tried to think how to talk to him about it, but—but she was always there, and I didn’t have time—”
“Oh . . . my. Yes, I see. She had the experience, and you didn’t. She had the time, and you didn’t. And you would not see her being concerned about her effect on his career, either, I daresay.”
“No. It was always ‘Barin, since Esmay’s being no fun, let’s go into Q-town for a drink or something.’”
“I’ve met the young Serrano,” Marta said. Her finger traced a line on the built-in desk. “Handsome boy—seems very bright. His grandmother thinks rather well of him, and tries not to show it.”
“How is he?” asked Esmay, her whole heart waiting for the answer.
“Thriving, I would say, except for the woman he’s got on his trail. One Lieutenant Ferradi, as slickly designed a piece of seduction as I’ve ever seen. I wonder who did her biosculpt. He’s at that age, Lieutenant Suiza, where young men of quality are full of animal magnetism and some women behave like iron filings. Tell me, if you will, who noticed whom first between the two of you?”
“He—came to me,” Esmay said, feeling the heat in her face.
“Ah. No iron filing tendencies in you, then. Typical—the magnets prefer to join other magnets: like to like.”
“But I’m not—”
“A magnet? I think you misjudge yourself; people often do. The most distressing bores are most sure they fascinate; the least perceptive will tell you at great length how they understand your feelings; every hero I ever knew was at least half-convinced of his or her own cowardice. If you were not a magnet, so many people could not be so angry with you.”
Esmay had never looked at character that way, and wasn’t sure she agreed. But Marta went on.
“You’re a born leader; that’s clear from your record. That, too, is a magnet quality. You repel or you attract . . . you are not, as it were, inert. Brun’s the same—and when magnets aren’t attracted, they’re often repellent to one another. You got, as it were, your like poles too close together.”
“I suppose . . .”
“Tell me, if you hadn’t been working so hard, and if Barin hadn’t been there, do you think you’d have found anything to like in Brun?”
“Yes,” Esmay said after a moment. “She could be fun—the few times we had a few minutes together, I enjoyed it . . . I could see why people liked her so much. She lights up a room, she’s bright—we were on the same team for the E&E class exercises, you know. She learned fast; she had good ideas.”
“Good enough to get herself out of her present predicament?”
“I . . . don’t know. They wouldn’t let her take the field exercise—that’s one thing she blamed me for, and I had nothing to do with it. But against a whole planet—I don’t think that would’ve helped. What worries me is that they aren’t paying attention to her character in the planning—”
“I thought you said she had none—”
Esmay waved that away. If this woman, even this one woman, would listen to what she’d worked out, maybe it would help Brun. “I don’t mean sexual morality. I mean her personality, her way of doing things. They’re talking—they were talking—as if she were just a game piece. Unless she’s dead, she’s planning and doing something—and if we don’t know what, we’re going to find our plans crossing hers.”
“But the Guernesi said there’s no way to communicate with her—that pregnant and nursing women are sequestered, and besides, she can’t talk.” Still, Marta’s eyes challenged Esmay to keep going.
“She needs to know she’s not forgotten,” Esmay said. “She needs to know someone thinks she’s competent—”
“You sound as if you thought you understood her,” Marta said.
“They silenced her,” Esmay said, ignoring that invitation. “That doesn’t mean she can’t think and act. And—did they tell you about the children on that merchant ship?”
Marta frowned. “I . . . don’t know. I don’t think so. What does that have to do with Brun?”
Quickly Esmay outlined her new theory. “If they didn’t kill those children, if they were taking them, they’d have put Brun in with them. That might be enough to keep her alive—if she thought she had a responsibility to the children. And she’d be planning some rescue for them, I would bet on it.”
“I suppose it’s possible . . .”
“And besides, for her to come out of this in the end, even if she is rescued, she needs to feel that she had some effect. It’s one of the things they taught us, and Barin knows from experience . . . a captive who is just rescued like a . . . a piece of jewelry or something . . . has a much harder time regaining a normal life. She was not just captured; she was muted, and then raped—made pregnant. All her options closed. They should be thinking beyond getting her out, to getting her out with some self-respect left.”
Marta looked at her with a completely changed expression. “You’re serious . . . you couldn’t have come up with that if you didn’t really care. That’s good thinking, Lieutenant—excellent thinking. And I can tell you that you’re right—the planning group is not considering any of those things.”
“Can you get it across to them?”
“Me? It’s your idea.”
“But I don’t know how to get anyone to listen to me. They’re so convinced I wanted something bad to happen to her, none of them will let me near the planning sessions, let alone speak. If you tell them, maybe they’ll consider it.”
“You’re not asking for credit—”
Esmay shook her head. “No. Brun’s the one in critical danger. Of course, I’d like to be the one to come up with the best solution . . . but it’s better that someone comes up with it, than have it ignored.”
“I’ll . . . see what I can do,” Marta said. “In that and other situations.”
Admiral Serrano frowned as the door opened, but her expression eased as Marta Saenz swept through. “Marta! I heard you were back from downside. We missed you the past few sessions. Lord Thornbuckle was actually making sense when you left, but he’s foaming at the mouth again.”
“I was prowling amongst the troops, as you’d put it. And I just had a little conversation with your Lieutenant Suiza,” Marta said.
“Her.” The admiral frowned again. “A very disappointing decision, encouraging her switch to command track. She’s not working out at all.”