She turned over, lying on her back a moment, conscious of how it felt to be herself, seventeen, in a young woman's body, the future open to her.
She stretched her legs, flexing her toes, exercising the muscles of her feet and calves and thighs, as if warming up for an exercise session, then relaxed again. The Marshal's daughter. . . that was how she was known. As if she had no separate identity of her own.
Jelka shook her head, exasperated, then turned onto her stomach again. The Marshal's daughter... If she had been his son, her future would have been mapped out long before today. Cadet school, a commission, and then the service. Fifty years of service: of dodging assassins' bullets and attending official functions; of investigating murders and pandering to the whims of some old Minister; of unearthing corruption scandals at First Level and tidying up after riots beneath the Net. Such was her father's life, and there were far worse ways of spending one's time, but it wasn't that. It was having a say in her future. As a son to the Marshal she would have had no say in things.
Not that being a daughter had made all that great a difference. Had it not been for Hans Ebert's duplicity—for the betrayal of his T'ang and the murder of his father—she would have been married now, her future set, determined. And no way out, except, perhaps, to kill herself.
She shuddered, recollecting her aversion for the young Major. That was something her friends had never understood. Something which, when she mentioned it, brought looks of incredulity. Hans Ebert. . . why, he had been every schoolgirl's dream, surely? A prince among men. She laughed sourly, remembering how often she had heard him called that. Moreover, as heir to the richest Company in Chung Kuo, she could have expected a life of idleness, of unremitting luxury.
Yes, but Hans Ebert was also cruel, and arrogant and devious.
She looked down, recalling her father's hurt when Hans had finally been exposed; a hurt mingled with grief at the death of his brother and his wife, and of his oldest friend, Klaus Ebert. She too had felt a similar grief, but also relief that Hans was gone from her life; a relief that was like a huge stone lifted from her chest. She sighed and shook her head. Maybe that was why it was so important now to get it right; to make sure that her life from here on was her own.
It seemed simple enough, but there was one small complication. She was a woman. For her friends that seemed to pose no problems. Only five of the sixty girls in her year were not yet betrothed, and of those, three were actively pursuing a husband. Eight were already married and two—her close friend Yi Pang-chou among them—had already presented their husbands with a child. Against which, only six of her year were going on to Oxford, and in each case it was not so much to fulfill their own needs as to make them the perfect companions for their high-flying husbands.
But so it was in this god-awful world of levels. To be a woman—an intelligent, capable young woman—it was unthinkable! One had to be a drudge, a whore, an ornament. . .
"Jelka?"
She hesitated, then turned, lifting her head lazily, as if she had been dozing. "Hi. . . What is it?"
Anna was crouched beside her, toweling her dripping hair. Beyond her stood the stocky figure of Yi Pang-chou. She was grinning, a faint color in her cheeks.
"You should have joined us, Mu-Lan. What have you been doing?"
She smiled at the use of her nickname, then sat up, stretching, conscious of how her friends were watching her.
"I was thinking. And making lists."
"Making lists?" Anna laughed. "Lists of what? Men you'd like to marry? Why, you could have any man you chose, Jelka Tolonen, and you know it."
Jelka shrugged. "Maybe. But it wasn't that kind of list. I was jotting down my options."
"Jotting down my options," Yi Pang-chou mimicked, then giggled.
Jelka smiled, good-humoredly. "I know how it sounds, but here," she handed the comset across to Anna. "Go on. Have a look. Tell me what you think."
Anna studied the screen a moment, then turned, passing it up to Yi Pang-chou. "I can't see the point," she said, looking at Jelka with a slightly puzzled frown. "It's so much effort. Why not simply enjoy yourself? Take a rich husband. It doesn't mean you have to be in his pocket. These days a woman has much more freedom."
Jelka looked away. Freedom! As if Anna had any understanding of the word's true meaning. What she meant was the freedom to go to countless entertainments; to drink and play to excess and to take young officers for lovers. Beyond that she had no idea. For her this world of levels was enough. But then, she knew no different. She had not seen how beautiful it was outside.
Yi Pang-chou had been studying her list. Now she looked back at Jelka, puzzled.
"This entry for Security. I thought they didn't accept women in the service."
"They don't. Or not yet. But I thought I'd apply. I'm as qualified as any cadet, after all. And I can fight. So why not? I thought I'd apply for the auxiliary forces, specializing in space operations."
Anna raked one hand through her long dark hair, then laughed. "You're strange, Jelka. You know that? If you really want to meet young officers, you should attend a few more parties. You don't have to sign up for the service!"
"And youVe a one-track mind, Anna Koslevic!" Jelka laughed, then grew serious again. "I know it's hard to understand, but I want to do something with my life. I don't just want . . . well, I don't want to waste it, that's all."
"Like us, you mean," Yi Pang-chou said, coming across and sitting beside her on the edge of the sun bed.
"No ... I didn't mean it like that. I..." Again she laughed, but this time her laughter was tinged with a certain desperation. "Look, I can talk to you two. I can say things without you being hurt by them. So when I say that I want something more than what I'm being offered, it's not to put you down. It's . . ." She shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe I want something that I simply can't have, but why not try for it?" She looked from one to the other. "Do you understand?"
"Sure," Anna said, nodding. "It's simple. You want to be a man. You want to go out there and do things. You want to break skulls and ride horses. Like your 'ex,' Hans."
Jelka shook her head. "No. I want only to be myself. But why should that be so difficult? Why should I be denied that?"
"Because it's how things are," Yi Pang-chou said, stroking the back of her hand. "There's us and there's them. Women and Men. Yin and Yang. And it's a Yang world." She smiled sadly. "Don't fight it, Mu-Lan. It'll only make you unhappy."
She looked down. Maybe so. But she would never be at peace unless she tried. Besides, there was always Kim. He, if anyone, would understand.
Anna leaned close, placing her hand on Jelka's knee. "Anyway. Let's forget about all that for now. It's almost six and our escorts are coming at eight, so we'd best get ready."
"Escorts?" Jelka looked up, eyeing her friend sharply. "You didn't say anything about escorts!"
"Didn't I?" Anna laughed innocently. "I guess it must have slipped my mind. Anyway, let's go through. I'll lend you one of my chi poo . . . the blue and gray silk with the black edging. And then I'll make you up. Maybe it'll take your mind off all this nonsense . . ."
Jelka sat there, looking from one to the other, then laughed. "All right. Just this once. But I hope you haven't said anything. Anything, well. . ."
"Anything true?" Anna put on an earnest face, mirroring Jelka's own, then burst out laughing. She leaned across, kissing Jelka's brow. "Come. Let's get ready. Before those big, hulking Yangs arrive!"
THE main building of the Bremen Academy for Young Women—a huge yamen in the old northern style—dominated the open space at the top of the stack. On the great terrace overlooking the lake, it was hot, the music loud. On the dance floor the press of young, well-dressed bodies filled the dimly lit darkness, the rich, cloyingly sweet scents of the dancers tainting the air, their drunken laughter echoing out across the water.