appeal."
She would be crazy to appeal; this was the best outcome she could have hoped for.
"Yes, sir," she said. "Thank you, sir." She got through the rest of the ritual, the dismissal of the Board and the necessary individual acknowledgement of each member, without being fully aware what she said. She wanted to fall into a bed and sleep for a month . . . but in three days, her court-martial would begin. In the meantime, she had to record her initial statements for the other courts-martial, including Commander Serrano's.
"Everything's unusual about this," Chapin said, as one who disapproved on principle of the unusual. "They had a time finding enough officers to sit on this many different boards and courts at once, and they're short of space, too. So they're shuffling people and spaces, and decided that since you're in such demand they can, after all, accept recorded testimony for some of it. With any luck, you won't actually have to appear in person in all of them . . . they certainly can't yank you out of yours just to answer two questions in some other jig's trial. It rushes you right now, but then your defense is simple anyway."
"It is?"
"In principle. Were you a conspirator, intending to commit a mutiny? No. Were you a traitor, in the pay of a foreign power? No. Simple. I expect they'll ask all the awkward questions they can think of, just so it looks good, and in case the original investigators forgot to check . . . but it's clear to me, and should be clear to them, that you were an ordinary junior officer who reacted to a developing situation—luckily, in the best interests of both Fleet and the Familias Regnant. The only problem I see . . ." He paused, and gave her a long look.
"Yes?" Esmay finally said, when waiting produced nothing but that steady stare.
"It's going to be difficult to present you as the ordinary junior officer—although your fitness reports support that, putting you right square in the middle of your class—when you became the very unordinary youngest-ever captain to blow away a Benignity heavy cruiser. They're going to want to know why you were hiding that kind of ability . . . how you hid that kind of ability. Why were you denying Fleet the benefit of your talent?"
"That's what Admiral Serrano said." Esmay forced her shoulders back; she wanted to hunch into a little ball.
"And what did you say?"
"I . . . couldn't answer. I don't know. I didn't know I could do it until I did it, and I still find it hard to believe."
"Such modesty." Something in the tone chilled her. "I'm your defense counsel, and more than that I'm an attorney with many years of experience—I was in civil practice and Fleet reserves before I went full-time into Fleet. You may be able to fool yourself, young woman, but you don't fool me. You did what you did because you are unusually capable. Some of that capability showed up on the screening exams you took to get into Fleet in the first place—or had you forgotten your scores?"
She had; she had dismissed them as a fluke when her grades in the Fleet prep school came out only slightly above average.
"I'm now convinced," Chapin went on, "that you were not hiding your talents for any obvious reason—such as being a Benignity agent—but you were hiding them. You avoided command track as if it had thorns all over it. I pulled your file from prep school and talked to your instructors in the Academy too. They're all kicking themselves for not noticing, and nurturing, such an obvious talent for command—"
"But I made mistakes," Esmay said. She could not let this go on. She had been lucky, she had had outstanding senior NCOs who had done most of it . . . she rattled this off as fast as she could, while Chapin sat watching her with the same skeptical expression.
"It won't do," he said finally. "For your own good, Lieutenant Suiza—" He had not called her that from the first day; she
She would be crazy to appeal; this was the best outcome she could have hoped for.
"Yes, sir," she said. "Thank you, sir." She got through the rest of the ritual, the dismissal of the Board and the necessary individual acknowledgement of each member, without being fully aware what she said. She wanted to fall into a bed and sleep for a month . . . but in three days, her court-martial would begin. In the meantime, she had to record her initial statements for the other courts-martial, including Commander Serrano's.
"Everything's unusual about this," Chapin said, as one who disapproved on principle of the unusual. "They had a time finding enough officers to sit on this many different boards and courts at once, and they're short of space, too. So they're shuffling people and spaces, and decided that since you're in such demand they can, after all, accept recorded testimony for some of it. With any luck, you won't actually have to appear in person in all of them . . . they certainly can't yank you out of yours just to answer two questions in some other jig's trial. It rushes you right now, but then your defense is simple anyway."
"It is?"
"In principle. Were you a conspirator, intending to commit a mutiny? No. Were you a traitor, in the pay of a foreign power? No. Simple. I expect they'll ask all the awkward questions they can think of, just so it looks good, and in case the original investigators forgot to check . . . but it's clear to me, and should be clear to them, that you were an ordinary junior officer who reacted to a developing situation—luckily, in the best interests of both Fleet and the Familias Regnant. The only problem I see . . ." He paused, and gave her a long look.
"Yes?" Esmay finally said, when waiting produced nothing but that steady stare.
"It's going to be difficult to present you as the ordinary junior officer—although your fitness reports support that, putting you right square in the middle of your class—when you became the very unordinary youngest-ever captain to blow away a Benignity heavy cruiser. They're going to want to know why you were hiding that kind of ability . . . how you hid that kind of ability. Why were you denying Fleet the benefit of your talent?"
"That's what Admiral Serrano said." Esmay forced her shoulders back; she wanted to hunch into a little ball.
"And what did you say?"
"I . . . couldn't answer. I don't know. I didn't know I could do it until I did it, and I still find it hard to believe."
"Such modesty." Something in the tone chilled her. "I'm your defense counsel, and more than that I'm an attorney with many years of experience—I was in civil practice and Fleet reserves before I went full-time into Fleet. You may be able to fool yourself, young woman, but you don't fool me. You did what you did because you are unusually capable. Some of that capability showed up on the screening exams you took to get into Fleet in the first place—or had you forgotten your scores?"
She had; she had dismissed them as a fluke when her grades in the Fleet prep school came out only slightly above average.
"I'm now convinced," Chapin went on, "that you were not hiding your talents for any obvious reason—such as being a Benignity agent—but you were hiding them. You avoided command track as if it had thorns all over it. I pulled your file from prep school and talked to your instructors in the Academy too. They're all kicking themselves for not noticing, and nurturing, such an obvious talent for command—"
"But I made mistakes," Esmay said. She could not let this go on. She had been lucky, she had had outstanding senior NCOs who had done most of it . . . she rattled this off as fast as she could, while Chapin sat watching her with the same skeptical expression.
"It won't do," he said finally. "For your own good, Lieutenant Suiza—" He had not called her that from the first day; she
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