Elizabeth Moon - Rules of Engagement

Brun was the first topic he brought up. “You were pretty hard on her,” Barin said, after mentioning that he’d seen the newsflash along with everyone else in the class. “She’s not as bad as all that . . .”

“She is,” Esmay said. It was too much; she was not going to let Brun get away with ruining this, too. She saw his face change, his expression harden against her. Sorrow cut through her, but her anger pushed her on, forcing her against the blade of his disapproval. “She had no right to come after you; if she had one scrap of morality—”

“That’s not fair,” Barin said. “She does. It’s just that—that someone like that—”

“The richest girl in the Familias Regnant? The rules are different for the rich, is that what you’re saying?”

“No—yes, but not the way you mean it.” The slight emphasis he put on “you” stung; he had meant it to, Esmay was sure.

“The way I mean it is that people who have her advantages ought to have used them for something more than personal pleasure.”

“Well, had you told her that we were . . . anything to each other?”

“No, I did not.” Esmay could feel her own face getting stiff. “It was none of her business. It has nothing to do with me and you; it has to do with her assumption that anyone she wants should climb in bed with her . . .”

“Anyone!” Barin looked startled, then amused, then alarmed. “She didn’t try to get you—?”

“No!” Esmay shook her head, which was beginning to throb in the old way. “She didn’t, of course she didn’t. It’s just that she went after you, and you’re an officer of Fleet, and younger than she is—” Too late she remembered that she herself could not be simultaneously older than Brun and co-equal with Barin. Her voice wavered; she gulped and went on. “It was—was—unseemly. Chasing junior officers.”

“Esmay, please.” Barin reached out but drew back his hand before touching her. “It was perfectly natural. And all she did was ask. When I said no, she didn’t bother me. Perfectly polite, perfectly within the bounds of courtesy.”

“You said no?” Esmay managed to get out around a dry lump in her throat.

“Of course I said no. What do you think?” His heavy Serrano brows drew together. “You thought I slept with her? How could you think that?” Now he was angry, black eyes flashing and a flush coming up in his face.

Esmay felt panic rising in her. He hadn’t slept with Brun? Had Livadhi lied? Misunderstood? Not known? She could say nothing. Barin, glaring at her, nodded sharply as if her silence confirmed some dire suspicion.

“You thought I did. You thought just because I shared a few meals with her while you were busy, just because we talked, just because she’s a rich girl, that I’d leap into her bed like a tame puppy. Well, I’m no one’s pet, Esmay. Not hers, and not yours. If you really cared for me, you’d know that. I’m sorry you understand so little, but if you want to succeed in Fleet, you’d better get off your moral high horse and start dealing with reality.”

He was gone before she could say anything, and long before anyone could have suspected what she had once worried they might suspect. She made it to her quarters at last, and spent another night not sleeping, staring at the ceiling over her bunk.

When they met in class the next day, Esmay could do nothing but stare miserably at the back of Barin’s head. He did not turn to look at her. When called on, he gave his answers in his familiar crisp voice; she found that she could do the same, though she wasn’t at all sure how her brain could keep working when her heart was lying in a sodden heap somewhere below her navel.

She had never been in love before. She had heard others describe similar symptoms, but had thought they exaggerated. They did not exaggerate, she decided; in fact, they had not begun to describe the misery she felt. They had all lived through it; she supposed she would too, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

To her surprise, she received a high score on her field exercise. It did not make her feel better, though her subdued acceptance of the certificate seemed to please Lieutenant Commander Uhlis. She could feel the subtle withdrawal of her classmates, even those like Vericour who had been friendly all along.

Anonymity had been a lot easier than disgrace.

On the day Barin was due to leave, she made her way to the exit area; she felt she had to make some contact with him, or she might as well jump off a tower. Her hands were icy; she could feel her heart pounding as she spotted him across the room.

“Barin—”

“Lieutenant.” He was coolly polite. She didn’t want coolly polite.

“Barin, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you.” That came out in a rush, almost all one word.

“No apologies necessary,” he said, almost formally. She thought she saw a bit of warmth in his eye, but nothing more. He wasn’t going to reach out for her, not here in public, and he showed no signs of wanting a more private conversation.

“I just—don’t want us to be enemies,” Esmay said.

“Never!” He took a breath. “Never enemies, Lieutenant, even if we can’t agree.” A long pause, during which Esmay heard what he did not say aloud—or what she imagined he was saying. She didn’t know which. “Goodbye, Lieutenant, and good luck on your first assignment in command track. You’ll do fine.”

“Thank you,” Esmay said. “And good luck to you.” Her throat closed on the rest of what she wanted to say: We could stay in touch. We could plan . . . No. She had ruined what they had, and that was it.

They shook hands, formally, and then saluted, formally, and then he moved over to the line forming for his shuttle. Esmay did not wait to see if he would turn around and wave. She was sure he wouldn’t.

She had not been outside the gates of the facility before, but now she found herself wandering out to Q-town in the kind of numb misery she thought she’d never feel again. She didn’t want to see anyone from her class in the mess hall, but she had to eat before leaving, or she’d throw up. Someone had said—who was it? She couldn’t recall, someone on Koskiusko —that while she was on Copper Mountain, she’d have to visit Diamond Sims. She spotted the sign down the street, and made for it.

“Lieutenant Suiza!” The man in the hoverchair called to her almost as soon as she cleared the door. “I’m glad you came. I’m Sam—I run this place.”

Someone was glad to see her? She glanced around, recognizing with a strange shock what this bar was about, and made her way toward the back.

“We’re honored you came by,” the man said. “Major Pitak said you might, if you had time.”

“Sorry it took me so long,” Esmay said. “I was doubling courses—”

“Yeah—we keep track of people at the school, so I knew you were busy. Didn’t expect you before now, and didn’t know if you’d have time. When’s your shuttle?”

“About five hours.” Esmay took the seat he indicated.

“You in trouble about that Meager woman?” he asked.

Brun again. Esmay managed a nod, and hoped that would indicate she didn’t want to talk about it.

“It’s partly my fault,” the man said. “She came in here hopping mad that night, and shot off her mouth in front of the whole room. We think what happened is that one of the newsies on her tail got it with a spike-mike from out on the street. Least, nobody that was here will admit to telling it.”

“It’s—not worth worrying about,” Esmay said. “It happened; I can’t change it now.”

“You sound like someone who needs a steak,” the man said. He raised his hand, and a waitress appeared. He glanced at Esmay. “Steak all right? Onions?”