ficlet: Twenty-One Girls
Vaguely inspired by the excerpt from the new book, although not really spoilery. In which Ivan serves as Miles's voting proxy, and has to deal with an unusually large number of female lobbyists.
Twenty-One Girls
“How nice to see you again, Ivan,” said the Count. “What can I do for you?”
“You can call off your lobbyists,” said Ivan, with a snarl that was only partly directed at the Count. The other part was intended for the absent Miles, who should jolly well have warned him about this aspect of being a voting proxy before he left for Marilac. “I can’t go out in public nowadays without being swarmed by dozens of girls.”
“There aren’t dozens of them. Only twenty-one.” For some reason, this statement caused a faint chime of alarm at the back of Ivan’s mind, but before he had time to place it, the Count continued, with a wicked gleam of amusement, “Besides, I’ve never known you to complain about being swarmed by girls before. You must be getting old.”
“I’m not old, just married,” said Ivan, “and these girls are all terrifyingly proper and earnest, and what’s more, they’re underage.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do anything about the underage part. We needed them to be seventeen years old, for obvious reasons. And we had to pick the ones who would make the very best impression on the Council of Counts, and that does mean proper and earnest, most of the time. There were several hundred applicants. I would not have made the cut, at their age. Olivia might have.”
“You found several hundred girls who want a military career?”
“Several hundred who cared enough to devote the last summer of their carefree school days to campaigning for the right to one. I’d imagine the number who want it is at least ten times higher.” Dono paused for a moment to let this sink in. “Since you’re new to party politics, here’s a helpful hint about how to get rid of lobbyists. I’ve always found that the most effective way is to let them know they’ve already got your vote.”
“Well, that’s the problem, isn’t it?” said Ivan. “It’s not my vote, it’s the Vorkosigan’s District vote. And Miles didn’t leave me any instructions about this issue, since the bill wasn’t introduced until a week after he left.”
“Your cousin has quite a bevy of daughters of his own. That might tell you something about how he’d like you to vote.”
“That cuts two ways, doesn’t it? Count Vorkalloner was just telling me the other day that as soon as I had a daughter of my own, I’d understand why putting them in the line of fire was a bad idea.”
“Hmm, yes, I suppose that means you’ll just have to exercise your own judgment. I expect you’ve met most of our twenty-one by now. Did they leave you with the impression that they’ll make good officers, or not?”
“They’ll make very good officers,” Ivan admitted. “Much better than most of the young men they’re sending us these days.” There was no question that Dono and Olivia had chosen well; the girls he’d spoken with were bright, articulate, mature, and respectful, if a little too determined for Ivan’s tastes.
“Well, then.”
“All right, you can rely on my vote. But - do you realize what people are calling these girls?”
“I have no doubt that people are calling them quite a lot of things. And I imagine they will call them worse things after we win, perhaps for a decade or more, until it becomes so commonplace that everybody takes it for granted. I have been called most of those things, so I was well aware that we would need to choose young women who could take it.”
“They’re calling them Count Vorrutyer’s Army.”
“Oh, is that all? I came up with that one myself. Got a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
The trouble with Dono, Ivan thought, was that he hadn’t been brought up as a Vor male, so he tended to rush in recklessly and fearlessly, doing things that one simply did not do. And he did them without a second thought. “Look, Dono - you don’t - I mean, obviously you did, but you shouldn’t. That’s playing a dangerous game.” He stopped, alarmed by a new spark in the Count’s eyes. When you told Vorrutyers they were playing a dangerous game, it only encouraged them.
“I’m touched by your concern, Ivan, but I trust that most people can recognize a metaphor when they hear one.”
“Unless they decide to willfully misunderstand. You’ve got your share of enemies. What do you think Boriz Vormoncrief will make of this, for instance?”
The Count grinned. “I’m rather hoping he’ll try to nail me under Vorloupulous’s Law. Don’t forget, he can’t do it without also acknowledging that these young women are plausible soldiers.”
Twenty-One Girls
“How nice to see you again, Ivan,” said the Count. “What can I do for you?”
“You can call off your lobbyists,” said Ivan, with a snarl that was only partly directed at the Count. The other part was intended for the absent Miles, who should jolly well have warned him about this aspect of being a voting proxy before he left for Marilac. “I can’t go out in public nowadays without being swarmed by dozens of girls.”
“There aren’t dozens of them. Only twenty-one.” For some reason, this statement caused a faint chime of alarm at the back of Ivan’s mind, but before he had time to place it, the Count continued, with a wicked gleam of amusement, “Besides, I’ve never known you to complain about being swarmed by girls before. You must be getting old.”
“I’m not old, just married,” said Ivan, “and these girls are all terrifyingly proper and earnest, and what’s more, they’re underage.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do anything about the underage part. We needed them to be seventeen years old, for obvious reasons. And we had to pick the ones who would make the very best impression on the Council of Counts, and that does mean proper and earnest, most of the time. There were several hundred applicants. I would not have made the cut, at their age. Olivia might have.”
“You found several hundred girls who want a military career?”
“Several hundred who cared enough to devote the last summer of their carefree school days to campaigning for the right to one. I’d imagine the number who want it is at least ten times higher.” Dono paused for a moment to let this sink in. “Since you’re new to party politics, here’s a helpful hint about how to get rid of lobbyists. I’ve always found that the most effective way is to let them know they’ve already got your vote.”
“Well, that’s the problem, isn’t it?” said Ivan. “It’s not my vote, it’s the Vorkosigan’s District vote. And Miles didn’t leave me any instructions about this issue, since the bill wasn’t introduced until a week after he left.”
“Your cousin has quite a bevy of daughters of his own. That might tell you something about how he’d like you to vote.”
“That cuts two ways, doesn’t it? Count Vorkalloner was just telling me the other day that as soon as I had a daughter of my own, I’d understand why putting them in the line of fire was a bad idea.”
“Hmm, yes, I suppose that means you’ll just have to exercise your own judgment. I expect you’ve met most of our twenty-one by now. Did they leave you with the impression that they’ll make good officers, or not?”
“They’ll make very good officers,” Ivan admitted. “Much better than most of the young men they’re sending us these days.” There was no question that Dono and Olivia had chosen well; the girls he’d spoken with were bright, articulate, mature, and respectful, if a little too determined for Ivan’s tastes.
“Well, then.”
“All right, you can rely on my vote. But - do you realize what people are calling these girls?”
“I have no doubt that people are calling them quite a lot of things. And I imagine they will call them worse things after we win, perhaps for a decade or more, until it becomes so commonplace that everybody takes it for granted. I have been called most of those things, so I was well aware that we would need to choose young women who could take it.”
“They’re calling them Count Vorrutyer’s Army.”
“Oh, is that all? I came up with that one myself. Got a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
The trouble with Dono, Ivan thought, was that he hadn’t been brought up as a Vor male, so he tended to rush in recklessly and fearlessly, doing things that one simply did not do. And he did them without a second thought. “Look, Dono - you don’t - I mean, obviously you did, but you shouldn’t. That’s playing a dangerous game.” He stopped, alarmed by a new spark in the Count’s eyes. When you told Vorrutyers they were playing a dangerous game, it only encouraged them.
“I’m touched by your concern, Ivan, but I trust that most people can recognize a metaphor when they hear one.”
“Unless they decide to willfully misunderstand. You’ve got your share of enemies. What do you think Boriz Vormoncrief will make of this, for instance?”
The Count grinned. “I’m rather hoping he’ll try to nail me under Vorloupulous’s Law. Don’t forget, he can’t do it without also acknowledging that these young women are plausible soldiers.”