Commander

Commander

The David Birkenhead Series

Book 4

Phil Geusz

First Printing September 2012

Published by Legion Printing, Birmingham, AL

Copyright Phil Geusz, 2012

Cover Art by Octavius Cook

ISBN:
9781301628452

This is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and events are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real.  Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved.  No portion of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without explicit permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

1

The walk from the Navy Headquarters holding cell to the courtroom proper was the longest of my life. Everyone kept telling me I had nothing to worry about, including Mr. Wong. He was the high-dollar attorney Uncle Robert had hired to represent me. “If there was even the slightest chance of your being found guilty,” he reassured me over and over, “then your parole would’ve been revoked. Or at least made far more restrictive.”  This was true, of course, and only one of many not-so-subtle little omens that hinted at what the Powers-That-Be thought of the case against me. Like, for example, the daily presence of the Royal Herald sitting immediately behind my place at the defendant’s table, taking in every word of testimony in stony silence. He even stayed during the top-secret parts. Or the thermos of chocolate milk mixed by His Majesty's own hands that this same Herald personally delivered to my cell during those times when regulations absolutely demanded that I remain behind bars.  So I really shouldn’t have been so worried as I stepped forward to face the court martial that’d been convened to investigate the loss of
Beechwood
and of Zombie Station under my legal command, plus other unnamed (to the public at least) “high crimes and misdemeanors”.  But I was, of course—the penalty for one of said high crimes was to be hung by the neck until I was dead, dead, dead. And no one, no matter how many battles they’ve been through or how many tokens of Royal support are on display, ever faces the verdict of a capital trial without at least a few qualms.

“Look on the table in front of the Chief Officer of the Court,” Mr. Wong had just explained to me. “Your Sword will be lying there in plain sight. For most Midshipman it’d be their ceremonial dirk, but in this case it’ll be your Sword. Anyway…  If the point is aimed at you—which it absolutely, positively will not be!—you’ve been found guilty. In that case, we’ll appeal and His Highness will certainly grant you clemency. It’ll be pointed away, however, which means you’ve been found not guilty and can cease and desist with all this irrational anxiety.”

The bailiff—a grizzled old marine master-sergeant who'd have treated me with the utmost correctness even if he were certain I was guilty of murdering a dozen children, led me to the little spot in front of the Court where I was supposed to stand and receive the verdict. My eyes rose to seek out the little table I’d been told about...

…but the courtroom had been set up for humans, not Rabbits. I was too short to see my Sword at all, much less which direction it was pointing in! So I gulped, then stood my ground regardless. In a few more seconds I’d learn my fate from the Chief Officer himself, a certain Admiral Benbow.

“Acting-Lieutenant David Birkenhead,” he eventually intoned, eyes hard and severe. “It is my sincere pleasure to inform you that the court has absolved you, as the senior surviving officer, of all responsibility for the loss of His Majesty’s Auxiliary Vessel
Beechwood
. It is the opinion of this court that your actions in regard to said loss were in accordance with the highest traditions of the service.”

I kept my face impassive. I was being tried in regards to
Beechwood
only
because regulations required that the ranking survivor be court-martialed whenever a ship was lost. By no stretch could I ever have been held culpable. Even at my lowest moments, I’d never feared being held responsible for losing an unarmed to ship to overwhelming force.  No one could’ve prevented it.

“Furthermore, Lieutenant Birkenhead,” he continued, “You’ve also been absolved in regard to the matter of the loss of Zombie Station. Indeed, your tenacious defense of this facility to what amounts to the last round from the last gun was, in the opinion of this Court, not only in accord with the highest traditions of our service but brilliant in both conception and execution. Lieutenant, in this matter you are not merely acquitted but most honorably acquitted.”

I gulped. While I’d not really been all that afraid of being found guilty on this charge either, the fact was that during the last stages of the battle I’d destroyed an important defensive facility worth billions of credits, and done it in such a way that it could never be rebuilt. Many of our strategists, I knew, were rather vexed with me over that part—already snarky articles on the subject were appearing all over the navy’s professional publications. So while I felt like I’d done at least an okay job overall, well… I hadn’t exactly expected to be “honorably” acquitted either, which carried with it the court’s implied endorsement of my actions.  To be “most honorably acquitted” was far more than a negation of the charges—it amounted to a major pat on the back.

“Unfortunately, Lieutenant,” Admiral Benbow continued, his eyes still locked with mine, “I cannot report that we’ve most honorably acquitted you on the confidential charges. Though I wish to make it very clear for the permanent record that the Court would’ve done so unanimously given the opportunity.  However, the Provost Marshall has seen fit to withdraw these charges as inappropriate instead.” He smiled slightly. “Advance, Lieutenant, and retrieve your Sword. Wear it proudly in defense of His Majesty’s realms, and know that I’m proud to call you a brother officer.”

Then he and the whole Court stood and saluted me.

2

“Most sweeping acquittal in navy history,” Uncle Robert read aloud from his datapad several hours later. He and James and I were sitting in the back of an air-limo, flying in lazy circles while the crowds that’d gathered around our penthouse to greet us thinned down a little. There’d been a near-riot at the Navy Building when the verdict was announced, one severe enough that for a time I’d been asked to return to my cell for my own protection, and as near as we could tell similar celebrations were taking place at every naval installation on the planet. “
David, David, David
!” the crowds were shouting…

…and more than half the merrymakers were Rabbits.

“Birkenhead’s stand at Zombie Station coupled with epic
Javelin
raid to lead to resounding victory,” James read off of his own screen. The prediction didn’t come from a particularly credible source—the
Fleet Intelligencer
wasn’t a bonafide professional journal, catering to civilian navy buffs more than anyone else. Still, I looked down at the floorboards and felt myself turning bright red under the fur. Altogether too much was being made of the affair. Yes, I was glad to be acquitted. Yes, I felt that I
deserved
to be acquitted, at least on the first two charges. But all I’d done was my simple duty, the same as any other officer might’ve done under the circumstances. The real heroes were the Rabbits who’d accomplished so much against such terrible odds, along with Chief Lancrest and his handful of technicians—I’d said so over and over again in my report. So, why didn’t anyone seem to
believe
me?

“David Birkenhead,” Uncle Robert continued, this time quoting an actual, real naval journal. “Hero of the age.”

I gulped and turned redder. “Please…  I mean….”

“Hah!” James laughed, setting aside his reader. “I told you he’d react that way.”

“And I didn’t argue with you,” Uncle Robert replied, flashing the widest smile I’d ever seen from the normally careworn man.  “So let’s take it easy on him… After one more thing.”

My ears drooped; I couldn’t help it. But the head of the House of Marcus kept right on going. “David…. The Empire is sending out peace feelers. This is very private information. They’ve already agreed to cede Marcus Prime, immediately upon signature of the treaty this time around. And they’ve made other concessions as well. Concessions, David! From the Empire! In exchange for peace! Do you understand what this means?”

“We’ve finally won a war,” I whispered.

“Yes!” my adopted uncle agreed. “Exactly! Not a single Imperial invasion succeeded, son. In every last instance we were able to turn them back though in some cases it was a very near-run thing indeed. Why? Because of the logistic logjam that you and
Javelin
’s captain created. And he’s a big enough man that, quite rightly, he grants you and your ragtag little crew most of the credit. Neither main battle fleet has fired a shot in this conflict, nor are they likely to at this late date. All the key fighting on our side was done by a single battle-cruiser… and you.” He paused. “Now…” He reached out with a single finger and raised my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Try to turn that brilliant strategic mind of yours in another direction for a moment. His Lordship the Earl of Quenton fought his battles while in command of the best, most glamorous ship in our navy. He also fought them professionally and well. The history books will duly recognize him and the critical part he played. But, son…” Uncle Robert shook his head. “What miracles
you
performed, with practically nothing to work with! After so many lesser men had failed before you when equipped with so much more. Who do
you
think is going to be remembered for a thousand years?” A single tear rolled down his cheek. “You’ve altered the course of military history, David. There’s no question of that; this is the first time we’ve
ever
extracted concessions from the Imperials. But, you being who you are, I think that your accomplishments are going to change the very fabric of our society. In a way that’s long, long overdue.” He scowled. “You’re not merely a commoner by birth—you’re a slave. The universe is turning itself upside down, and you’ve become the pivot-point around which it’s all swiveling.” Then he lowered his eyes. “David… The greatest privilege of my life, perhaps even the
purpose
of my life, is to help you along when and where I can. You’ve long been one of us Marcuses, and we’ve always been proud that this is so. But today… I feel that I sit in the presence of true greatness. And I wanted you to know that.”

3

I spent most of the next few weeks living in a Marcus-owned cabin on the park-like capital world, Earth Secundus, resting deep in the woods and feeling terribly useless. By now I’d accrued more leave-time than I could ever possibly make good use of. First there were the fifty-two days I’d built up due to length of service, then I’d been “shipwrecked” twice as defined by regulations, which entitled me to another sixty days for each occurrence. Above and beyond that, all
Javelin
crew members had been granted a special thirty-day leave as a reward for their successful cruise, and I was listed on her books as well due to my special assignment in engineering. Plus, well… Near as I could tell, no one really knew what to do with us Zombie defenders regardless. Chief Lancrest and I were still exchanging pleasant notes now and again; he and his entire crew had been given extra-nice quarters at the navy yard and told they weren’t going to be reassigned for the foreseeable future. This was hardly a punishment for most navy men—it was clearly meant as a reward and had been accepted as such. But in my case it grated; I wanted to know where I was going next so that I could study and prepare.