Commander (3 page)

I shook my head. “Forgive me, sire. But… Isn’t that sort of an officer’s
job
?”

“
Yes
!” His Majesty exclaimed, nodding violently. “Quite so! And yet, it’s been so long…” Then he smiled and sipped at his chocolate milk. “The doctors want me to give this stuff up,” he commented after swallowing. “But it’s my last remaining pleasure. I’d rather live a few months less and be happy.”

I smiled back. “Quite understandable, in my book.”

“Your… Well, perhaps ‘brother’ is too strong a word. Or perhaps not—he certainly speaks of you as one. Anyway, David… He’s my most likely successor, and I rest easy knowing that this is so. I’ve done everything possible to smooth his way, and will be doing even more to help him in the near future. A monarch’s influence rarely persists long after his or her death, however, and I’m sure there’ll be a powerful effort to crown his elder brother and appoint a Regent instead. So that the graft-flow can be enlarged.”

I nodded slowly. “Uncle Robert thinks so.”

“Installing a Regency while the Empire remains such a threat to us would be petty, greedy, short-sighted, and even downright stupid. Exactly what I’ve come to expect of most of my so-called nobility, in other words.” He scowled.

“David… James is our best possible hope for the future. He might well become a truly great king. Surely you can see it.”

“Yes,” I answered. “Only a fool wouldn’t.”

He nodded back. “Sadly, there’s no shortage of
those
.” Then he leaned back in his chair. “Speaking of nobles… You do realize, don’t you, that in a sense you were cheated this afternoon?”

My ears perked. “Sir?”

“At the awards ceremony,” His Majesty continued. “Any other officer in the Fleet would’ve received at least a knighthood for what you accomplished, David. Or even something more. If you were human, you’d very likely be a newly-minted Lord in your own right this very instant. A Peer of the Realm.”

I gulped. Somehow, I’d never even considered...

“I hope you’re not too disappointed. Some of my more radical advisors, including a couple Heralds who’ve come to know you personally, argued for exactly that. They felt not only that you deserved it, but that it’d make an important statement about Rabbits and their future place in society as well.” He sighed. “But I put the kibosh to it myself, David. And I wanted you to know that. Because it’s too much too soon, you see. The land grant was meant as a substitute, intended both to soften the blow and open other possibilities instead.” He smiled. “Besides, I just couldn’t imagine you being called ‘Milord’ by your fellow Rabbits for the rest of your life. It just doesn’t fit the David Birkenhead I know and love so well.”

I looked down at my hindpaws. “Th-th-thank you for not ennobling me, sir. You were right. I’d have
hated
it!”

“It would’ve sent the wrong message entirely,” the elderly man agreed. “Or at least it would if done today. Our over-emphasis on the aristocracy lies behind many of our most intransigent problems. Better that you remain outside of that particular snakepit. For the moment, at least.”

My cheeks burned, and I was unable to meet his eyes.

“Anyway,” His Majesty continued, moving on to another, more pleasant topic. “The last time we spoke, I made it a point to ask you to pursue a naval career and do your best to succeed at it, as the most promising way to advance the interests of Rabbitkind and of this Kingdom.” He smiled. “For the record, you may consider yourself officially informed that you’re succeeding. So much so, in fact, that I’ve had great difficulty deciding what to do with you next.”

“I’d like to be an engineer,” I mumbled. “It’s all I ever wanted. Since I was little.”

His Majesty’s smile faded. “You were
designed
to want to be an engineer,” he reminded me. “An engineer and a successful leader. Apparently, however, the talents that make for a smooth-running engine-room are applicable in other endeavors as well.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, David. Engineering can be your hobby, if you like. But it can’t be your career. You’ve proven yourself far, far too valuable for that.”

“But sir! I—”

He cut me off. “David… I just spoke to you of my hopes and dreams for James, and of how I was doing my best to smooth the way for him. Part of the master plan is to provide him with the best possible circle of allies and advisors. I’m slipping them into place now, while I’m still vigorous and able to do so. You’re one of them, of course.” He shook his head. “Be honest with me. For all the high esteem in which I hold the kingdom’s starship engineers, I don’t think you can best held James ascend to the throne against opposition and then rule effectively from the engine room of a starship. Do you?”

I gulped. “No, sir.”

“Neither do I,” he replied. “In an ideal world, you’d be a grizzled old admiral that I could put in charge of the Home Fleet or perhaps even the Palace Guard. But you’re not. You’re still a very new lieutenant. That makes things much more difficult.”

“Forgive me, sire. But actually I’m just an acting-lieutenant.”

His eyebrows rose. “Really? Then somehow we’ve overlooked that little detail.” He scribbled himself a note. “Please forgive my staff—we’re quite overworked. You’ll be legally a lieutenant by this time tomorrow, seniority effective back to the date of your acting-appointment.”

I gulped again. It was
that
easy?

“Anyway…” he continued, setting down the pen. “It’s proven quite challenging to find you an appropriate posting. Impossible, in fact. So we created one.” He smiled. “You’re being assigned to create a whole new defensive organization on Marcus Prime, the space fencibles. Have you ever heard the term before?”

I nodded. “It dates back to the Napoleonic era. The sea fencibles were seagoing reservists. Small boat people, mostly—fishermen, ferrymen and the like. Even Thames River boatmen. They and their vessels were to be conscripted in the event of invasion. In preparation, they trained from time to time and were paid a stipend to maintain their craft to military standards.”

“Precisely!” His Majesty replied, smiling wide. “You know your history well indeed, David. Your mission will be to set up a similar organization made up of manned satellites, ground-to-orbit vessels, and other small ships and their crews. Back in the old days it was a full captain’s command, but in this instance we’re ignoring precedent. Our goal is to keep the organization small enough that we can justify a mere lieutenant being in charge until we can reasonably promote you again. And in truth, since you’ll be building the whole thing from scratch, it’ll probably be years before it legitimately grows to that point anyway.”

I gulped. The job was… Huge.

“You’ll be permitted to choose your key subordinates within reason, and will be allotted a generous budget. We expect this force to eventually become a worthwhile addition to our military capabilities—the idea isn’t exactly new. So we’re not going to starve you for startup funds.”

I nodded again. “Thank you, sir.”

He smiled. “I have every confidence in you, son. This position will allow you to develop your organizational skills, learn a little bit about politics, meet key people and solidify your position within the House of Marcus. But most of all, David, it met my number one requirement.”

“What was that, sir?” I asked.

He sipped the last of his chocolate milk before replying. “Keeping you safe. I’ll never willingly put you at risk again. Or James either. You’re both now
far
too important to lose.”

5

Nine long months passed before I was able even to ship out to my new command. During that time the war ended, James turned twenty-one and was elevated to titular leadership of the House of Marcus, and I slaved away at my assigned task of creating the space fencibles out of nothing without most of the information I desperately needed.

It wasn’t half that bald or simple, of course. James’s elevation ceremony was a thing of majestic grace and beauty. He chose me to stand at his left hand—circumstances of bloodline dictated that Uncle Robert stand at his right, and of course no one begrudged him the honor anyway. This meant that I had to make time to attend rehearsal after rehearsal. The whole process was infernally frustrating, even worse than mastering the basics of drill back at the Academy. And of course I had to get all dolled up again. But it was worth it to see James in his rightful place at last, especially since the realm of Marcus was raised to a dukedom in the process. James had to resign his commission, of course, which was sad. By then he liked the navy very much, and I suspected that his adventures aboard
Javelin
far behind enemy lines would enliven his conversations for the rest of his days. But Marcus Prime was about to be freed, and returning it to its former state of wealth and beauty would require the full-time attention of its proper owner. Thus James entered the fleet reserve at the age of twenty-one after a ceremonial elevation to the rank of commander. Someday as king he’d become an admiral in much the same way. But it wasn’t the same and he knew it better than anyone.

During this period I also moved into my own house on my own land. The papers made a huge fuss over it, since legally I wasn’t entitled to own so much as a square inch of real estate. They were on my side, however—the articles pleaded with the House of Lords to make a special one-Rabbit exception for me. This wasn’t at all what either His Majesty or I had in mind, however—at least not in the long term. We wanted property rights for
everyone
, and so far as I could see the best way to subtly keep pushing for them was to remain in open, gross violation of the law as it stood and dare the authorities to try and enforce the statutes against me. Part of me didn’t like this hero-based strategy very much; late at night I still wondered sometimes if I’d have been found guilty of Captain Holcomb’s murder if my Rabbits and the rest hadn’t gone on to do so much damage to the Imperials. On the one hand I still couldn’t see how I could’ve done anything any differently and still performed my higher duty, but on the other it was clear that I’d at least to a degree been whitewashed simply due to who I was. I didn’t like that I was exploiting my public status in order to subvert the legal system—it seemed to me that if there was a law against Rabbits owning land then I simply shouldn’t have any. But the cold fact was that this was clearly the best way to advance the cause of Rabbits everywhere, whether it was the most ethical course or not. Maybe politics were like war, a special case where the normal rules of right and wrong not only didn’t apply but couldn’t even conceivably be
made
to apply?

It was a depressing thought, one that darkened what should’ve been a very happy moving day. After living in Uncle Robert’s cabin for so long I decided that I very much preferred primitive over palatial living. While I could’ve afforded either—the still-free serfs of Marcus, meaning those not under the Imperial yoke, took up a huge interstellar collection to help set me up in my new home—I chose to build a simple cabin very much along the lines of the trout lodge. Being a primary residence it had to be considerably larger, of course; someday I’d be entertaining important guests and the like. And for the same reason I also included indoor plumbing and a hardpoint capable of supporting the launch of small Field-driven spacecraft. But otherwise my new home was rustic in the extreme. Both inner and outer walls were made of genuine dead-tree logs, and the heat came from fireplaces and stoves. I was also forced to try and find an estate manager to take care of the place when I was gone—which would be most of the time, given the nature of my career and next assignment. At first I was perplexed when no one answered my ads—I’d offered what I thought was quite a generous salary for not much work. Then one day the truth struck me and I realized that no human wanted to be employed by a Rabbit, no matter
what
he’d accomplished for his kingdom. So I visited the Zombie Rabbits and asked them if they’d be willing to take the job on for me. The whole gang volunteered before I could even name the salary—my old friends were going insane with boredom by then. So I installed Fremont and Snow as estate supervisors and put the rest of the Rabbits to work under them, allowing them to build their own homes pretty much wherever they liked.

“I encourage you to settle in and start families,” I explained to them on the day they arrived. “On the Marcus worlds, Rabbits live free and unsupervised—being owned isn’t much more than a formality for us. And that’s how I want things to be here.” I grinned. “Except that you’re
not
owned anymore, of course. So maybe things can be even better still.” There was some grumbling about this in the papers when word got out, but nothing serious. After all, people told themselves, I was a both a Marcus and a Rabbit myself. Of
course
I’d spoil the staff terribly—it was only to be expected. Slowly, bit by bit I withdrew myself from the day-to-day affairs of the property and let my bunny-trust make more and more decisions. Soon flowers—mostly fire-lilies—were blooming everywhere, and I found myself in possession of a beautiful, fragrant mountain meadow home that I wouldn’t trade for any six of the other Marcus palaces. My estate bordered on the mother-House’s grounds—if an emergency arose, my Rabbits knew where to turn for help. Thus I was able to live in a peaceful, worry-free manner, at least in regard to my domestic arrangements.

So at least I had pleasant surroundings as well as peace and quiet to work in as I planned out the space fencibles. It was just as well, because I needed plenty of both. The problems were staggering in depth as well as in scope. For example, no one had any clear idea of what our mission and purpose was to be. It was obvious enough that a plethora of small craft would be immensely useful to the “real” navy in the event of an invasion. There were always urgent supplies to be shipped and personnel to be shuffled about if nothing else, and only a space neophyte would fail to realize what a continual, annoying drain these essential activities were on a warship of any size. Yes, my fencibles could assist with these matters in time of war, and if we did no more the line-of-battle types would be grateful as could be.