Captain (13 page)

Wild cheering erupted, and there it was out in the open at last. I looked around the arena at those faces near enough to see how people were reacting to James's first-ever out and out claim to the crown. A few of the older, higher-ranking officers were sitting silent, in obvious shock. Given a little time to think things through, some of them might well guess what was coming next. But most were standing and waving their hats and cheering themselves hoarse at the promise of victory and undivided governmental support for the war effort. A few years back they might've shown less enthusiasm. But now they knew that victory was possible, and like all fighting men they'd found the taste sweet indeed.

Sweeter, we were betting everything we had, than even their loyalty to their own Houses.

"We shall not hold back," James continued once the uproar died down. "We shall not falter, we shall not spare ourselves. All the various Houses will contribute to the war effort based on what they can best offer, and none shall be required to carry more than their fair share of the burden. We shall pull together as one, in other words, instead of permitting a favored few to feather their nests at the expense of others." He smiled. "You've sacrificed much in service to your kingdom, as have all who serve beneath you." Then, suddenly, he wasn't smiling anymore. "When I am king the Emperor
will
die, and his Empire
will
die with him. Unified, with selfish considerations put aside at long last, nothing can stop us. And then at long last we shall again know true peace!"

"Death to the Emperor!" the Second Space Lord declared from his front-row seat, right on cue. "Death to the Emperor!"

"Death!" the officers began chanting, led by a handful of deeply-trusted Marcus-born officers carefully scattered throughout the auditorium. "Death! Death! Death!"

26

James and I usually embraced as we traded places at the podium, but this time we made an exception. From this point forward we had to move, move, move; we were trying to create a highly specific emotional state in our audience. If people were given a chance to reflect on what was really going on, everything could yet fall apart. So I paused only long enough for the little square of floor at the base of the rostrum to rise so that I wouldn't appear as short as I actually was. Normally it was the sort of thing I joked about, but today wasn't at all the time for that sort of thing.

"Death to the Emperor!" I agreed, shaking an angry fist and drawing a sort of savage growl of approval from the officers and cadets. "Death, death, death!" Then I lowered my fist and tilted my head to one side. "But how exactly shall we accomplish this?"

I let my question hang in the air until there was near-silence in the hall. "It's one thing to make savage threats," I said softly. "And another entirely to bring them to fruition." I paused and scanned the auditorium, meeting every eye I could among the thousands present.

"You'd know how if anyone would, David!" a voice roared out from about the third row, catching me totally by surprise. This one wasn't a plant, or at least not that I knew of.

"I've killed a few Imperials," I admitted with a nod, departing slightly from my planned text. "Many others present have killed even more. And yet… the fact is that so far we've lost a lot more battles than we've won."

"Only fools," I began again after a long, thoughtful pause, "take refuge in self-serving lies. The fact of the matter is that not only have we lost battle after battle, but war after war. This despite the fact that even after ceding so much territory we're still larger and should be stronger than our enemies." I looked around again. "There are no cowards in this room, I would submit. Like his Lordship the Duke of Marcus, I'm prouder to be part of this fraternity of heroes than of anything else in my life. And yet…" I sighed audibly. "We all know in our hearts that changes need to be made. Big ones."

A slight murmur rose in the room; I raised my voice and spoke over it. "For example, there's the matter of our equipment." On the spur of the moment I held up my Imperial blaster, where I'd planned to use another example entirely. "This is better than our own personal weapons in every conceivable way. It's smaller, lighter, more powerful, fires more times without a recharge, is easier to maintain… I could go on and on. This is no secret to anyone here; we've all known about it for ages. And yet, we've done nothing to improve our own weapons to match it." I tilted my head again. "Why is that, I wonder? Is it perhaps because one of our Noble Houses by ancient tradition holds the unquestioned right to produce all of our small arms?"

A nasty mutter developed again; I'd hit a sore spot. "It's the same for our ships. They're slower, with less efficient Fields and poorer armor than those of our foes. All in the name of cost-cutting, with no thought whatsoever given to the notion that few things in this universe are more expensive than a lost war or a hero's life." I allowed my features to harden. "Haven't we wasted
enough
lives?"

"When James is king," I continued after another long pause to let my words sink in, "we'll spend whatever it takes to not only match but better the Imperial standard in every equipment category from battleships to blasters. We won't ask our officers and men to bleed out their lives into cold space because a certain Noble House insists that ancient, high-profit prerogatives be honored." I smiled, but it was an icy one. "And most of all we'll take the initiative and carry the war into the enemy's homeland, all the way to Imperious itself!"

"You know the way there, David!" another unplanted voice roared out. "We'll
all
leave footprints next time!" 

Just then, Nestor leaned forward far enough to catch the corner of my eye and raised his left hand with one finger extended. The signal meant that Lord Robert had just moved in the Hall of Nobles that James be named the Royal Heir. We'd lose the vote, of course, but it'd serve as yet one more attention-drawing diversion. Our enemies were strongest among the nobility, and so it was among these privileged few that they'd placed their primary focus. But this was a mistake. For it wasn't the nobility that ultimately controlled the kingdom. It was the navy that was
truly
important. Without their blessing not a ship could come or go, nor a single word be communicated between the stars. And, I desperately hoped, the leaders of the navy were seeing things our way at this the most crucial of all moments.

"We'll all leave footprints," I agreed with a smile, half-nodding at Nestor so that he'd know I understood. "Each and every one of us, by heaven! But…" I continued over the renewed cheers. "It'll be a long, hard slog to get there. Long and hard in every way—we'll have to learn new ways to fight, even new ways to think about war." I paused and met their eyes again. "And, we'll have to do new things. Like, for example, arming those who've never fought before." Suddenly the hall was silent once more. "I'm a Rabbit," I continued, voice confident despite the echoing emptiness. "Both I and many other Rabbits have fought hard and well for king and kingdom. Is this not true?"

The silence continued.

"When James is king," I continued, "more Rabbits will be armed, and more Rabbits will fight. Many, many more. You must be prepared for this, as it is the way to victory at many levels. The Academy will be expanded, and more future officers trained there. Some of these trainees will be Rabbits, or Dogs, or even Horses if a practical way can be found for them to serve and they should wish to do so. This has many implications indeed for our society; I'll not enumerate them here." Once more I looked around and, with back straight and proud, met every eye in the place. "Who here," I asked, "will stand up to face me and claim that this is not just and right?" I waited a moment, ears raised expectantly. But no one dared openly contradict me, as I'd expected all along. 

"Free them!" Sir Leslie Blaine declared, rising to his feet. "Free them
all
, you fools! Can't you see that we're harming no one but ourselves? Denying ourselves a powerful resource? If I can figure it out and put the ways of the past behind me, then so can the rest of you. Besides…"  He pointed at me. "If they all fight like this one, the Empire will be on its knees in a week!"

Just then, Nestor edged forward again. This time, he raised one finger on his right hand. I felt a catch in my throat, and tears began to form in my eyes. But I couldn't shed them, not quite yet. "When James is king," I continued, "We brothers in arms will know victory and peace, both in distant space and the deepest recesses of our own hearts. Our children's children will thank us forever after for what we're going to win for them." Then I turned to Nestor and made a show of focusing my ears on him. "What's that?" I demanded.

"It's His Majesty!" my aide cried out in a half-wail. "The king is dead!"

I hung my head for a long moment, and let the half-formed tears flow. Now both Martijn and he were free at last. Then, very slowly, I turned to face James and bowed as deeply as I knew how. "Long live the king!" I declared.

"Long live the king!" the chant went up, thin and scattered at first. We hadn't dared plant this part. But soon it grew more confident and full-throated. "Long live the king! Long live the king!"

"Long live the navy!" James replied, standing with arms outspread and thereby accepting the officers’ acclamation. How many Caesars had come to power in exactly the same way? "Long live victory!"

Then he turned and hugged me, and we wept together in front of our cheering brothers for a very, very long time. There was much conflict yet to come, we both knew. Probably even bloodshed. But with video of practically the entire officer corps of the navy standing vociferously behind James's claim streaming all over the capitol world, the final outcome could no longer be in doubt.

27

Both the Hall of Nobles and the Palace proper were running amuck by the time that James and I arrived at the main government buildings. Part of the chaos was carefully planned and pre-arranged; the wildest rumors imaginable were circulating about how the Houses of Wilkes and Hashimoto were attempting to sell out the entire realm to the Imperials in order to line their own pockets. While they weren't entirely true, well… It wasn't exactly our fault that they fell on such fertile ground. We had agents everywhere spreading this line. Between the rumors and the presence of dozens upon dozens of the highest-ranking officers in the navy arriving via our parking-shuttle system to find out for themselves what was going on, well…

"Commander Birkenhead!" the First Space Lord demanded at one point, waving at me from down a long corridor. "Report to me this instant!"

I glanced over and met James's eyes; we were on our way to a secure headquarters we'd quietly established in an easily-defended anteroom. Our plan called for us to remain together there at all times ready to personally deal with any emergency, but an order was an order. Besides, the First Lord was an issue that had to be dealt with sooner or later anyway, and the sooner the better in my book. My friend nodded slightly, and I was off. "Yes, sir?" I asked after racing over.

"What on earth… I mean, who do…" The old man was sputtering like a nearly-dead blaster, sure of his target but not quite able to let fly. "I see what you've done!" he roared at last. "It's treason, all of it!"

My eyebrows rose. The First Space Lord was a Hashimoto as well as a cold, colorless officer whose sole distinction was having led a fleet into a series of indecisive, long-range battles. In the end he'd gotten far too many men killed while accomplishing precisely nothing. Presumably his family had assumed that they could control the fleet through him. What a pity that it hadn't worked out quite that way! "The true Royal Heir doesn't agree, sir," I pointed out. His face reddened as he prepared another barrage, then a dozen security Dogs appeared out of nowhere and surrounded me. James must have sent them—they were my usual personal bodyguard when I was out and about in public, wearing new uniforms that had been rather hastily issued without what some might consider adequate authorization. "Nor, it seems, do the palace guards." I let my eyes narrow slightly. "This is how things were meant to be, sir. And you well know it. How hard are you and your families going to push the matter? So far all the fences are still mendable. They'll remain that way, if your side is willing."

"By god!" he roared. "Treason and mutiny both!" Then he turned and looked down a side-tunnel. "Marines! Arrest Commander Birkenhead this instant!"

I gulped as the unexpected reinforcements came running up and then skidded to a stop mere feet away; the Dogs were no match for the heavily-armed marines and both sides knew it. Yet my protectors were intensely loyal and wouldn't willingly give me up. Bloodshed seemed inevitable.

"Well!" the First Space Lord demanded. "What are you waiting for? Arrest him!"

"Don't so much as lift a finger!" a familiar voice declared from somewhere behind me. It was Lord Quenton, head of the House of Quenton. While still captain of the
Javelin
, he'd once extracted my surviving men and I from a rather nasty situation at Zombie Station. His Lordship was dressed in his full ceremonial makeup and regalia, clearly having come directly from his seat in the Hall of Nobles.  Then he was standing alongside me, panting from his long jog. "How
dare
you attempt to arrest this hero, sir!"

The First Space Lord remained expressionless as he faced Lord Quenton. "He's engaged in high treason," the most senior officer in the fleet declared. "And I suspect him of far worse. As you must of course know, being up to the neck in it yourself." Then he turned once more to the marines. "Arrest them both!" he snapped.