Captain (3 page)

Nestor took this as a 'yes' even though it didn't sound much like one to me. "Well, sir… I've been reading David's old Academy textbook on strategy. It describes a well-known game that this situation reminds me very much of. If you think about it, whether there's a Regency or not there'll still be a Marcus on the throne. People tend to forget that poor Stephen is James's elder brother. So if he's crowned and a Regent is appointed, James is still next in line anyway because Stephen can never father a child. Therefore, if you think matters all the way through and look past the next few years, well… The name of the game I was thinking of, sir, is 'Heads I win, tails you lose'." He smiled. "The Marcuses are famous for playing the long game. I'm amazed that no one else seems to be looking at things in that light."

"So," Admiral Kranmetz said eventually, looking bemused. "It'll be the Marcuses in the long run after all. No matter what happens."

"Unless we totally screw it up," I replied, smiling across the room at Nestor. Then the expression faded. "Personally, I think a Regent would mean a weak, indecisive kingdom and in turn an Imperial victory. In that case there may well
be
no long game. Though of course if we go down that road and I'm ever allowed out of here, I'll still fight them with all I have." 

"If the Imperials win," Nestor asked softly, "how long do you suppose there'll be an independent New Geneva?"

The admiral colored slightly, and I thought for a moment that perhaps my friend had pressed matters too far. Then Kranmetz smiled and looked him in the eye. "What did you say your name was?" he asked.

"Nestor," he replied. "I've yet to choose a surname. In fact, I may
never
choose one."

"Well," the admiral replied, his smile widening as he bent over and offered his hand. "Now I know that there are at least
two
Rabbits in the universe whose opinions are worth hearing." My friend smiled and accepted the gesture in the spirit in which it was offered. Then the admiral looked up at my wall, where my Sword hung next to the broom and home-made victory pendant we'd sailed
Richard
into her final berth under. "It's a damned shame indeed that you're stuck here so far away from the action," he declared. "I expect that right about now the House of Marcus would be grateful to have both of you back home to help things along."

I shrugged. "What cannot be cured must be endured."

He looked at me a bit strangely, then smiled again and extended his hand. "It's been a tremendous honor, playing host to the most famous naval officer of our age," he said. "Who knows? Maybe it'll even earn me a footnote in the history books. You've been a polite and gracious guest."

I smiled back. "And under the circumstances, well… My already high regard for New Geneva has only increased."

"Good!" he replied, "I'm pleased to hear it." He stepped to the door, and rather to my shock saluted me. It was normal for Royal officers of higher rank to salute me first—that went with having been awarded a Sword, after all. But foreigners, well… I repaid his courtesy as best I could by replying with parade-ground stiffness.

"Fair winds, David!" he said as he stepped out into the corridor. "I only wish I'd made more time to get to know you better."

My mouth dropped open—what on earth was the man talking about? Was he headed off on detached duty or something? "Come by any time!" I finally stammered. Then he was gone. "Well!" I declared, turning to Nestor. "What on earth do you think
that
was all about?"

"Beats the heck out of me," the ever-practical Nestor replied. "But for my part, I'm going to start packing."

5

After careful consideration, I did a little packing too. I didn't have all that much stuff of my own, as naval officers tend to travel lightly. The only really important item I couldn't carry on my own person was the broom-and-pendant arrangement, which Uncle Robert had already twice attempted to secure for display at the Royal War Museum. But my crew had presented it to me personally; their exact words were "We want you to place it on your mantelpiece for the rest of your life to remember us by". And there it would indeed hang, if I had any choice in the matter. No captain had ever sailed with a finer crew than that of
Richard
, and I'd honor their request to the letter as best I possibly could.

We were so excited at the prospect of leaving that it took us less than an hour to get everything squared away and ready—I even placed a few gold pieces atop my dresser as a tip for the domestic staff so I wouldn't forget in the sudden rush that I was sure
must
be coming. But as it happened we waited…

And waited…

And waited all through the endless afternoon, until Nestor finally gave in and cooked us dinner. "We have a reading class tonight," he pointed out as our veggies boiled. "At least that'll help the time pass."

I nodded. It was my habit to teach classes in slave shorts, so as not to stand apart from my students. Yet here I was still in my full dress uniform, pockets stuffed with souvenirs, datacubes, and heirlooms. "Perhaps so," I agreed with a sigh. "I suppose I ought to go ahead and change clothes. We're not likely to be exchanged outside of business hours, I don't suppose."

"You never know," Nestor countered. "And besides—you promised old Isaac that you'd come at least once in uniform, so he could take your picture."

I scowled, not at all in the mood to pose for the aged photographer's assistant. Yet a promise was a promise. "Well, I
am
all dressed up already…"

Someone knocked on our door at precisely six forty-five, right on schedule. It just about had to be our escort to the rec-room—we were not only kept under guard coming and going, but typically an entire squad of Genevan marines sat in the back row the whole time we were teaching. Over time we'd come to know them all quite well, of course—at Christmas-time Nestor even made chocolate-mint cupcakes for them all. "Hello!" I said with a smile as the door swung open. "How—" But the rest of the sentence remained stillborn in my throat, for instead of the usual friendly gang I found myself confronted with a heavily-armed squad of men wearing the orange collar-tabs of the New Genevan Internal Security Service.

"Good evening, Commander Birkenhead," their leader said from behind a thin, wispy smile. "I'm Major Adama. I fear there've been some changes in how we're administering our internee program. Please don't be alarmed by this. You and your valet have been model prisoners; this has nothing to do with you and your daily routine won't be affected." His smile widened. "I understand we're on our way to a reading class?"

I blinked, then reminded myself that the Genevans were free to run their prison however they wished.  "Yes, Major. Of course." Just then Nestor came dashing out of the kitchen. "In recreation room one."

He bowed and gestured with a flourish. "After you!"

Our improvised classroom was only a short walk away, and there were already half a dozen Rabbits and a Dog waiting there for us. As was so often the case with the gengineered species, they'd gotten right to work. The chairs were already rearranged for the class and our students were sitting in a neat row waiting for us, some peering intently into their readers. Fortunately old Isaac was among the early arrivals, so we were able to get the photographic nonsense out of the way first. Nestor brought our broom-and-pennant to use as a prop, so when the rest of the class arrived the elderly bunny got a good shot of us all posing around it. "Thank you, sir!" he said, voice quavering with either age or gratitude—I wasn't sure which. Then we got down to business and took turns reading first
Peter Rabbit
and then a second-grade level tale about a dog named Lad aloud for almost two hours. Things were just breaking up when Nestor came sidling up beside me. "Excuse me, sir," he whispered in my ear. "But can you handle the cleanup alone for a few minutes? Dinner didn't agree with me."

I nodded without speaking aloud, so as to avoid embarrassing him. Rabbits have some odd social taboos that are believed to derive directly from ancestral lapine behavior patterns, and an unusually strong sense of privacy about matters involving toilets stands high among them. It seemed that everyone wanted to hang around and chat that particular evening; I spent perhaps half an hour gossiping about this and that with my students. Then I noticed that my broom-and-pennant was missing! My
heavens
! Who would've stolen
that
? My head darted left, right, left, but it was nowhere in sight! Surely neither my students nor the security police… I was just about to grow incandescently angry when it occurred to me that perhaps Nestor had taken it with him for safekeeping. So, excusing myself and making it clear to my escort what I was doing, I followed him into the little toilet.

And there it was, of course. Along with Nestor, Major Adama…

…and a large, fresh crawl-hole in the bathroom wall. "I thought you'd
never
come looking for this!" Nestor hissed, waving the pennant.

Then Major Adama smiled and spoke up. "Congratulations on your successful escape, Commander!" he explained. "An escape which we New Genevans did everything humanly possible to prevent, of course, and are in no way complicit in. In fact, you and I have never even met."

At least I recovered quickly. "Thank you," I replied with a deep bow. "Which explains why you won't be receiving a card expressing my deepest gratitude."

"Naturally not." His smile widened as he handed me a pair of pliers. "There's an air vent on the other side of that opening. Bear right, and count four ventilation grilles. The fourth opens up just across from where your diplomatic courier ship
Sparrow
is berthed. By the purest of coincidences, she's all powered up and ready to transport urgent dispatches back home. And by an even greater coincidence, no New Genevan ship is even remotely in a position to intercept."

I shook my head. "It's simply amazing, how lucky Nestor and I are!"

"Yes," the major replied. "Heads are going to roll over this, I'm sure. Someday. When we get around to it, that is. Probably all of them about to retire anyway." Then he snapped to attention and saluted. "Godspeed, Commander! My government is officially neutral, as I'm sure you understand it
must
be. But that doesn't mean that we're too stupid to know who the good guys are, or that our officers aren't allowed personal feelings. It's been one of the greatest honors of my life to be of assistance to you!"

6

It felt good indeed to walk once more down the ceremonial halls of the Royal Palace on Earth Secundus, even though the reporters practically rioted at the sight of me. "No comment for now, gentlemen!" I shouted over the roar of the questions as I was escorted past them by a detail of large, toothy Dogs who were kept on-hand precisely for this sort of occasion. "You'll get a full press conference later! Promise!"

That eased the pressure some, as they knew from past experience that my word on such matters was good. What did even more to improve the situation was the arrival of no less than five Heads of Houses in the limo just behind mine. Normally they'd have landed first, as a matter of social precedence. But they'd graciously waived the honor in recognition of the fact that I had urgent business.

"Welcome home, Commander," a black-garbed Herald greeted Nestor and I just outside His Majesty's personal chamber. He smiled, for what looked like the first time in weeks. "His Highness would be most pleased that you're here."

I nodded and gulped. It still felt a little odd to be in the king's private part of the Palace without being all dolled up in Court dress. 
Sparrow
had strained her engines to the limit all the way home, and made orbit only two hours before. Since I'd considered haste more important than formality, I was still wearing the same worn-out full-dress uniform and single battered epaulette that I'd departed Marcus Prime with so long ago. I'd been assured that no one would say a word, given that I was a good friend rushing to His Majesty's bedside. But still…

"Go on in," the Herald urged, smile widening. Then he nodded at Nestor. "You too, if you like."

My aide was even more shabbily dressed than I was. "Thank you," he replied in a dry whisper.

There was a marine at the door; he snapped-to smartly as I passed, but I couldn't bring myself to smile as I usually did in reply. Against all odds His Majesty yet lived, if the shadowy half-existence of near-total brain death could be called living.  When I entered his sickroom a doctor was just leaving. He nodded gravely as we passed, then Nestor and I were alone with our sovereign. I removed my hat and bowed my head for a time, then steeled myself and stared directly into the royal visage. Once his features had been so alive they'd seemed almost to glow, illuminated by an inner joy that owed much to childhood but nothing to childishness. Now they hung slack and gray, and his eyes were taped shut. What lay before me was a mere mockery of the man I'd known, a living corpse more than anything else. It was a sight I'd have been pleased to have been spared, yet I owed this visit and far more to the man who once had been. 

"There's absolutely no hope, as I'm sure you've heard," the Herald said softly from behind me. He'd slipped inside with us, once a decent interval had passed. "It's all the machines. They can't be shut down without approval from the House of Lords, you see. There the bickering goes on and endlessly on. It borders on the indecent."