Commander (6 page)

He nodded. “You’ve written several letters to House Security, trying to find her. The search was costly enough that they requested my approval before proceeding.” He bowed his head. “I’m sorry to have intruded, in that sense. But they were following standing orders. At any rate I authorized the expenditures and… Well, the negative reports you got back were accurate. We’ll keep trying, son. I have to say, though, that you'd be a fool to hold out much hope. Most likely she’s an ag-slave somewhere. And…”

He didn’t have to finish. “I know, Uncle,” I replied, balling my fists. Ag-slaves didn’t often last long, or at least they didn’t under Imperial overseers. “But… She’s a lot like me, isn’t she? I mean, she’d sort of have to be, one would think.”

His eyebrows rose. “Perhaps. I’ve never considered the matter before.”

“And… I mean… With all due respect, I think I’d find a way to survive. Even there.”

“Perhaps,” Uncle Robert allowed. Then he smiled. “Or get yourself killed rebelling, more likely.”

I smiled back. If I rebelled, well… A good few smug, holier-than-thou masters might just find themselves dead long before me. Though I’d never say such a thing aloud to a human, especially one who’d been so kind and generous.

But Uncle Robert read my expression perfectly. “Hah!” he replied with a grin. “That’s my David, the one I’m so proud of!” Then his face softened again. “In all seriousness, son… You’re sure you’ll never get over her? That only she can be the one?”

I bowed my head. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry.”

He sighed. “Don’t be sorry—this situation is
our
fault, not yours. Indeed, I’m the one who should apologize on behalf of the House—you’d think that by now we’d have learned not to monkey around with the natural order of things. It so rarely comes out well in the long run, you see.” Then he leaned his chair back and closed his eyes in concentration for a moment. “I’m going to send you to see someone who might be able to help,” he said eventually. “They’ll be instructed to be frank with you in every way and to withhold nothing. In return, I’ll have to request that you be discreet. Some House secrets are better kept House secrets, and it might for the best if you asked no more questions than you absolutely need answered. That which you don’t know you can’t share, even against your will.”

I nodded. “Of course, sir.”

“Excellent, then!” he agreed. Then he pulled out a card, scribbled on it, and added an imprint from his signet ring. “Take this to the Marcus Institute of Genetic Research,” he said, handing it to me. “And show it to Dr. Linda Cunningham. If she leaves a single question unanswered, then call me again and we’ll see what we can do about it. She can be a bit… well,
difficult
at times.”

10

“Difficult” was indeed a good word to describe Dr. Cunningham. Not only did the woman keep me waiting twenty minutes in her untidy anteroom, but she insisted on talking down to me as if I were a child. At first this enraged me so much that I nearly snapped back at her. Then I saw her do the same to a human and I realized that she perceived e
veryone
around her as mentally deficient, not just us Rabbits. All in all the gengineer was one of the most unpleasant individuals I’d ever encountered.

She was also, in a very real sense, my creator. For she’d designed not only me, but my father and mother as well.

“Say ‘ah’ again,” she insisted for the third time, still peering down my throat. I didn’t at first understand why she insisted on starting our meeting with a complete medical evaluation—I offered to forward her the results of my last navy checkup, but she insisted on doing it all herself, employing her own nearly-antique instruments. I felt pretty awkward at disrobing in front of a female doctor—it was an unseemly profession for a woman, and I’d never met another. But I survived the ordeal somehow, including twice as much poking and prodding as I was used to. The process seemed to mollify Dr. Cunningham a bit, too—the longer it went on, the less abrasive she became. In fact, by the time she had me look at pictures and tell her stories about them she’d grown downright smug. “Very good, David!” she praised me as if I were a halfwitted kit. “Very good indeed!”

Then she retired to her office, as imperious as His Majesty exiting the throne-room. I caught up with her a few short minutes later after putting my uniform back on. “You’re perfect, David!” she said with a smile as soon as I walked in. “Functioning exactly as planned. Except for the bad stomach, of course. I’m sorry about that! How could I foresee that you’d ever be stuck someplace without plenty of nice sweet hay to eat? You’ll recover, though. In fact, you’re well on your way already.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. So instead I smiled and sat down. “Dr. Cunningham,” I began, trying to be diplomatic despite all I’d been through. “Uncle Robert tells me that you’re the finest gengineer in the universe.”

Her face brightened. “I
have
to be,” she explained. “Because if one happens to be a female in our society, merely being very good at something isn’t enough to earn any respect.” Her head cocked to one side. “As a Free Rabbit, perhaps you understand?”

“Perhaps,” I allowed. Then I changed the subject again, not being particularly comfortable with the current one. “I’ve been wondering. How in the world did you and the rest of the Marcus gengineers survive the Imperial occupation? I mean… This institution is a unique resource. No one else anywhere is half up to your level.”

“We’re the economic and political heart of the House,” she agreed immodestly. “We designed the slaves, develop new medicines… You name it. That fire-lily you’re wearing on your tunic really ought to be a double-helix, you know.” She smiled. “It was easy, though things got a little hungry sometimes. We simply grabbed all the datacubes and vanished. The remaining House people formed an underground, and they helped us disappear.”

I nodded back. Glassware and machinery could be replaced. Decades of data and highly-skilled human assets, not so much.

“Anyway…” she continued, peering at me intently. “I’ve been instructed to answer every question you ask me, as completely and honestly as possible. If you want to know why your ears are bit on the short side compared to those of other Rabbits your size, it’s because the trait is hard-linked to some neuro-chemical processes and structures that amount to what might be loosely termed ‘moral courage’. I wanted for your eyes to be gray to match your fur. But I had to settle for blue because they’re linked in Rabbits to mathematical skills. You’re a whole series of compromises, David. It’s a lot of work to custom-design a being from scratch, I’ll have you know. In fact, it’s so difficult that I doubt we’ll ever attempt it on anything but a tiny handful of embryos. The cost-benefit ratio just isn’t there for gengineering anything but the most special of cases.”

I gulped. Father’s eyes had been blue, too. So were Frieda’s. But my mother’s were gray, according to the pictures at least. This woman knew
so
much about me and who I was! I’d have to be careful indeed of what I asked—it’d probably be unhealthy for me to learn too much. “I… That’s not the issue,” I replied. “They told me long ago that I was designed to be a successful ship’s engineer, the first Rabbit to have humans serve under me.”

“That’s right,” the doctor agreed, smiling again. “That’s why I made you exceptional. Because, as I just said a few moments ago, a merely very good Rabbit would never get any respect. It’s odd, isn’t it, how things work out? Everyone else in the universe is surprised, even shocked, at what you’ve accomplished. But I’m not.”

I blinked. “Are… Are the rest of the Rabbits limited somehow? Intellectually, perhaps?”

“They’re extremely easygoing, is all,” the doctor explained. “Dogs and Horses, too. They have practically no ambition. This isn’t an accident— it’s meant to help them accept their lot in life without putting up a fuss. It's far less damaging to a slave in an economic sense than, say, lowering his IQ. In some ways it can even be seen as a kindness. Plus, your brother and sister lapines are designed to make friends easily, and to be highly tolerant of each other. The group-bonds are tighter than in humans, in other words. In practice these social bonds extend to include their overseers and masters, so this also makes them forgiving by nature and willing to overlook abuse from them as well.” She sighed. “We’ve done a wretched thing to them, David. Mostly, that’s where you’re different than they are. Compared to most human males, your drive to Alphahood is still remarkably low. Yet for a Rabbit it’s much higher than average. This is what allows you to function as such an effective leader among your own kind—you’re sort of filling an unnatural vacuum. Of course, you’re also a noted if somewhat less than enthusiastic leader of humans. That’s because you’re likable, decisive, consistent, caring, ethical, and capable of making, articulating and executing good plans.”

I blinked—this was all so important, and coming so fast! “I… I mean… I came about Frieda.”

“I knew you would, eventually.” Her smile faded. “David… While I did most of the actual hands-on work on both you and her, the project manager who made all the key decisions was a certain Doctor Hadman. You probably never knew this, but he died in the same accident with your mother. It was a freak thing, really. They were riding in the same aircar when it crashed—he’d just performed a post-partum checkup on her, in fact.” Her face fell. “Things started going wrong for you very young, David. You were never meant to be raised by a single parent. I’ve always wanted to apologize for that, even though it was really no one’s fault. I was raised by my mother, you see. Alone. So I know how it was.”

I nodded back. “Like you said, it wasn’t anyone’s fault.”

“Anyway… Dr. Hadman and I had several rather energetic disputes about you, David. I took the position that it was wrong to mate-bond you genetically, or at least to mate-bond you to only one doe. I didn’t think it was ethical then, and I don’t think it’s ethical now. In my view the program should’ve either involved at least a dozen Rabbits of each sex or shouldn’t have been run at all. But the project was seen as too high-risk to expand—it’s still
very
illegal to create a slave with an urge to improve his situation!—and too important to cancel.” She sighed. “You were supposed to help free your kind, David. Each succeeding generation was to take a step in that direction. And I believe in that deeply, or I’d never have participated at all.”

“It’s not your fault that I can’t be with Frieda,” I replied. “You tried to do the right thing. It just didn’t work out, was all.”

She looked a bit relieved. “Thank you for that, David. Very, very much.” Her chair creaked as she shifted slightly in it. “Anyway… There are several options that might help you deal with your condition. I don’t think you’ll like any of them.”

“Try me,” I suggested. “Something’s got to better than… This.”

“We could give you drugs,” she explained. “To reduce your libido. But I’ll warn you—they’ll make you more passive as well. More accepting of the status-quo, like the other Rabbits. The two are inextricably linked in your kind.” Her brows knitted. “David… You’ve already done a lot both for the House and for bunnies everywhere. Most Rabbits are actually very happy creatures, deep down where it matters. For the first time, you’d truly be one of your own kind. It’d be quite a change for you, yes. A profound change, even. But—”

“No,” I replied. “There’s too much at stake. If it were only about me, well… I might consider it. But… No.”

“All right. Another option is to modify a doe for you. While Frieda was meant to appeal to you on many levels—her intelligence, personality, even her physical appearance—the prime factor involved is one of scent. If we can make a doe smell enough like Frieda, that just might do the trick.”

I felt the corners of my mouth twist downwards into a scowl. “Are you telling me—“

“Yes,” she interrupted. “I am. We’re all animals in a sense, David, including we humans. Scent is important to us. I know that this seems a bit demeaning, but—“

“No,” I replied. “Even if it amounts to pretty much the same thing as… Well, just ‘no’.”

“I wouldn’t either,” she admitted. “That’s probably why I’m a spinster, or at least part of it.” Her smile faded. “That leaves only one last alternative, David.”

“And that is?”

“Tough it out, kiddo. Get a counselor to help you deal with the emotional void, take long, cold showers to help with the physical need… Think of it as an incurable illness, and find ways to minimize your suffering. Because it
is
an illness in a sense, you see, and one that’s not likely to ever get any better. It won’t be easy, but you can do this if you really try. It won’t break you—I
know
it won’t!”

I looked down at the floor. But I needed Frieda
so
much! “How do you know?” I asked. “Because you’re still single yourself? Or is it because you were the one who designed me?”

“Neither,” she replied, crossing her arms. “It’s because I knew your father. Who had to deal with exactly the same situation after your mom’s accident, if you think about it. And you know what? If anything, he was the stronger for it.”

11

I spent the next few months wondering if Dr. Cunningham had spoken the magic words on purpose, or if it was merely fortuitous. “If your father could take it, so can you,” she’d as much as said. And that was that; she’d cited the highest authority possible. I didn’t respect anyone or anything like I did my father, and the highest praise anyone could offer was to compare me to him. After that, if anything I took pride in my suffering. It was one more thing I shared in common with the greatest Rabbit I’d ever known.