Midshipman (15 page)

I think that the Yan twins and Heinrich and maybe even Professor Lambert actually did think I’d gone round the bend, even though they must’ve been told something to prevent them from asking embarrassing questions. James, of course, grinned and wrung every last drop of fun possible out of the situation. One night out in the dining room he used his high social rank to keep turning the subject back to flower-care again and again, pretending rapt interest in my words while all the rest of the civilian dignitaries trapped at our table practically died of boredom. And, once just before bedtime, he sat on his bunk and aped scratching his ear with his foot. That was the best part, I guess—we were sharing a room once again, with no newsletters to write or sentries to inspect. Soon we’d be men, and therefore required to live up to men’s responsibilities. But during this unexpected short reprieve we could be kids together one last time. It was a gift beyond price, and both of us knew it.

All five of us, plus Professor Lambert, spent the bulk of every day preparing for the tournament. The two sides had agreed that the first day would be devoted to chess, at which Heinrich excelled and I was passable. The Yans would represent us at cards on the second day, while Heinrich and James would play something ancient-themed on the third. The fourth day it’d be James and I teamed up for a twentieth or twenty-first century conflict. In the unlikely event that the two teams were tied at that point, a modern-era space battle would decide things. I was passable at those as well, and the same could be said for James. But modern three-dimensional combat was so difficult and complex that major real-life battles were usually planned by experts with lots of high-powered computer help. Professor Lambert hadn’t emphasized them much, because he said our brains needed to physically mature further before we could truly appreciate what we were studying. He hoped that by the time we were old enough for staff college, he’d have written a new textbook for us.

So all through the trip the Yans played cards and studied probability tables. It was a near-certainty that they’d be playing poker, so that was what they hit the hardest. I spent most of my time at the chessboard, since that was where I needed the most help. Heinrich grimly worked at learning what he could of modern space-war, driven all the harder by being told he was too young to truly master the subject. James labored at learning his old-school ships and aircraft better, though he never did lose his annoying tendency to confuse the strong points of the Me-109 with those of the Zero. And perhaps Professor Lambert worked hardest of all, darting from table to table and clearly worried to death. Sometimes I had to smile and shake my head, sitting there watching him over my chessmen as he encouraged the Yans to raise in larger increments or Heinrich to think more three-dimensionally. After all, it was sort of funny in a way. As a civilian, I was willing to bet, he knew nothing at all of the code books that were our real reason for the trip. How much more would he have fussed and fidgeted, I had to wonder, had he known that some of us were risking a lot more than merely losing a tournament?

28

New Geneva was the most strictly neutral place in the universe. The entire realm consisted of a single large station orbiting a dead star, one of only a handful of such facilities to be found anywhere. Professor Lambert explained to us during the trip that all such stations were the result of unique strategic and economic circumstances. This was because they cost so much to build and run. In the case of New Geneva a direct route between the capitol worlds of our Kingdom and the Empire had been discovered very late in the game, when a new Jump-point prospecting technique was developed. The route was too useful commercially to be ignored; in peacetime, ships sometimes actually had to queue up in line to Jump. Being by far the most direct available way to get from here to there, it was of huge military importance as well. In the end the two rival governments had agreed to declare the Geneva Passage a neutral zone and jointly financed the building of Geneva Station for purposes of supporting commerce. Only the government of New Geneva itself was permitted weapons, and again both sides cooperated by keeping Geneva armed to the teeth so that their enemy could never slip by. The Station was effectively the largest dreadnought ever built by a factor of perhaps ten, minus the propulsion system. Someday, everyone believed, the agreement would come apart and the Station would be blown to flinders with terrible loss of life. But so far the arrangement had proven surprisingly durable. Even in wartime, it seemed, people needed a place to trade with the enemy. Not to mention insert spies and slip through codebooks…

Because the Station was so crowded our rooms were even smaller than the ones back at the Academy. It was only for a week or so, though. And no one would ever inspect these particular quarters, so none of us were about to complain.

Our ship docked slightly more than a day ahead of that of our opponents. Professor Lambert declared this a holiday and urged us to wander the station and relax as best we could. “Gaming is a mental exercise,” he explained, “and minds need rest too. Please go out, see the sights, and do anything except thinking about gaming. I don’t want to see you again until fourteen hundred hours tomorrow, when we’ll form up to greet our opponents.” Then he smiled. “I’m proud of each and every one of you. And I smell an upset in the air.”

James and I couldn’t discuss the codebooks out loud, of course—not in a place where there might be a microphone under every chair. But we’d talked the matter over at length back at the Academy and therefore knew just what we’d do. Whenever we were out and about, one of us would carry a codebook and handle it very casually, half-inviting anyone who wanted the thing to steal it. The other copy would always be left back in the rooms, right on top of everything and easy to find. We also had been most carefully instructed to get a look at whoever lifted it, if at all possible. But the main thing was just to make the delivery.

Sadly, New Geneva proved to be a much duller place than I’d imagined. The entire galaxy pictured the Station as an excitingly cosmopolitan place, where someone with money might obtain anything his heart desired. Neither James nor I, however, were much interested in the sort of stuff we found for sale. We already had all the luxuries we could ever want. And neither of us were into either drugs or sex. While I was almost sixteen, no human prostitute could ever hold any interest for me. (Whenever I dreamed of romance, for some reason it was always of Frieda, the classmate I’d left behind on Fire Lily Day so long ago. The Imperials were still holding Marcus Prime, though supposedly not for much longer. So I didn’t even know if she was dead or alive.) And while James might well indeed have been tempted to sample certain forbidden fruits, the New Geneva government had agreed to provide him with such a substantial security detail that, well… Even the Yan brothers wouldn’t have stood much of a chance of escaping their attention. So we walked the straight and narrow, left James’s Greek grammar book lying carelessly about from time to time, and pretended we weren’t bored as we played mini-golf in variable gravity fields with kids several years younger than ourselves. It was still better than our best day at the Academy.

The next day after lunch we got all dressed up in our class-A’s and James (being the highest ranking) inspected us minutely. He didn’t cut us a single break, which was right and proper considering that we were about to officially meet our Imperial opposites for the first time in history. Even I got dinged for not having enough of a shine on my Sword. At least he didn’t write me up over the fact that I was shedding— it was that time of year, so I couldn’t help it.  Despite frequent full-body vacuums I left dead fur swirling behind me like a blizzard wherever I went. To compensate as best as possible, my friend rearranged our marching order so that I went last. That way no one would have to pass through the noxious cloud I left in my wake.

James chose to march us all the way over to Lock Ninety-Two, where the Imperial’s liner was to dock. At first I resented this a little—hadn’t we done enough marching back home? But as we passed through the station everyone stopped and stared at us, clearly admiring our swagger and precision. We were naval officers, after all, or soon enough would be. Not boys playing games. So why should we not be proud? I can’t speak for anyone else, but I certainly held my head straighter and squared my corners better than I ever had on the parade ground back home. And from what I could tell the notoriously unmilitary Heinrich, stationed directly in front of me, pretty much felt the same way. All this time, I mused, he’d known how to march properly after all…

We formed up in a rigid line at the airlock and stood at ease, as confident and proud as we’d ever been in our lives thanks to James’s genius in marching us. Our uniforms were perfect, our shoes were slabs of ebony, our brasswork shone like the sun. And, I knew deep in my heart, my Sword showed up not least of all.

The Station trembled slightly as the liner clamped on a mere minute and a half late—a superb performance on the part of her captain. Then there was the usual delay as pressures were equalized and such. Having spent so much time on an engineering deck myself, I knew exactly what all was involved and tried to predict when the hatch would finally swing open.
Now!
I whispered to myself. Rather to my surprise, the seal cracked as if at my command.

The first person through was a petty officer, of course; it was his job to verify the automatics and ensure that all was well. When he was done the first class passengers came bustling into Geneva—wealthy traders, rich old women, nobles wearing golden orders on their chests, all with Rabbits carrying their luggage. Each and every one of these bunnies stared at me wordlessly as they passed for just as long as they possibly could; some of them actually tripped over each other. Then there was a long pause during which no one emerged.

“Ten-
hut
!!” James declared, catching some insignificant hint I’d missed. Instantly we all snapped-to, just as the sounds of marching began to emerge from the liner’s hull.
Clomp, clomp, clomp—
it shook the Station itself! Numerous feet stamped as one, in a steady monotonous drumbeat that was just a tiny bit slower than our own accustomed tempo. As they emerged I saw why. They were not only goose-stepping, but stamping down extra-hard with heavy riding boots. One arm remained rigid at their side, while the other was swung twice as far as if to compensate. The overall effect was as arrogant and overwhelming as could be.
Clomp, clomp, clomp
! And there were at least twenty-five of them!

I wanted to gulp, or at least lick my nose. But just then wasn’t the time to play dumb-bunny, mission be damned. Instead I held my gaze level and icy as the Imperials marched out, formed a line that couldn’t have been drawn straighter with a laser, and then saluted in an elegant two-stage movement. Their arm began at their side, then they covered their heart, and finally they stuck their fists straight out in front of them at shoulder-level. After that they stood as motionless as statues, while I wondered how much muscle it took to maintain such rigidity in such an awkward pose.

“
Hut
!” James declared, as calmly as if we found ourselves confronted with five times as many Imperials as expected every day of the week, all of whom could obviously march our pants off.  “Birkenhead,
hut
!”

Rigidly I took two steps forward and saluted with my Sword; this gesture required two elegant motions as well, and by now I pretty much had it down. This was a good thing, as the Imperials were saluting me personally as the wearer of such a high decoration. Ordinarily they’d have refused to acknowledge mere fellow cadets.

“
Hut!
” their commander acknowledged, spinning beautifully on his heel “Ri’face! For’ard,
hut
!” Then, without so much as a single word of acknowledgment or greeting, they crashed off into Geneva Station making ten times as much noise—and turning ten times as many heads—as we ever had.

29

“I sometimes despair,” Professor Lambert declared over dinner, “of us ever overcoming such a highly militarized state.”

James nodded solemnly in reply, but the rest of us said nothing. The gaming team was gathered in a private room at one of New Geneva’s finest steakhouses. Everything must’ve cost a fortune—each of us had our own private waiter-bunny, water-and-bread bunny, and general helper-outer-bunny. Normally the Academy didn’t offer cadets too many five-star dining opportunities. Station security had insisted, however, for James’s sake. No one argued the matter further. Besides, whoever was paying could probably well afford it. I was particularly glad that the Rabbits here had so much contact with us customers, because they knew what foods I’d like and rearranged my portions accordingly. It wasn’t often that I had a chance to spend my own money, but these Rabbits I tipped well indeed. I could only hope they were allowed to keep at least part of it.

“They’re only a quarter of our size, in terms of population and resources,” the professor continued. He’d been present at the airlock earlier in the day, but had remained in the background as befitted a civilian during ceremonial activities. “And yet…” He shook his head. “It’s humiliating, is what it is. They’ve won four wars against us now, and the other three could at best be called draws. Each time we grow a bit weaker, and they stronger.”

“They consider us decadent,” James opined, once he’d finished chewing on a bite of meat that must’ve been very succulent indeed. I’d learned to sit uncomplainingly with humans while they ate dead animals—it was their nature, after all. But the smell still bothered me. “Weak, flighty, effeminate.”

“And so we are, by their standards,” Yan Ho offered. I blinked and perked up my ears; the Yan brothers almost never spoke of their own accord except to each other. “Our Academy is nothing compared to theirs. They kill cadets in training every week. And yet thousands clamor to attend, where we have to scrape and make demands to find dozens.”