Commodore (2 page)

It was, of course. And as a mere fencibles officer Josiah theoretically had no business serving in any capacity whatsoever aboard her, much less as my chief lieutenant. But James had big plans for the fencibles; they were the key to manning the hugely-expanded navy whose many keels he was on the verge of lying down. "Josiah is a good officer," he'd scribbled on a little piece of paper for me. "And he did wonderful work aboard
Richard
, as we all know. So, why should my finest warship be denied the services of such an obviously capable man simply because he never attended the Academy? It seems rather silly to me. How about you?" Then he signed it, stamped his seal on it, authorized me to personally hand it to the Second Space Lord…

…and yet another inflexible tradition of the service passed into history. Josiah was as capable a spacer as ever lived, and given the martial seasoning he'd acquired during our extended cruise through Imperial territory I hadn't the slightest doubt of his ability to manage a ship of the line, or even to command it were something unfortunate to happen to me. His only real liability was his age; this would certainly be his last cruise in uniform. He had enough energy to out-work a dozen younger men, however, and probably a more flexible mind than the average twenty-year-old as well. Age is as age does; if only I could've placed him in Harlowe's job! But that would've been too much change, too fast; even James could nudge things along just so quickly. Besides, commanding landing ships was a subspecialty in and of itself. This was part of why I'd had such a small pool of qualified officers to choose from. "Long may he reign!" I agreed, completing the formula as senior officer. Then I clinked glasses with Sir Thomas, who was seated opposite me. This was a damned difficult mission I'd found myself assigned to; one of the touchiest in the history of the fleet, I suspected. As a naval officer, I understood that this was the price of success—the easy jobs went to those who could be entrusted with nothing more challenging. And if I succeeded… Well, in that case it'd be awfully difficult for anyone to deny that a Rabbit was capable of dealing with affairs of state. Or so Nestor kept pointing out.

That last night before entering what might or might not prove to be enemy space, I slept well. I'd done my best to set things up for success. Now, very soon, it'd be time to see what happened when my plans encountered reality.

2

Our Jump into Hashimoto space was uneventful, as well it should've been. Normal Fleet protocol would've been to send a destroyer or two through first to spy things out before committing the valuable capital ship and transports.
Javelin
wasn't any ordinary warship, however, and it was a long way to Imperial space, which was the only place a bonafide threat to her was likely to be encountered. Therefore this time I went for political effect instead of tactical advantage. When engaged in gunboat diplomacy, one employs one's gunboats a bit differently than in all-out war.

So it was that
Javelin
came bursting unannounced into the Hashimoto Prime system at flank speed and with her main battery fully energized. The rest of my little fleet would wait twelve hours before coming through, which would allow plenty of time for discussions to begin before the presence of the marine landing force was revealed. I'd have had an oversized battle ensign fluttering at every masthead and a band playing patriotic music on the maindeck as well, if the realities of space travel allowed for such elaborate stage-setting. But they didn't, so I had to make do by putting on a show via other means.

"Greetings to Hashimoto Prime and the Lord Hashimoto," I signaled from my comfortable command chair. In point of fact the Lord Hashimoto had still been en route to Earth Secundus when I'd left, and faced a very high probability of velvet-gloved arrest the moment he set foot on Royal soil. But there was no need to dwell upon what everyone hoped would be remembered merely as a momentary downtick in inter-House relations. "This is Captain David Birkenhead, in command of HMS
Javelin
and Task Force Nineteen, the rest of which will be following me into the system shortly." I nodded at my communications officer; this was a prearranged signal for him to zoom out and take in a wider field of view. While I normally preferred to communicate by text so as not to remind others of my Rabbithood or reveal more than I desired, this particular message was a special exception. "I bring both sad and joyous news," I continued as whoever was on the receiving end took in the presence of a fully-robed Herald standing on one side of me, and an equally regally-attired Royal Governor on the other. The Herald was my old friend Martijn, who'd agreed to stay on for one last special mission, while the Governor was one of Jean's cousins and therefore a stalwart of the House of Vorsage. The implication would be clear to anyone receiving the message—I had all the legal and institutional force I'd ever need at my back should I choose to exercise it, in addition to plenty of physical firepower. The rest of the kingdom, in other words, was already marching along in perfect time under its new monarch, which happened not to be either of the Hashimoto/Wilkes candidates
. You've lost already
, I was trying to say without insulting them outright.
We're in firm control of everything of importance. Give up while you can still do so gracefully, and accept the genuinely excellent offer we're about to make you
. "The sad news is that our good and gracious King Albert has died, while the joyous news is that His Majesty King James of the House of Marcus has risen to the throne in his place, as was his grandfather's most sincere desire. Long may he reign!" Then I looked directly into the camera. "His Majesty has instructed me to personally reassure his subjects of the House of Hashimoto that he loves and values them as much as any other, and that he's absolutely certain of your trust and loyalty." I gestured at the Herald and Governor. "These are His Majesty's ears. They've come to listen to any grievances you might have and convey them back to the palace, where they'll receive top priority." I smiled, carefully not mentioning that I was also empowered to place the Royal Governor in custodial charge of the entire House by force if I felt it necessary. They'd figure that part out on their own just fine, if they possessed half a brain between them. A governor didn't normally act as a King's agent when dealing with the Houses. Instead, his function was to govern territory in the name of his sovereign. There could be one reason, and one reason only, why I just happened to have a spare one along with me. "In the meantime, I'm requesting formal permission to take up standard orbit. Our ships' pursers will soon be indenting for the usual stores and supplies. Perhaps some of us might be interested in a spot of shore leave, as well." I smiled again.
Things can go right on as before,
I was saying.
We can still be friends just like always. Or not, if you so choose. It's up to you. But if not then
I'm
the one you'll have to deal with, so think long and hard first.
"Captain Birkenhead out."  

3

Little took place for several hours once I was finished sending my little message. As everyone had anticipated, we at first received only the barest of official acknowledgements. After all, what minor functionary would risk anything more? The local revenue cutters acknowledged our presence as well. This even bordered on the encouraging, since although the quick little vessels were technically ships of His Majesty's fleet they'd long since effectively become part of the Hashimoto's private navy. This was understandable enough, as like everyone else naval officers preferred to be based on their homeworlds and so the officers of these vessels were practically all Hashimotos. I was particularly concerned about the cutters because, being fast, nimble and manned by fully-trained and qualified crews, they'd be essential to any Hashimoto opposition. Scattered all over the system as the ships were, for example, if fighting broke out they'd be the ones who carried the word to other systems and there'd be nothing we loyalists could do to prevent it. So I was more than a little relieved to see that they were behaving themselves… for the moment at least.

Since no one could've known for certain that such a lull would develop after my little presentation, I hadn't scheduled anything for many hours after our Jump. As more and more time passed on the bridge, however, it soon became evident that nothing much was going to happen anytime soon. So I turned things over to Josiah and headed down to my cabin to strip off my uncomfortable full-dress uniform and maybe get some paperwork done. A battlecruiser, I'd already learned, carried strictly limited quantities of fuel, stores, and men. Yet, somewhere aboard the vessel a magical storage locker containing an infinite amount of red tape clearly
had
to exist. Someday, I promised myself, I'd make time to investigate the mystery more thoroughly. Once I was caught up on my paperwork, that was…

"You shouldn't fret so much, sir," Nestor advised me over the top of his reader as I sat and signed the daily fuel consumption report, the daily weapons-availability report, the daily maintenance report… "Everything's going to be all right. Hashimoto will capitulate. They're in too poor a position not to. It's Wilkes we have to worry about."

I nodded in agreement. Before leaving on this mission I'd been briefed by dozens of experts on various aspects of the situation, and virtually all of them were of the same opinion. Which Nestor well knew, as I'd insisted on bringing him along with me. "Leave them a graceful way out," Uncle Robert had declared, "and they'll trip all over each other to bow down to the new sovereign. I've been dealing with them for decades—the big mystery is how they got involved in such a high-stakes game in the first place. It's grossly out of character for them."

"They'll test you," Nestor predicted. "Once and only once, if you respond assertively enough. Then they'll come fawning to eat out of your hand and swear the whole affair was a huge misunderstanding. It's how humans do things. They're obsessed by power and status games, but they also know how to back down when they've lost. Or at least the sane ones do. Relatively sane, that is."

I smiled as I ring-stamped a form blessing the advancement of a certain Jacob Arlens to Able Spacer due to especially meritorious performance. Promoting people was a much more pleasant than dealing with
Javelin
's disciplinary cases, which fortunately were so few as to be almost non-existent. Everyone wanted to serve aboard the most famous and romantic active vessel in the navy, so for the most part my department heads were free to pick and choose from an ocean of volunteers. The results spoke for themselves. "You don't seem to think much of humans," I observed eventually.

Nestor shrugged. "They're all different, of course. So some are a lot better than others. His Majesty, for example…" He smiled. "James would've made a fine Rabbit indeed, sir."

"Heh!" I replied. "Don't say that in public, even though of course I understand that you mean well by it. Some might take is as
lese majeste
."

I expected my aide to grin ever wider at that, but instead his smile faded. "That's just what I mean, sir," he explained. "Can you even
imagine
any Rabbit declaring it a crime merely to insult his dignity?"

"Well…" I temporized, thinking back over my relationships with my fellow bunnies. They seemed to think pretty highly of me, and yet… Back at the Academy, one night while I was eating dinner with the maintenance Rabbits someone had exchanged a filthy old tar-covered work-cap for my uniform hat. It'd been a good joke, and we'd all had fun together as I marched ramrod-erect up and down the slave quarters with it perched atop the rest of my immaculate cadet's uniform. In fact, it was one of the happiest memories of my life. As was the time when, back at my estate, my household staff had taken advantage of the fact that I was such a sound sleeper to paint my nose bright pink. I'd left it that way all day long, pretending not to notice while my fellow Rabbits convulsed over and over again with laughter at the sight. There was nothing innately wrong with having a pink nose, of course. But on me it looked silly indeed, sort of like a clown-nose on a human since it was so clearly a mismatch for the rest of my coloration. That'd been another fine day as well— in fact, I rather suspected that Nestor had been the brushman-in-chief. "No," I had to admit finally. "I can't."

He nodded again, then turned his reader to face me. He was reading "The Prince", by Machiavelli. "This," he declared, "is sickening. And quintessentially human."

I nodded back, if a bit reluctantly. The old classic had been required reading for my strategy class. "I agree."

"Any self-respecting Rabbit would declare it a kind of pornography," he continued. "And yet, I find myself agreeing with the author over and over again, in regards to humans at least." He waved the reader at me. "If you want to understand our masters, this is the best instruction manual I've found so far." His lowered the book and his face fell. "Sir… You and I… We're being dragged into a cesspool."

I nodded again, remembering how I'd visited the Mast at the Academy one last time before upping ship to take command of
Javelin
. Yet again, I hadn't been able to find it in my heart to climb it. "I won't argue with you, Nestor," I replied eventually. "The older I've grown and the more responsibilities I've taken on, the worse things I've been forced to do in the name of pursuing worthy goals." I sighed. "King Albert…. He seemed to feel the same way, for what it's worth. He wanted more than anything else to do what was good for humanity, and yet in practice he too was forced to resort to
that
monstrosity—" I pointed at the reader—"as his guide as well. Why? Because it's accurate."

Nestor sighed. "You know," he said. "This isn't going at all as I expected. You were supposed to reassure me that humans are good creatures, you see, and that I must be extra-prejudiced against them because of… Of…"