Midshipman (7 page)

He stared at me again for a long moment, then looked away. “Perhaps the situation is worse I thought,” he murmured.

That ticked me off a little until I finally figured it out. “Oh!” I said at last, recalling how strangely the captain had moved as he retired from the room. “He got the protocol wrong, didn’t he? Captain Blaine didn’t turn his back on your uncle. But you don’t have to worry about that for anyone but His Majesty.” I smiled. “Don’t worry! I won’t shame your family in the throne room.”

James sighed, then licked his lips and turned away. “I’m quite certain you won’t, David. In fact, I never worry in the least that you might possibly shame us. It’s the thought of everyone else shaming you that I lose sleep over.”

11

It was probably just as well that Captain Blaine stopped by, because his visit left me practically no time to worry before it was our turn in the throne room. I was still mulling James’s words over and trying to figure out what he really meant by them as I was greeted and examined at the rear of the chamber by the Royal Chamberlain, then lined up just so with James slightly ahead of me and to my right. From that point on, my mind sort of blanked as I went through the pre-programmed motions and bowed before the throne. “Rise!” the Chamberlain was intoning in his deepest, most ceremonial tone before I really began to appreciate where I was and what I was doing. I smiled and slowly straightened, then stood stiffly at attention before my sovereign. We’d rehearsed it all a thousand million times, and so far everything had gone so perfectly that I was a little shocked when, without the slightest warning, His Majesty upset our routine.  Instead of immediately calling me forward, he looked my friend and down, smiled, and addressed him with amazing informality. “Hello, James!”

My friend smiled back, bowing slightly a second time. He was at home with ritual in a way that I never could be. “Hello, Your Highness. It’s good to see you.”

The king’s smile widened; the expression did good things for his elderly, careworn face. I’d seen photos and paintings a million times, of course—they’d been all over
Hummingbird
, for example. And yet… For the first time he looked terribly familiar.

“Did you like the train set I gave you for Christmas?” the King asked. “It was my own, once upon a time.”

James grinned. “Thank you
so
much!”

Then they were grinning at each other, and it hit me like a bolt of lightning. James and His Majesty shared the same eye color, the same nose-shape, the same chin… I sniffed discretely at the air. My heavens! They even
smelled
alike! And milord had resembled His Majesty even more closely.

Suddenly my heart was all aflutter again. It was
true
! Milord almost had to have been the king’s illegitimate son! Reality sort of swam and shifted for a bit, then my sovereign was facing me. “And you, David! You’re looking excellent today, as well.” His grin faded. “I’m told you saved James’s life, at least twice. And nearly saved that of his father as well—certainly you gave your best in the effort. I’m eternally grateful to you as a result.”

I gulped and mumbled something, though I’m not sure what. But it must’ve done the trick because he smiled and nodded. Then he waggled a finger at the Chamberlain, who approached the throne immediately. “Douglas,” he whispered. “When this is over I’m, afraid that I’m going to require another unscheduled break. I’m sorry about the disruption, but well… There it is. I think I’m going to spend it with David here.” He nodded in my direction, and my heart raced again. “If you have the time, son.”

I gulped. “Of course, Your Majesty!”

He smiled and his hand twitched, for all the world as if he’d started to reach out and stroke my ears but stopped himself at the last moment. “Excellent!” Then he waved the Chamberlain away and pulled out a long, formally-worded official document. This he read in a high, singsong voice. It was the certificate that went along with my award, telling the story of how I’d grappled
The Sword of the People
and then played a key role in the success of the boarding action proper. Frankly I was getting a little bored with it all—every time someone retold the story it seemed to grow a little, and all the “whereas”es and “For the Glory of the Realm”ses in this particular version didn’t help any. Then seemingly out of nowhere a glittering sword with a midnight-black hilt and scabbard appeared and two footmen stepped forward to buckle it to me. There were three large diamonds mounted on the scabbard, not quite in a perfect line, to indicate that I’d won the highest form of the Sword, the one awarded for personal valor. Then I drew the Sword in the best salute I could manage—it was a lot heavier than the dummy I’d practiced with, and I’m afraid it wobbled a bit—as everyone in the room including His Majesty bowed to me. It felt really strange, maybe even a little wrong. But that was the way it was done, and I wasn’t in any position to argue. I’d never be required to bow to anyone again for the rest of my life, save His Highness himself. Then it was all over and the Chamberlain whispered in my ear. “Don’t leave, son. The king is going to withdraw.”

I nodded slightly, then stood and blushed as all the glittering and gilded Court hangers-on cheered and applauded me. Their appreciation seemed genuine, which just made it worse. I was still standing and blushing when the Chamberlain cried out “All rise!” even though everyone was already standing. Then His Majesty climbed stiffly off of his throne and vanished through the purple curtain behind it. After that I didn’t have the faintest idea of what to do with myself, so I sheathed the Sword and looked at James. He smiled back and rocked his head a little side to side, indicating that I should just stand and wait. So I grinned too and did exactly that…

…until a full-dress-uniformed and medal-spangled marine appeared at my elbow. “His Majesty awaits you in his private audience chamber, sir,” he whispered in my ear. “Shall I lead the way?” 

12

The audience chamber looked more like a luxurious office suite than anything else. In addition to a desk and data console there was a little open area with a fireplace and several comfortable chairs and divans arranged in an oblong where His Majesty could sit and converse with a small group if he liked. He was working at his paper-strewn desk when I was let in, wearing a pair of thick-rimmed reading glasses and studying a document intently. “Ah, David!” he greeted me with a smile as I stepped through the door. “Thank you so much for coming!”

I smiled back, then walked carefully across the room—carefully, because just a minute or so earlier I’d almost tripped over my new Sword and fallen on my face—and sat in the chair His Highness was pointing towards. “Would you like something to drink?” he asked. “Chocolate milk, perhaps? That’s what I’ll be drinking. Some may find it juvenile, but I absolutely love the stuff.”

“Th-That sounds fine,” I eventually managed to stammer out. James absolutely loved chocolate milk too; while I could take or leave the stuff (and too much made me ill) it was clear that most certainly today I’d be taking.

His Highness smiled again, and then to my shock opened a refrigerator under his desk, pulled out a gallon of milk and a messy can of chocolate syrup, and began mixing. “I
always
make my own chocolate milk,” he explained. “Just as I still make most of my own sandwiches and dress myself on those rare occasions when I’m able to manage a day off.” He smiled at me. “Long ago, I used to sneak out of the palace and wander the city, trying to learn about how everyone else lived. I’ve always been a bit of a rebel, you see. I rode the busses, signed up for and performed day labor, and once even drank ale in a thieves guild.” His smile widened. “Those were wonderful times!”

“I can imagine, Sire,” was my rather lame reply.

Finally he came tottering over and handed me a frosty glass with a straw in it, then sat down in a slightly more ornate chair and sipped. “Ah!” he declared, his eyes rolling just like my friend’s always did. “That’s
so
good!”

I sipped and smiled too, then politely waited.

“David,” the king said eventually. “The first thing I wanted to say to you was that I’ve never handed out a Sword that I thought was better earned.” He nodded down at it. “May you wear it in eternal, untarnished honor.”

I blushed and looked down into my chocolate.

“And,” His Majesty continued, “I also wished to offer my most sincere apologies for giving it to you.”

That got my attention. Against my will, both ears rose abruptly.

“Heh!” His Highness declared. “My advisors claimed that you were a real charmer. I’m glad to see that they were right. Because you’re going to need that ability, son. And far, far more.”

I took another sip before replying. “Forgive me, sir. But I’m afraid I don’t quite understand.”

His Majesty nodded. “Which is part of what makes all of this so cruel. No one really
expects
you to understand, you see. Not yet, at least. I, however, feel obliged to at least try and explain.” Then he sighed and lowered his glass to the table. “As you must certainly know by now, there’s a strong, ah… Connection, let’s call it. A strong connection between myself and the House of Marcus.”

I nodded silently.

“It goes deeper than you probably realize, no matter how good your nose is.” He smiled knowingly at me. “I’ve been privy to their deepest, darkest secrets for most of my life, and they to many of mine.” His smile faded, and he met my eyes. “Therefore, I’ve known all about you for a very long time now. And your father, as well.”

I looked away. “I see.”

He laughed. “You
can’t
see, son. Because you don’t—can’t possibly!—have all the facts. But I intend to share some of them with you. Because of the Sword, see? And because things have gone so badly wrong.”

I tilted my head, not understanding.

“The House of Marcus created you Rabbits,” he continued after a time. “Horses and Dogs too, of course. But it was Rabbits that first made them wealthy, then ennobled them, then carried them to the highest ranks of all. There will always be unpleasant, mind-numbing labor that absolutely needs to be done. You Rabbits were specifically bred to perform it so that we humans wouldn’t have to. Dogs and Horses have their places, yes. But it’s Rabbits that are the key.” He paused. “Did you know that there are nearly as many Rabbits in this kingdom as there are humans?”

I blinked. “No, sire.”

“Almost no one does. Because we keep the fact carefully suppressed. It’s a terrible strategic weakness, you see. An uprising might be unlikely, given how submissive and even meek Rabbits tend to be. But still…. The results could be disastrous.”

I blinked again. “Sire,” I tried to reassure him. “I’ve never met a Rabbit who would even dream… I mean…”

His Majesty waved his hand airily. “Yes, yes, yes!” he replied, for the first time sounding his true age. “I’ve heard all that before, a million times.” He looked down at my Sword and smiled. “And, I assure you… If I had even the
slightest
doubts regarding your personal loyalty, you’d not be armed in my private chamber.”

I nodded, wanting to say more but holding my tongue.

“Anyway…” my sovereign continued, looking off into the distance again. “Widespread slavery carries far more subtle poisons with it than just the crass fear of revolt.” He smiled again. “Did you know, David, that in the beginning being the King of the Empire of Man was a purely ceremonial job?”

“No!” I answered, eyes wide. “But… I mean, how…”

His Highness shook his head and smiled. “We truly are pathetic creatures, we human beings. In the beginning there was His Majesty and a handful of Lords to assist him in opening public buildings, addressing schoolchildren and all that royal rot. But as people grew more and more conscious of how much better they were than mere Rabbits, well… They started thinking about how much better they were than each other, too. The whole feudal structure revived itself in nothing flat.” He looked away. “There were other factors in play as well, like the semi-isolation of the new colony worlds and the need for centralized authority on such an inhospitable frontier. But, the eggheads claim, it was mostly you Rabbits who did this to us. And now we’re not only stuck with a wretchedly inefficient governmental system run largely via graft and intrigue, but are also plagued with a population that’s half made up of illiterate, uninventive, zero-initiative slaves.” He looked away. “I’m sorry, David. But that’s how it really is.”

I nodded slowly. It was true, so what could I say?

“For three generations it’s been the secret goal of both my House and that of Marcus to at least begin to remedy this, though the scale of the problem is so incredible that it boggles the mind.” He frowned. “As always, the first thing that needs to change are attitudes. You and your father were part of a plan to accomplish this.” He sighed and reached out to pat my shoulder. “A most successful part so far, I might add. Though there’s still
so
far to go…”

I looked down at the ground. “We’re different, aren’t we? Me and Dad, I mean? I’ve always sort of felt that way.”

His Majesty nodded. “Illegally different, actually. The same gengineering tech that created Rabbits to begin with can serve to alter them as well, you see.” He looked away again. “You were optimized for intelligence, initiative and ability, David, instead of servility. More specifically, you were gifted with technical and leadership skills in the hope that you’d make an exceptional merchantman’s officer someday. Because for a Rabbit to succeed in a human world nothing less than truly exceptional would do.”

“I see,” I whispered back.

“There are a few others,” the king continued. “You’d have found one of the females far more attractive than a run-of-mill servile type, or at least you were so designed. Eventually you’d have been encouraged to marry, and with a little help your children would’ve been more capable still. We’d have seen to it that they rose even higher, so that humanity might learn that ancient bloodlines don’t mean so much after all.” He sighed again. “Certainly it would’ve led to chaos and turmoil. Maybe even war and suffering. My own House might’ve fallen. But growth is like that, David. You have to accept the pains with the gains.”