Captain (10 page)

The admiral picked up the paperwork and studied it carefully, then once more met my eyes. "You don't ask for much, do you?" he observed.

I shrugged. "Would you trust anyone else with this sort of business?"

"No," he replied. "That I wouldn't. I never told you this, mind you. But their career has, in its way, proven as extraordinary so far as your own. I'll never like them, but I've come to respect them tremendously." He pulled out a pen and signed the forms, then stamped them with his ring of office. Finally, he moved them to his out-basket for immediate action. "They happen to be on-world and immediately available, David. I expect they'll report to you sometime tomorrow."

I nodded back. "Thank you, sir."

He shook his head and sighed. "No, David. Please don't do that. Because the last time someone in my position made a decision even faintly resembling this one, well… He retired soon after, you see. Deep inside the Empire. As a wealthy nobleman with his own private planet."

"It's all a terrible mess," I agreed. "And a most regrettable one, as well. No one wants this to come to pass, I assure you. And yet, it's appearing more and more likely." Then I met his eyes one last time. "Sir?"

"Yes, David?" he replied.

"Just so you know, I fear that I'm going to be back for more special favors. I won't unless I absolutely have to. But… You might start thinking ahead and making your own plans. Because if I'm reading things correctly, your future decisions are going to be even more difficult than this one was."

18

Sure enough, the next day proved to be the bringer of many happy meetings. The first was the most unexpected, however. Nestor knocked softly at my door just as I was almost finished dressing. "Yes?"

"Sir," he said softly. "I know that you're booked up solid until noon, and, well… There's someone out here that I'd like you to meet."

"All right," I agreed, smiling in the privacy of my bedroom. This was certainly unusual, Nestor introducing someone to me instead of the other way around. Refreshing, almost. And probably good for his ego as well. Indeed, I was still smiling as I stepped out into the hall. "Yes?"

My aide was standing in the living room with a well dressed young man next to him. "Sir,"

Nestor continued, "This is Henry Lambert. Henry, Commander Birkenhead."

Henry was certainly an early-riser, I decided as I reached out to shake his hand, whoever he was. "Pleased to meet you," I said, looking up at him. "What brings you this way so early in the morning?"

He started to speak, but Nestor cut him off. "He's your ex-professor's son," my aide explained. "The one you think so highly of. And, he's really here to see me. But I thought you ought to meet him too."

I blinked, a bit confused. Then I turned back to Henry. "I admire your father enormously."

He bowed. "He thinks even more of you, sir. As do I."

"Henry's here about a job, sir," Nestor interrupted. "As my assistant."

I'm afraid my jaw dropped a bit, though I covered the fact as well as I could. "Indeed, Henry?"

"Yes, sir," he replied.

"He's just finished his law degree and been admitted to the bar," Nestor explained. "I think that makes him qualified."

I nodded, but didn't commit myself. "But why, Henry?" I asked. "I mean… The job would involve some paperwork, yes. But there'll also be bed-making, dinner-cooking, phone-answering…" I sighed. "I'm not offering half what you could earn as a lawyer, either."

"It's simple," he answered. "Father told me that no human would apply because you're a Rabbit. I think that's wrong, sir, you being of the stature that you are. So I put in for the job myself, hoping to help set an important precedent. Besides…" He smiled. "I'll tell you up front, open and honest. My true passion is history, which you have a habit of making. Someday many years from now I want to write a book about you. With luck, more than one."

"He's a member of all the major abolitionist societies," Nestor added. "I checked."

"Well…" I said, rather caught off guard. Then the correct answer came to me. "It'll be Nestor's decision of course, assuming you can pass all the security checks. That's who you'll really be working for. But… I approve, Henry. Insofar as my opinion matters, that is. And… I also applaud you for being willing to be the first, whatever happens."

He smiled and blushed. "You're very welcome, sir."

A little later in the day, at the small temporary office I'd set up for myself down the hall from that of the sitting Dean of the Academy, a second knock interrupted my routine. "Sir," Nestor said, sticking his head in. "There are two navy commanders here to see you. They seem to be identical twins, and they asked me to invite you to play poker with them."

Suddenly I was grinning from ear to ear. "Not on your life!" I replied. "Those are the Yan brothers, and they'll skin you for every cent you have and more." Then I was on my feet and out the door to greet them in the reception area. They tried to salute my Sword, but before they could I was hugging each of them in turn, half laughing and half crying at how wonderful it was to see them again after so long.

We spent quite a while talking about old times and our cadet days before getting down to business. Though the Yans had a reputation for being a bit frigid and taciturn with most people, that wasn't and probably wouldn't ever be the case among we old Strategy Team veterans. We'd fought and won a unique struggle together, the three of us had—along with James and Heinrich, of course—and the experience would bond us for the rest of our days as thoroughly as if we'd shared a real battlefield. No one else ever quite trusted the Yans, probably because they were known to be such massively capable liars and cheats. But we Strategy Team members, well… All of us were liars and cheats to lesser or greater extents. Certainly I'd lied and cheated my own way through two successful real-life campaigns against the Imperials and been decorated handsomely for it. So we were all scoundrels together; and the greater our sins the more successful we grew in service to our kingdom.

We were still sharing happy stories and catching up when Nestor knocked a second time. "Sir," he said, sticking his head around the door. "I have important news for you." He eyed the Yans, then turned back to me. "News that you asked me to pass on to you the moment I got word."

I smiled; there was, as Nestor well knew, only one item currently in that category. "James has arrived, then?" I asked.

"Yes, sir," he answered. "Though it's still not public knowledge. His ship arrived via Point One, which is orbiting very close by just now. His Lordship will be dirtside by evening."

"Excellent!" I replied, rising to my feet. Then I turned back to the Yans. "I'm certain that James and I will be dining together this evening. Would you like to come as well? It'll be sort of a team reunion, minus Heinrich. I'm sure he'd love to see you."

"Of course," Yan Ho replied, bowing slightly.

"We'd be honored," Yan Chang amplified. "But… We were informed you had urgent work for us?"

"I do," I replied. "Most definitely. And there's not a minute to waste. But James should approve the operation as well, since he's here now and able to speak for himself. With you two being such close friends of his as well…" I shrugged. "It's probably best that we all make sure we understand one another clearly, eh? That way fewer difficulties will arise later. Leave your contact information with Nestor; someone will call you this afternoon. In the meantime, well… You might want to spend any spare moments researching the Houses of Hashimoto and Wilkes, and their claims to the Crown." 

19

Our little reunion should've been a happy affair, and it actually was for perhaps the first twenty minutes or so. James's eyes even regained some of the happy glow that'd been there when Uncle Robert and I greeted him at the spaceport, though it didn't—couldn't!—last long under the circumstances. Soon he was eating the delicious food as dully and mechanically as the rest of us, distracted by the endless spinning of power-wheels in his head. And what a shame it was. The broccoli was
superb
!

"…have come to agree with David," Uncle Robert was saying just as I finished up my greens. "Even though at first I thought that perhaps he was being a bit alarmist." He sighed. "I can't argue with him anymore, as much as I'd like to. His is the only interpretation that makes overall sense."

James sighed and gazed down at his half-eaten steak, while the Yans as always in the presence of strangers remained silent and inscrutable down at the foot of the table. In this case Uncle Robert was the stranger in question. At first he hadn't wanted to allow the twins in on private matters, but then I'd explained not only how well they knew James but also what superb undercover agents they were. In the end James backed me and Uncle Robert relented. Even so, from time to time he gazed malevolently in their direction. I couldn't blame him, really. This was the deepest, most sensitive of House business. We weren't accustomed to admitting outsiders to this sort of discussion.

"The problem is," I said next, "that we lack any form of solid proof. If we knew ahead of time that they planned to disregard the King's Last Testament, then we could make solid preparations. As things are…" I turned to the Yans. "Just asking for your services was pushing the envelope."

Yan Ho nodded, while Chang kept right on eating as if I'd never spoken.

"Our own House resources haven't unearthed anything?" James asked.

"Nothing useful," Uncle Robert replied. "The Wilkes bank accounts took a serious hit about three months back, but they're blaming that on war losses. They might even be telling the truth."

A footbunny brought me a cup of tea, something I always enjoyed immediately after dinner. It aided the digestion. "Thank you," I muttered, smiling at her. Already I could smell the nice, fresh mint leaf she'd added for me. I'd only just started drinking it that way—Nestor must've spread the word already.

"So…" Yan Chang asked hesitantly. "You wouldn't consider the record of a financial transaction to be sufficient proof of intent?"

"No," Uncle Robert replied. "It'd have to be something more." Then he smiled and unbent a little. "I know we're asking an awful lot of you two."

Ho waved the apology away. "Not to worry." Then he turned to me. "You believe this must lead to civil war, David? If you're correct, I mean."

I nodded once, very slowly. "I do."

"So do I," Ho agreed. "Therefore it's crucial that we handle this situation with great care." Then he frowned thoughtfully. "The Hashimotos and the Wilkes—they've had even more time to think things through than your House has. So even though you say they probably consider armed resistance unlikely, they're bound to have made contingency plans for the possibility."

"Probably," Uncle Robert agreed.

"Such plans must leave traces," he continued thoughtfully. "Especially the bolder ones." Then he and his twin brother turned and stared at each other for a long moment. "We have an idea," he said eventually. "Give us a week, and we'll let you know how it works out."

James and I smiled at each other as Uncle Robert's jaw dropped—he wasn't accustomed to the Yans' little idiosyncrasies. "I… Uh…" he spluttered.

Then James, as befitted the Lord of our House, turned to the Yans and made it official. "I'd trust you two with my life," he said. "Do whatever you must, and you'll have my full support as well as my gratitude. But keep one thing in mind at all times."

"What's that, sir?" Yan Chang asked. 

His eyes fell back to his mostly-uneaten meal. "My grandfather is dying," he whispered. "You may well not
have
a week."

20

The next few days passed rapidly, almost in a blur. I spent my mornings making at least a half-hearted attempt at preparing to take over the Academy—studying budgets, meeting key personnel, all that sort of nonsense. While my head understood that my appointment there was a sham intended to give me free time to deal with far more important matters, well… Somehow my heart didn't quite agree. Taking over as Commandant was still my formal assignment and I found that I couldn't bring myself to neglect it as entirely as the Second Space Lord and perhaps others would've liked. In particular I found time in the mornings to wander the grounds before dawn, startling sleepy cadet-sentries and renewing old friendships with the groundskeeper Rabbits. Sometimes I shared breakfast with the latter. One morning just at daybreak I found myself standing before the Mast. Then I grinned and almost gave in to the urge to once again watch the sun rise from atop the masthead. I even walked up to the base, meaning to make the climb despite being in full uniform. But at the last minute I changed my mind. As much as I craved the experience the Academy grounds were a place of sacred honor, and no place moreso than the Mast itself. I was sick at heart over the political machinations I'd suddenly found myself not just entangled in but at the very center of. For the moment at least I was more of a politician than an officer, and the Mast was a place for uncorrupted hearts only. Once again my head was telling me one thing and my heart another—James needed to be crowned for the good of all; I'd settled that internal debate long since. But the means I was finding myself forced to employ in order to make things come out right were so disgusting that, well… I touched the rough-hewn, centuries-old wood with my hand and sighed, hoping that someday I'd feel clean enough inside to climb again. Not soon, perhaps. But someday.