Captain (12 page)

"You haven't seen the half of it," Martijn sighed. Even through the heavy Herald's makeup, I could see that his face was decorated with at least a dozen new wrinkles. Royal Heralds were trained—even hypnotized and conditioned—to identify themselves with their monarch. To partially submerge their inner selves, in other words, and adopt the sovereign's persona as their own. The bond was far deeper than most people knew—every once in a great while, a Herald went mad over it. It could be argued, therefore, that Martijn was suffering even more than His Majesty. And it was going on and on and on, with no end in sight. "When they change his diaper sometimes, I… I…" He looked away from the table to mask the tears in his eyes.

"It'll end soon," I promised him.

He shook his head. "No, David, it won't. Not unless he dies suddenly—he could any time, you know. But… You know as well as I do that the House of Lords is all locked up." He closed his eyes for a moment in pain. "And there's talk of crowning a different Heir. He'd have
hated
that, David. Simply
hated
it. Everyone knows what his true wishes were. I certainly hope your House isn't planning on capitulating."

I blinked at that—the Palace was hearing rumors too? How interesting… "What would you have us do, if that were true?" I asked.

He frowned so hard his makeup cracked. "Fight them!" he said. "I don't know how or when or with what. But… Fight them! What they want for the future is all wrong. We're on the brink of a historical cusp, David. If we turn back now, who knows when we'll be able to move forward again? His Majesty devoted his entire life to setting things up so we could progress as a species, But now…" He turned away again.

This was difficult—so very, very difficult! And yet, what choice was there? "Is that the opinion of His Majesty?" I asked. "Or that of Sir Martijn Tjin, once one of the leading intellectuals of the House of Vorsage?"

His eyes flared with anger. One did
not
ask a Herald that question, not
ever
. It just wasn't done. "David," he replied. "I don't know what—"

"Because," I interrupted, speaking over his next words. "Very soon there will be a new king and this generation of Heraldry will be honorably retired. The future belongs to Sir Martijn, therefore it's
his
opinion I must have."

"Sir Martijn!" he replied, smiling through the now free-flowing tears. No one should be asked to live under such stress for so long, I decided. It was tough enough just to be a Herald; being a Herald whose patron teetered endlessly on the edge of death must've been intolerable. He wasn't far from going mad himself. "Have you any idea of how long it's been since I've thought entirely as Sir Martijn?" He leaned back and hung his head. "I'm not even sure if it's possible anymore."

"You must try," I replied, keeping my voice calm and even. "Because I'm about to ask something of Martijn, you see. Not of His Majesty's loyal Herald, but of Martijn Tjin. Because it's Martijn who will have to live with it afterwards."

He smiled; Heralds were selected in part for their superior intellectual capacities. So I wasn't surprised at all to learn that he'd already guessed. "I've considered doing it a thousand times already," he whispered. "How could I not, with him lying there suffering like that?"

"
Can
you?" I asked. "Emotionally, I mean. There's a limit to what I'll ask of any man, Martijn."

"I'll be the one to pull the plug when the time comes regardless," he replied. "Decorum requires it. Currently, I'm the only Herald on-planet, you see. The others have all found urgent Royal business elsewhere that needs attending to." He frowned again. "So yes, I've been steeling myself to do it for weeks. I'll even admit that I've considered not waiting as well, for His Highness's sake. Therefore, I already have a plan."

I nodded, having counted on exactly that. It was predictable enough. "
Will
you do it, then?" 

"For you and James, of course. I… He loved you like sons; I know this better than anyone." He smiled. "Especially you, David. At the end."

I nodded again. "Do you have an escape plan worked out?" I asked. "If not, I have access to—"

"It's all taken care of," he interrupted, still smiling. "Planned in advance and better than anything anyone outside the Palace could work out for me. We have our little secrets too, you see. And as I said, I've been thinking along these lines for quite some time. Though now I'm glad I waited."

I nodded, then reached into my breast pocket and pulled out a single piece of folded paper, then slid it across the table. He picked it up, read it, then slid it back. "No problem. You can count on it."

"Good," I replied. "Martijn… For what it's worth, I think future generations will be deeply grateful to you."

"Perhaps," he replied. "Or perhaps not. I’m content that it’s the right thing to do for the present. The future will have to see to itself." Then he smiled again and wiped away the last of his tears with a ridiculous lace handkerchief. "All I need is to be able to live with myself. And for the first time in weeks, I'm beginning to think that just maybe it might be possible for me to finally find a little peace." His smile faded. "There's only one thing I ask, David. If you'd be so kind, that is."

My ears perked—I hadn't expected him to want anything in return. It seemed very much out of character. "What's that?"

"Let me hug you, David. For His Highness, you see. Because he always wanted to, but never worked up the nerve to ask."

24

It’s one of the oddities of the art of intrigue that certain tasks must be undertaken by certain individuals in a certain order at certain times; no one else can help with another conspirator's work. Therefore I found myself entirely at loose ends during that last day before everything was scheduled to come to a head. Uncle Robert and James were both frantically busy setting things up behind the scenes; they had so many personal connections to make and old allies to warn that I don’t think either slept for almost two full days. But as a relative outsider, well… My part was crucial, yes. But my work was done, and there was nothing more I could do to help. So I spent that last day busily engaged the activity I hated worst—worrying. It was pointless; by then the wheels were irrevocably in motion and what would be would be. Yet worry I did.

Not that I allowed it to show any more than I could help. I took another day of leave and withdrew to my estate—there was nothing more calming for me than to be surrounded by my fellow Rabbits in a beautiful green setting. I was most amused to encounter Henry Lambert there, being run to a frazzle by his Rabbit instructors. In the long run, I expected that Nestor would find Henry far more useful for dealing with paperwork and other “brainy” type functions, but here he was chasing linens and setting tables with the rest while Nestor pointed and gestured impatiently. It was good for both him and the other Rabbits, who gathered about in little knots as their free time allowed and gawked at the previously unknown sight of a human doing lapine work. Everyone was good natured about it, most of all Henry who had of course volunteered when no one else would. When this was over, he’d have a thousand new Rabbit-friends. Still, there was a sort of triumphant electricity in the air the whole time, and the scent of change hung heavy in the air. I smiled as I sat back in my easy chair and tried to relax; the little spectacle made the risks that James and Uncle Robert and I were running seem far more worthwhile. Indeed, I could almost feel His Majesty smiling and nodding happily alongside me.

***

It was inevitable that I’d get no more sleep than my co-conspirators even though I had nothing constructive to do. So I didn’t even try. That night I stayed up late polishing my speech while Nestor brewed me cup after of cup of tea without even trying to persuade me to try and get a little rest. Being in on the secret he was crackling with excitement himself, and in the morning he personally helped me dress even though when at my estate the task usually fell on someone else. “You look great, sir,” he declared with shining eyes when we finished. “Almost as great as you truly are.”

I blushed and looked away; for the most part Nestor and I were far beyond such nonsense. “Don’t forget that I never can beat you at gin rummy,” I reminded him, and as I’d hoped he smiled. “
I
certainly never forget, try though I might.”

Then, quite unexpectedly he handed me my ex-Imperial blaster and holster. “Please, sir. I’d feel better if you wore this.”

I blinked. “It’s not regulation, Nestor.”

“No one will care, sir,” he countered. “For you that sort of thing doesn’t matter anymore. And… anything could happen, sir. Anything.”

I nodded; perhaps he was right. “Strap it on, then, and let’s get moving. I don’t want to keep our driver waiting.”

My heart was racing at about a thousand beats a second as we raced across the still-dark skies and then burst through a glorious high-speed dawn on the way to the Academy. Our landing facilities were grossly overloaded with all the naval people converging from everywhere at once, and it was a good thing that I’d made private arrangements for James and I at the Commandant’s personal landing pad. Otherwise we’d have had to divert to the Palace hardpoint, like most of the rest of my brother officers. We’d made arrangements for shuttles and warned people to be early; it was the best that could be done.

Commandant Hess had the Corps of Cadets all drawn up on the parade ground to greet me when we finally set down, which of course necessitated that I inspect them before going about my further business. It was all right; my speech was already as perfect as I could make it and there wasn’t anything else productive to be done. So I took my time about it, smiling and chatting with the wide-eyed cadets. “I’m no one special,” I told them again and again. “Anyone could’ve done the things I’ve done; the trick is to evaluate the situation you’re in, decide upon a productive course of action, then implement it no matter what stands in your way. It really is just that simple.” The First Classman thanked me when I was finished, and I shook his hand by way of saying “You’re welcome”. He was a young lordling of the House of Wilkes, and by the end of the day would almost certainly be under arrest until his true loyalties could be ascertained. Knowing this spoiled what should’ve been a wonderful moment. And yet, as I’d already asked myself many times over, what else was there to be done?

James arrived about two hours after I did and chose to inspect the Corps of Cadets as well; I watched as he smiled and nodded and socialized with them in a manner far easier and more natural than my own. He was going to become a wonderful king, I reminded myself. Perhaps the greatest ever. Which was why all of this was worthwhile.

When he finished we hugged like brothers in front of the Corps, as was our habit. They gave us three hearty cheers as we did so, with far more enthusiasm than mere orders could ever have generated. Even the First Classman, the Wilkes lordling, cheered himself hoarse; I made a mental noted of this in the hope that perhaps he might be among the first won back to the Crown. Then the Commandant marched his charges into the auditorium, which the Second Space Lord had done his best to fill to capacity and beyond with every available officer in the fleet. The place was filled to the rafters with eager, excited, and curious space-warriors, Nestor had already informed me.

Now it was time for James and I to knock ‘em dead.

25

"Normally," James began his speech, "social precedence dictates that a Duke would speak after a Rabbit. And in all honesty, that's the way David and I normally do things." He rolled his eyes theatrically and sighed. "But I know who ranks higher with this particular crowd, you see, and…"

I couldn't help but smile as James's next words were drowned out by a thunderous wave of applause. Despite his poor speaking voice, my blood-brother could be a powerful orator indeed whenever he chose to make the effort. In roughly twenty words he already had the crowd eating out of the palm of his hand. Having such a high-ranking nobleman speak first had to be explained somehow; our timing required that I be on stage at the most critical of all moments. As usual, he'd transformed an awkward necessity into one of the cornerstones of success.

James and I made it a habit to be both direct and brief in our comments, and today was to be no exception. "You men are the heart of the kingdom," James declared less than a minute into his speech, "and I'm prouder to have been your shipmate than of anything else in my life."

I smiled again as James moved on to the real point of the matter. "…for we navy men know in our hearts that the Empire is evil. We've listened to their boasts, witnessed their bloody handiwork, wept over the corpses they've left in their wake. And counted our best friends and loved ones among the corpses, as well." Suddenly he stood straight and tall; up until then he'd been hunched over the podium. "Well, I say that enough is enough! No more mamby-pambying, no more respites, no more negotiated peaces just as we're about to gain our stride! The Empire boasts that it was born in blood and thrives best on blood. Well, then! Let us end all half-measures! Let us fight in earnest; if they want blood, then they shall have their bellyful of it! Our kingdom loves peace, yes. But we love justice even more, and the time is long past for the breakaway Houses to face the consequences of their crimes." He placed his hands on his hips and raised his chin. "When I am king," he declared, "there shall be peace. But first there shall be victory, sweet and complete. For no other end to war can hold true meaning."