Authors: Phil Geusz
"Right," I agreed, leaning back in the ornate, oversized chair that I kept finding at my place at the head of the table no matter how much I complained about it. I suspected that my Chief of Protocol had a hand in the matter, but I'd never quite found the time to confront him on it. "I mean, I obviously think as much of Rabbits as anyone here. But in their current state of ignorance, well…." I sighed and made a decision. "Nestor?"
His ears rose. "Yes, Your Highness?"
"I'm going to give you a task force and send you off to deal with this mess," I replied, meeting his eyes steadily. "One heavier on marines than most, in fact. This could be quite a delicate situation, as I'm sure you can see—the humans are probably being held as prisoners, if they're alive at all. So I want a Rabbit in charge. You'll be in a better position to deal with the local bunnies than any human I could possible send." I smiled slightly. "Yes, I know you planned on staying here and assisting me, and I assure you that you'll be sorely missed. But who else can I delegate that has half as much chance of making things right? One must work with one has, not what one might wish for."
Once upon a time, Nestor had been the lowliest of navy servants and even something worse. And now… "Sir!" he protested. "I can't… I mean, I haven't—"
"Yes you have," I interrupted. "And both of us damned well know it by now—or at least we
should
know it." Then I smiled again. The next step was maybe a bit beyond the pale—it couldn't be justified in any military sense whatsoever. Yet… There was more to effecting true social change—and to friendship—than mere military necessity. "Take
Frobisher
as your personal ship," I continued with a smile. She was an old battlewagon, the second-most-prestigious vessel in the ragtag Third Fleet. "I'll detail the rest of the task force later. But for the time being, if I were you I'd get busy picking out what staff you'll be needing for your team and which Governor you think would be best left in charge after you leave."
"Uh… I… I mean, Your Highness…"
I looked across the table at Jean, who was smiling too. As a non-officer, Lord Nestor wouldn't be—couldn't legally be!—in command of a King's ship, much less in charge of a task force. But how would the officer actually in charge's orders read? To do whatever Nestor asked, of course. Now the abused cabin boy was effectively in command of a battleship and more. What
wonderful
times we lived in! "You have your instructions, Your Lordship," I cut him off, though my smile removed any sting the seemingly harsh words by themselves might've carried. My best friend knew what I truly meant. "Now please be so good as to execute them immediately."
Not everything was all sweetness and light during these days. The Association of the Emperor's Students proved to be a major irritant. They succeeded in assassination after assassination, to a degree I'd once have found it impossible to credit. The explanation for this lay in their equipment and training—these so-called "students" had been provided with and taught to use the finest and in some cases even the costliest of military hardware. Their killers were equipped with old-fashioned slug rifles that far outranged any blaster and could kill at over a mile, for example, while one group employed a dozen demolition charges of the sort I'd used to defend Zombie Station in one operation. The Yans were convinced that the Empire had seen their defeat looming in sufficient time to make at least hasty preparations for making our life miserable on their worlds, and that said preparations consisted mostly of the Association. They offered to try and penetrate the chapter on Vargus Nine, but I asked them to leave the matter to the locals. There were several reasons for this. One was that I figured the Vargus internal security types had advantages and contacts the Yans could never match. Also, if anyone was going to risk their lives de-Imperializing one of the Absent House's planets it might as well be their people rather than ours. But most of all I wanted to save the Yans for something far bigger. Once I told them this, they waited with considerably more patience.
There were also other enormous complications that few laymen would ever have imagined. One of these was that the Imperial worlds had been welded into a monolithic trade bloc, designed to exclude our cheaper and generally better Royal consumer goods. Except for a few luxuries, the Emperor had sought complete autarky in his supply chain. Now that we were sweeping up a significant number of his worlds, well… Sudden shortages were bound to appear all over Imperial space, and some of these shortages would be of goods so essential that a lack of them could kill in short order. Vargus Three, for example, manufactured the air-recycling equipment for virtually every ship and fixed-location space facility in Imperial space. Even though Imperial warships were also dependent on these same parts, well… If we cut off the supply of spares and filters cold, without warning, millions of civilians living in space habitats and such would surely die of atmospheric poisoning. It was better, we decided, to issue trading licenses that would permit their bearers through Royal lines to supply such gear—indeed, we were extra-liberal with our permits because we suspected that deliveries were probably already critically behind schedule. Yes, some of this enviro-gear ended up helping our enemies support their fleet. But many non-combatants also lived where otherwise they certainly would've died, and we decided that since the enemy fleet was so inferior anyway the tradeoff was worthwhile. Besides, how could the news of our wonderful surrender terms—and even more importantly, of the happy results on the planets that'd already accepted them—spread far and wide through the Empire if there was no trade?
And spread the good news did, like wildfire! We hadn't been at it for more than a few months before white-flagged Imperial envoys began seeking us out and surrendering their homeworlds before we even got around to visiting them. Though we feigned delighted surprise, it was what we'd hoped would happen all along. Where we'd started out liberating only one system every month or so due to the long travel times, soon we were up to one or two a week as the delegations came rushing to bend their knee before me and plead for a merchantman or two full of whatever they so desperately needed.
That big rush of surrenders was the effective end of the war, of course—the absolute, total end of any hopes the Emperor might yet harbor of someday dominating the sentient races via sheer military might. No sane monarch would fight on when all they had left were a handful of starving, bankrupt worlds surrounded by an ever-tightening noose and defended by an undersized fleet of half-functional ships whose skilled maintenance crews and precision support tooling had been lost at Wilkes Prime. At the rate things were going soon the entire Empire wouldn't control even so many worlds as a moderately decrepit Noble House. What had once roared like a lion now squeaked like a mouse in every conceivable way, and His Imperial Majesty had to know the game was up. I'd gone far out of my way to prove the matter beyond the shadow of a doubt to anyone at all who might be paying attention.
So… Surely His Imperial Majesty was paying attention. Wasn't he?
I have to admit that I was beginning to wonder if we'd have to direct-assault Imperious after all, complete with all the blood and misery and I-told-you-so's that would surely go along with such an awful campaign. But just as I was roughing out the earliest bones of an invasion plan a brand-new, snappy-looking Imperial light cruiser,
Emperor's Justice
, showed up under a white flag. Most likely she was the only fully-effective vessel left in the Imperial Fleet, still too new to require much in the way of maintenance. I hissed a small sigh of relief as I put away my notes for the Imperious campaign and listened in on Captain Blaine as he oh-so-insufferably recognized the flag of truce and ordered our humbled foe to take up station right in the place where
Javelin
's broadside would be most effective if unleashed. "Hold that relative position until we contact you again," Blaine ordered. "Take no other actions whatsoever."
"Yes, my Lord," agreed the Imperial captain, whose name I hadn't caught. "But before you sign off, I'd like to make one special request."
"Perhaps," Lord Leslie replied, chin held high. "What is it?"
"Prince Jason of the Empire is aboard, sir, serving as a special envoy. He's requested the opportunity to meet with your Prince David and present his diplomatic credentials as soon as reasonably possible."
10
I'd expected for a very long time now that my fellow wargamer Jason Tallsdale would re-emerge as an important factor before all was said and done. Given his position in the family bloodline and special relationship with the kingdom as our highest-ranking and most valuable spy, well… He was the most trustworthy Imperial high-ranker that anyone knew of, and highly deserving of some sort of reward for what both my brother and I considered exceptional service to mankind as a whole. It was a given that we'd eventually want him to end up in charge of the reconstituted House of Boyen—a no-brainer, even. And yet…
…how were we to get him there?
Now that I was Prince of the Realm, no files were closed to me. Though the espionage people had screamed bloody murder about my not having a genuine "need to know", I'd studied every single secret message that Jason Tallsdale had ever sent us, from his first awkward attempts while still barely an adolescent to one that arrived by special courier just a week before the Third Fleet's departure. Early on he'd begun to divide his messages into two parts. The first always consisted of a terse, unemotional report on everything he'd seen or heard that he thought might hold any value for us. My jaw dropped at some of these—it was no wonder that Intelligence was so fearful of risking such a gold mine of information! But it was the second parts that proved most valuable to me in my role as war-ender. For in them, he'd poured out his soul for everyone to see.
"I know I should keep these reports short," he explained in the first of these addendums. "But you can't imagine the pressure I'm under, being unable to talk to anyone but Cloud about these matters, and even he only under very carefully controlled circumstances." I nodded to myself as I read this—Cloud had been his personal manservant since the Prince was very young, and they were far closer than Imperial society usually allowed or approved of in a master-slave relationship. One of the Intelligence reports had suggested that Cloud served as a sort of all-purpose family-figure to Jason, due to the Rabbit having been the only stable presence that extended throughout his entire childhood. In any event, the report concluded, Cloud was extraordinarily important to him. "So I propose to unburden myself here, in a place where all is lost regardless if I'm ever caught out. If you don't want to read it, fine—though of course I know that you will. But please understand—these added bits are for me, not for you."
And so Jason had gone on to create a sort of record of his inner life the like of which I doubted had ever been put together by any spy before him. One month he'd be sick at heart at an Imperial victory, then the next he'd be proud of a successful attack against heavy odds led by one of his uncles. "It's totally self-contradictory and insane," he'd admit. "And yet, so is this double life of mine. Perhaps I'm best served if I don't think about it too much." He'd also written at length about his romantic situation—lots of interesting and interested young women, but he wasn't going to settle down until he could be sure he wasn't going to die a traitor's death. What were his hopes and dreams for a peaceful world? "One way or another, Cloud and his kind
must
be freed. You Royalists are far ahead of us on this front. How can we humans look ourselves in the mirror until we free the slaves? This, and only this, can be the root of true justice."
For me, the most amusing excerpts came from the report immediately after our wargaming confrontation on New Geneva. "David Birkenhead is a fine example of what free Rabbits might bring to the table of civilization," he pontificated. "But I
do
wish he didn't play quite so rough. It doesn't suit his Rabbithood."
And so Prince Jason now waited in a military hull very much like the one I currently resided in, entrusted with a message from his uncle the Emperor and probably busying himself playing cards with the elderly Cloud while he waited for me to deign to see him. Jean had insisted that I keep him waiting at least forty-eight hours to put him in his place and remind him of who was petitioning who, even though it'd mean that the war must as a result last those two days longer. I took his advice, even though unlike Jean I knew whose side Jason was truly on. After all, he was probably every bit as surrounded by courtiers and assistants as I was and humiliating them was worthwhile in and of itself. So he waited and I waited and warriors fighting on a dozen battlefields waited while proper impressions were made. It all seemed so futile, sometimes.
But at least Jason and I both knew that no matter what the rest of the world thought, our negotiations wouldn't be a hard-fought battle of one implacable will against the other. Jason had told me once that he was content to leave those at one victory apiece, and I was perfectly willing to do the same. No, this wasn't about one of us losing. Rather, it was going to be about both of us winning, along with all the rest of mankind. Except of course for his uncle and the innermost circles of Imperial power. Our
real
challenge was going to be working out how best to arrange for
them
to lose without blowing Jason's cover. It was a tough one, all right, and I couldn't say just yet that I'd worked up a good answer.
But with Jason and I working together, well… Between us, we'd surely come up with something.