Authors: Phil Geusz
I blushed under my fur and wished that I’d been allowed a little extra shuteye instead of having to get up early and don my full-dress uniform. Or, even better, been permitted to play more wargames!
Soon, however, I was allowed to do exactly that. Our new strategy-game program was blatantly copied from something the Imperial Academy had been doing for many years. Since they’d beaten us so badly in the war, His Majesty’s advisors reasoned, it was necessary that we figure out why and do what we could to bring ourselves up to their level of performance. War-games at the academy were among the first fruits of this new policy. Because they were so much in vogue (and because both James and I were obviously so far ahead of where we needed to be academically in order to graduate) we were permitted to test out of whatever classes we could and devote as much time as possible to studying strategy via gaming. I still had to go to ballroom classes and write a weekly newspaper, of course, while James continued to get up in the middle of the night and find things wrong with the uniforms of the sentries. But mostly we were permitted to take our finals two months early, which was a wonderful thing indeed. Professor Lambert spent more and more hours encouraging us to think outside the box and find new approaches to old strategic problems, while I dreamed of Ironbottom Sound and Jutland and zones of relative immunity to plunging fire practically every night. It seemed too good to be true. Which it was, of course. For Professor Lambert knew something I didn’t.
The Imperial Naval Academy’s wargaming team had invited us to meet them on New Geneva, it seemed. Where they planned to beat the pants off of us in the first direct competition of any kind ever held between our two schools excepting only war itself.
25
“…going to be representing your sovereign, the navy, and not least this most venerable institution,” the Commandant explained for perhaps the fifth time as he strode slowly up and down his office carpet. “It’s both a great honor and a great responsibility. I hope you young gentlemen appreciate how much trust is being placed in you.”
We five gaming team members didn’t reply, of course. One didn’t speak when standing at rigid attention.
“You will continue your classwork via independent study,” he continued, still pacing, “and remain under full Academy discipline.” He stopped and looked us each in the eye, one by one. “I regret that due to the length of the trip you’ll miss your formal graduation ceremony. However, for purposes of seniority you will be considered to have graduated with the rest of your classmates.”
If ever I wanted to smile at attention, that was the moment. Even though it was still two months away, we cadets were already wasting time learning fancy new drill techniques for the Big Day. So I wouldn’t have to spend endless hours being cursed at by Instructor-Sergeant Piper in exchange for the dubious privilege of throwing my hat in the air and cheering in front of a King’s Herald? What a pity!
“All five of you,” the Commandant continued, “are well in advance of your peers in terms of academics. So I don’t anticipate many problems in that regard.” He shook his head, looking off into the distance. The fact was that three of us five Gamers were his very brightest cadets, and we all knew it. It seemed to bother him immensely that Professor Lambert had attracted the cream of the crop away from the Academy’s mainstream. “Nor,” he added, staring straight at Cadet Private von Schtolen, “do I anticipate any disciplinary problems.”
This time the ghost of a grin
did
cross my features, though I suppressed the expression before anyone noticed. Heinrich was the most unremittingly rebellious being I’d ever known. The son of a renowned hyperspace physicist, Heinrich would openly tell anyone who asked that he despised both the navy and the Academy, and that the only reason he didn’t ever quite get himself thrown out entirely was because he’d promised his father he wouldn’t. Academically speaking, he was the only other cadet on campus at James’s or my level. Still, he let his resentment show a thousand different ways, from standing sentry with his fly wide open to improvising some sort of chemical reaction in our science teacher’s seat-cushion. Professor Vashi had torn off for sick bay screaming like a banshee, but because no permanent damage was done my team-mate had merely been required to stand Mast for a few hours rather than being expelled. He considered marching in ranks to be the most miserable of all conceivable human activities, and his always-original approach to virtually any gaming problem endeared him enormously to Professor Lambert’s heart. As a sign of mutual regard, Heinrich never messed with
his
seat cushion.
“No disciplinary problems
whatsoever
,” he continued, eyeing the Yan twins suspiciously. Several times during the year their barracks had undergone surprise bedchecks. Rumor had it that this was because the Yans had worked out a system whereby one snuck off campus for a night on the town now and again, while the other covered for the missing cadet. Not once had they actually been caught, but it couldn’t be denied that they always had far more sweets and such in their pockets to share around than anyone else. Their father was a self-made millionaire retail merchant who’d urged them into the navy in the hope that one or both might someday earn a title and thus raise the entire family into the highest circles of society. The pair specialized in playing strategy card games that incorporated more than the usual share of luck and were absolute
murder
at anything resembling poker, especially when allowed to share a table. James believed that they cheated, and so did I. But when Professor Lambert overhead us speculating on the subject he merely shrugged and asked whatever in the world led us to imagine that war would always be fair?
“I suppose that’s all,” the Commandant finally said. “Except of course for wishing you all the best of luck.” He smiled. “Kick their Imperial asses, young gentlemen.” Then his smile faded. “Mr. Marcus! Mr. Birkenhead! Please remain behind. The rest of you are dismissed.”
26
I couldn’t say just how I knew it, what with both of us standing at attention. But somehow I was aware that James was every bit as puzzled at being held over as I was. “At ease,” the Commandant ordered once everyone else was gone. “Please, sit down. I’m afraid we need to have a rather long talk. Would either of you like a glass of juice?”
James accepted; I did not. When the Commandant was done pouring he smiled for a long moment at each of us. “First of all,” he began, “I wish to congratulate you both for your excellent performances here, since you’ll be gone later in the year when the Commandant traditionally honors the best and the brightest.” He looked at James. “You, son, are a credit to your breeding. And believe me, I fully appreciate exactly what a fine bloodline that is.” He licked his lips and looked away. “Rumor has it that you’re going to be elevated to a Dukedom when you achieve your majority. As was planned for your father. My congratulations, in advance.”
James nodded soberly but said nothing. In point of fact a Royal Herald had come by and visited privately my friend for several hours not a week before. He’d not spoken to me about the matter, and I’d not pressed him. I suspected, however, from the redness in his eyes and the puffiness of his features afterward that he’d learned for the first time who his grandfather really was, and why His Majesty took such a keen personal interest in him.
“And as for you,” the Commandant declared. He met my eyes for a moment, then turned away. “I find myself at a loss for words. When I first heard that a Rabbit had been admitted to the Academy, well… I’ll admit it to you, Birkenhead. My first reaction was one of pure indignant rage. It seemed to me that to let you in would make a mockery of everything this institution stands for—honor, courage, and tradition.” He shook his head. “And how terribly wrong I was! When I heard what you did, standing on that pole all night… Well, someone had sent me a protest petition that was going around the Fleet, and I’d already signed it and was about to forward the thing to His Highness. But then…” He shook his head again. “What my predecessor did to you somehow made everything clear to me. I’m deeply ashamed of what I once thought and felt, Cadet, and when I was offered this position I accepted it immediately, without a moment’s hesitation. Simply because by then I wanted to be the one to apologize to you. So that I’d know it was done properly.”
My mouth fell open. “Sir, I—”
He cut me off with a gesture. “My predecessor,” he said slowly, “systematically abused and then endangered the life not only of a fifteen-year-old boy, but also of a most deserving wearer of the Sword of Orion.” He shook his head again. “Your friend on the throne didn’t have to turn the screws in order for me to give you a fair shake, David. Not after what you did, and how much elegance and honor you displayed while doing it. No one is more delighted than I am that you’ve not only passed the program, but done so with greater distinction in some ways than any cadet who’s ever come before you.” He smiled a little. “Son, you
will
go far. If, that is, the people above you allow it.”
Again I didn’t know what to say. So, I just blushed.
He turned back to James and smiled. “Now… I didn’t hold you two over merely in order to stroke your egos.” He reached down into his desk and produced two ordinary-looking datachips. “These are advanced textbooks,” he explained. “Or at least they’d be advanced for most young gentlemen—it wouldn’t surprise me at all to learn that you two have already flown past them.” He laid them on the table; one was titled
Mastering the Calculus
, and the other
A Guide to
Classical Greek Grammar
. “Or at least they
look
like advanced texts. In point of fact, they’re actually codebooks.” His smile faded. “The kind that spies use. Though you’d have to study them closely indeed in order to prove it.”
My mouth fell open again, and so did James’s.
The Commandant smiled. “I should inform you that the Imperials have invited us to compete against them for decades now, in almost every field imaginable. Fencing, water polo, drill… You name it. We haven’t taken them up on the offer for many reasons, most notable among them that we’re not willing to push our students to the ragged edge of insanity like the Imperials are, in search of victory at all costs.” He scowled. “Nor, even now, do we want to offer them even the appearance of legitimacy. So far as we’re concerned, even though His Highness has officially recognized the Emperor’s crown his government is still founded on bloody rebellion and regicide. In the navy, at least, we try to keep that in the front of our minds at all times.”
I nodded slowly. The Empire had once been a group of three Dukedoms within the Kingdom, plus some other assorted fiefs. A group of republican radicals had murdered King Cetshwayo and started a long, terrible civil war. Or series of wars, really. According to my history professor, the most recent fight that I’d been caught up in was just the latest in a long, long series all fought over the same basic issues.
“Anyway…” the Commandant continued. “Royal Intelligence asked us, just this once, to accept the Imperial offer. Supposedly we have an…” His lips puckered—obviously he found the whole matter distasteful. “An ‘asset
’
, they call it. An ‘asset’ associated somehow with the Imperial Academy that needs a new codebook.” He leaned back and folded his arms. “In all honesty, given the fanatical indoctrination forced upon their cadets we can’t reasonably expect to win any competition with them. However, in this case we can win far more than is readily apparent even if on the surface we lose.” He smiled again. “It’s believed that you two have the best chances of getting the books through undiscovered.” He looked at James. “In your case, it’s a matter of birth. The Emperor knows who you are as well as anyone, and even if they were to actually learn the truth it’s unlikely they’d make much of it. We’d go to war over you in an instant, and well they know it. They’re not quite ready for that again so soon.” Then he turned to me. “And, in your case, well…” He frowned. “To be quite frank, slavebunnies have even less status in the Imperium than they do here. There’s a large school of thought today, David, that believes you’re either some kind of fake. Much of the Imperium seems to share this opinion.” He looked down apologetically. “You and I know it’s not true, of course. But they think people lied so that you could get a Sword and are being carried through the Academy purely on royal influence, so that the anti-slavery types can make much of you.” He shook his head. “They can’t imagine that a bunny might truly be brave and intelligent. Not to mention loyal or honorable. So we doubt that the Imperium will be watching you very closely.” He looked down at the table. “In fact, David… We’d not ask this of you, except that the books are so important. But, the truth is the truth.
“You’re being asked to play stupid. In public, at least.”
27
Playing stupid proved to be a lot more difficult than I ever imagined it’d be, as I discovered on my very first day aboard the liner
King Jelani the First
. Enough people knew that I was an unusually good mathematics student that I wasn’t expected to pretend on that score—I was free to continue my advanced studies even right out in public if I wanted to. But other than that… A Royal Intelligence officer spent most of two days teaching me how to appear to be the biggest, dullest ass there ever was without straining my credibility as a cadet. Mostly he felt that it’d be best if I appeared as much a Rabbit as possible, so while aboard ship I ceased wearing most of my clothing when off-duty and did my best to retrain myself to lick my nose and such in public, sometimes even while standing at attention. In the public dining areas I ate far less human food than usual—this at least was no sacrifice!—and sometimes even scratched myself with a hindpaw, like the rawest of rural buns. When forced to make conversation with civilians I spoke endlessly of the correct way to plant and fertilize various sorts of flower bulbs and feigned meek acceptance of every rebuke, including numerous imaginary ones. I was a lot more comfortable in the physical sense, but mentally the whole thing galled me enormously. Even two or three years before such behavior—or most of it, at least—wouldn’t have troubled me at all. It would’ve seemed natural and normal, even—certainly nothing to be ashamed of. But now… It made me think of the maintenance bunnies who’d stood Mast with me throughout the long night and feel like I was letting them down somehow. If I hadn’t been allowed to go back to normal when among just we cadets, well… I might’ve gone mad!