by Phil Geusz
The First Fleet had of course already held many rounds of celebrations, but we Third Fleeters spend another whole day staggering around with smiles on our faces, just as we had after Frieda and I were reunited at last. Then it was our turn to celebrate and dance in the corridors; Frieda and I chose long, slow waltzes. Finally, two long days after I really should've, I wrote a public letter to Jason formally accepting his submission to the Crown and recognizing his legitimacy as the House-Lord of Boyen. In my note I made clear that the Imperial core-worlds were every bit as welcome back into the kingdom as any other, and that while war-crime trials would be held there'd be no reprisals or reparations. Then I sent it on to Imperious—or Boyen Prime, as it was once more properly named—via my fastest courier ship for proclamation in all public places. Along with it I sent a private message to Jason expressing my satisfaction with the outcome and reassuring him that I was certain James would feel the same way. I also recognized his Rabbit-friend Cloud for his services by naming him a Knight of the Realm, and encouraged both to come a-visiting as soon as circumstances allowed. "We have so much to talk about, you and I," I explained. "It'd be my great pleasure to get to know you better. You make a much better friend than enemy. Besides, Lord Nestor is dying to swap recipes with Sir Cloud."
Then all that was left was for me to honor my defeated enemy as best I was able. The ex-Imperial ships had been stripped of all but a skeleton crew, barely enough to keep the engines running and maintain formation. Admiral Regan had been very strict with these men—they were allowed practically no contact with their Royal jailors, for example, and none whatsoever with home. Regan was convinced that these vessels were destined to form a new battle squadron in our own navy, and he lived in constant fear that their crews would scuttle them. He sent over inspection crews daily, and these crews were quite deliberately made up of the most arrogant officers in his entire organization. "I'm trying to drive home the fact that we've won and they've lost, sir," he explained.
It was the purest nonsense imaginable, of course. We'd soon be scrapping three-quarters or more of our own existing ships, much less adding a squadron. After all, who was there left to fight? All we really needed was a fleet composed of pirate-chasers and dispatch-vessels, plus enough of a Line of Battle to deter any Houses that might consider breaking away as Boyen once had. The last thing we needed was an additional squadron of ponderous battleships that required non-standardized parts, technicians, and training. Yes, we'd probably keep one ex-Imperial ship as a memorial, but it'd most likely be something small enough to land, like a destroyer. The rest were destined for the shipbreakers, who'd be so overwhelmed with the sudden boom in business that it'd take years, maybe even decades for them to scrap the dreadnoughts alone. All in all it made for a pretty little problem—Admiral Regan was young for his rank, and would be one of the navy's movers and shakers for a long time to come. So, it'd certainly be best not to offend him if I could help it. Yet, I felt myself actually feeling sorry for the ex-Imperial crews who were surely lonely, far from home, and being systematically insulted every single day.
So I first did what any king's officer of my rank might be expected to do. I took a tour of several of the captured ships, ooh-ing and ah-ing politely as the Imperial officers proudly showed off what they considered to be their vessels' greatest strengths and advantages. Instead of being cold and distant, however, I did my best to bond with these one-time enemies. I wore coveralls rather than a dress uniform, for example; simple workwear identical to that worn by any other Rabbit on ordinary service, save that mine had an admiral's rank-rosette sewn onto them. Then I went crawling and climbing into the dark and greasy places with my former enemies, sometimes even further than my own Dog-guards could follow. Or at least I did until one Imperial rating, whom I'd followed down a main-battery accumulator tube, whispered in my ear that there was a 'madman' down in Engineering who meant to assassinate me. "Your Highness," the barely eighteen-year-old Imperial rating explained. "If he'd ever met you and seen how you really are, he wouldn't be talking like a fool. But please, don't go down there!"
Well, I developed a headache and didn't go down there, it so happened. Neither, however, did I inform my security people about the incident. It was largely our own fault, so far as I was concerned, for treating these particular Imperials so shabbily in defeat. I began making it a point to invite them to Royal functions aboard Javelin just as I habitually did with our own officers, and made heavy-handed suggestions to Admiral Regan that perhaps he ought to follow my example. I also not only arranged for the Imperial and Royal officers to hold joint seminars on professional matters such as tactics and logistics so that they could learn from each other, I attended more than a few—and learned more than a little!—myself. While it would've been naïve of me to imagine that everyone's hard feelings could be done away with so easily, well… A little respect goes a long way towards soothing bruised egos. And with any luck it made for fewer assassins as well.
Then at long last the dispatch-vessel Raven returned with multiple reports indicating that the dust was settling down nicely on Boyen Prime, and that Jason remained firmly in control. Though I considered taking Javelin there and calling upon the new House-Lord in person, my staff felt that it'd look too much like a victory-lap. They were right, I decided; instead I wrote another friendly letter to Jason, and then even longer ones to each of the Yans explaining that I'd either see them made Peers of the Realm for their recent services to the Crown or die trying, not that I expected much resistance. Then, still grinning to myself at the thought of how happy I expected my friends' elevations to make Mother and Father Yan, I hugged Frieda up close and whispered in her ear. "Honey?"
"Yes, David?"
"We're finished with war, you and I. Hopefully forever. Now it's time for us to go home and enjoy the peace."
19
Earth Secundus was always a beautiful place to rest and recuperate after a long, difficult mission. The world's primary function was to serve as a great park where Earthlife was conserved to the greatest degree possible. That it also served as the kingdom's seat of government was personally convenient for me as well. Once we'd made a series of socially-mandatory appearances with James and some others, Nestor and Frieda and I repaired to the country retreat I'd come to love so much. Though my own personal acreage remained mostly empty, the nearby New Rabbit Town had grown to the size of a medium-sized city. This invariably shocked me whenever anyone mentioned it because I could so easily recall when it'd consisted of only a few slightly-improved burrows and there hadn't been a human-style house in sight. While the earliest residents had been manumitted Rabbits and Dogs freed before the rest of our brethren, today ex-slaves from all over the kingdom thronged in to study in the excellent schools and gawk at my cabin out in the woods. Even a few humans came to gawk sometimes. While I didn't mind the students, I rather wished that the tourists would stay home. They traveled in packs of dozens or even hundreds, staring and pointing and asking the locals if they happened to have met me and if so what was I really like. It should've been touching, really—my fellow ex-slaves weren't exactly wealthy, nor was interstellar travel cheap. But it seemed that the moment a community of Rabbits or Dogs or even Horses saved up enough money between them to charter some decrepit old rustbucket, they'd crowd in as many freedmen as they could and up-ship under miserable conditions to come and see my home.
"It's all wrong!" I explained to my soon-to-be wife as we sat side-by-side on the veranda and sipped cold drinks on a warm afternoon. It was impossible not to notice the distant crowd that always stood gathered on the far side of the wide, grassy field that surrounded my personal hardpoint. A barely-audible cheer had just gone up—apparently someone equipped with binoculars had seen us come outside. Frieda was wearing sunglasses and a big floppy hat that complimented her ears; I was wrapped in a sort of bathrobe-thingie that I'd never learned the proper name of but which was very comfortable indeed. "They should be spending their money on starting businesses or bu
ying land or a million other things instead of coming here!"
Nestor was just about to speak when my fiancée beat him to the punch. "David," she explained, as if to a child. "How can you be a Rabbit yourself and still be so ignorant? Or is it just that it's been so long since you were a slave?"
I raised my eyebrows. "Actually," Nestor interjected, "I was about to agree with him."
She smiled, then reached out and took my hand. "Honey… Rabbits are nothing if not industrious and thrifty. Isn't that so? Dogs and Horses, too?"
"Mostly," I agreed. "We're bred for hard work, and thriftiness is easy when you've never owned anything at all before."
"Well... As a general rule, industrious and thrifty individuals don't need much money—they have or can easily earn all they need whenever they like. It's not something they think about consciously, mind you. But they're not concerned so much about their financial futures. What they are in need of, however, is a lot more subtle."
My ears perked. "And what's that?"
She smiled. "They need pride, sillykins! Like a desert screams for water, they need pride! There's nothing more demeaning than being bought and sold and forced to breed—take my word for it! You've never seen a fraction of the kind of abuse and misery most Rabbits lived with before things began to change. The Marcus worlds were absolute heaven compared to the Empire, and frankly a lot of the other Royal worlds were no picnic either. I don't think you can even begin to understand. I mean…" She sighed. "David, you've done so many wonderful things, and now you wear a crown, for heaven's sake! His Majesty considers you his brother!" She pointed at the distant crowd; predictably, they cheered again in celebration of being noticed. "They've heard all these amazing stories, and even seen the holovids. But what they want most of all, David, is to come here to their holy of holies and see that it's real! And by extension that you're real as well! They want to touch this place and sniff it and walk around it, because it still feels much too good to be true. And, of course, they come because being here makes them feel closer to you and more akin to you. Then they feel better about themselves and more optimistic about what they as ex-slaves can dream of and perhaps even hope to achieve."
I gulped, then paled under my fur. "I never… I mean, there's no…"
"No," Frieda continued, her voice cold and even a little remorseless in a way that rather reminded me of my own at times. "There's no way out for you at this late date, David. No escape whatsoever." She gestured to the crowd with both arms, then stood up and curtsied to them as cheer after cheer swept across the field separating us. "Now it's everyone else who's free and you that's the slave. Slave to your own accomplishments, not to mention your sense of honor and duty." She sighed and shook her head. "It's not fair, or even anything remotely close to fair. Yet it's reality, cold and harsh. I've heard that one of your greatest pleasures used to be walking around New Rabbit Town in public without any sort of escort, speaking to everyone you met no matter how humble their station and buying this and that from the street vendors—anything that took your fancy." She shook her head. "No more, David. It's much too risky. You don't belong to yourself anymore; instead you belong to them. And even more, you belong to history. Which means you must be stronger than ever, lest you destroy the dreams or even the future of a multitude."
I nodded slowly. She was correct, of course. Then I swallowed the last of my drink, stood up, and noticed a broom leaning in an unused corner. I picked it up and made a mock-Sword salute with it, directed towards the ever-present tourists. They cheered and screamed, and I had no doubt whatsoever that not only would the footage be on all the major newspages within the hour, but that I'd just created one of the fondest memories of a lifetime for dozens of my fellows. Then I bowed, lowered the broom, and went back inside to plan our move into the Palace full-time.
Frieda was right. There was nothing left for us here anymore except the staff, most of whom I hoped would be willing to follow along. It all belonged to the crowds now, just like the rest of my once-personal life belonged to them. So my former home might as well be made into a truly satisfactory museum instead of the half-assed one it was now.
What did I care? It wasn't mine anymore. In fact, so far as I could see damned little was.
20
Taking up full-time residence in the Palace should've been a happy, joyous thing—I still very much appreciated James's company, and his wife Grendolyn was indeed more charming and pleasant to be around now that I no longer carried such a huge chip on my shoulder. Frieda hit it off with the in-laws pretty well, too; soon she and Gwendolyn were playing bridge every Tuesday with two of the ladies-in-waiting as partners. On the surface I had nothing to complain about; temporarily at least Nestor and I were working together on projects of the highest importance regarding the manumission problem, so there was no lack of work or fellowship for me either. And yet…
One day at sunset I was sitting on the balcony outside my bedroom with Frieda when a formation of wild geese flew over on their way south for the winter. They were beautiful creatures, just beginning to really thrive in their new home. "Honk! Honk! Honk!" I heard them call, and I fear I found the vista so enrapturing that it distracted me from other, more down-to-earth matters.
"David Birkenhead!" Frieda declared, pulling her hand out of mine and thereby breaking my reverie. "You haven't heard a word I've said for the past ten minutes!"
"Sorry," I muttered, looking away in embarrassment. "It was the birds, you see. I'm fond of geese."
Frieda sighed and shook her head. "I was just explaining about the coronation and wedding, dear. It's only three more days, and we still haven't decided what to do regarding the food at the reception. Do we serve everything from a single buffet line, or have separate ones for humans, Rabbits, Dogs and Horses?"
I sighed and tried to focus my mind on what might at first glance seem a trivial issue but which actually was potentially quite important. On the one hand, serving everyone together would be a strong political statement of equality. On the other, well… There were pragmatic concerns. Human cheeses, for example, stank. Badly, in fact. What Dogs ate was often even worse in that regard. It'd be far more practical—and everyone would enjoy their food more—if we kept things separate. This was to be the first Royal event ever, anywhere, at which non-humans were the key figures. We'd be setting precedents that might endure for centuries. Doubly so, since we'd decided to combine the wedding and coronation together into one single oversized event in order to keep costs down. I shook my head and sighed a second time. Geese didn't have to deal with nonsense like this, I reminded myself. They could just spread their wings and flyflyfly off to wherever—
"David!" Frieda complained."What on earth is the matter with you?"
Ingrown princehood, I thought without speaking. "My sweet," I began slowly, taking her hand again in my own. "I love you more than anything. You know that."
She nodded and kissed my cheek. "As I love you."
"I… Uh…" Then I shook my head and blurted it out. "Before we finally found each other again, I used to fantasize about what life might've been like if, well… If I'd ignored my father's call on a certain afternoon and eaten those flowers with you then and there. While they were still fresh and succulent and pure. And gone into slavery with you."
She scowled. "It was horrible, David. You don't know what you're wishing for!"
"I probably wouldn't have survived long," I agreed. "The first time they tried to breed you with…" I shook my head, shutting down the train of thought immediately. "I missed you always. But… The part about wishing I was captured too—that mostly came once I rose pretty high up the ladder. When I started becoming too famous, in other words. And shouldering too many responsibilities."
She nodded. "I'm no one's fool, David. I've spent more time than you know talking to Nestor, trying to make up as best I can for all the years we lost. He says you've grown less joyous every year he's known you, probably because you've carried so many awful weights on your shoulders."
She pecked me on the cheek again. "I must admit, dearest, that I've had fears of my own. Like, not being able to live up to being the mate of the bunny that left his footprints on Imperious."
I smiled, released her hand, and squeezed her closer to me. "You're easily the best thing that's ever happened to me," I replied. "In every way there is."
She nodded and squeezed me back. "Then… What's really bothering you, David? Maybe I can help?"
