by Phil Geusz
“What utter rot!” the Commandant replied, looking down at me. I’d tried again to stand but failed, and now was on all fours again. Plus, I was also starting to feel nauseous. “He was never in a moment’s danger. Why, the grounds-bunnies work up there all night long all the time!” He shook his head, then looked up at the Mast. “Come down, all of you!” he ordered. “This is your last chance before I file mutiny charges!” Then he turned back to Sergeant Piper. “It’s already too late for you, I fear. I know a ringleader when I see one.”
“The cadet,” Sergeant Piper replied, his voice now a loud, deep bellow that might’ve carried for miles. “Should report to sickbay. Sir!”
“The cadet,” the commandant replied, “will perform his daily physical training under my own supervision. And I will personally monitor his condition, to ensure that there is no danger.” He looked down at me. “You’re all right, Mr. Rabbit. A little hard work doesn’t even faze your brutish kind, does it?”
By way of reply, I threw up.
The commandant scowled and looked away. Then his eyes rose to the Mast, where everyone was still standing at attention. “I said to come down here!” he declared. “Immediately!”
Not a soul moved.
His scowl deepened. “You!” he declared, returning his attention to me. “Give me ten pushups for making that mess. Now!” He turned to his officers. “We’ll break him, all right! This very day! And that’ll fix it all! Everything will go back to being just like it was before.”
I nodded and tried to get up on my hands and knees and crawl away from the vomit. But a boot came down on my back and pressed me down into it. “That’s a good spot right there, snotty. Now, give me ten!”
“No, by god!” a nearby voice declared. It belonged to a lieutenant, one of the commandant’s personal staff. He stepped forward and stood between the Commandant and I. “That’s about enough, sir!”
“You miserable wretch!” Commandant Drecher screamed, a vein jumping out in his forehead. “I’ll have your commission, sir!”
“And you may take it from me whenever you damned well please, sir!” the lieutenant replied. “Folded until it’s all corners and tucked where the sun never shines! And what a shame that’d be! I’d have to return my estate and spend the rest of my life fox hunting. Such a tragedy!” He shook his head. “Besides, how much can a king’s commission be worth these days, anyhow? If they hand them out to uncouth brutes like you, I mean. That cadet is a hero, damnit! He's done nothing whatsoever to merit such mistreatment!”
“You….” The commandant muttered. Then he turned to another officer, this one equipped with a sidearm. “Frederick, arrest that man!” he ordered the commander, pointing at the lieutenant who’d spoken up for me.
The commander’s eyes closed as if in pain. “I don’t have an estate,” he replied eventually. “And I’m certainly not of noble birth. So there’s nothing protecting me. But…” He sighed and shook his head, then turned his back on the commandant. “The instructor-sergeant is correct, sir. As they usually are. I’d advise listening to him.”
Soon Captain Drecher was rushing from officer to officer, seeking support and growing more and more upset by the minute. But with varying degrees of reluctance, each and every one of them turned their backs on him. He was just approaching the very last, and I was wondering what he’d do if that one turned his back too, when I finally fainted and thereby missed seeing how it all came out.
20
Most cadets probably considered sick bay to be a bare, spartan place. Being mostly of the upper class, they weren’t used to sharing hospital rooms or seeing equipment wheeled about on naked, military-issue carts. But it was a very nice place indeed, in my opinion. Certainly it was a lot better than the veterinary hospital where I’d recently spent so much time. And the staff was nicer, too.
“…note the elevated heartbeat,” Doctor Jefferson was explaining to a younger colleague as he pointed to a monitor above my head. “In Rabbits, the heart-rate varies enormously with the patient’s emotional state. When they’re startled or truly frightened, I’m told, the readings can go off the scale.” Then he looked down and smiled at me. “Nervous, son?”
“A little,” I admitted, licking my nose and front teeth for the tenth time in as many minutes. This wasn’t something I normally did, at least not around humans. It seemed to upset them, somehow. But I’d broken an incisor on the sidewalk when I fainted and the putty-smeared stump was endlessly fascinating to my tongue—I couldn’t leave it alone to save my life. The injury was both a lot more and a lot less serious than it sounded. On the one hand, eventually it’d grow out and I’d be just fine. But on the other it was hideously ugly and I couldn’t speak quite properly. Much to my annoyance, for the first time in my life I now had a baby-bunny lisp. The Academy dentist didn’t wasn’t sure what to do because there was nothing in the textbooks about capping open-rooted teeth. None of the local vets knew how to handle the situation either, because people simply didn’t bother fixing broken slave teeth. So the debate raged on, and in the meantime I just tried not to talk any more than I absolutely had to.
The doctor laid his hand on my shoulder and smiled. “I don’t blame you, son. You’ve had a rough day. So just lay back and relax. I don’t want to have to prescribe a sedative.”
I nodded and smiled, even though I was growing a little frustrated at all the lying around. I’d slept all morning and well into the afternoon, which fixed most of what was wrong with me, and had taken in I didn’t know how many liters of fluids, muscle-relaxants and electrolytes via IV tube. As near as I could tell, that’d taken care of most of the rest. Yeah, I was still achy in places, and my tooth was broken off low enough that it hurt a little sometimes. But I was basically ready to rejoin my section in training, and everyone around me had to know it. The longer I was kept separated, the harder it’d be for me to become part of the group.
And worst of all, no one would tell me anything about what’d happened after I passed out!
It was almost eight o’clock in the evening before the first crack appeared in the wall of silence. James came by to visit, and I was never happier to see anyone in my life. “I can only stay for a minute or two,” he explained once we were done smiling and laughing at the mere sight of each other. “But… Wow!”
I felt my ear-linings darken. “What elthe could I do?” I lisped, shaking my head.
James smiled. “Knowing you, nothing. In hindsight I should’ve expected something like this, and so should everyone else. But… for what it’s worth I think you handled yourself well. I’m sure my uncle will agree. And so will many others.”
My blush deepened, and to avoid more lisping I simply smiled. My friend smiled back, then impulsively fozzled my ears before dashing back to his quarters. His departure left practically all my questions unanswered, but at least I felt better.
I was just about to fall asleep at long last and make the doctor happy when about nine o’clock there came a knock at my door. Then it swung open…
…and in stepped a Royal Herald, in full Court regalia!
I blinked, then tried to scramble to my feet. A Herald serves as the personal representative of the sovereign, delegated at His Highness’s pleasure. As such he represents His Majesty's person, and was therefore one of the tiny handful of officials I was still obliged to bow to.
“No, no, no!” the Herald declared, shaking his head. He was an unusually young man for such a responsible position. It was difficult to tell through the makeup, but he was certainly still in his twenties. “Stay in bed, please! His Highness specifically instructed that you should.”
I nodded and gave up trying to disentangle my IV from the sheets. “Forgive me, th-th-th-… Er, sir.”
The Herald smiled and sat down in my visitor’s chair. “Of all the king’s subjects on these hallowed grounds this evening, David, you perhaps have the least to apologize for.” Then the expression faded and he sighed. “There’s much to be done, and little time to do it in.”
/> I nodded, even though I really didn’t understand.
“First,” the Herald began. “His Majesty has a personal message for you. He says that he appreciates you more than ever, and hopes you’re not too badly hurt.” The Herald scowled at my broken tooth. “May I examine that, David? So that my report on this matter can be complete?”
I nodded, and for a long moment the Herald held my chin in his hand, turning my face gently this way and that. “Thank you,” he said eventually. “Anyway, he also wishes you to know that you’ve made him proud. ‘This,’ he said—and I’m quoting now—‘is exactly what he was sent to do. Though I never dreamed that matters would come to a head so quickly’.”
I nodded again, at a loss for words.
The Herald smiled again. “David, you may not know this but my job is to be more than the King’s mouthpiece. I’m supposed to understand what he wants and why he wants it in great depth, so that I can behave as he would were he handling matters personally.” His smile widened into a grin. “Otherwise I’d just be just another Court-fop in makeup and tights.”
I smiled, as I was clearly meant to.
“His Majesty is intervening on your behalf, David. As is right and proper and ethical, under these narrow circumstances. Indeed, it’d be immoral not to intervene. No one is criticizing you in any way. But…” His face fell. “It’s essential to your purpose for being here that you stand on your own as much as possible, son. His Highness can intervene in the face of gross injustice, yes—especially when you and others highlight it so well. However… The more the palace is seen to be propping you up, the less significant your achievements appear in the eyes of others.” The Herald sighed. “So, this time we can and will help. And, in similar circumstances of gross unfairness we can and will help you again. But every time we do so we’re damaging your image as a Rabbit who’s as good and able as any human.” He looked down.
“I understand,” I replied. “And I promise you as my sovereign’s representative that so long as the game is even close to fair I can play as well as anyone without needing any special help. Please, will you tell His Majesty that for me?”
The Herald smiled wide, then nodded and stood up. “That’s all anyone can ask, David. And, for what it’s worth, it’s the answer His Majesty told me to expect.” He reached into his puffy, voluminous sleeve and removed first an envelope, then a brightly-wrapped package. “From His Highness,” he explained.
I gulped, then reached for the Royal-stationery envelope. It was a brief get-well card from the king, signed by his own hand and illustrated with a stick-figure broken-toothed bunny. “May he who stood so long in my cause lie in comfort and recover quickly,” the note read. And inside the package was a cold-bottle of chocolate milk, mixed by his own hand!
“You’re being kept isolated for the moment,” the Herald explained as he poured me my first glass. “It’s most convenient to do this here, in sick bay. This is for both your own protection and that of certain others. The less said at this point, the better” He winced. “I’m going to have the devil’s own time ensuring that your Sergeant Piper is dealt with fairly. Not to mention the Rabbits on the maintenance crew. It’s better if you’re kept apart for now, though you should know that the sergeant has attempted to visit you twice. As have two of your instructors whom you haven’t even met yet—to their credit, they considered it their duty.”
I nodded and silently sipped my royal drink. It was much better than ordinary chocolate milk after all, I decided.
“So,” the Herald declared, turning to leave. “I expect that I’ll be leaving you in good hands, once all the furor dies away. Which will be shortly after the Commandant issues his public apology to you, in front of your classmates.”
My ears perked and my face froze—it must’ve looked funny, because the Herald laughed aloud. “Ha! I only wish I could be there in person to see it with you.” He shook his head, then tilted it to one side. “His Majesty sent one last message, David. I’d like you to pay special attention to it, if you would.”
I nodded and sat up a little. “Yeth— yes, sir?”
He smiled again. “He asked me to tell you that you have every reason to be proud of your parents. And, that Captain Drecherd’s purported father was a worthless drunken gambler-Lord who pissed away a fortune, while his mother’s reputation was such that no one would wager much on the results of a paternity test. You’re not to quote His Highness on this, but he wanted you to know. Since you asked, you see.”
21
Capping my tooth eventually proved to be such a difficult proposition that it was two whole days before I joined up with my squad. Or perhaps ‘difficult’ is the wrong word—the root of the problem was that no dentist wanted to be the first to experiment on me. Finally Lord Robert had to send Mr. Banes to sign a dozen or more liability releases. I felt bad that I was taking up so much of the time of so many important people. Still, it was nice to see my tutor again. I’d not realized how badly I’d missed him.
Even when it was finished, my tooth repair wasn’t anything even remotely resembling satisfactory. While the prosthesis looked fine, the material it was made of wasn’t nearly as strong as the original enamel. So I couldn’t gnaw properly, not even when I was alone. This may not sound like much to a human, but it about drove me nuts. Rabbits naturally gnaw things in order to deal with stress, and heaven knew I was experiencing no shortage of that. I tried not to do it front of humans, though Mr. Banes never so much as raised an eyebrow whenever I asked for fresh chew-sticks. But like any other Rabbit, gnaw I did, often during the darkest hours of the night after a bad dream when I should’ve been sleeping. And now… Well, one side of my mouth still worked. But everything was off balance, I had to think about what I was doing instead of relaxing and… I guess a human might feel the same way if he was prohibited from scratching with one hand, and then had to go extra-slow and careful with the other. In any event, it wasn’t pleasant. Though things would steadily get better and better as my tooth grew out and more of the fake part was ground away.
My squadmates were as distant and formal with me as I’d imagined they’d be when I returned. As I’d foreseen, they’d already begun bonding without me so that I was even more an outsider than my being a Rabbit dictated. It wasn’t that they hated me or anything. Some of them might’ve, I suppose, had the masthead-duty incident not taken place. The naked ferocity of that little encounter, however coupled with the scale of the forces involved was enough to cow even the best-bred, most status-conscious fifteen-year-old alive, at least for a little while. The real problem was that they just didn’t know how to treat me. It took me a little while to understand that I was something entirely beyond their experience, a creature that didn’t fit any of the neat little social boxes their world was so dependent on. So they politely avoided me, smiling nervously and giggling a lot. Even after I figured out what the basic problem was, it was terribly lonely. James was always too busy to visit, and because I was so far behind there was even less free time in my own schedule.
At least I knew my instructor-sergeant fairly well, or perhaps more correctly I knew him lot better than I reckoned any of my fellow snotties did theirs. A Sergeant Jenkins was filling in for Sergeant Piper when I returned to my unit, but within hours he was gone. After re-introducing himself to the squad in a burst of pushups and extra homework assignments, Sergeant Piper took me aside in his office. “Birkenhead,” he growled. “I shouldn’t rightly be assigned to you anymore, and we both know the reason why. We’ve become too close.”
I stood silent.
He smiled and continued. “But it seems that someone in a high place thinks otherwise. The old ways are falling left and right these days, so perhaps this is just another example.” He looked me up and down, and his expression softened. “If you’re uncomfortable with the arrangement, however, I expect we can get Sergeant Jenkins back.”
I let myself relax ever so slightly—it seemed the right thing to do. “Instructor-Sergeant, I’d will
ingly have no one else. Even though I know you’ll be extra-hard on me to make certain you’re not playing favorites.”
The corners of his mouth twitched before the iron-hard mask slipped back into place. “In that case, snottie,” he roared, “you have a demerit to work off! The latrines are filthy—disgusting, I tell you! In this barracks and the one next door too. You’ll find supplies in the linen closet. Move, move, move!”
I was surprised, though, at how nice my little stateroom was. I hadn’t expected a private room in the naval academy, and to be honest not many cadets got them. Being in the first squad meant that by pure chance we were assigned to the oldest barracks building, which was the only one with individual quarters. I was extra-grateful for this, because otherwise I’d have had no privacy to gnaw and groom and lick my nose and such. Sure, everything had to be kept in perfect order—there was a painted square on the floor for my space-chest, for example, which itself had to be arranged a certain way. But there was a place on the wall where I could hang anything I wanted, so long as it was decorous. I put my ‘get-well’ note from His Majesty there, and as expected no one made me take it down. Right next to it I hung my other get-well card, complete with scratched-out and mis-spelled words. This one had come from the Rabbits of the groundskeeping crew who’d done so much to help me through that terrible night. No one made me take that one down, either. And after careful study I determined that there was no rule against adding a second pen to the slot in my desk, right next to the standard-issue academy model. So I stored the gold one that Lord Robert had given me for passing my engineering examination there as well. Just that easily, except for James never being around, everything felt a lot more like home.
Except for Leyland, of course. He was my footbunny, shared with another cadet named Thomas Clayburn of the House of Vorsage. I didn’t want a footbunny, especially not since things had gone so badly back at the veterinary hospital. In fact, telling Leyland what to do made me feel even worse than trying to work with Barton. But the fact was that the academy didn’t issue us snotties anything without good reason. There weren’t enough hours in the day for us to do everything required of us, plus shine our own shoes and sew the ever-shifting patterns of cadet-rank onto our tunics and all that nonsense. Someone had to do it for us, at least most of the time. (Though late in the second term I filled in for Leyland on the night his first child was born without anyone ever noticing a thing. Both of us were gray-furred and about the same size, and as always no human looked twice at a Rabbit in slave-shorts. Besides, I knew all that I needed to know about tunic-sewing and shoe-shining from my time with the marines aboard Hummingbird. Thomas treated me wretchedly, though, which was disappointing. I’d thought he was nice.) Don’t get me wrong—Leyland was a gem. He worked hard on my behalf, and seemed terribly proud of being assigned to me. But… Perhaps it was just as well that he always knew exactly what needed doing, because I never could bring myself to give him an out-and-out order. It would’ve felt like whipping a kitten.
