by Phil Geusz
Midshipman
The David Birkenhead Series
Book 2
Phil Geusz
First Printing August 2012
Published by Legion Printing, Birmingham, AL
Copyright Phil Geusz, 2012
ISBN: 978-0-9829866-7-7
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without explicit permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
1
“Would you like me to bring you anything special to eat? Or maybe something else?” James asked before leaving, just like he always did. He visited me at the veterinary hospital every day, even though it was almost an hour’s trip by aircar from where he was staying with the Royal Governor. Only now was I beginning to appreciate what a good, true friend I’d made for myself.
“No thank you,” I answered as I always did, lowering my head so as to hide the reddening of my still too-soft and tender ear-linings. The Tank had rebuilt my body from practically nothing, and every inch of me was still as soft and fluffy as if I were an infant. The chief vet said that I still had weeks of supervised toughening-up to go through before I could return to heavy labor, which seemed to be the only standard of health he recognized in regard to we Rabbits. Until then I was stuck sharing a clinic room with Patrick, a grizzled old field-buck who knew nothing of the universe except plows, seed drills and harvesters. He’d had to grow a new liver after being over-exposed to a certain fertilizer, and seemed to think I existed for no better purpose than to listen for the tenth time to his story of That Terrible Day when he’d had to corral a sixty-ton runaway tractor with a passed-out Rabbit at the controls. After all, it was obvious to him that with me being as young as I was, I couldn’t possibly have any stories of my own to tell…
“All right then,” James agreed, glancing around nervously. He always did that before he left, as well. Near as I could figure out, this was because of something that’d happened upon my arrival. The vet on call when I’d arrived, still riding in a portable Tank, had flat-out refused to treat me once he learned I was a free Rabbit and not a slave anymore. While on the one hand he felt that it was okay for Rabbits to be manumitted, on the other he felt that they shouldn’t have their lives prolonged afterwards by artificial means. “Eventually they turn all sullen and sour when they’re not owned anymore,” the vet tried to explain to First Officer von Selkim. Apparently I’d only been accepted as a patient in the end because I was in the navy, or more specifically because I was part of Hummingbird’s crew. These days even a mere Rabbit from Hummingbird was a celebrity, liable to have his ears scratched for him by perfect strangers at any moment. Or so Pedro assured me, the one time Pieter brought him by for a visit. “All right,” the vet reluctantly conceded in the end. “If the navy’s paying the bill, then who am I to object?” Still, James had given me a little emergency-medallion to press if I felt I was being treated badly. Not that there was the faintest chance I’d ever activate the thing. If the vet spoke brusquely and ordered me to ‘sit’ or ‘stay’ sometimes, what did it matter to me? I was getting better and stronger every day, and that’s all that really mattered. Soon enough I wouldn’t have to live behind a locked, barred door.
Though I had to admit that I was beginning to have my doubts about exactly what kind of life I was going to be allowed to live once the clinic finally released me. I sighed and picked up a little booklet that Captain Blaine had sent, extolling the virtues of a certain servant’s training center. All the Royal footbunnies were educated there, it seemed. Sir Leslie wasn’t certain he could get me in, he explained in a nice little note. But if he could, well… Once I graduated, if no one else of higher social standing would hire me then he’d take me on himself. And at near-human wages, too! It looked like a nice enough place, and certainly among Rabbits it was a mark of distinction to serve in a nobleman’s household—the higher-ranking, the better. But…
…the entire pamphlet was written for Rabbit owners, not for Rabbits. While it emphasized how well we “most-cherished and beloved assets” would be treated and taken care of while in training, it also mentioned that no student would be accepted without a written authorization allowing the use of shock-collars. So as much as I appreciated Sir Leslie’s help—his goodwill or perhaps even outright gratitude seemed genuine enough—I didn’t expect that I’d be attending the footman’s academy. Even if they would accept a Free Rabbit, which I rather doubted.
I was intently re-reading the flyer that Captain Blaine had forwarded me about databunny school as an alternative to listening to Patrick when there was rather a stir in the front of the clinic. My ears rose at the sudden murmur of conversation, and so did Patrick’s. We looked at each other helplessly and shrugged; whatever it was, what could either of us do about it? Then a lone human began walking down the corridor towards our room, his long, purposeful stride growing louder and louder. I shouldn’t have been surprised when a man in an expensively-cut suit stopped at our door, but I was.
“May I come in?” the distinguished gentleman asked.
I looked at Patrick, whose eyes were about to bug out of his head. He seemed too frightened to speak, so I did it for him. “Certainly, sir. But the latch is on your side.”
“Oh!” the man declared, startled. “I see.” He fumbled at the catch for a moment, then swung the heavy door out of the way and left it open behind him. He looked oddly familiar, yet somehow I couldn’t place him.
“My name is Robert,” he said eventually, after looking me over for a rather long time. “Lord Robert Marcus, younger brother of the late Lord Marcus.” He smiled slightly.
Suddenly I was all aflutter, trying to get out of bed to bow properly and getting all tangled up in the sheets. “My lord!” I cried. “Forgive me! I—”
“Now, now!” he corrected me, holding up his hands in a ‘stop’ gesture. “You’re ill, David. Very sick indeed, I’m told, though far better than you’ve been recently.” He smiled again. “Please, lie back down.” He turned to Patrick. “And you too, sir. What was your name again?”
The old farmer-bun muttered something, though even my ears couldn’t quite make out what. Lord Robert smiled regardless. “Most pleased to meet you, as well.” Then he turned back to me and his smile widened. “I’ve been hearing the most extraordinary stories about you,” he continued. “Some of them from my nephew. But, rather surprisingly given his youth and still-powerful imagination, the truly astounding tales originate with others.”
My mouth opened and closed, but I wasn’t able to say anything.
“I’ve just arrived to pick up James and bring him back home with me to Earth Secundus," he continued. "I mean literally, I’ve just arrived—I haven’t even paid my respects to His Majesty’s governor yet. But I’ve been reading radiograms about you for several weeks now.”
I gulped, but still remained silent.
Lord Robert sighed and began pacing up and down the bare concrete that was the floor of my room. “Well,” he said at last. “My family always intended to do well by you, David. Even long before you were born. Our hopes originally were for you to follow in your father’s footsteps and qualify as a chief engineer, and everything seems to indicate that you’d have done so easily. But then, you see, the plan was to put you aboard a larger ship where you’d actually need an engine-room crew.” He ceased pacing and looke
d me in the eyes. “In other words, you’d have had humans as subordinates. Under your legal orders.”
I gulped, and he grinned at my expression. “Ha! You’d have done well enough, I’m certain. All the indications were positive. And your own son, David…” His smile faded. “We’d have made him a merchant-marine captain.”
“I… But…”
“Step by step,” Lord Robert continued as if I’d not spoken at all. “Step by tiny, inadequate step we’d have advanced your kind, in the most visible places possible. And inch by inch we’d have moved forward, for the eventual good of all the various humanities—Rabbits, Dogs, Horses…” Then his smile faded and he shook his head. “But, you know what they say about the best-laid plans of mice and men. Certainly we never planned on losing Marcus Prime. Or my brother. Or your father, either. For which I’m terribly sorry, by the way. I knew him well and respected him.”
I nodded. “And I think your brother was a great man as well. Perhaps the greatest I’ll ever know.”
Lord Robert’s eyes moistened, then he smiled. “Yes, he certainly was. And as you well know, he left some instructions regarding you.”
My ears perked up.
“It may not feel like it to you,” he began. “But almost seven months have passed since you were promised an annuity. A balance has accrued; it’s yours to collect. And you’ve also been manumitted. But…” He scowled. “Son, you’re still only thirteen.”
I nodded. “I know I’m not grown up yet.”
“Good,” Lord Robert agreed. Then he looked away. “You of course couldn’t have known this, but I’ve been representing my brother’s interests at Court for many years now. While I’m not his legal heir, he filed papers long ago naming me as the one to manage his affairs under circumstances such as these. Until his eldest son achieves his majority, at least.”
“Of course,” I agreed, bowing my head slightly.
“My brother also named you a Friend of the House of Marcus, a decision with which I more than concur.” He smiled. “So… We find ourselves in a very odd legal situation here, one for which there's no precedent. You’re a young Free Rabbit, so far as I can determine the first ever to be freed while still a minor. Plus my family owes you a significant debt of honor.” His smile faded. “If your situation went before a panel of judges, as perhaps it legally should, there’s no way of knowing what might come of it. But if I were to sort of just step in and for lack of a better word, informally and extra-legally take charge of you….” He smiled extra-wide. “Well, I must say that I can’t see anyone daring to make much of an issue of it. Especially if you agree.”
I felt my ear-linings redden as I looked down. “I’d be proud.”
“Don’t be hasty!” Lord Robert replied. “If you choose this path, one so closely associated with that of our House, much will be expected of you. And doubly, maybe even triply so because you’re a Rabbit, David. People imagine all sorts of silly things about noblemen’s lives, and those of the ones closest to them. But somehow they almost never seem to notice how short our life-expectancies are. We’re living targets in many ways, David, and this accursed Emperor and his endless wars only makes matters worse.” He looked down at my databunny pamphlet. “There are less perilous and less challenging paths open to you, and you’d receive our House's full backing in any of them. You’ve seen enough danger and death by now to realize that there’s nothing romantic or desirable about any of it. If you hitch your star so tightly to ours, son, you’ll be expected to remain loyal to our House come thick or thin, even unto death.” He looked me dead in the eyes. “There’s nothing dishonorable about learning computers and facing nothing more dangerous than an overheated memory bank instead. You’re plenty gifted at math—I imagine we could find a cubicle for you at one of our programming centers. Or we might even get you back into an engineering apprenticeship and try to return you to your original course. Though that won’t be so easy now that Marcus Prime is lost and your father with it.” He pursed his lips. “It’s up to you, David. I can give you a few days to think it over, if you like.”
I smiled and raised my eyes from the databunny pamphlet. Dad had asked me to make him and my mother proud. While he’d have been satisfied with a good, honest programmer for a son, I knew what his heart would truly have desired. “I don’t need them,” I answered.
He nodded silently and clasped his hands behind his back, ready for anything.
“All of my life,” I explained, “people have told me that the worlds of Marcus are the freest, most-enlightened, richest places in the universe, and their ruling House the most benevolent and noble.” I bowed slightly. “I suspect that this is true, from what little I’ve seen. All you Marcus’s seem to care about is what’s good for those who depend on you, serfs and anthro-slave alike. I want to be like that, more than anything else in the universe.” I smiled. “So, my Lord, I throw the question back on you. You’re wise where I am ignorant, and mature where I’m young. What I want is to do what’s best for everyone everywhere, no matter how difficult or risky it may be. Therefore, I’ll willingly follow wherever you may choose to take me. It’d be especially nice if you led me back to an engine room—I’ll admit that freely. I very much liked being an engineer. But, it’s up to you.”
2
It was amazing how quickly my situation changed, once Lord Robert finished greeting the Governor and got down to serious work. The first thing that happened, just about midnight, was that some vet’s assistants came in and tried to take Patrick away. Neither he nor I could figure out what was going on until fresh flowers appeared in a vase and someone rolled in a little bed-desk with a data terminal on it. Then suddenly, all at once, I understood. “Do you want to stay here with me, Patrick?” I demanded of my bucolic room-mate just as they were ready to roll him out.
“I… I… I mean…” he stuttered, clearly at a loss for words. “I like you, David.”
I nodded and thought about how James would handle things. “I like you too, Patrick,” I reassured him with a smile. Then I looked up at the lead assistant. “Does he really need to go? I’d miss him an awful lot.”
Then she was stammering, and so was everyone else until finally the old farmer was rolled back in next to me again, his eyes still the size of saucers. I was glad they took my suggestion—the fact was that Patrick had been almost as badly off as I was, and needed a lot more than just a new liver to be truly healthy again. Why his owner refused him better care I had no idea. But the one thing I knew for certain was that telling his tractor-story was good for him, and I wasn’t sure that anyone else would listen more than once.
The next morning Dr. Drusy was in bright and early to see me. Which was in itself remarkable— up until then he’d only come by for a few seconds once or twice. He listened to my heart, thumped my chest, and beat on my knees with a little rubber hammer, stuff that his assistants always did for him before. Most amazingly of all, though, he smiled a lot and called me by my first name. Something had clearly changed, and I didn’t think it was his opinion of Free Rabbits.
About ten-thirty, while I was still getting the data-console set up the way I liked it, another human appeared and knocked on my door. “Come in!” I cried out—it wasn’t latched anymore—and a rather plump gray-headed man in highly-formal dress stepped in. “Master Birkenhead?” he asked politely.
“I’m David,” I confirmed, nodding.
He smiled. “Pleased to meet you. My name is Israel Banes. You may’ve heard young James refer to me?”
My jaw dropped—Mr. Banes, as James called him, was the House of Marcus’s chief tutor. He’d overseen the education of three generations of nobility. “I can’t believe… I mean, James was afraid that you’d been left behind!”
“He had every reason to so fear,” Mr. Banes replied. “But I was able to stow away aboard a neutral freighter after the invasion was over.” He smiled. “A far less adventurous escape than your own, I’ll grant. Yet, it had its moments.” His eyes narrowed. “I’m
told that you’ve accepted my tutelage.”
I looked down at the sheets. “I’ve agreed to do anything Lord Robert wants me to do. So if that’s what he says, than I guess I have.” I raised my eyes again. “If you’ll have me, that is. I mean, I don’t…”
“Rubbish!” Mr. Banes declared, shaking his head. “Absolute rubbish!” Then his face went hard. “Let’s make one thing perfectly clear from day one, young man. You’ll get no special treatment from me because you’re a Rabbit, d’ye hear? I’ll expect no less from you than I would from James or anyone else.”
I gulped. “Yes, sir.”
He smiled at that, his features softening once more. “Your accomplishments to date speak for themselves, son. So I’ve no concerns regarding your basic character, and that’s always the most important thing. But… What about your academics?”
“I left a copy of my apprenticeship files with James before the boarding action,” I explained. “I’m okay with numbers, or at least Dad always thought so. Though I’m afraid I can’t read Latin.”
“Heh!” my tutor snorted. “Few boys your age can, so don’t worry too much on that account. But… How far advanced is your mathematical training? Have you begun quadratics yet?”
I blushed. “I’m a little past those, actually.”
He smiled. “Calculus, then?”
I blushed redder. “I can do rough Field-theory approximations in standardized six-dimensional format. Though I still get them wrong sometimes. And I haven’t learned n-dimensional formulations at all yet. I sort of need some help with those, I’m afraid. No matter how hard I study the book, I can’t quite figure them out alone.”
Mr. Bane’s mouth opened, then closed without uttering a word. Then he looked away. “So help me, I’m going to whip that little whelp!” he muttered eventually.
“Sir?” I asked, not understanding.
“James,” he explained. “He told me you knew a little math.”
