by Phil Geusz
I wished they’d liked me better.
When I was finally seated in the limo and we were rising into Nova Europa’s clean blue sky, the driver activated the intercom. “Sir,” he said softly. “There’s a message for you loaded on the screen. I’ve been instructed to ask you to view it.”
I nodded, then activated the panel. Sir Robert’s face appeared. “Good day, David,” he greeted me with a smile. “Congratulations on your escape from the clutches of the medical community!” Then, still smiling, he nodded slightly. “While nothing would’ve made me happier than to liberate you personally, I fear that urgent business has delayed both your tutor and myself. Indeed, the business is so important that we’re not going to be able to meet you at our townhouse either. So instead, we’re going to rendezvous somewhere else. I hope you don’t mind!” He smiled again. “Oh! And lest I forget James will be there too. So will Pedro and some of your other old friends. You’ll be able to eat dinner together, if you like, and share most of the evening.” His smile widened. “Some of it will be boring, I’m certain. But I expect you’ll mostly have a good time regardless.”
6
Nova Amsterdam was named for its numerous canals and waterways, as well as its prominence as an interstellar center of trade. Of course the canals served no economic function in a modern economy; they were just there for looks and so the townspeople could putter about town in brightly-painted gondolas when the weather was nice. But how the locals loved them! Everywhere I turned, once we grounded and were rolling along instead of flying, there were immaculate little waterways lined with perfectly-planned flower beds that seemed to be eternally in bloom. I’d never seen anything like it! Even back home on Marcus Prime where fire-lilies were held in such high esteem, you didn’t see half so many blossoms! And everywhere there were patient Rabbits to be seen, weeding and feeding and seeding and performing all the other stoop-labor that kept things so perfect for everyone. They smiled a lot, and I supposed there were worse lives to be lived than working the soil and making possible such incredible beauty. But still… For perhaps the first time in my life, I wondered if this was really how things should be.
As we worked our way downtown—Nova Amsterdam was a provincial capital as well as a trade center, so private personal air traffic was prohibited in the city core—I began to see that the residents loved other things besides waterways and canals. The planet was under direct Royal rule, and it showed. The closer we came to the Governor’s Palace, the more flags and patriotic banners I saw. “Down with the Imperial upstart!” read a slogan hung above a large tavern, while a hotel ran “God bless Hummingbird! Glory to the King!” in flashing letters over and over again above their main entrance. It was the war, I supposed. Humans took such things very seriously indeed, though Rabbits tended to only be at best vaguely aware of politics. I mean, we Marcus-Rabbits loved and supported milord with all of our hearts, but that was mostly because we knew that he actually, for-real cared about us and let us live better lives than anyone else did. Even Dad hadn’t been able to tell me much when I showed him a newspage headline predicting war and asked why the emperor was angry with our own monarch. “It’s better not to worry about such matters, son,” he’d replied with a smile. “War is like bad weather; it just happens. Instead of wasting time and effort on things you can’t control, you should work at mastering your trade.”
I didn’t like his answer very much at the time, but somehow I’d never worried much about the matter afterwards except when someone was actually shooting at me. And the Rabbits of other Lords were even less interested in politics than we Marcuses! I bet Lord Robert knew all about what the fighting was over, though! And James and Mr. Banes too, though if I asked the latter he’d probably make me write a bazillion-word report on the subject.
We kept driving on and on into older parts of town, until I began to wonder exactly where we’d end up. Lord Robert had mentioned a townhouse but by now all that I could see were government buildings, blocks and blocks of them stretching in every direction with only an odd tavern or lunchroom here and there to break the monotony. Nova Amsterdam was the administrative hub for dozens of planets. So it was natural that the government needed lots of space. But still… I was a little overawed at the sheer scale of it all.
Finally we went through a little checkpoint where a Dog sniffed us both and waved a little scanner-thingie at our limo. Then his master scowled at me, checked something off a list, and waved us through. I probably shouldn’t have been surprised at what came next, though I most certainly was. We drove perhaps another block, made a left turn…
…and there I was, sitting directly in front of the Governor’s Palace!
At first I thought it must’ve been a mistake, even when I saw the big mockups of Hummingbird and Sword of the People locked side-by-side in battle stretching across the Royal front lawn. Then Pedro came galumphing up to greet me and a Royal-liveried Rabbit appeared with a wheelchair. “It’s a terribly long way, sir,” the latter explained when at first I wouldn’t sit down in it. “You’ll be all worn out if insist on walking yourself, or so I’m told.”
“Come on, David!” Pedro urged, clasping my shoulder. He was wearing a blue hat that said “Hummingbird Crewman” in big red and white letters. “Don’t argue! You always make things so hard for everyone!”
I smiled at last and seated myself, whereupon the Royal footbunny bent over, laid his hand on my shoulder, and whispered in my ear. “We’re all so proud of you, sir!” he explained. “We servants, I mean! And you’re even younger than I imagined! Please, just rest easy and trust us. We’ll take perfect care of you.”
How could I reply to that, except to lay my hand over his and smile back at him? Then we were on our way, with Pedro marching soberly at my side.
“Here comes the hard part, sir,” the footbunny whispered again in my ear as we approached the Palace doors. “Keep your arms and legs tucked in, and I’ll rush us through lickety-split.”
Before I could even ask what the problem was we passed through the portals and suddenly I was surrounded by absolute bedlam. “How’s it feel to be free?” a woman screeched in my face. “Did you really kill three Imperial marines?” another voice demanded. “Who died because you took up a Tank that should’ve gone to a human?” Then they all let loose at once, a sea of angry, demanding voices closing in from all directions as bright lights flashed in my eyes and the footbunny hunkered down over me as closely and as protectively as he could.
Fortunately it didn’t last long—a few seconds at most, though I was quite certain at the time that I’d never forget the experience as long as I lived. We passed through a second door, and suddenly it was as if the insane crowd had never been. The hallway was now dark, quiet, and dignified. “Wow!” Pedro whispered from close alongside me. “That was terrible!”
“Oh, yes!” the footbunny agreed, nodding. “Some Rabbits think it’s all tea and crumpets, serving a Royal Governor. Well, let me tell you something! I often dream of a nice, quiet ship’s steward berth out between the stars, far away from all this nonsense.” He shook his head, making his ears waggle ridiculously. “Humans can be so rude! And what’s amazing is that they treat each other even worse than us!”
The hall stretched on and on and on, until it felt almost like the limo-ride and I began to appreciate the wisdom of whoever had reserved me a wheelchair. Then finally it grew lighter up ahead, and I could make out soft music and the murmur of conversation. “Where are we going?” I asked at last.
The footbunny smiled, but Pedro spoke first. “It’s a party!” he explained. “For all of us Hummingbirds! They’re even going to let you and me eat with ‘em!”
I blinked. “Wow!”
“The governor is presiding personally,” the footbunny continued. “It’s a great, great honor, sir. I can’t remember this being done for any other ship’s crew, ever.” He smiled. “But then Hummingbird’s done something no one else ever has. Though I’m afraid that the technical details go right o
ver my head.”
They didn’t take me straight into the ballroom; instead I was shunted off into a little antechamber where Mr. Banes was waiting for me, reading a datapad. He stood and smiled as I rolled in. “Congratulations!” he greeted me as, a bit awkwardly, I clambered up and out of my wheelchair. “I hope the surprise is a pleasant one.”
I looked around a little bit, suddenly feeling very lost. The little chamber was all done up in fancy textured wallpaper, and expensive-looking busts adorned the corners where they met the ceiling. The knap on the carpet was so deep that it felt strange under my toeclaws. “I… I…” Mr. Banes’s brows knitted, and he opened his mouth to speak. But Pedro beat him to it.
“It’s okay, David!” he declared, slapping me heartily on the back. “We’ve got a day off, see? Someone else is making the sandwiches!” Then he smiled and picked up another “Hummingbird Crewman” cap off of the counter. “We get to wear these, and no one makes us work!”
I looked at Mr. Banes. He smiled, took the hat from Pedro, and clamped it on my head. There were even ear-holes—someone had thought ahead. “Yep!” he agreed. “This is your special day, all right.” Then he looked at Pedro and smiled. “A day for all of our heroes.”
“Hooray!” the big Rabbit cried out, dancing with joy. Pedro might not’ve been very bright, but he was certainly pure of heart.
Then my tutor examined me more carefully, verifying that my shirt was tucked in and my tie properly knotted despite the fact that I’d never put one on before. Next he picked innumerable little specks of lint and fur from my jacket. Then he stood back and sighed, shaking his head. “That’s the best that can be done for now,” he admitted eventually. “Though we’re simply going to have to commission special shoes. And the ever-shedding fur…” He sighed, shaking his head. “We’ll never solve that little problem, I expect. But for now, fresh out of the hospital, you’ll do.”
I smiled and nodded, even though I really didn’t understand what he was getting at. After all, Rabbits didn’t wear shoes! None of us did, ever, except sometimes when working around broken glass or something. But it didn’t matter because just then James poked his head around the corner, and in an instant we were hugging each other and laughing and dancing a sort of improvised jig. “James!” I cried out. “It’s been so long!”
“Three times as long as for me as you!” he countered. “I’ve had more homework!” We were still laughing when suddenly the music playing in the ballroom transformed itself into something martial-sounding and the lights dimmed three times. “I’ll show you where to sit, David!” James said, pulling away. Then he smiled at Pedro. “And you too, of course. Come on!”
I looked up at Mr. Banes, who merely smiled and nodded. Then we were off at a dead run, ducking and weaving our way between the uniformed and tuxedo-ed and evening-gowned adults like mice through a maze. It was something we really shouldn’t have done—both James and I were really too old to behave so childishly, and when we finally stopped my heart was racing and I was gasping for breath. Besides, poor Pedro was hard-pressed to keep up without offending anyone. But it felt so good to see each other again! We were still laughing when James skidded to a halt at a table for four, located a lot closer to the front of the room than I’d have preferred. In fact, it wasn’t five feet from where Lord Robert sat in regal splendor in full ceremonial robes at the foot of the VIP table. I gulped at that, since there were at least a dozen other Lords scattered around both ends. Pedro had taught me a little bit about social precedence so that I’d know who to serve first, and as near as I could tell Lord Robert was the second-highest ranking person present. Only the Royal Governor at the head of the table outranked him, he being a direct representative of His Majesty's person. In the middle, after all the nobility and their wives had been accounted for, sat the uniformed men. It was rather a shock to see that all of Hummingbird’s surviving crew, distinguished by hats like mine and Pedro’s, were spread out intermingled among the rest of their tablemates without any regard for rank. There was Captain Blaine conversing eagerly with a peer, with Percy the marine of all people sitting right next to him! And there was First Officer von Selkim, who winked when I caught his eye, and Sergeant Wells, and…
Everyone!
“We'd be over there with them,” James explained. “But…”
I nodded, understanding instantly. My friend had been a mere passenger during the battle. And Pedro and I… Well, I didn’t expect us to be slurping hay at a Royal Governor’s table anytime soon. Just eating in the same room was far more than I’d ever have anticipated.
But I didn’t have very long to dwell on the subject before the appetizers began coming. At first I was really looking forward to trying them, but it turned out that they were all either cheesy or greasy or so full of meat that Pedro and I couldn’t stand them. One of the footbunnies, however, was kind enough to bring us each a plate of timothy-hay and alfalfa from the Rabbit-kitchen, and that was nice enough. The salads were also wonderful when we got to them, and because Rabbits are smaller than humans these were really all Pedro and I needed. The delicate young carrots and cauliflower and potatoes served with the main course were enough to distend we lapines as much as everyone else, though the ragout of pork smelled pretty awful. Dessert was some kind of gooey frozen stuff that I found out later was called “ice cream”. It smelled wonderful but tasted really, really foul. So the yummy carrots and such served as our desserts, and neither of us had any complaints. It could certainly be said that Rabbits had dined far worse.
After dinner the pipes and cigars came out, and Pedro and I exchanged long-suffering glances. No Rabbit ever born has ever understood what humans see in tobacco smoke, and we ship’s boys were no exception. Over and over again we’d been forced to wade through the stuff while serving aboard Hummingbird. Tobacco smoke stank, pure and simple, even worse than either Rabbit or human droppings. And how stubbornly it clung to our fur, defying every known shampoo! How any living thing could derive pleasure from inhaling the nauseating stuff was utterly beyond us.
But smoking time passed, as it always did eventuality. I was just beginning to think that perhaps dinner was over and it was time to leave when the governor stood up and walked over to a little podium near his chair. Suddenly a spotlight stabbed down on him, the band ceased playing, and the mutter of conversation died down to nothing.
“Good evening!” the old man finally said after looking up and down the table and smiling for what felt like forever. “I hope everyone’s dined well?”
“Oh, yes!” various voices called out. “Magnificently!” “Thank you, sir!”
The governor smiled and nodded. “It’s the least we can do for you Hummingbirds,” he replied. “After what you’ve done for us.” Then his face sobered. “At approximately 32:21:15 Galactic Standard time, just barely on the Coal Sack side of Marcus Prime’s number five Jump point, a miracle occurred.” There was a little rumble of conversation at that, but the governor spoke over it. “Yes—a miracle I said and a miracle I meant. For when a king’s ship, already badly damaged, not only defeats but captures and makes a prize of an Imperial carrying ten times her broadside’s weight of metal, well…” He shook his head. “That’s a miracle in my book.”
There was a long, thoughtful silence. “I don’t need to detail the action,” the governor went on. “It’s been all over the media, and now I can officially confirm that the reports are for the most part accurate. Hummingbird did indeed grapple and board The Sword of the People in the manner so often described. Yes, Hummingbird’s brave captain truly did refuse to surrender for fear of sullying a proud name. Yes, her able officers cobbled together an ingenious assault plan in a matter of minutes, then implemented it coolly, effectively, and with utter ruthlessness despite the fact that many were already wounded. Yes, her marines—led by a mere sergeant!—prevailed though outnumbered five to one. And strangest and most miraculous of all, well… I’ll get to that a bit later. In the meantime, I’ll begin by announcing that a
special commemorative medal has been struck to memorialize this extraordinary action—all crew members and surviving family members are hereby authorized to wear it in perpetuity.” There were cheers, but His Majesty’s representative plowed right on ahead. “In addition, a monetary prize of a thousand credits a man has been awarded, along with sixty days special leave.” Predictably, the cheers grew even louder.
Then, rather suddenly, the governor was standing ramrod straight. “Sergeant Percy Middleton!” he cried out in a voice that was clearly navy-trained. “Front and center!”
And suddenly my marine-friend, still wearing his Hummingbird Crewman hat, was standing at attention before the podium. The governor explained how Percy had led the boarding party that actually broke into Sword and cleared her compartment by compartment. “By the power invested in by his Royal Highness King Albert, by grace of god sovereign of a thousand suns, I hereby award you the Marine Medal!” There was a pause while a gaudy blue ribbon was pinned to Percy’s tunic, then the marine saluted, spun on his heel with parade-ground perfection, and marched back to his seat.
“He told me he’d get his stripes back in nothing flat!” I whispered to James, who grinned. “I bet even he didn’t think it’d be this fast, though!”
Then it was First Officer von Selkim’s turn, and seemingly that of almost every other crewman. Practically everyone received some sort of special recognition. The chief engineer was awarded a special ribbon for coming up with the big battery-arc that’d done so much to mislead the Imperials, while the chief gunner got a posthumous medal and his assistant (who was in charge for practically the entire battle) was offered the chance to attend officer training. Almost at the very end, Sergeant Wells received the most impressive medal to date—the Order of the Great Bear—for volunteering to singlehandedly cover the grappling operation, thus freeing up more marines available to go with Percy. And then…