Midshipman (The David Birkenhead Series)
Page 17
“And you’re going to be the youngest admiral in the history of the Fleet,” Yan Chang replied with a smile. “Everyone knows that, too!”
James blushed a nice, soft pink. “Probably not,” was his reply, and I understood it perfectly. The fact was that James did have a knack for the navy, and given the chance likely would climb through the ranks like a skyrocket, just as his father Milord had done in the army. But His Highness was old, and it was highly doubtful that even a skyrocket could climb far and fast enough to achieve flag rank before the grand old man died. At which point my best friend would be done with the navy forever, of course. Indeed, what with the truth being such an open secret I could only wonder why he hadn’t yet been recognized officially as the Royal Heir. Probably high-level family politics, at the Ducal level and above.
“Well,” Heinrich said after finishing the last of his ice cream. “We’ll be home in a week. Then it’s three day’s leave, and the class will assemble one last time to receive our assignments. We’ll know then for sure, one way or another.”
“Yep,” I agreed, swallowing my last banana chip. “And I can hardly wait!”
40
For the first time in my memory the Academy was a happy place; we former cadets were all officers now, all of us, and at long last the petty persecutions and pointless harassments were at an end. Pretty much everyone else was on leave when we got back; all graduates received ten days, of which only three were left. James was off visiting the His Highness; he invited me along and perhaps I should’ve gone with him, but I still felt terribly uncomfortable around so many Heralds and Lords-Attendant and the like. He didn’t press the issue, and I was glad of it. I’d never fit in among the aristocracy, excepting always the easy-going Marcuses.
That left me pretty much alone on campus, except for the Yans (whose parents were offworld) and a handful of less wealthy spanking-new midshipmen who couldn’t afford a shuttle flight to anywhere less boring. So, after making my formal report on the tournament and the code-book affair, I used the time to brush up on navy engine-room practices and procedures. These varied in some small details from the merchant-marine methods I’d learned, so the time was well-spent. And, of course, I rested up and relaxed.
Somehow on the second morning I found myself wide awake well before dawn. I brushed myself until I shone, then slipped into a comfortable pair of slave-shorts. I’d been hitting the books pretty hard of late; perhaps my insomnia was due to lack of physical exercise?
It was a bit eerie, jogging around the Academy grounds in the dark, free now to wander wherever I chose without fear of demerits. But somehow the Mast drew me like a magnet; I remembered how magnificent the sunrise had been from its peak on that one memorable day that felt a lifetime ago. And who knew when I’d get another chance to experience it again?
Climbing the thing was actually a bit more challenging now than it’d been on my first day of classes; where most of my fellows had grown tougher since then, I’d been in such excellent shape that the Academy routine hadn’t been enough to maintain my conditioning. Still it was a lot easier for me than most; making full use of a Rabbit’s leap-based musculature I bounce-bounce-bounced my way up to the crow’s nest in less than no time, then clambered up the last, hardest bit to the masthead. It was still plenty dark and there wasn’t much to see, but I felt warm and proud inside regardless. I’d learned a thousand vital lessons and skills over the last year, from how to march like a human despite my oversized feet to forcing myself forward to ask questions so that I could write newspaper articles. I’d learned to salute and stand at attention, and to properly groom and dress myself in class-A’s in a minute and thirty-seven seconds, just like the humans. I’d learned how to lie, cheat and steal in order to confound an enemy without losing my own sense of honor, and how to tutor the inept and ashamed without damaging their pride.
Most of all, however, I’d stood up to Commandant Drecher when he’d tried to break me. That’d been the most important lesson of all, I now understood; everything I did for the rest of my life would be built on it. For that was the struggle that had made me free and equal, both in my own mind and that of my fellows. Up until then my manumission hadn’t meant all that much to me, which was natural enough because I’d been a mere child. But now… Drecher with all his rank and years and all the power of his great office behind him had tried to degrade me, and with the help of those who’d chosen to stand alongside me I was the one who’d prevailed. He was dead, while I stood calmly atop the Mast, a newly-commissioned king’s officer awaiting the dawn of a beautiful new day.
What was this moment, then, if not total and complete victory?
Presently the sun rose behind me, just as it had on that other day not so long ago, and the creeping fingers of light reached out to reveal the Academy grounds. There was the parade-ground, focus of so much misery. The Academics building, where I’d discovered my knack for games and gaming theory. The Commandant’s office, where Drecher had taken his own life and his successor had made his formal apology on behalf of the entire service. It was all there, lying at my feet and soon to fade into the past, some for better and some for worse.
Then presently the Mast began vibrating, and I knew that my moment of solitude was over. “We’re to tar the upper rigging this morning!” the voice of a familiar Rabbit blared. “Cletus! You flufhead! What’re you doing with that bucket? Careful, or you’ll dump it on half your mates!”
I smiled, then laughed out loud. I’d been interrupted by this same crowd the last time I’d met the dawn atop this particular structure, and a welcome interruption it’d been. “Hello, Sergei!” I called downwards, making a trumpet out of my hands so that my voice would carry. “How’re you and the gang today? And isn’t it a beautiful morning?”
There was a long pause, filled with excited chatter and whispers. Everywhere I went, it seemed, I was a celebrity. Especially among Rabbits. “We’re fine, young sir!” the foreman replied. “And yes it is, though it’ll be plenty hot later.” There was another pause.” “Didn’t mean to interrupt you, sir! We can fix the gymnasium roof first today, then come back here later if you like!”
I laughed so hard that I almost tumbled off of my perch. “And make you carry up all those tools and tarbuckets again in the heat of the day? Not a chance!” I clambered down the Mast and met the elderly foreman partway. He was carrying a large brush and a bundle of rags. “Let me have those,” I ordered. “And if you’ll sway me up a bucket of tar, I’ll do the very top.”
He blinked in confusion. “Sir! I mean…”
I laughed again, then hugged him close as we Rabbits were prone to do when we cared about each other. “A year ago,” I replied, “you fed me and gave me water when I needed help very badly indeed. Then you stood alongside me all night long, risking getting into the very worst sort of trouble.”
His nose wrinkled. “Well… Sir, it was wrong! You were still just a kit, y’see! And after what you’d already done for the Masters…”
My smile widened. “But today I’m a kit no longer. So why don’t you pass me up some tar and let me pay back the favor the only way I can? Though you’ll have to show me how to repair a roof when we get that far; I’ve never done anything like that before.”
Sergei blinked, then he grinned so wide I was afraid his face’d split open. “Why… That’s really decent of you, David!” He leaned over so he could shout down to the rest of the crew. “David Birkenhead’s going to work with us today, boys!”
“Hooray!” they replied as one, and soon the hottest, blackest, nastiest tarbucket you ever saw came rising up for me to dip my brush in.
So it was that I spend my last full at the Academy as an ordinary worker-bunny, slapping tar and lifting shingles and carrying our too-heavy ladders back to the toolshed at the end of a long, tiring day. My muscles ached, and I had to shower extra-long to cleanse the nasty residue out of my otherwise spotless fur. But that night in the dining hall an unexpected portion of honey-baked carrots a
ppeared on my plate. Practically all of we Rabbits loved the things, but rarely got to enjoy them because they were so fussy to cook and took a terrible lot of time and attention to get right. “Thank you,” my server whispered in my ear as she laid my dinner before me. “Today meant more to us all than you’ll ever know. You keep right on making us proud, David! And someday, who knows where you’ll lead us?”
David Birkenhead’s adventures will continue in Book 3: Lieutenant
Available Mid-September, 2012
OTHER TITLES FROM LEGION PRINTING
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Descent
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Wine of Battle
The David Birkenhead Series:
Ship’s Boy
Midshipman
Lieutenant
Commander
Captain
Commodore
Admiral
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Already Among Us, an Anthropomorphic Anthology
Table of Contents
Copyright
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