Admiral (The David Birkenhead Series) Page 6

  "I know I should keep these reports short," he explained in the first of these addendums. "But you can't imagine the pressure I'm under, being unable to talk to anyone but Cloud about these matters, and even he only under very carefully controlled circumstances." I nodded to myself as I read this—Cloud had been his personal manservant since the Prince was very young, and they were far closer than Imperial society usually allowed or approved of in a master-slave relationship. One of the Intelligence reports had suggested that Cloud served as a sort of all-purpose family-figure to Jason, due to the Rabbit having been the only stable presence that extended throughout his entire childhood. In any event, the report concluded, Cloud was extraordinarily important to him. "So I propose to unburden myself here, in a place where all is lost regardless if I'm ever caught out. If you don't want to read it, fine—though of course I know that you will. But please understand—these added bits are for me, not for you."

  And so Jason had gone on to create a sort of record of his inner life the like of which I doubted had ever been put together by any spy before him. One month he'd be sick at heart at an Imperial victory, then the next he'd be proud of a successful attack against heavy odds led by one of his uncles. "It's totally self-contradictory and insane," he'd admit. "And yet, so is this double life of mine. Perhaps I'm best served if I don't think about it too much." He'd also written at length about his romantic situation—lots of interesting and interested young women, but he wasn't going to settle down until he could be sure he wasn't going to die a traitor's death. What were his hopes and dreams for a peaceful world? "One way or another, Cloud and his kind must be freed. You Royalists are far ahead of us on this front. How can we humans look ourselves in the mirror until we free the slaves? This, and only this, can be the root of true justice."

  For me, the most amusing excerpts came from the report immediately after our wargaming confrontation on New Geneva. "David Birkenhead is a fine example of what free Rabbits might bring to the table of civilization," he pontificated. "But I do wish he didn't play quite so rough. It doesn't suit his Rabbithood."

  And so Prince Jason now waited in a military hull very much like the one I currently resided in, entrusted with a message from his uncle the Emperor and probably busying himself playing cards with the elderly Cloud while he waited for me to deign to see him. Jean had insisted that I keep him waiting at least forty-eight hours to put him in his place and remind him of who was petitioning who, even though it'd mean that the war must as a result last those two days longer. I took his advice, even though unlike Jean I knew whose side Jason was truly on. After all, he was probably every bit as surrounded by courtiers and assistants as I was and humiliating them was worthwhile in and of itself. So he waited and I waited and warriors fighting on a dozen battlefields waited while proper impressions were made. It all seemed so futile, sometimes.

  But at least Jason and I both knew that no matter what the rest of the world thought, our negotiations wouldn't be a hard-fought battle of one implacable will against the other. Jason had told me once that he was content to leave those at one victory apiece, and I was perfectly willing to do the same. No, this wasn't about one of us losing. Rather, it was going to be about both of us winning, along with all the rest of mankind. Except of course for his uncle and the innermost circles of Imperial power. Our real challenge was going to be working out how best to arrange for them to lose without blowing Jason's cover. It was a tough one, all right, and I couldn't say just yet that I'd worked up a good answer.

  But with Jason and I working together, well… Between us, we'd surely come up with something.

  11

  "…came all this way under a flag of truce merely to offer us a cease-fire proposal?" I demanded from my portable throne. I was at perhaps my most impressive, decked out in full Royal robes and regalia and with my eyes narrow and ears lowered in anger. "I flatly don't believe it, sir! Prince Jason, surely your uncle doesn't imagine us to be utter fools?"

  "I…" poor Jason stuttered, though I could tell by the look in his eyes that he'd known full well what the reply would be to such a pathetic offer. "I mean…"

  "You mean that your uncle thinks he can still pull the wool over our eyes," I replied for him. "Steal some time to rebuild his warmaking facilities, repair his ships, and find new ways to make mischief for my brother and myself and all of those under our protection." I frowned even harder and pointed at the door with my Royal Scepter, which had been bejeweled in the same pattern as my Sword. "Go back home," I ordered them. "Leave us immediately, if this is the best you can do. But expect a return visit, very soon. I can almost promise you one, in fact. My ships, however, will be flying their largest and brightest battle-ensigns, not flags of truce. And you may find it rather difficult to persuade them to leave once their company grows tiresome."

  Price Jason gulped again, and part of me felt wretched for abusing him so. But it wasn't the real Jason I was insulting, I reminded myself. It was the false front, the sole Imperial hero at the Battle of Wilkes Prime. Late in the fight the Empire's last squadron of light forces counterattacked our torpedo cruisers so savagely that, torps mostly expended, they'd been forced to withdraw. Prince Jason had led the way, and without his skill and bravery our victory would've been even more complete than it actually was. This person was a sort of falsehood, a man who didn’t really exist in any meaningful sense of the word. The real Prince Jason, I reminded myself as I glared into his eyes, would probably applaud my every word. "So," I asked again. "Is this truly the best offer you're prepared to make?"

  "I… I'd like a day to consult with my staff," he replied.

  I tapped my palm with the scepter a few times and looked up at the painted-metal underside of the next higher deck. Most throne rooms were considerably more ornate than this one. But that was okay—most princes were more appreciative of opulence. "I could allow that," I decided with apparent reluctance. "I'd also be willing to meet with you privately, prince-to-prince. Not that I'm obliged in any way to do so, mind you. Yet I'd be glad of the chance to lay out the Royal position in an informal setting, so that I can know it'll be heard in full at the very top."

  Very slowly, Prince Jason nodded. "How about two more days then, Your Majesty? I could dine with you privately tomorrow, then we can meet again formally the next afternoon."

  I nodded very slightly, as if I were bestowing a favor rather than getting exactly what I wanted most. "That'll be the plan, then. We'll negotiate the details later." Then I rose to my feet, trying not to notice everyone – even the Imperials—snapping to attention as I did so. "That's all, then. I look forward to having you as my guest tomorrow."

  Dinner in private with Prince Jason didn't have much in common with the three elaborate meals we'd shared before, one each aboard Javelin and Will of the People, and the third as cadets aboard Geneva Station. Once we got past all the salutes and heel-bashing and standing at attention, he and I retired to my personal quarters. "I hope you'll forgive me for offering only simple fare," I explained as we sat down together to eat at a small, unadorned table. "But I didn't think it wise to allow so much as a single footbunny access to this room during our meeting." I smiled as I opened the lids of the self-warming containers our food was packaged in. One of them contained peas, and Jason smiled at the sight. "As things are, the food is good but not of the sort normally considered fit for a Royal palate. In counterbalance, I give you my word of honor that this room is as secure as I could possible make it."

  He nodded, then blinked in surprise as I picked up an extra-large knife and began carving a nice leg of lamb. Then I placed some on his plate. "Sir," he protested. "I mean…"

  "Heh!" I chuckled. "Don't worry! I'm a fully-rated assistant steward. Just updated my certification not all that long ago, in fact." Then I grew serious. "In inner Royal circles these days, it's growing more and more common for us to fetch and carry and serve for ourselves in private. The trend is spreading among the upper nobility as well, and I'm rather pleased that this i
s so." I smiled again. "Besides, Your Highness, you've earned the honor a thousand times over."

  He blushed. "Please, let's drop the titles if that's all right by you. Mine is hardly anything to be proud of anyway."

  I nodded and loaded my own plate with various greens and vegetables. "Then I'm David and you're Jason, just like when we were cadets together." I smiled again. "Really, I prefer it this way. Perhaps we can be on a first-name basis with each other in private from now on?"

  He nodded. "I'm flattered. You've become a great hero, David, even among my own people. Your achievements…" He shook his head. "I can't imagine how you survived half of them. They rival those of any single individual in all history."

  "It's been dumb luck, mostly," I admitted as I began picking at my asparagus. I rather liked the stuff, and took a long moment to savor that first, best, most succulent bite. "I could add that I can't imagine the terrible pressure you've been under all these long years. Especially when it would've been so easy for you to accept the Imperial code of ethics and embrace your position among the leaders of your family." I shook my head. "Jason, it takes a special kind of man to spurn the prospect of wealth and power in order to do what he believes is right. I should tell you that in recent weeks I've spent my spare time reading your past reports. And I say again in all candor that as a Royal Prince it's my honor to fill your plate. My exploits have made me famous, where yours must remain a deep, dark secret. All the reward you ever sought was the approval of your own heart. Sir… I'll never meet a finer man. In fact… It grieves my soul to belittle you in public. My fondest hope is that this play-acting won't have to continue much longer."

  Jason turned red again, and a long silence ensued as we slowly ate our meals. "David," he said eventually. "Your words are very kind. And I won't pretend that I'm not proud of the stand I've taken, somewhere deep down inside of me. Yet…" He sighed. "The cease-fire offer I brought is honestly all that I have to offer. For all that I too want immediate peace, I see no way forward."

  I nodded again. "What's it like these days in the Imperial Palace?"

  "Gloomy, in a word," Jason replied. "Depressed, desperate, even sometimes a little deranged. They're snatching at every straw, when the Empire is obviously lost beyond all redeeming. It's a form of collective insanity, I think." He shook his head. "His Majesty and his chief deputies honestly expected you to accept the cease-fire, David. Because they've deluded themselves into a mindset where they believe they can't be unseated, as if the universe will end if there's suddenly no Empire or Emperor. In other words, they can't even imagine the kind of peace you seek." He smiled. "Word of your Third Fleet's activities are everywhere. People on the street are whispering in each other's ears, wondering if it's really true that we can let bygones be bygones and stand as one in peace and prosperity again." He shook his head. "But of course they must whisper, because if they say such things aloud the Secret Police will see to it that they never voice such opinions again."

  I nodded, then looked down at my feet and sighed. "Well, then. I was rather hoping they'd be more amenable to reason."

  Jason shook his head. "These are men who've killed millions for little other purpose than stroking their own egos. I fear you give them far too much credit."

  I nodded again. "So, you think we must invade?"

  "There's not much other choice, that I can see at least." He looked away. "I'll probably be in command of a squadron of the line, by then. You have my word that they'll be led badly in the final battle. Beyond that, I don't see what more I can do." He paused. "I sort of had to lead that last counterattack at Wilkes Prime, just so you know. Or else my cover would've been blown. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. But after you invade Imperious, well… The war will be over soon after that, and my cover won't matter anymore."

  I shook my head again—what a miserable spot Jason was in, that he might be forced to make himself look like an incompetent and most likely kill hundreds of brave, trusting men along with himself in order to accomplish what he felt was right. "How are your cousins?" I asked.

  His eyebrows rose. I was of course referring to the Emperor's two sons. "Neville is still stewing away on New Geneva, as you must be aware. He's become the family laughingstock more than anything. Which is no surprise—he always leaned in that direction."

  I nodded. "And Brewster?"

  "The Crown Prince missed the Battle of Wilkes Prime because he was attending staff college. He's an admiral, though far more involved in political than naval matters these days."

  I smiled. "And you yourself are also now a Prince in your own right."

  He looked away. "Yes, to rank me above Neville in the line of succession. He's said to be… Less than thrilled about the situation."

  I shrugged. "He's a pumped-up buffoon, and your family is wise to elevate you instead." Then I looked away. "Jason… No, Your Highness, in this case. Your Highness, it can't help but occur to me that achieving a just and meaningful peace might be a simple matter, were you the one sitting on the Imperial Throne at this crucial time."

  Jason gulped, then paled. "I… I mean…"

  "Don't tell me you've never considered the idea," I continued. "You're too fine a student of the strategic arts not to have."

  "It'd mean killing my own family," he whispered. "Plotting against my own flesh and blood."

  I nodded back. "Yes, and in this please know that I feel only the most sincere sympathy towards you. But…" I frowned slightly. "How many equally important—and far more innocent!—lives might we save here, Jason? And how much sooner might we free Cloud and all the rest? With you and I trusting one another and working together, I mean? I can bring resources to bear that even you have probably never dreamed of."

  He leaned back in his chair, still a bit white faced. "I'll grant that I suspected the matter might come up today."

  "And yet you chose to dine with me anyway," I pointed out.

  "Yes," he admitted, visibly deflating. "I did." Then he met my eyes again. "I've never wanted the crown, David. You of all people know that. I won't have it said that I ever sought to aggrandize myself. All I want is to end this awfulness as quickly as possible."

  "It will be said, of course. Over and over again—you know that as well as I do. But I can assure you that it'll never be said or even thought by either my brother or myself, and that'll have to do."

  He nodded slowly, then met my eyes with an expression as cold as my own. "Together we can take them out, I expect," he replied. "And it's clearly the right thing to do, as despicable as it is. So…" He smiled the cobra-like smile I remembered so well from across a gaming table long ago. "What exactly did you have in mind, David?"

  12

  And so I found myself sitting on the throne again the next afternoon, once again trying to look haughty and superior in front of the Imperial delegation. "For the third time, no! I shall not accept this cease-fire. Please don't ask again—I'm interested in surrender, and nothing but."

  Prince Jason looked as if he'd been struck a blow, and once again I had to admire his acting skills. I'd never have guessed that he had anything but the best interests of his beloved uncle the Emperor in his heart.

  "You'll accept only surrender, Your Majesty?" the Empire's Assistant Foreign Minister replied, his face chalk white. Then his eyes narrowed and he titled his head to one side. "Unconditional surrender? Or perhaps something… Negotiated?"

  I forced myself not to smile. Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly… "As you probably know," I explained, "I'm something of a student of history. To be blunt, while an unconditional surrender is certainly the outcome I'd prefer I'm willing to recognize reality. You still posses a significant and at least partially functional battlefleet, you still have a firm grip on at least the core of your population, and your internal war economy remains somewhat intact." I nodded slightly, in mock-respect. "Unconditional surrender is too much to expect of a political entity that's still functioning at such a high level. So yes, I'm
prepared to negotiate terms. But only because I'm not quite in a position to dictate them." Then I smiled a cold smile. "Keep in mind, however, that I fully expect to be in such a position sooner rather than later. I imagine your military people will agree with that assessment."

  That led to an hours-long session, during which I discovered for the first time that James was right. Our thrones really did need cooling coils in them. As Jason had predicted, his Imperial advisors were as eager to latch onto any feeble straw of hope as a starving fish onto a well-cast lure. There was no way in the universe that I was going to accept a negotiated peace in which anything resembling the Empire continued to exist, and it was equally impossible for the Emperor to accept a peace in which it didn't exist. This was clearly the stuff of which continued fighting was made; no end to it all was possible so long as these conditions persisted. But by golly the Imperial advisors were willing to negotiate their hearts out regardless! Anything was better than accepting the actual truth of the matter—that they'd long since lost and the only thing preserving their rule was our unwillingness to spill another ocean of blood if we could help it.