Chapter 03

Chapter 3

            The promotion didn’t come with much of a ceremony.  President Bear shook Buster’s paw, as did an admiral.  The admiral pinned new epaulets to the collar of Buster’s uniform jacket.  From then on he was a captain.  Captain of the Batpooh.

            After the other important people had left, Buster took Jonathan aside.  “Father didn’t have anything to do with this, did he?”

            “Our father?  You must be joking.  You know the only thing he hates worse than politicians are military leaders.”

            “I suppose you’re right,” Buster said.  That hadn’t stopped their father from routinely selling hardware to the military and from building a new capital, one better suited to the growing dog population of Batpooh State and the Bloc in general.

            It was at Jonathan’s insistence they held a family dinner to celebrate the promotion and Buster’s return to the planet.  This required sending a transport to fetch Jake from the repair station, where he miraculously had not gotten himself in trouble.

            Buster and Jonathan met Jake on the landing platform atop Bulldog Tower.  “Always knew you’d be running the ship eventually,” Jake said.  He didn’t give Buster a hug, instead punching him in the arm.  “Suppose now you’ll be wanting a new security officer.”

            “Of course not.  There’s no one I’d rather have than you,” Buster said.  He turned to Spot, who had accompanied them, despite that it was a Bulldog family gathering.  “I will be needing a new helmsman.”

            “What’s wrong with your old one?”

            “The old one’s going to be too busy as my Executive Officer.”

            Spot’s eyes widened at this.  “You mean—?”

            “That’s right.  I’m recommending you for promotion.  I’m sure that won’t take too long.”

            “I don’t know what to say.”

            “Start with, ‘Thank you.’”

            “Thank you, sir.”

            Buster clapped Spot’s shoulder.  “None of that sir stuff tonight.  Tonight it’s Buster, got it?”

            “I got it.”

            They went downstairs, into the Bulldog family penthouse.  It contained nearly as many paintings and works of art as the First Mansion.  Buster Sr. had always been a collector of art and antiquities, stressing the importance of preserving Batpooh State’s cultural heritage.  That had made for a lot of difficulty when they were puppies.  Jake had been grounded almost every week for endangering Batpooh State’s cultural heritage by running and roughhousing.  By then their mother had been gone, leaving all of the discipline up to Buster Sr.

            The living room had a central seating pit with a semi-circle of chairs facing a plate glass window.  Through this, all of Washingdog was visible, as well as other cities and even the distant ocean.  Buster tried to remember the last time he had stuck a paw in that ocean.  It must have been ten years at least.

            Jonathan poured them each a glass of brandy to sip while they waited for Buster Sr. to emerge from his office.  “I’d forgotten how beautiful this was,” Buster said.

            “I’d forgotten how good brandy tasted,” Jake said and they shared a laugh.

            “You two need to get back on solid ground more often,” Jonathan said.

            “Be like you?  Wearing a fancy suit and tie?”  Jake poked Jonathan in the stomach.  “You’re eating well at least.”

            “We can’t all be out there playing space patrol.”

            “Is that what you think we do?” Buster snapped.  “What we do is serious business.”

            “And I appreciate what you do.  I just don’t see why you need to do it.”  Jonathan took a sip of his brandy.  “You know Father has plans for you.”

            Buster nodded.  He knew all about his father’s plans.  First a job at Bulldog Industries, working his way up the ladder until he took over as CEO.  In time he would branch out into politics, first perhaps as a senator.  Then, once Batpooh retired, he might even run for president.  “You know my opinion of that.”

            “You’re destined for great things, Buster.  Too great to waste getting killed by a big space rock.”

            “Buster saved lives,” Spot said.  “He’s going to be the best captain in the fleet.”

            “I don’t doubt that.  He’s a Bulldog.  Being the best is in his blood.  In most of our blood.”  Jonathan cast a knowing look at Jake, who growled in reply.

            “Everyone settle down,” Buster said.  “This is supposed to be a celebration.”

            “You’re right.  I’m sorry,” Jonathan said.  He reached over to shake Jake’s paw.  “I’m sorry, old boy.”

            “It’s fine,” Jake said, though with a snarl.

            The butler announced that dinner was ready.  They went into the dining room.  Unlike in the First Mansion, there was one long wooden table set with a silk tablecloth, fine china, and expensive silver.  They took their seats, with Buster and Spot on one side and Jake and Jonathan on another.  The foot of the table was empty, as it had been since Mother died. 

            They had to wait five minutes before the door opened.  Buster Sr. hobbled in, leaning more heavily on a cane than before.  Buster had been appropriately named for him, as they had the same white face and chest and brown back.  The main difference was Buster Sr. had a brown right ear while Buster had a brown left ear.  This might have also explained their difference in personality.

            Buster Sr. waved to them with his good hand when they stood up.  “No need for that.  It’s not as if I’m a head of state.”  He did allow the butler to pull out his chair, something he wouldn’t have permitted even three years ago.  He heaved a heavy sigh as he came to rest on the seat.  “It’s good to see all of my sons again.  And Mr. Mutt, who I’ve come to think of as my adopted son.”

            “Thank you, sir.”

            “Though I told Buster when he was little not to take strays home with him.”

            “Father—”

            “He knows I’m joking.  Don’t you, young fellow?”

            “Yes, sir,” Spot said.

            The wait staff brought in bowls of soup.  Jake began to lap his up until Jonathan glared at him.  Then he picked up a spoon to ladle it into his mouth as Buster Sr. was doing.  “I hear the staff of that outpost owes you three a great debt.”

            “Yes, sir,” Buster said.

            “And now you’ve been rewarded with your own command.”

            “Yes,” Buster said.  Had Jonathan been talking to him?  Or maybe his father had other sources within the capital.

            “Soon you’ll be heading out on another important mission, I suppose.”

            “Yes.”  Buster looked over at Jonathan, wondering how much he should disclose.  “It’s an exploration mission.  Of vital importance.”

            “Or so that bear says,” Buster Sr. said.  Despite his efforts to preserve Batpooh State culture, Buster Sr. had a low opinion of the bears.  He accused them of abandoning the dogs and the rest of the Bloc to return to their villages.  That had been part of his motivation to build a new capital, one designed by dogs, for dogs.

            “Not just him,” Jonathan said.  “Dr. Ruff believes it’s necessary.”

            Buster Sr. snorted at this.  “That thing is more machine than dog now.”

            “Father, please—’

            “This is still my dinner table and I will speak as I choose.”  He stopped, seized by a hacking cough.  With a shaking paw he took his handkerchief from his pocket.  The cough became a wheeze that left Buster wondering whether he should call for medical help.  His father waved at him.  “I’ll be fine.  I’m just old.”

            “Father—”

            “Too much brandy and cigars,” Buster Sr. said.

            “Too much working in your office,” Jake said.

            “Perhaps, but someone needs to keep Bulldog Industries afloat.  Terrier Enterprises keeps gaining ground on us.”

            “I’m sure you have good dogs who can pick up some of the slack for you.”

            Buster Sr. snorted again at this.  “No one with any vision.  A bunch of toadies, the lot of them.”  Buster Sr. hefted his cane, pointing it at Buster and his brothers.  “From the day you were born, I tried to mold you for this.  I tried to teach you responsibility.  Bulldog Industries isn’t just a company.  It’s part of our future.”

            He had to stop again for another coughing fit.  During this, the wait staff took away the soup and brought out the main course.  It was steak that no doubt came from one of Buster Sr.’s ranches.  Buster focused on taking a bite of the steak while his father coughed.  His brothers and Spot did the same.

            When he had recovered again, Buster Sr. went on.  “The bears running away created a new world.  One in which dogs will be responsible for their own destiny.  Bulldog Industries serves as a beacon of light, a shining example to the rest of Batpooh State.”

            Buster had heard this speech numerous times.  He knew there was no sense trying to talk sense into his father, to try convincing him that being a starship captain was all he had ever wanted to do.  Instead he fell back on what he had done as a puppy, focusing on enjoying his meal with his family and best friend.

            After a sugared bone for desert, Buster Sr. stood up with the butler’s help.  “I’m off to bed now.  I’m sure Jonathan can find you accommodations.  Goodnight, boys.”

            His father shuffled out of the room, leaving them to themselves.  Jonathan was the first to stand up.  He clapped his paws together and smiled.  “I’ve got cigars and some more brandy in the den,” he said.  “Then we can find you somewhere to sleep for the night.”

            Buster followed his brother, but he took a look at the door to his father’s suite.  When he listened, he could hear the sound of his father coughing.  He wondered if this had been their father’s last family dinner.