The Nelson Touch

Chapter Eighteen

It was nearly an hour before Henry was able to get away from the barracks and make his way to the observation blister. His thoughts and emotions were so jumbled that he hadn’t been sure what to think or say; they’d won the battle, they’d given the aliens a defeat they wouldn’t forget in a hurry… and yet Samantha was dead, along with four others he didn’t know as well. It didn’t seem worth it, somehow.

The memories of their shared training were bitter now. Samantha had been one hell of a joker, playing pranks on the other training groups after she’d been lectured, quite sharply, on the dangers of playing pranks on her comrades. And she’d been sweet and funny… if they hadn’t been warned, in no uncertain terms, of the bar on relationships between pilots, he might have tried to court her. But it would have floundered when she discovered the truth, he was sure. She hadn’t had a personality that could tolerate being trapped in the goldfish bowl of Buckingham Palace.

He stepped through the hatch and closed it… and realised he wasn’t alone. Someone — Janelle, he realised — was lying on the deck, staring up at the stars. She looked hauntingly beautiful compared to some of his comrades, although nowhere near as striking as some of the women from Sin City. The training officers had warned them that some of those women were on semi-legal contracts from the Third World, but it had been hard to care. All the pilots had really been concerned about was sowing their wild oats before they returned to active duty.

“I’m sorry,” he said, as she looked over at him. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“It’s all right,” she said, sitting up and brushing her hair out of her eyes. “I just came here to relax.”

Henry nodded, then found a seat and sat down, staring up at the stars. They looked peaceful and utterly unmoving… it was strange to realise that he’d just fought a savage battle amongst them, against aliens who would happily have killed him if they’d had a chance. But the aliens didn’t give a damn about him personally, he knew. They had never shown any interest in human societies. It wouldn’t matter to them that they’d come far too close to killing one of the heirs to the British crown.

But his own thoughts still tormented him.

She reached over and put a hand on his shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Henry hesitated. He’d looked her up on the fleet’s database and discovered she was the Admiral’s Flag Lieutenant. It had been impossible, with Augustus’s level of clearance, to discover if she had really earned the job or if the Admiral wanted her around for less savoury reasons, but she clearly held his trust. Had he asked her to keep an eye on him, he wondered, or was their acquaintance just a coincidence? In her own way, she was probably as isolated as he would be, if he served under his true name.

“I’m not sure,” he said. Confessing to any sort of weakness in front of his fellow pilots would be fatal, he knew. At the very least, they’d mock him relentlessly for weeks. “Should I talk about it?”

A Flag Lieutenant was in an odd position, he recalled from his studies. On one hand, she was her commander’s assistant, confidante and general gofer; on the other, she was still a lieutenant and badly outranked by most of the people she had to deal with on a regular basis. And her very closeness to the Admiral would make it difficult for her to make friends amongst the rest of the crew, particularly now that two-thirds of the crew hadn’t served on the Old Lady until after her return to Earth. It was possible, quite possible, that all she wanted was a friend.

But it was also possible that she’d picked up on something and deduced the truth.

“It sometimes helps,” Janelle said, after a long moment. “And I won’t tell anyone, unless it presents a threat to the ship’s security.”

Henry snorted, then returned his gaze to the stars. “I killed today,” he said. “Four aliens died at my hands. I know they would have killed me first, but I still feel… awkward about what I did.”

Janelle considered it. “They would have killed you,” she said, seriously. “And they would have killed everyone else on the ship if they had managed to break through the armour.”

“True,” Henry agreed. Word in the barracks was that one of the aliens had rammed the carrier, just to clear a hole in the armour for his comrades. The human pilots hadn’t been able to decide if the alien had been a brave… well, alien or just an idiot. “But I still feel odd.”

“I haven’t killed anyone directly,” Janelle said. “But I was on the Old Lady from before we were sent out to war. I have probably contributed to thousands of alien deaths, even if I didn’t push the trigger.”

She paused, significantly. “But I don’t let it bother me,” she added. “Because, in the end, the aliens themselves have decided that there can be only one.”

Henry nodded, slowly. Before he’d gone to the Academy, his father — in an attempt to dissuade him — had told him about the several attempts to send diplomats to talk to the aliens face-to-face. They’d all failed; the aliens had waited until the human ships entered firing range, then blown them away. Later attempts to broadcast signals from a safe distance had been completely pointless. The aliens had simply not bothered to respond.

If they can respond, Henry thought, sourly. The human race had devised countless means for opening communications with an alien race, but they’d never been tested until now. Maybe even the simplest signal was too human-centric to be of interest to the aliens. Or maybe they just wanted to establish their superiority before opening communications and dictating terms.

“I know that,” he said, petulantly. “But why doesn’t it make me feel better?”

“Because you’re not a sociopath,” Janelle said. “You have a heart; you can think and feel and be empathic, even towards aliens. But you also have to understand that the aliens are bent on our destruction, at least as far as we can tell.”

Henry looked down at her. “Are you always this serious?”

“I’ve been known to crack a bad joke or two,” Janelle said. She smiled, suddenly. It was like looking right into the sun. “But right now I don’t feel like being funny.”

Henry swallowed as she stood and paced over to the transparent canopy. “My grandfather was born on an asteroid,” she said. “He used to say that it was just a matter of time before we encountered another intelligent race, because he believed that life in space was just better than life on Earth. But he went back to Earth and never returned to space.”

“People have been saying that for years,” Henry said. “But there’s just something about a planet which is truly reassuring.”

Janelle smiled. “True enough,” she agreed. “But space does offer more room for expansion.”

She looked serious for a long moment. “They made me study the tramlines in the Academy,” she said. “I believe they wanted me to become a survey officer.”

Henry felt a sudden stab of envy. Survey officers not only had an autonomy that even a Royal Navy Captain couldn’t enjoy, they also spent years away from Earth at a time. He’d seriously considered applying to join the Survey Corps, only to be told that Prince Henry, even in disguise, would not be considered a suitable candidate for political reasons. And Janelle had simply rejected the honour of expanding humanity’s borders?

“We’re still in a relatively tiny area of space,” Janelle said, “and we have already encountered one other alien race. For all we know, there might be many more intelligent races within only a few hundred light years of our worlds.”

“Or trapped in a system without tramlines,” Henry said. But there had been at least one attempt to launch an STL colony ship. Rumour had it that several more had been dispatched without any form of official notification. “Or unable to develop technology of their own.”

“True,” Janelle agreed. She turned and motioned for him to come and join her. “This is the dawning of a whole new age of humanity.”

“And we’re at war with the first alien race we encountered,” Henry said, dryly. He stood next to her, suddenly very aware of her perfume. It was so light that he wondered, for a long moment, if he was simply imagining it. “I don’t think that’s a good start.”

“No, it isn’t,” Janelle said. “But you never know what else might be up there.”

She looked at him and smiled. Henry hesitated, then opened his mouth. “Would you… would you like to catch a movie sometime?”

Janelle looked at him for a long moment. It dawned on Henry in a moment of complete and total mortification that he’d made a complete fool of himself. There were entertainment complexes on the ship, true, but most of them were for more than two people. The remainder were intended for more intimate activities than watching a movie. He cringed inwardly, praying silently for the deck to swallow him whole or for his heart to stop beating. He’d screwed up badly.

“I think I’d like that,” she said. “But it might have to wait until after we reach our destination.”

Henry almost sagged in relief. He knew what some of the cruder pilots would say — their advice on getting into female panties had been bragging, rather than anything practical — but he didn’t just want to get into bed with her. He’d be lying if he told himself he wasn’t attracted to her, yet she was clearly intelligent and capable. She could be much more than just another fling, not that he’d been allowed many of them. Even his casual encounters while he’d been Prince Henry had been carefully planned. And many of the details had ended up in the media anyway.

“I understand,” he said. “I can wait.”

She smiled at him. “So can I,” she said. It took Henry a moment to realise he was being teased. “But maybe not for very long.”

Henry had to laugh. Being a prince made it hard to meet girls. He’d met girls who wanted to brag they’d slept with a prince, girls who were reluctant to even talk with him for fear the media would notice, girls who thought he had a reputation and refused to even look at him… and he hadn’t met many girls as Charles Augustus. The women at Sin City had wanted to strip him of his funds, not develop an intimate relationship. Some of the conversation from the older pilots, afterwards, had been very illuminating.

“Thank you,” he said, and meant it.

Janelle gave him an odd look, then turned back to the canopy and stared out into the stars.

“That could hardly have gone better,” Rose said.

Kurt smiled as she rolled off him and lay down on the deck. She’d come to his office as soon as she’d put her pilots to bed, then practically dragged him down and climbed on top of him, her fingers hastily unbuttoning his uniform. Kurt hadn’t had any time for foreplay, but judging from the noises she’d made it hadn’t mattered. Like so many others, Rose found being in combat and surviving exciting.

“It did have its moments,” he agreed. He would have loved to stay beside her for hours, perhaps gently rubbing and kissing her breasts in preparation for a second round, but time wasn’t on their side. Maybe, when they returned to Earth, they could take a holiday somewhere away from everyone else. “Or did you mean the sex?”

Rose poked him as he sat upright and stumbled towards the shower. “I meant the battle,” she said. “We had the advantage and never let go of it.”

“True,” Kurt agreed. He stepped into the shower and turned the tap, allowing warm water to cascade down into the basin. Behind him, Rose stepped into the shower too and hugged him, her bare breasts pushing against his back. “But we also lost the advantage of surprise.”

Rose snickered. “I believe it’s your job to worry about it,” she said. “I merely care for my pilots.”

Kurt sobered. Ark Royal had taken serious losses in pilots during their first mission, but this promised to be worse. They were jumping right into the heart of enemy territory, after all, and the enemy had already managed to damage the carrier. Who knew what else they could do, given a few days to prepare a warm reception? There were just too many possibilities.

“Speaking of which,” he said in a casual tone he knew wouldn’t fool her, “how are they coping with Woodrow’s death?”

“They liked her,” Rose said. She started to scrub his back, her fingers reaching down to stroke his buttocks. “Poor kids. They have to get close to each other, they have to rely on each other, yet… they take it badly when they lose their fellow pilots.”

“I know,” Kurt said. It took time to develop the strange mixture of affection, respect and dispassion that allowed the squadrons to remain effective, after losing several pilots in combat. He’d often considered trying to split up the squadrons in the hope it would make it easier to slot a pilot from one into another, but he had a feeling it would just reduce overall effectiveness. “Very poor kids.”

He sighed. “Make sure you sleep with them tonight…”

Rose pinched his bottom, hard.

“That wasn’t what I meant,” Kurt said, turning to face her and reaching for the scrubber. “You need to keep an eye on them to make sure they don’t crack up under losing their first comrade — and friend.”

“I know,” Rose said. She stuck out her tongue. “But it was so easy to take advantage of it.”

Kurt rolled his eyes, then sobered. If the squadrons had had a greater percentage of veterans, men and women who would take losing their fellows in their stride, he would have felt happier about them. But, as it was, the rooks had just lost their first friend and comrade to the aliens. And there would be more to come.

“Take care of them,” he said, as he washed her back, then manipulated the shower to cleanse his body of soap. “Don’t give them any chance to brood, not now. Once they’re awake…”

Rose grinned. “More exercises?”

“More exercises,” Kurt said. “Keep them busy, keep them occupied, keep them thinking about the future rather than the past. Hell, if you have to, kick someone out of the large entertainment suite and force the pilots to watch a movie together.”

“Perhaps not some of the movies they brought with them,” Rose said. “Do you know what some of them brought on their personal terminals?”

“I can guess,” Kurt said. It was a matter of a few seconds to download an entire collection of porn from the lunar datanet. Hell, there were always rumours of secret caches of porn hidden away on the military network, no matter how many WebHeads were gainfully employed keeping the military systems free of porn. He’d always believed that the rumours were meant to encourage the WebHeads to keep inspecting the older parts of the database. “I think they’d prefer something a little less… interesting.”

Rose smirked again as she followed him out of the shower. “Or exciting?”

“Yes, please,” he said. He watched as she dressed, finding it oddly exciting. Rose taking off her clothes was obviously arousing, but why did he find her dressing to be almost as interesting? There was no time to think about it now. “Maybe something cartoonish.”

“They’re pilots, not little kids,” Rose pointed out. She buttoned up her jacket, then glanced at her reflection in the terminal. “I think they’d prefer a science-fantasy to a cartoon meant for kids.”

“Oh?” Kurt asked. “Who was it who forced me to endure all five remakes of Kung Fu Panda?”

Rose gave him the finger, then slipped out of the hatch.

Kurt chuckled as the hatch slid closed, then turned to his terminal and brought up the records of the battle. The analysts would clearly be ploughing through them for years to come, looking at every last aspect of the fight, but he wasn’t searching for alien weaknesses. He just wanted to know how Prince Henry had performed.

“Not too bad, for someone without any combat experience at all,” he considered. The Prince hadn’t switched to automatic fire as quickly as he should have done — Rose would have to point it out to him — but other than that he’d done well. And he’d picked off four alien fighters. There were pilots among the rooks who hadn’t managed to hit any. “Not too bad at all.”

He sighed, wondering just what the Captain had said to the Prince. It had forced Kurt to make some awkward explanations, including one that would get him into trouble with the Captain if he ever heard it. The suggestion that he was still finding his way wouldn’t go down well with Captain Fitzwilliam. Or, for that matter, with his XO. She’d been quite annoyed to discover that the Captain and Admiral Smith had withheld Prince Henry’s presence on the ship from him.

His terminal pinged. “Meeting in thirty minutes,” the XO said. Her voice brooked no dissent. “Your presence is requested.”

“Understood,” Kurt said. He looked down at the terminal. There should be just enough time to complete a basic analysis of the engagement. Both the Captain and the Admiral would be very interested to hear it. “I’ll be there.”