The Trafalgar Gambit

Chapter Five

Ted had known, intellectually, that London had more than its fair share of underground tunnels and bunkers. Ever since the invention of flight, it had been necessary to hide large parts of the government underground, just to ensure some continuity after the country came under attack. Nothing, not even the Troubles or the development of orbital bombardment weaponry had deterred the government from protecting itself.

But he couldn’t help wondering just how safe and secure the network was, after the tidal waves and floods. Parts of the power grid seemed to have failed completely, leaving some of the tunnel sections dark and gloomy, while he could hear the sound of water dripping in the distance. No one had anticipated London being flooded, not since the tidal barriers had been put into service. And no one had anticipated alien bombardment. It was all too easy to imagine a crack in the rock and concrete above their heads widening enough to allow a flood of water into the underground network. They’d be washed away by the water before they realised what was happening or wind up trapped in a subsection of the complex, waiting helplessly for the air to run out.

He shook his head, angrily dismissing the thought, as they passed through a series of secure airlocks and emerged in the basement of Buckingham Palace. It was a secure complex too, he knew, although it had been centuries since the affairs of the nation were directed from any of the Royal Residencies. And now most of the Royal Family had been moved into the countryside, with only the King and Crown Princess remaining in London to share the sufferings of their population. They thought it made good press.

Ted snorted, cynically. The Royal Family would never starve; Buckingham Palace was safe, secure and warm. There would be emergency transport out of London if the aliens returned or rioters threatened the palace itself. Somehow, he doubted that many of their subjects would be impressed.

He looked around, interested, as the equerry led them up a flight of steps and down a long corridor, the walls lined with portraits of monarchs from a bygone age. There were countless display cases everywhere, showing off the presents given to the monarchs by foreign visitors; several of them, he couldn’t help noticing, had been stripped bare, their contents shipped to bunkers well away from the coast. The contents of the palace were a vital part of Britain’s heritage, he knew, something that had to be preserved. But it was hard to take such concerns seriously when he knew millions of people were starving.

Janelle caught his arm as they approached a large pair of wooden doors. “Admiral,” she said, very softly, “I don’t know what to say.”

Ted nodded in agreement. There was a formal protocol for meeting the monarch, but most of it had already been put aside for the private meeting. The last time he’d met the King, it had been when he’d been awarded a whole series of medals for Ark Royal’s victories against the alien foe. Everyone who had been anyone in British society had been there. Now, they were having a private meeting… he shook his head, gently. Under the circumstances, it seemed absurd to think of protocol.

“Be polite,” he advised. Offhand, he knew of no naval officers who had regular private meetings with the monarch, even though they technically worked for him. “And try not to stare too much.”

The doors swung open and the equerry stepped through. “Admiral Sir Theodore Smith,” he announced grandly, leaving out the list of letters Ted was entitled to have after his name, “and Lieutenant Janelle Lopez.”

Ted smiled and stepped through the door. Inside, it resembled a comfortable sitting room rather than the heart of a monarch’s kingdom. There were several chairs and a sofa, drawn up around a blazing fire, and a drinks dispenser in one corner. It was, he realised with a flicker of insight, a place for the royals to be people, rather than figurehead rulers for their nation. And the man ahead of him, wearing a simple tunic and shirt, was King Charles IV of Great Britain, Emperor of Britannia and Prince of Nova Scotia.

He had looked more impressive the first time Ted had met him, Ted mentally conceded, but he’d also looked stressed, knowing that he was permanently on camera. Even Ted, who had tried to spend the last two decades on Ark Royal shutting out the rest of the universe, had known just how intrusive the media were around the Royal Family. The King and his family had never been able to relax, never been able to do anything for fear it would reflect badly on them — and there was nothing that could not be made to look bad, given time and carefully handling by an unscrupulous reporter and team of editors. But there were no cameras here, not at the heart of Buckingham Palace. The King could be himself.

It would have been impossible to tell he was the King, Ted decided, if he hadn’t known ahead of time. He looked middle-aged, the very picture of a mature adult, but lacking the dignity offered by his formal robes and the crown he’d worn during the award ceremony. His hair was grey, slowly shading to white. He’d never bothered to have his face rejuvenated, Ted noted. Was it because he wasn’t vain enough to have cosmetic surgery or was it because his protocol officers insisted it was beneath the King’s dignity to have himself redesigned to look younger? There was no way to know.

“Admiral,” the King said. His voice was very calm, very controlled. “Please don’t stand on formality, not here.”

He motioned Ted to a seat, then bowed to Janelle as she hastily curtseyed. “Please, relax,” he insisted. “Elizabeth and I have been waiting for you.”

He motioned for Janelle to sit on the sofa, next to his daughter, then sat back in his chair.

“I appreciate you coming to see us,” he continued. “We weren’t sure if you’d be able to make it.”

We weren’t given a choice, Ted thought. But he understood. The political issues surrounding Prince Henry were a minefield, even if the disasters that had struck the country had pushed the Prince’s life and untimely death onto the backburner. It wasn’t the King who would make the decisions, despite being the boy’s father. The Prime Minister was the one who would have to decide how best to present Prince Henry’s death to the world. Or maybe it had been some bureaucrat in the Civil Service who had made the final call.

He looked at the two girls and felt a stab of pity. They made an odd study in contrasts; Janelle was dark-skinned, with dark hair cropped close to her scalp in accordance with naval regulations, while Elizabeth was blonde, her hair hanging all the way down to the small of her back. The Princess was several years older than her brother, he recalled, but it had been an open question which one of them would actually succeed their father. He couldn’t help wondering, from the way the Princess held herself, if she’d been in two minds about taking the throne. But Henry had very definitely not wanted to become King.

“I would like to hear about my son’s final moments,” the King said. “And about his life on your ship.”

Ted hesitated then recollected what he could and launched into the tale. Henry had been a starfighter pilot, with all the strengths and weaknesses of men and women who had known their next mission could be their last. He’d lacked the discipline of the Royal Marines or the engineering crews, but he’d been a skilled pilot and Ark Royal had been happy to have him as part of the crew. And it wasn’t a lie, he knew. Prince Henry would have gone far if he hadn’t been killed by the aliens.

“He was a good pilot,” he concluded. It was unusual for pilots to serve more than three years in the cockpit, but Henry could have gone on to become a CAG — Commander Air Group — or aspired to frigate command, if he’d wanted to stay in the navy. “And he is deeply missed.”

“And you were fucking him,” Elizabeth said. Her voice was icy cold. “Did you know who he was?”

“Elizabeth,” her father snapped.

His daughter stared at him with bright blue eyes. “It has to be asked,” she said. “You know how many…”

“Elizabeth,” her father repeated.

“I didn’t know who he was,” Janelle said, quietly. “As far as I knew, he was just… Charles Augustus, a starfighter pilot.”

The King shook his head. “Charles Augustus,” he muttered. “In hindsight, the media will make it out to be blindingly obvious.”

“But you were screwing him,” Elizabeth insisted. “Did he never tell you the truth?”

“No,” Janelle said. Her fists bunched for a long moment, then she forced herself to relax. “I never knew.”

Ted eyed the girls with some concern. Janelle had been upset — more than upset — after Henry had died, even before he’d told her who her lover had been. He’d actually broken his own rule and given her compassionate leave, even though all it had meant in practice was that she got to stay in her cabin rather than carry out her duties. In hindsight, perhaps he should have kept her busy, with tasks that would keep her mind off her woes.

There’s a reason married couples aren’t allowed to serve together, he thought, morbidly. If one of them dies, the other becomes useless — even dangerous.

Princess Elizabeth, on the other hand, sounded bitchy — and yet he knew she had good reason to worry. Her brother would have had no shortage of suitors, Ted suspected, and most of them would have been more interested in claiming a royal title than in Henry himself. Elizabeth herself would have the same problem, perhaps made worse by the uncertainty over which of the royal children would inherit the throne. She would never know if anyone who showed interest in her cared more for her — or for the title. Ted felt a flicker of sympathy for the girl, despite her rudeness. It was very hard to blame her.

“The Prince never revealed his true identity to anyone,” he said, as reassuringly as he could. Princess Elizabeth was young enough to be his daughter, but he knew next to nothing about being a father. “No one knew until they caught up with the news broadcasts from Earth,”

The King cleared his throat. “Be that as it may,” he said, “it still raises uncomfortable questions.”

He looked at Janelle. “Did either of you discuss the future?”

Janelle shook her head, staring down at the floor. “No,” she said, quietly. “We knew we could die at any moment.”

Ted winced, inwardly. Shipboard romances were hardly uncommon — and far from forbidden, as long as regulations were honoured — but they rarely lasted long. The sheer intensity of a sexual affair between two young people under constant threat of death didn’t always survive when they returned to Earth or resigned from the military. Ironically, he knew, if they’d met before the war, their romance might have survived. Ark Royal had been held in a stable orbit near Earth. The crew had never expected to do more than maintain the ship. They’d certainly never expected to go to war.

The Princess snorted. “You just made love to him without considering the future?”

“I’m not trapped in a goldfish bowl,” Janelle snapped, showing a flash of fire. “I didn’t even know it might be a concern.”

Ted winced. That had been a low blow. The Princess couldn’t have an affair with anyone, male or female, without the media turning it into a circus. Her lover’s life would be dissected ruthlessly, anything he had said or done in the past would be used against her… and the relationship would probably shatter under the pressure. The Princess could never afford to relax, let alone have a relationship that she knew might never go anywhere. It would wind up becoming a nightmare, even if her partner had been everything she wanted in a man.

“But it has become a concern,” the Princess snapped back. She glowered at Janelle. “Are you pregnant?”

Janelle spluttered. “What?”

“All naval personnel have contraceptive implants,” Ted said, quickly. “No one can get pregnant on a naval starship.”

“But there are already speculations that you are carrying Henry’s child,” the Princess insisted. “Your life will never be the same.”

“Then they will have to swallow their words when they see I am very clearly not pregnant,” Janelle pointed out.

“Then they will start claiming that you have had an illicit abortion,” Princess Elizabeth said, darkly. “They have already claimed that I have had five different abortions in the past.”

Janelle recoiled, shocked. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” Princess Elizabeth said. “And apparently I’ve had twelve different lovers.”

She snorted, rudely. “I must have been asleep,” she added, “because I can’t remember any of them.”

The King cleared his throat, loudly. “I would have liked to welcome you to the family formally,” he said, addressing Janelle. “I believe you would have added something we desperately need. But it would probably be best for you if the whole… affair was forgotten as quickly as possible.”

But it wouldn’t be forgotten, Ted knew. Janelle had become a Public Interest celebrity the moment someone had revealed her relationship with Prince Henry to the media. Short of changing her name, or at least shipping back out as quickly as possible, there was no way the media would ever let her rest. At least Ted had managed to bar reporters from Ark Royal, despite objections from the Public Relations Department. No one wanted them to tell the universe just how badly the Old Lady had been damaged by the aliens.

“I agree,” Janelle said.

Princess Elizabeth leaned forward. “Did you love my brother?”

“I… I don’t know,” Janelle confessed. “We were happy together, but…”

Oddly, Ted noted, the Princess seemed happy with the answer. Or perhaps it wasn’t odd at all. There were no shortage of social climbers who would happily claim to love the target of their affections, even when it was blatantly clear they had no interest in anything beyond the title and the prestige that came with it. But the media would tear their lives apart anyway, looking for something they could use to shock and beguile the British public. Janelle might have had a very lucky escape.

But that shouldn’t be a problem now, he thought. The country has far more serious matters to worry about.

“I have reviewed the files,” the King said. He looked directly at Ted. “I do not believe that you — or any of your crew — can reasonably be held responsible for my son’s death. He wanted to live the life of a starfighter pilot, without using his rank to his advantage, knowing the risks that he would face. His death…”

He broke off, clearly upset. Ted remembered the files and understood. The King had opposed his son going into the military — and then into the line of fire. It would have been relatively simple to assign Prince Henry to one of the squadrons defending Earth… although that might have been a mistake. Those squadrons had taken more than 80% casualties when the aliens had attacked. Henry had followed the path he’d chosen, the path that had allowed him to earn rewards — and punishments — without his rank being taken into consideration and, in the end, it had killed him. But he’d died bravely and well.

And they will use it to bolster the position of the Royal Family, he thought, cynically. Buckingham Palace employed a small army of PR experts, hoping to shape the narrative before hostile editors — or merely ones looking for a scoop — started to try to shape it for themselves. Henry’s death will make it seem as though they are sharing the same risks and burdens as everyone else.

“There will be no Board of Inquiry,” the King continued. “I believe, in any case, that you will be leaving Earth again, far too quickly.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Ted said.

He sighed, knowing the King wasn’t speaking his own words. It was quite possible the King felt otherwise, that he wanted his son’s death investigated carefully before passing any kind of judgement. But the decision would have been taken by the War Cabinet and the King would have had to follow orders, particularly now. The country couldn’t afford an open squabble between the King and Parliament.

“I wish you the very best of luck in talking with the aliens,” the King continued. “It may be our only hope of a lasting peace.”

He looked at Janelle. “I am truly sorry for pulling you into our lives,” he said. “I have no doubt that, if my son had survived, he would have taken steps to ensure you were protected or simply never identified. Henry, whatever his faults, was a decent person.”

“That is beyond doubt,” Elizabeth said, frostily.

“You are free to call us at any time, should you wish to chat,” the King continued. “And please know that we do not blame you for anything.”

“Thank you,” Janelle said.

“But it won’t be an easy few months for you,” the King warned. “It has always been so for those who come too close to the Royal Family.”

He rose to his feet. “You would be well-advised to remain on the carrier for the next few months, if possible,” he added. “There are few other places the media won’t go — and they’re searching for a distraction. If they think your life will make a good distraction…”

“They already have,” Janelle said, bitterly.

“She will be safe on Ark Royal,” Ted said. He stood, then saluted the King. “Thank you for your time, Your Majesty.”

The King snorted. “Good luck, Admiral,” he said. “Make peace with the aliens, if you can; if not, make them pay for everything they’ve done to us.”