Ark Royal 2: The Nelson Touch (6 page)

Ted exchanged glances with Fitzwilliam, who looked blank.  On one hand, this war had few political issues; the aliens weren't inclined to talk, so it was kill or be killed.  But, on the other hand, support for the war depended on local politics, both in Britain and all over the world.  If the general population believed the war was lost ...

The First Space Lord smiled, humourlessly.  “Have you been following the debate in the online forums?”

“No,” Ted said.  Earth’s datanet didn't even reach to the moon, let alone
Ark Royal’s
current anchorage.  Even when he'd been on Earth, he’d had no time to browse the forums.  “What sort of debate?”

Fitzwilliam cleared his throat.  “The one about Prince Henry?

“Indeed,” the First Space Lord said.

He met Ted’s eyes.  “Prince Henry has ... for want of a better word ... pushed his way into the accelerated starfighter training program,” he said.  “It was always his ambition to become a starfighter pilot, continuing the proud tradition of the younger scions of the Royal Family serving in the military.  However, when it was agreed that he could attend the Academy, there wasn't actually a war on.”

Ted blinked in surprise.  “We didn't start running the accelerated training program until after the war had started,” he said.  “How ...?”

“There were ...
political
issues,” the First Space Lord conceded.  He spread out his hands, grimly.  “Put bluntly, Admiral, there is a strong feeling among the general public that the Royal Family should take part in the war.  At the same time, with the position of the Prince ...
uncertain
, quite a few officers were resistant to placing him in actual danger.  In the end, he effectively forced Buckingham Palace to give him a chance to train under an assumed name.”

Ted had spent far too much of his career on
Ark Royal
, but he knew something of the tangled politics surrounding the Prince.  Prince Henry was the firstborn son of King Charles IV, but he wasn't the firstborn
child
.  Technically, being born male jumped him ahead of his sister in the line of succession.  The law was ancient, but it had never actually been taken off the books.  Traditionalists insisted that Prince Henry was the first in line to the throne.  On the other hand, it was the 23
^rd
Century.  Why should the Prince succeed his father when he was not the firstborn child?

“What a mess,” he said.  “How did he force the Palace to concede the point?”

“He threatened to publically abdicate his position,” the First Space Lord said.  “I do not believe he enjoyed a very happy childhood.”

“No,” Fitzwilliam agreed.  “He would have no privacy at all, would he?”

“There have been scandals,” the First Space Lord agreed.  “Nothing
major
, nothing we would hold against anyone else, but in his position ... well, it makes the monarchy look bad.”

Ted frowned.  “As interesting as this is,” he said, “what does it actually have to do with us?”

The First Space Lord looked embarrassed.  “The Prince has managed to get himself assigned to
Ark Royal
,” he explained.  “Still under a false name ...”

Ted stared at him.  “Sir,” he said, “you do realise there’s a very good chance that we may lose him?”

“I know,” the First Space Lord confessed.  “But we are in a very poor position.”

“No, we’re not,” Ted said, firmly.  “He’s an officer in the Royal Navy.  His job is to follow orders.  Assign him to a home defence squadron, if he must fly starfighters, either here or on Britannia.  And, if he makes a fuss about it, tell him we can send him to an isolated mining camp instead.”

“It isn't that simple,” Fitzwilliam said.  He looked up at the First Space Lord.  “Is it?”

“No,” the First Space Lord said.  He produced a sheet of papers and passed them over to Ted, who flicked through them carefully.  “His scores at the Academy were very good – and, as he was under a false name, there was no risk of favouritism.  I believe his training instructors included a few of your former crewmen.  There are no grounds for denying him an assignment to a carrier that won’t stink when they are dragged out into the public eye.  And I am damn sure, Admiral, that they
will
be dragged out.  The media will make sure of it.”

“Operational security,” Ted muttered.  The scores
were
very good.  Poor marks for discipline, he noted, but nothing bad enough to merit being booted out of the training program.  “Tell them we don’t give out personnel details and leave it at that, sir.”

“It won’t work, not for the Prince,” the First Space Lord said.  He sighed.  “You know, I believe, just how close the monarchy and the aristocracy came to being legislated out of existence.  Right now, the Royal Family cannot afford to look like they’re shirking their share of the military burden.  Perhaps, if he'd started when he’d intended to start, it wouldn't be such a problem.  Now, even if we rated him as such a high performer we could justify assigning him to a training slot, Ted, it would look very bad.  There would be questions asked in the Houses of Parliament – both Houses of Parliament.”

He shrugged.  “I can't see the remainder of the aristocracy taking it lightly either,” he added.  “People like Captain Fitzwilliam” – he indicated the Captain with one hand – “take the same risks as everyone else in the Royal Navy.  Aristocratic rank sometimes serves as an entree, but it isn't allowed to take someone further than they deserve.  But this ... it could undermine the monarchy itself.”

“But if we put him on
Ark Royal
,” Ted noted, “we run the risk of losing the heir to the throne.  There is no way we could protect him if the aliens came swarming, sir.”

The First Space Lord sighed, again.  “Then we have a solution to the problem of just which of the King’s children will inherit the throne,” he said, coldly.  “Between the Prince’s determination to do something useful with his life, something he earned on his own merits, and the political problems involved in preventing him from serving on the front lines, we have been backed into a corner.  The Prince must serve on
Ark Royal
.”

Ted managed – somehow – to keep from muttering something uncomplimentary under his breath.  The tradition of aristocrats changing their features and assuming false names to serve in the military was relatively new, but it made sure that the training officers and drill instructors didn't know their charges were anything other than common recruits.  Anything they earned, they earned on their own merits.  And if they got booted out, no one raised a fuss.  There were plenty of places to exile unworthy aristocrats too.

But losing the Prince, even if he wasn't supposed to know the Prince was serving under his command, would be more than a little embarrassing.  No doubt the politicians, having created the problem in the first place, would swoop down like vultures, trying hard to place the blame on the sitting government.  In turn, the government would blame the Royal Navy – and Ted, the officer who had been in command at the time.  There was no way he could see it working out well, yet he knew there was no way out, short of resigning his commission.  And he couldn't bring himself to do that, not when the Navy was his life.

“Fine,” he said.  He knew his tone was disrespectful and didn't really care.  “But he won’t get any special treatment.”

“I believe that is what he wants,” the First Space Lord said, mildly.  “No special treatment at all.”

He paused for a long moment.  “I understand how you feel about this,” he added.  “And I will try to minimise any ... interference from other parties.”

Ted nodded, sourly.

“One good thing from all of this,” the First Space Lord added.  “You can bar reporters from
Ark Royal
.”

“Good,” Ted said, remembering the reporters he’d been saddled with during the first advance into alien-held space.  The best of them had had some experience as an embed, fortunately, but the others had been idiots.  He was still mildly surprised none of them had actually managed to kill themselves during the voyage.  “Can I bar them from the entire operation?”

“I believe there may be some American embeds on the American carriers,” the First Space Lord said.  “But you don’t have to say anything to them if you don’t want to.”

“An excellent bribe,” Ted said, lightly.

“I know exactly how you feel,” the First Space Lord said.  “I’ve tried to find the Prince an assignment that looks dangerous, but with very little real danger.  I found nothing that would pass muster with the media, let alone their tame military experts.  There’s no politically acceptable alternative.”

“I understand,” Ted said.  He looked at Fitzwilliam, then back at the First Space Lord.  “If he wants to be anonymous, that’s precisely what he will get.  His identity will not be disclosed any further.”

“Good,” the First Space Lord said.

He smiled, changing the subject.  “I believe the remainder of your fleet will assemble by the end of the week,” he said.  “I will expect a full report after you meet with your new subordinates.”

“Yes, sir,” Ted said.  At least his new subordinates wouldn't be princes in disguise.  “I’ll keep you informed.”

He paused.  “Are there any other surprises for me?”

“None,” the First Space Lord said.  “You can go see your family, if you wish, or enjoy a brief walk around London before you return to your ship.  I believe there are some people waiting to see you, Captain Fitzwilliam.  You should talk to them before you go for a wander yourself.”

Ted scowled, catching the underlying subtext.  The First Space Lord hadn't said it out loud, but the conclusion was very clear.  It might be his last chance to see London before he died.

Maybe I’ll go take a look at Buckingham Palace
, he thought.  He’d been there twice since his return to Earth, both times for award ceremonies he would have preferred to avoid. 
See what the Prince is trying to escape
.

Chapter Five

It was a curious aspect of British Governance, James reflected, that backroom deals often took place before either the media or the public caught wind of them.  Given the complicated balance of power between the monarchy, the aristocracy and the democratically-elected government, all parties tried hard to avoid putting any public strain on the system and tended to come to compromise agreements before making the debate public.  The system had come close to collapse more than once, but since the troubles it had steered Britain through some very rough waters indeed.

He smiled as he stepped into the private room and caught sight of his Uncle Winchester, seated in a chair and studying the menu.  The older man had been a great inspiration to him in his youth; he’d served in the Royal Navy, then gone onwards into the government.  Even now, his mind was as sharp as ever.  Perhaps, James considered, too sharp.  His uncle had put him in a very awkward spot when James had been assigned to
Ark Royal
.

“Ah, James,” Winchester said.  “Take a seat, please, and order something for yourself.  My treat.”

James obeyed, picking up the menu and running his eye down the list of meals.  None of them, he noted, had a price tag attached, a sure sign that they were staggeringly expensive.  But then, the club principally catered to aristocrats, wealthy businessmen who would be invited into the aristocracy sooner or later and government ministers.  It was unlikely in the extreme that someone would enter its hallowed halls without the ability to barely notice the price.

“Steak and chips would be fine,” he said, making his selection.  A waitress appeared out of a side door, took their orders and faded away again.  James watched her go – the short skirt she wore showed off her legs to best advantage – then turned to look at his uncle.  “What?”

“You really should think about getting married,” Winchester said.  “Those genes you have need to be passed on to the next generation.”

James flushed, helplessly.  Once, the aristocracy had tried to marry other aristocrats and ended up with countless problems caused by inbreeding.  Now, there was a definite push for aristocrats to marry commoners – successful commoners – and bring new blood into the ruling class.  It had worked, James had to admit, although it sometimes caused problems for the commoners.  Few of them were used to living within the goldfish bowl of the aristocracy.

“I have no one in mind,” he said, tightly.  “And my duties do not give me time to meet women.”

“Take a day off and go to the next Palace reception,” Winchester suggested.  “There’s always a few girls there making their entry into society.”

“I don't have time,” James said.  “There’s more work in managing a carrier than civilians seem to understand.”

Winchester snorted  “Aren’t you glad you didn't manage to take
Ark Royal
from Captain Smith?”

James flushed, again.  His uncle was fond of allowing him to make mistakes – and then pointing them out, afterwards.  Trying to unseat Captain Smith had been a mistake, one mitigated only by the fact he’d failed.  If
he
had commanded the carrier during the first battles, James suspected, the results would have been far less favourable to the human race.  They might have come alarmingly close to losing the war.

“Yes,” he said, tightly.

“Good,” Winchester said.  “You really need to learn from your mistakes,
Captain
.”