The Nelson Touch

Chapter Thirty-Four

“There’s one inhabited planet, on the outer edge of the life-bearing zone,” Lopez reported, as they crossed the tramline into the unexplored system. “There’s definitely an orbital presence, but there doesn’t seem to be a major industrial node here.”

Ted wasn’t too surprised. The system didn’t seem to have any gas giant, as far as they could tell, and a gas giant was vitally important for large-scale industrialisation. They probably did have some local industry — unless the alien economy was very different from humanity’s it was probably cheaper to produce some items locally rather than ship it across several star systems — but not a shipyard. Besides, there didn’t seem to be any large-scale defences either.

“Good,” he said. He wanted — needed — to attack the system, to avenge the ambush and the dead crewmen and the damaged ships in the worst possible way, but he knew better. The aliens could not be allowed to catch even a sniff of their presence. “Keep us well away from anything that might detect us.”

“Aye, sir,” Lopez said. “Do you want to launch recon probes?”

Ted considered it, hastily. Recon probes were damn near impossible to detect; certainly, the aliens had no greater success at detecting them than humanity. But even the slightest hint that there was a human fleet in the system could be disastrous. The aliens didn’t seem to be aware that they had slipped through the tramline, but they could still jump back into the Target One system quicker than he, if they had reason to believe they should.

“No,” he said, finally. “We will restrict ourselves to long-range observations only.”

“Aye, sir,” Lopez said.

He looked down at the list of updates from the rest of the fleet and smiled, grimly. The aliens had inflicted considerable damage, but all five remaining carriers were still reasonably operational, apart from one that had taken some damage to her landing tubes. Her fighters had already been shared out among the remaining carriers as her engineering crews struggled to repair the damage. By the time they returned to Target One, Ted had been assured, they would either have a carrier capable of launching fighters once again or a ship that would need to sneak back to the tramline that headed back to human space.

“There are no traces of alien warships within the system,” Lopez added, ten minutes later. “I don’t even think there’s a major presence away from the settled world.”

“They may have gone dark,” Ted said. If he’d known there was a marauding enemy fleet in the next system, he would have ordered his forces to go dark too. “But keep us well away from anything that might detect us.”

He stood and walked towards the hatch, feeling his age pressing down on him. “Get some rest too,” he added, as the secondary CIC crew filed into the compartment. “All of you.”

Bracing himself, he walked down to his cabin and stepped into the compartment. This time, there was no Marine on guard duty. As soon as the hatch had closed, he sat down on his chair and looked down at the small embedded terminal. There were at least seven hours before the fleet was in position to slip through the tramline back to Target One.

Seven hours, he thought, coldly. A great deal can happen in seven hours.

Henry looked down at the flight roster with some dismay. After the first battle, it seemed that every successive battle was fought with new wingmen, all as unused to him as he was to them. This time, a pair of French pilots had been assigned to the squadron, both of whom claimed more experience than any of the British rooks. There had already been several arguments, which had finally been terminated by the CAG and a series of dire threats to have them cleaning the ship’s toilets with their own toothbrushes. Like the rest of them, Henry had realised, the CAG was right at the limits of his endurance. The pilots had stopped arguing very quickly after his threats.

Sighing, he walked out of the ready room — checking his communicator carefully — and made his way towards the observation blister. He felt an odd twinge of surprise when he discovered it was empty, although he knew he was being silly. He’d half-expected Janelle to be there, waiting for him. His hand twitched towards his communicator, intending to send her a message, then he pushed the thought aside. She might well be too busy right now to listen to him. Instead, he sat down on the bench and stared out at the stars.

He’d done well, he knew, and yet the squadron had been badly hammered. The aliens had pressed the offensive to the point where they’d actually managed to board Ark Royal, a thought that sent shivers down his spine. No one had seriously expected anything of the sort before the war… and, even after Ark Royal had captured an alien craft, no one had expected the aliens to try the same tactic. His hand dropped to the pistol at his belt, recalling the CAG’s stern instruction for his pilots to practice in the shooting range when they had time, even though none of them were groundpounders. But the Admiral’s paranoia had been proved to be entirely correct.

Tiredly, he closed his eyes for a long moment. When he opened them, Janelle was sitting facing him, her long legs almost brushing against his knees. Henry smiled as soon as he saw her, wondering just why he hadn’t woken up when she entered the compartment. He’d never had any real privacy back home on Earth, to the point where the slightest sound could jerk him awake. Maybe it was a good sign, he told himself, that he felt he could trust her enough to fall asleep in front of her. Someone else might have taken photos of him while he slept and sold them to the tabloids. Or tried to push him into an incriminating position and then take photographs of him.

“Hi,” she said, with a brilliant smile. “How are you?”

“Tired,” Henry said. He snapped awake as he realised he might have slept through his shift and reached for his communicator. Thankfully, it had only been an hour, not long enough for him to miss his turn in the ready starfighters. The CAG would probably have murdered him if he’d failed to report for duty, or at the very least ensured there would be no promotion in his immediate future. “And you?”

“I’ve felt better,” she said. Up close, it was clear she was tired too. “This system seems suspiciously harmless.”

Henry nodded. He knew the feeling.

“So the Admiral told me to take some rest,” she added. “But I couldn’t sleep.”

“I had problems sleeping too,” Henry said. The sleep machines had always made him feel odd, even though they did replenish his energy reserves. “And so I came here.”

Janelle smiled at him. “It’s a good place to come, isn’t it,” she said. “Beautiful, but reasonably private.”

She leaned forward, opening her lips slightly. Henry leaned towards her and kissed her, gently. The kiss grew deeper and deeper until she was sitting next to him, without him having the slightest idea of when she’d moved from her chair. Her lips tasted faintly of summer, probably an engineered perfume. Royal Navy crewmen were only allowed minimal cosmetics.

“My mother thought it was an advantage to smell nice,” Janelle said, when he broke the kiss and asked. Despite her dark skin, she flushed with embarrassment. “She was always more traditional than my father. And she told me she wouldn’t speak to me again if I went into the Royal Navy.”

Henry winced. He had some relatives like that too, although in his case he was reasonably sure they were more concerned about avoiding a nasty succession crisis than Henry’s own survival. It had struck him, more than once, that they were wasting their time. If Henry died in the service, his sister would take the throne and any debate about male primacy would be put off for at least another generation. There wouldn’t be any way to argue, in the immediate aftermath of his father’s death, that Henry should take the throne if Henry was dead.

“I think she was worried about you,” he said. “Did she keep her word?”

“Well, she keeps moaning and demanding to know when I’m going to leave the Navy and start living,” Janelle said. “Other than that… she does talk to me, whenever I can’t avoid it.”

“I know the feeling,” Henry said. He had relatives he was forced to be polite to, whenever there was a formal dinner or some other social event. And foreign ambassadors, who always seemed as bored as Henry himself felt. “But at least she hasn’t cut you completely out of her life.”

“I don’t think my father would let her,” Janelle said. She pulled him in for another kiss, then hesitated. “He was always more proud of me than he let on, I think.”

Their lips met, again. Henry wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, then started to stroke the edge of her jacket. She shivered slightly against him, then kissed his lips harder as his touch became more and more intimate. It was strange, part of his mind realised, the part of him that never fell completely to emotion. She didn’t seem to have any reserve at all, no awareness that making love to him was making love to a prince. Was this what it was like to make love without reservation?

“Not here,” she muttered, as his fingers started to pry open her uniform jacket. He’d always wondered — it had been the source of many jokes — why the designers had made the jackets so they could be opened quickly. “We could get caught.”

Henry felt himself flush. Just because they’d been alone all the previous times they’d shared in the blister didn’t mean they would always be alone. He drew back for a long moment, feeling oddly disgruntled by her sudden change, then smiled as an idea came to him.

“We could use one of the private suites,” he said, softly. He felt himself flushing a moment later, torn between embarrassment and horror at his words. If she didn’t want to go any further… what would she say to him now? “I…”

“We could,” she said, with another kiss. “Let me see.”

She pulled her terminal off her belt and tapped it with her fingers, her hair falling down to surround her dark face. Henry stared with unabashed interest, wondering how much of her appearance was the result of genetic engineering before deciding he didn’t give a damn. It wasn’t something a gentleman asked, in any case; besides, there was quite a bit of genetic engineering in his own family tree.

“One of the rooms is currently available,” she said. She looked up at him, her brown eyes bright. “You want to go?”

“If you want to,” Henry stammered, suddenly finding himself tongue-tied. He was no virgin — assorted crawlers and the womenfolk of Sin City had seen to that — but there was a difference between such prostitutes and a girl who wanted him for himself alone. “I don’t mind.”

Janelle laughed out loud. “I’m sure you don’t mind,” she said, as she pulled herself to her feet and held out a hand. “Check your appearance, then come on.”

Henry smiled and followed her through the ship’s corridors, trying hard to remember what he’d been told about the private suites. It had been one of the lectures he’d received from Wing Commander Paton, one of the ones he hadn’t paid much attention to at the time. He honestly hadn’t expected to meet someone interested in Charles Augustus, rather than Prince Henry. The crew could use them for some private fun time — the Wing Commander had used those exact words — provided they didn’t break the rules on fraternisation. As a member of the Admiral’s staff, Janelle wasn’t in the prohibited categories.

He watched as she pressed her fingertips against the sensor, opening the hatch, then stepped inside the chamber. It was large enough to qualify as a luxury cabin, at least on the standards of most military starships, although it was no larger than a cheap hotel room. One bulkhead was covered with a strict warning about breaking the regulations concerning relationships while onboard ship; the others were gunmetal grey, as bland and boring as possible. A mirror hung on one bulkhead; behind it, there was a shower and hairdryer. He smiled as the hatch closed firmly behind them and locked. It did look like a cheap hotel room.

“I have three hours until I have to go back on shift,” Janelle said. Now they were alone together in a locked compartment, she sounded almost nervous. “And yourself?”

Henry checked his watch. “Four hours before my next active duty shift,” he said. “If the aliens attack early…”

He had a sudden mental vision of having to snatch up his clothes and run for his starfighter, probably in his bare feet. Moments later, he started to giggle. He’d been told that some pilots had scrambled so quickly that all they’d worn was their flight suits and nothing else, but it was probably against some regulation or another. Part of the reason one squadron was kept at permanent launch readiness was to buy time for the remaining pilots to dress and sprint to their planes in a more formal manner. Haste, his instructors had said, bred forgetfulness.

Janelle giggled too. Perhaps she’d had the same thought.

“Sit down on the bed,” she ordered. “Please.”

A quaver in her voice betrayed that she was still nervous. When Henry obeyed, she straddled him and pushed him down until he was lying flat on the mattress. She started to kiss him, each kiss slowly growing stronger and stronger, then pulled away and started to undo her jacket. Her bare breasts bounced free, both as perfect as the rest of her. Henry reached for them and cupped them in his hands, then started to stroke the nipples gently. She let out a dull moan, shifting awkwardly on top of him. Sin City had been an education in more ways than one.

“Relax,” Henry whispered, trying hard to keep his desire under control. He quickly removed his uniform, then his underclothes. She stared at his nakedness as if she hadn’t seen a nude man before, something that seemed more than a little odd. Even if she was virgin, surely she would have seen porn. “We have plenty of time.”

Afterwards, they lay together in a pool of shared sweat, smiling tiredly at each other. It had been her first time, Henry realised; he felt a moment of gratitude for the whores of Sin City, no matter how shameful going there had seemed the first few times. They’d taught him how to give pleasure as well as how to take it. It was an expensive service, but worth every penny. Besides, as North and the others had pointed out, girls liked it when guys made them have a good time too. It brought them back for more.

He looked over at her, feeling his smile grow wider. “Was… was that good for you?”

“It was,” she said. “I… thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Henry said. “You were great too.”

He found himself wondering just what he could do with her, apart from sex. There were plenty of places they could go on the moon… but, sooner or later, he would have to tell her the truth. And then… who knew what she would say? Most of the girls who would like the idea of being Queen were the type of girls who shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near Buckingham Palace. A stab of guilt shot through him and he sat upright, suddenly cursing his own desire. But he’d wanted to be normal, just for once.

“We’d better shower,” Janelle said. He couldn’t tell if she’d picked up on his mood swing or not, but she didn’t seem to want to lie down and cuddle any longer. “You never know what will happen.”

Henry nodded, then stood and walked into the shower. Surprisingly, the water was suspiciously cool, but he washed himself down anyway as Janelle waited outside. As soon as he was out of the shower and drying himself, she was inside, washing the sweat from her body as fast as possible. He wondered, suddenly, if she regretted what they’d done. But then, one of the more practical pieces of advice his father had given him had been that some girls grew moody and sad after losing their virginity, no matter how much they’d enjoyed the experience. All the man could do, his father had said, was wait for them to get over it.

But was it a good piece of advice? Henry had never realised just how warped a royal upbringing was until he’d seen other teenagers, long before he’d decided to go to the Academy. Could it be that his father was wrong?

He dressed slowly, then watched as Janelle dressed. She seemed to be moving slowly, without the simple joy of living she’d shown earlier; perhaps, he told himself, she was depressed. He gave her a hug and a kiss, then held her hand as they walked out of the compartment… and straight into the XO.

“Commander,” Janelle said. She sounded startled, even though they hadn’t actually been doing anything wrong; she hastily let go of his hand. “I…”

“I need to speak with Augustus,” the XO said. She waited until Janelle had walked through the airlock, then swung around and glared at Henry. There was something in her furious gaze that made him quail. The only other person who had looked at him like that was a female relative who had given him riding lessons and threatened to whip him if he ever mistreated one of her beasts. “The Admiral’s office, now!”