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.