“You don’t seem to have any immediate physical problems,” Doctor Jeanette Hastings said. “But you do seem to have some malnutrition, Your Highness. I think whatever they were feeding you wasn’t quite right for human consumption.”
“I never had my period after the first couple of months,” Jill said. “Did they do something to me?”
“I suspect they fed you something that was a natural contraceptive,” Doctor Hastings said, turning to face her. “Your malnutrition is considerably more advanced. I’m going to advise the Captain to let me keep you in here for observation and a structured course of treatment.”
She frowned. “They also stung you,” she added, turning back to face Henry. “There were a couple of surveillance devices stuck to your skin, both firmly fixed down. They could track you wherever you went, at the very least. The devices might also have been audio-visual receptors.”
Henry winced. Privacy was always a joke these days when the government really wanted to keep an eye on someone. Everyone was guilty of something… and, in his case, the media often tried to sting him with nanotech bugs too. It was something he hated, yet another reason for just walking away from the monarchy. At least the aliens hadn’t been interested in his sexual habits. He’d say that much for them.
“Take them off me,” he said.
“Already done,” Hastings assured him. She stepped backwards. “The Admiral has requested your presence at a briefing in fifty minutes. I would advise you to dress, get something to eat and report back here afterwards. I’ll be making up some tailored slop for you too.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Henry said. He swung his legs over the side of the stretcher and stood. “Am I all right?”
“If there was a concern, Your Highness, you would not be let out of this compartment,” Hastings said, shortly. “Now go. I believe someone wants to see you.”
Henry gave her a sharp look, then pulled on a clean uniform — they hadn’t given him a starfighter pilot’s uniform — and stepped out of the hatch. Outside, he stopped dead as he realised just who was waiting for him. Janelle was standing there, staring at him.
And then, before he could react, she slapped him across the face.
“That,” she said, “was for letting me think you were dead.”
Chapter Twenty
Henry held Janelle tightly, feeling her heartbeat thumping against his chest.
“You should have told me who you were,” she said. “I could have handled it.”
“I’m sorry,” Henry said. If they’d believed him dead… she would have had her life turned upside down. He cursed himself, angrily. “Do you hate me now?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know,” Janelle said. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wanted to be normal,” Henry said. He hesitated, then half-pulled her into a private compartment. Long habits of avoiding the media had taught him to seek privacy whenever and wherever he could. “And I wanted to have a normal relationship too.”
He rubbed his cheek where she’d slapped him. In all honestly, he knew he’d deserved it — and worse. The Admiral had been right. Making love to someone outside Sin City risked that person’s future, no matter who or what she was. He’d been a selfish bastard, guided by his prick… and the fact he actually liked her made it worse. He really should have known better.
You did know better, his conscience pointed out. You just didn’t care.
“You could have had one with me anyway,” Janelle snapped. “I thought you were dead and…”
She broke off as he hugged her again. “I’m sorry,” Henry said, and meant it. “I…”
“Have a lot of explaining to do,” Janelle said. She pushed him into a chair, then marched over to a food dispenser. “And apparently you have to do some eating too.”
She shook her head, rubbing her eyes. “I thought you were dead,” she said. “Everyone thought you were dead. What happened?”
“I ejected from my fighter moments before it blew,” Henry said. He’d wondered why no one had thought he might be alive, but if they’d known the plasma chambers had been about to explode they might have thought he was certainly dead. “The aliens picked me up and took me to one of their worlds.”
“How nice of them,” Janelle said. She produced a plate of stew from the dispenser and passed it to him, followed by a mug of hot tea. “I think you’d better eat before you go to the briefing.”
Henry smiled as he smelled the stew. It wasn’t much — naval rations rarely were — but compared to the tasteless food the aliens had fed them it was delicious. The tea was just as good, sweetened the way he liked it. His mother would have a fit if she saw how he’d forgotten the endless etiquette lessons she’d drummed into his head, but he found it hard to care. He practically inhaled the food and drink.
Janelle sat facing him, her dark eyes anxious. Henry felt another twinge of guilt and silently cursed himself under his breath. She had to have her doubts about him now, both because he’d hidden his identity from her and because he’d seemingly died, leaving her at the mercy of the media. Henry had no doubt at all of what the media would do to someone as newsworthy as his lover. She’d have her life dissected, anything interesting or scandalous would be broadcast to the world and she would never have a private moment again. And it was all his fault.
He searched for words, but none came. He’d acted badly, worse than badly. It would have been more honest to exploit her or even to enter into a loveless relationship. Instead, they’d both cared about one another — and that was the worst of it. They couldn’t simply let go.
“They asked if I was pregnant,” Janelle said, suddenly. “They thought I might be carrying your child.”
Henry swallowed. It was impossible, he knew. Like all crewmen, he had a contraceptive implant — and besides, the Admiralty would never have let her return to space if she’d been pregnant. Technically, it counted as rendering one’s self unfit for duty. But in her case… they might have skipped the court martial. The child would have been of Royal Blood.
He felt another pang. If she had been pregnant, it would definitely have ruined her life.
“They do that,” he said, shortly. Thank God the media was largely banned from Sin City — and that he’d been Charles Augustus, while he’d been there. “It’s part of my life.”
“I understand,” Janelle said. She took a breath. “I mean I understand you.”
She met his eyes. “I do understand why you concealed your identity,” she said. “But I don’t know if I forgive you for it. It was bad enough mourning your death.”
The worst of all possible worlds, Henry thought. Janelle would have been mourning him, their relationship ended by his death… and yet she would still have been wrapped up in the affairs of the Royal Family. She would be nothing to them, completely valueless, and yet she would never have been able to escape.
“I understand,” he said. “And if you don’t want to see me again…”
Saying the words cost him more than he cared to admit. Janelle had liked him for him, not for being born a powerless prince, someone in line to be the figurehead of the British Government. They’d become friends and then lovers without the Royal Family casting a long shadow over their relationship. But, in the end, he understood. Anyone who joined the Royal Family, even if they were terrible gold diggers, bit off more than they could chew.
“We could go elsewhere,” he said. There was precedent — and besides, they’d already adapted well to his supposed death. He wondered, absently, if he could convince the Admiral not to name him on the report, before deciding it was impossible. “Take up residence on Britannia or even one of the other worlds…”