“You’d be giving up everything,” Janelle pointed out. “Your family, your life…”
Henry shrugged. He loved his parents and sister, but he hated what the monarchy had made them become. They were actors who could never really stop acting, out of fear the audience would lose interest and go away. Or, perhaps, men and women under constant observation, knowing all too well that anything they did would be used in evidence against them. There were criminals under less strict monitoring than the Royal Family.
And he’d never felt freer than when he’d been Charles Augustus, a simple starfighter pilot without ties to anyone of importance. He’d been chewed out at the Academy and loved it, put in a starfighter cockpit and told to risk his own life… he was better off, he knew, without the monarchy. And there was no force that could keep him in Buckingham Palace if he chose to leave.
“I’d be making a new life,” he said. “Will you come with me?”
Janelle hesitated. “I’ll think about it,” she said. She rubbed the table gently. “but it will have to wait until the end of the war.”
Henry nodded. The war wasn’t over yet.
He returned his plate and mug to the dispenser, then reached for her and gave her another hug. She hugged him back, gently, but there was a curious reserve in her eyes. Henry fretted for a long moment, then realised she’d already mourned him once. Part of her had to wonder, even if she never admitted it to herself, if he would leave her again.
But it was an accident, he told himself, angrily. I didn’t mean to lose control of my containment chambers…
Janelle let go of him, then led him through the corridors towards the briefing room. Everyone they met seemed to stop and stare at him; rumour, it seemed, had spread through the ship faster than the speed of light. Henry cringed inwardly as a number of crewmen saluted, even though they had no obligation to salute a simple Flying Officer. It was clear he would never have a chance to live a normal life on Ark Royal, not now. And it was unlikely he’d be assigned to another carrier.
“The BBN did a special on your life,” Janelle muttered, as they passed through a set of airlocks. “Someone on the ship told them about us. I don’t know who.”
“We’ll find out,” Henry promised. The thought of horsewhipping the bastard was delightful. There was always someone ready to betray the royals for thirty pieces of silver or, more practically, twenty minutes of fame. “What did the special have to say?”
“It said you were very patriotic,” Janelle said. “They made a big deal out of you giving up your title to fight beside the common man.”
Henry sighed. The PR staff at Buckingham Palace had wanted him to go into the navy publically, without using a false identity. They’d been more fixated on the idea of being able to prove the Royal Family was sharing the risks faced by common-born pilots, officers and crewmen than on whatever suited Henry personally. Using a false name made it impossible to claim Henry was taking risks. But if he had used his real name, he wouldn’t have been assigned to a front-line squadron.
Or they would have treated me like a Prince, he thought, bitterly.
He came to attention as the airlock opened, revealing the conference room. Admiral Smith rose to his feet to greet them, followed by two officers and a civilian Henry didn’t recognise. There was no sign of the Captain, he noted, which made a great deal of sense. If Henry had been brainwashed into killing the Admiral, Captain Fitzwilliam would take over command of the flotilla. But he hadn’t been brainwashed…
Oh, really? Part of his mind asked. And how would you know?
“Admiral,” he said, saluting. “Thank you for coming here.”
Admiral Smith returned the salute. “It’s clear that your country owes you a massive debt,” he said, simply. “You said the war was a mistake, correct?”
“Yes, sir,” Henry said. Prince or not, he was damned if he was allowing his military formality to slip now. “A tragic accident.”
He took the seat the Admiral offered to him — Janelle sat next to him — and braced himself. “It’s difficult to be entirely sure of what they’re telling us or vice versa,” he said. “But Jill — the girl who came with me — was a witness to First Contact. The Heinlein Colonists, sir, settled a world the aliens had already settled. But neither side realised it until they ran into one another by accident.”
“They prefer to live under the water,” the civilian said. “I assume the aliens didn’t send any ships to their colony prior to First Contact.”
Henry blinked at her. She wore shorts and a halter top that were so tight he could see her nipples, almost as if she’d had her clothes painted on. He forced himself to look away, suddenly very aware of Janelle’s presence beside him. He’d spent weeks, perhaps months, with Jill, he told himself. It should be easy to avoid staring at a very out of place civilian.
“One of the aliens encountered a pair of humans in shallow waters,” Henry said. “The humans panicked, assuming the newcomer was an undiscovered sea monster, and shot the alien. Their report wasn’t believed until the aliens attacked the colony in retaliation. Most of the colonists died in the ensuring battle, but a handful of prisoners were distributed among various alien factions. Jill… thinks she might be the only one still alive.”
The Admiral winced. “The aliens didn’t do anything to mark their colony?”
“Not as far as Jill knew,” Henry said. “The planet appeared deserted when the Heinlein Colonists arrived.”
“Odd,” the Admiral said. “Even our newly-settled worlds have at least one satellite in orbit.”
“Yes, sir,” Henry said. “But would the aliens need them while they’re building an underwater colony?”
There might have been other signs the colonists had overlooked, he knew. The aliens had presumably introduced plants and animals from their homeworld to Heinlein — and their biochemistry wouldn’t have matched the local biology. But there had been no reason to run any tests, not if the colonists had believed the planet to be completely undiscovered. All they’d really had to do was ensure the local biochemistry was compatible with humanity or make sure their people knew not to eat it.
“So they believed us to be hostile,” the Admiral said, “and struck first?”
“One of the alien factions believed that to be the case,” Henry said. “The other aliens call them the War Faction. Sir… the aliens don’t think like us. I don’t think the War Faction is capable of considering any alternatives. They’re… I think they build up their factions around ideology and political concepts. They don’t tend to let in other ideas.”
“How very human,” the Admiral observed.
“It’s more like a datanet chat forum,” Henry said. “I think. They chatter and chatter until the group only consists of aliens who agree with the group, with everyone else excluded from the consensus and sent off to find another group. My guess, sir, is that this worked reasonably well when they were all on one world. But when they went into space, the factions effectively became echo chambers. There was no room for new ideas.”
“Like some of the asteroid colonies,” Janelle said, suddenly. “My Grandfather’s colony was based around a specific religious group.”
“That would make sense,” the civilian said, slowly. “The alien prisoners might be trying to convince each other of their respective ideologies, then sulking when they don’t get anywhere. They’re just saying the same thing over and over again.”