Ark Royal 2: The Nelson Touch

by Christopher Nuttal

  “Princess Elizabeth is the first girl to be born first since 2030, James,” Winchester said. “I believe there were quiet accusations of sex-selection at the time, although I don't think that anything was proved one way or the other. Now ... the question of succession has been reopened once again.”

  He shook his head. “In many ways, Elizabeth would make a better Queen than Henry would make a King,” he added. “She’s more ... restrained than her younger brother.”

  “And he’s signed himself up with the navy,” James muttered. “And no one knew who he was?”

  “The Academy Commandant knew,” Winchester said. “I don’t believe anyone else knew who he was, not after his features had been altered. But it was still a major risk.”

  James felt an odd quiver of respect. He’d never bothered to change his name; he'd entered the Academy and risen through the ranks as a known scion of the aristocracy. In some cases, it had helped; in others, his superiors had pushed him harder just to check that he’d actually earned his position through merit, rather than being promoted by someone trying to curry favour with the aristocracy. But the Prince had gone into the Academy as just another pilot trainee. Whatever he’d earned, he’d earned it fairly.

  “He deserved it, I guess,” James said. Maybe he should have gone the same route. “But we cannot afford to keep him out of action.”

  “I expect you to keep an eye on him too,” Winchester said. “And I will be expecting regular reports.”

  James sighed, but nodded.

  “I have a question,” he said. “How do you plan to keep this from the media?”

  “We have issued Security Notices to the media, in the event of someone leaking the secret,” Winchester said. “There were some plans to have the Prince move publically through the Academy, but he flatly refused to cooperate. Now ... well, at least we will be able to tell everyone after the fact that the Prince did serve in combat. It isn't ideal, but it’s the only way he would accept.”

  James rolled his eyes. Several decades ago, a Prince had simply walked away from his title, pointing out that the constant media scrutiny and harassment made it impossible to live a decent life. He’d never asked to be a Prince, nor to be a role model. Instead, he’d resigned his position and simply vanished. As far as anyone knew, the media had never tracked him down to his new home. The most likely speculation, he recalled, was that the Prince had gone into the military or survey service and vanished into the ranks. But no one really knew for sure.

  But the Royal Family had barely survived the scandal. The last thing they wanted was a repeat of the same incident. God alone knew where the pieces would fall.

  “I’ll keep an eye on him,” he said. The aristocracy was full of young men of both talent and a firm belief in their own entitlement. James had to admit he’d been one of them. “But I’m not going to take him in hand, uncle.”

  Winchester reached into his jacket and produced a creamy white envelope. “Your orders,” he said, flipping the envelope over to show the stamp on the back. “In the event of real trouble, you are to remove the Prince from active duty and ship him back home to Earth.”

  James narrowed his eyes. “Real trouble?”

  “Anything you think justifies his separation from your ship,” Winchester said. He passed James the envelope. “And good luck.”

  “Thank you,” James said, sourly. “Tell me something, Uncle. Why wasn't the Admiral kept abreast of the planning process?”

  “Too much debate over how we should proceed,” Winchester admitted. “It was decided to keep it restricted until we had a workable plan ready to go.”

  ***

  Hyde Park was surprisingly empty for a hot summer day, Ted discovered, as he walked along the path towards Buckingham Palace. There were only a handful of mothers escorting their children through the park and a couple of hopeful buskers, no one else. By the time he reached the gates of the Palace, he was starting to wonder if someone had evacuated the city or extended the school year.

  He paused outside the gates, looking up at the Palace, then turned his gaze to the monuments erected outside the Palace. One of them listed every serviceman and woman killed in the war against the aliens, headed by the commanding officers of the two British carriers that had been destroyed at New Russia. Another listed casualties from earlier wars, ranging from the First World War to the Second Falklands War and the Mars Dispute. The latter had been surprisingly brutal, but the diplomats had managed to prevent it spilling right out of control. Later, when Terra Nova had been discovered, another war had threatened ... and then the diplomats had agreed to share settlement rights.

  His lips quirked in bitter amusement as he turned and started to walk towards the monorail, then stopped and flagged down an electric taxi. London’s black cabs were traditional, even if they weren't powered by petrol any longer. The cabbie stuck out a head and asked where he was going, then motioned for Ted to climb in the back. Ted settled down into the seat as the taxi hummed into life, heading back towards Heathrow Spaceport. His shuttle was waiting for him there.

  He smiled to himself as he caught sight of a large poster, exhorting the population to KEEP CALM AND CARRY ON. They’d been popular since the dawn of the troubles – the design dated all the way back to the Second World War – but it was rare to see them in such numbers. Another poster reminded the population that loose lips sank ships, although Ted doubted it mattered. As far as anyone had been able to tell, the aliens had never managed to establish a spy ring within humanity’s settled star systems. But it was something Ted would have done, if he’d been on the other side ...

  “Kids these days,” the cabbie muttered, as a line of schoolchildren ran across the road. They were wearing blue uniforms, with trousers or skirts that reached down to their ankles. “They all want to die, I tell you.”

  Ted shrugged. He’d made more than a few speeches at various schools, during his time on Earth, and he had to admit that plenty of kids wanted to join the navy, now there was a war on. But it would be years before the oldest of them could join, unless conscription became a very real possibility. Until then, they would just have to study hard and join the various campaigns to help with the war effort. Most of the campaigns, Ted suspected, were worse than useless

  He smiled. Somehow, he doubted soldiers and spacers in training would appreciate schoolchildren coming to sing while they trained. But knitted clothes would probably be welcome ...

  “There’s a war on,” he said, instead. The government departments responsible for monitoring public sentiment had noted that people were growing less and less inclined to prepare for the future, a future that might be suddenly terminated by the aliens. “They’re just trying to live while they can.”

  Chapter Six

  Kurt scrambled off the train, paused long enough to help an elderly woman who had been chatting to him for the last hour after spying his uniform, then headed down towards the ticket barrier. The ticket inspector took one look at his uniform and waved him through without even bothering to check his ticket, making Kurt smile inwardly. Who would have thought he could avoid paying for a ticket just by wearing his uniform?

  Outside, he looked around for the family car and saw ... nothing. There were dozens of mums and dads and children running around – more than normal, suggesting that those who could avoid it had relocated themselves away from the city – but no sign of his wife. Or of his children and the nanny, for that matter. He hesitated, knowing they could be late, then reached for his terminal and switched it to the civilian network. There was no message from any of them.

  He paused, then tapped their number into the terminal. There was a long pause, then the phone started to ring. It was several minutes before it was picked up, giving Kurt just enough time to worry. He loved his children and his imagination provided far too many unpleasant possibilities that could have happened to them.

  It was Penny, his daughter, who answered. “Hello?”

  “Penny,” Kurt said, relaxing sli
ghtly. “I’m at the train station. Is your mother on the way?”

  “I don’t think so,” Penny said. She sounded surprised to hear from him. “Dad, I didn't even know you were coming home.”

  Kurt felt cold water pouring down his spine. “Well, I am,” he said. He’d sent Molly a message telling her he was coming home for a brief period of leave. “I’ll try to call her, then get a taxi if she doesn't answer.”

  Worried, he tapped in Molly’s number. There was no answer. He hesitated, cold suspicion running through his mind, then switched off the Caller ID and tried again. This time, he received an automated message stating that Molly’s number didn't accept callers without Caller ID. Unsurprised – Molly had been harassed as a younger girl and never quite gotten over it – but annoyed, he turned and started to walk towards the taxis. The cabbie he found chatted aimlessly as they drove out into the suburbs, where his family lived.

  He paid the cabbie and stepped out of the cab, then paused as the door burst open to reveal Penny. She practically ran down the garden path to give him a hug, then remembered she was supposed to be a sulky teenager and let go quickly. Kurt patted her on the back, then inspected her hair. She'd dyed it white and black, creating a striking look that, combined with her clothes, reminded him far too much of some of the girls from Sin City. But at least she still looked fresh-faced.

  “Come on inside,” she urged, quickly. “I put the kettle on.”

  Inside, the house felt almost empty. Kurt couldn't help feeling worried as Penny pottered about making tea, even though it was a great improvement on her behaviour before he’d gone to war. He’d read the reports from the expensive private school – thankfully, his share of the prize money ensured he wouldn't have to take his kids out of school – and noted a very definitive improvement in both her marks and her conduct. Clearly, the new nanny was making a great impression on his daughter. But where was Molly?

  “Percy is at the Combined Cadet Force,” Penny explained, as she put a mug of tea in front of him. “They’re actually talking about forwarding his records to Sandhurst.”

  “He’ll hate that,” Kurt predicted. The last he’d heard, Percy had his heart set on flying starfighters, just like his dad. But competition for slots in the Academy, even now, was still fierce. It would be at least another year before the facilities were significantly expanded, allowing them to take in far more trainees. “But I’m glad to hear he has other prospects.”

  Penny nodded, then sat down facing him. “I was hoping to talk about my own future,” she said. “There’s an offer open for students to go to a French Finishing School.”

  Kurt bit down on a laugh. “I thought you hated French,” he said. “You certainly picked quite enough fights with the teacher.”

  His daughter flushed. “It’s Gayle,” she said. “She actually taught me how to put the words together, rather than telling everyone that ‘the pen of my aunt is in the garden.’”

  “Good for her,” Kurt said. He leaned forward. “And do you think we can afford it?”

  Penny hesitated. “You’re rich,” she said, finally. “And I ...”

  “Money is not to be wasted,” Kurt said, firmly. “And do you need a finishing school?”

  He saw the rebellious look in her eyes and sighed, inwardly. He’d been a moderately successful investment banker, but he’d been nowhere near as wealthy as some of the other parents who sent their kids to private school. Percy and Penny had been confronted by children whose parents could afford to give them vast amounts of pocket money per week, enough to enjoy the latest designer clothes or electronic toys and games. He understood just how badly they resented being poor, at times ... but he wasn't about to waste money, just so they could keep up with their classmates. It helped that he simply didn't have the money.

  “It’s a great opportunity,” Penny muttered.

  “To do what?” Kurt asked. “What do you want to be when you ... get out of school?”

  Penny hesitated. “I keep having different ideas,” she admitted. “I wanted to be a doctor, then a vet, then I thought about trying to study the aliens ... you could get me into a study course, couldn't you?”

  Kurt rather doubted it. “You might be better off with being a doctor,” he said. “There’s always work for doctors.”

  He leaned forward. “I imagine your career advisers have talked to you about the requirements?”

  Penny nodded, sullenly. “They say I may have to retake some exams,” she said. “And that I’ll have to work very hard. But I’m not even sure it’s what I want to do.”

  “That could be a problem,” Kurt agreed, dryly. He smiled at his daughter. “Look, it’s the start of the summer holidays. I’ll have a word with a doctor I know and ask if she’ll let you observe her work for a few days. Or there are emergency clinics that are always keen on volunteer manpower. I don't know how much they’d let you do, but they might let you volunteer for a few weeks. If you like it, I will pay for you to train as a doctor.”

  He paused, significantly. “And if you don’t like it,” he added, “at least you’ll know before you spend five years of study learning the ropes.”

  Penny nodded, again. “Yes, dad,” she said. “But ...”

  She broke off as the door opened, revealing Percy. Kurt came to his feet as his son stepped into the kitchen, dripping mud on the floor. Percy had always been big, but now he had more muscles than Kurt remembered and looked disgustingly healthy. And he looked very good in uniform too. Clearly, Kurt decided, the CCF was doing wonders for his son. Behind Percy, Gayle stepped into the room. The young lady looked surprised to see Kurt.

  “Dad,” Percy said. “I thought you were still on the moon.”

  “I have a couple of days leave,” Kurt said. “And so I thought I’d come see you two.”

  He chatted about nothing with his children for a while, then sent Penny upstairs as Gayle started complaining about the mess on the floor. Percy sighed, then reached for the mop and started to clean up the mud, getting more mud on the floor as he moved. Kurt glowered at him, then told his son to undress and take a shower before he tried to clean the floor. Leaving him alone, he led Gayle into the next room and closed the door firmly behind them.

  “I told Molly I was coming,” he said. He hadn't wanted to talk about his wife with the kids, but he had no such qualms with Gayle. “Where is she?”

  Gayle looked embarrassed. “She went out early this morning,” she said, “leaving me to get the kids off to school. I haven't seen her since.”

  Kurt stared at her. “You’ve been here all day?”

  “I’ve been here for the last six months,” Gayle said. “She gave me a room, a list of chores and a few other duties, then let me get on with it. I've been cooking, cleaning and tutoring the kids.”

  Kurt sucked in his breath. He hadn't realised just how much time Gayle had spent with the kids. Had Molly spent any time with them at all?

  “I'm sorry,” he mumbled. Molly had always wanted to have a live-in maid, but they’d never been able to afford it. She too resented being poorer than most of the families who sent their kids to private school. “I didn’t mean ...”

  “I get paid well,” Gayle assured him. “And I don’t really have a family to live with ...”

  Kurt nodded, told her to make sure Percy did a good job of cleaning up the mess, then walked upstairs and entered his office. Once, he’d worked from home two days a week; now, the room had been left untouched for months. Molly had to have told Gayle to leave it alone, he decided, as he saw the dust lying on top of his desk. Sitting down in front of it, he opened the computer terminal and pressed his thumb against the scanner. A moment later, he was looking at their joint account.

  “Shit,” he breathed. Molly was spending money as if it was going out of fashion. He’d once thought the prize money would last the rest of his life. Now, it was clear that over half of it was gone. But what had she been buying? A check of the spending pattern revealed that she’d spent most of the mon
ey on clothes. “What the hell is she doing?”

  He skimmed through the list of items, wondering just when and where she’d worn a bright silk dress, a set of incredibly expensive pieces of underwear or a bikini that seemed to cost enough to feed the entire family for a week. He’d certainly never seen her in such underwear ... was she having an affair? The thought outraged him for a long chilling moment, then he laughed at himself. How could he possibly complain about her having an affair when he was having an affair?

  But she could have been caught at any time, he thought, dully. What if the kids found out the truth?

  He stared down at the computer, miserably. Their relationship had been falling apart for years, he saw now, long before he’d been taken away. They hadn't had sex in months before he’d been recalled to war, then they’d had sex only once before he'd been reassigned to the Luna Academy. But he’d had sex with Rose more times than he could count. The spice of fucking someone he knew he shouldn't even be thinking of fucking, paired with the certainty of death, had spurred him onwards. Every time he tried to think of Molly, naked and willing, he saw Rose instead.