“Yes,” he said. “But how?”
The alien strode over to the bulkhead and pressed one leathery hand against the metal, pulling it away to reveal a hidden compartment. Henry was unwillingly impressed. There were secret compartments and passageways throughout Buckingham Palace — he and Elizabeth had made a game of finding them — but he hadn’t had the slightest idea the compartment was there. Inside, there was a human communication system that looked several years out of date.
They must have taken it from Heinlein, he thought. Or from Vera Cruz.
“You’d better get out of the pickup,” he said to Jill. “School kids are going to be watching this moment for centuries to come.”
Jill snorted, but obeyed. Henry adjusted his position so the camera was pointed at his face, then keyed the switch. There was a long pause, then he saw a response. Admiral Smith’s face was staring back at him. He looked as though he’d seen a ghost.
He must have thought I was dead, Henry thought, ruefully. It was vanishingly rare for anyone to survive a starfighter accident, let alone a direct hit. There wouldn’t have been any time, he suspected, to puzzle through the records and determine what had happened to his starfighter. They would have concluded he’d been killed by the aliens…
“Admiral,” he said. He couldn’t resist. “Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.”
Ted had known the aliens had taken prisoners. Ark Royal had rescued a number of them at Alien-1, drugged victims of the alien attacks on various colonies. But he’d never dared hope that Prince Henry had been taken prisoner. The reports had stated his plasma chambers had lost containment. Even if he’d survived that, he would be stranded in interstellar space, well away from any hope of rescue.
But the aliens had picked him up.
“So it would seem,” Ted said, feeling his heartbeat slowly returning to normal. Reports of Prince Henry’s death had definitely been greatly exaggerated. He cast a look at Janelle, who seemed to have paled alarmingly. It had to be worse for her. “Are you safe?”
“Everything is just peachy,” Prince Henry said. “We’re both safe and well, sir, but I have a vitally important report to make to you. This whole war is a mistake.”
Just peachy, Ted thought. The old code for starfighter pilots, informing their superiors that they weren’t under any form of duress. Although that, he knew, might well mean nothing when the aliens were involved. They’d have plenty of opportunity to experiment with brainwashing humans.
“I’m glad to see you alive,” he said, sincerely. There would be time to evaluate his claim the war had been a mistake afterwards. “How do your… new friends wish to proceed.”
He recoiled slightly as an alien stepped into the pickup’s range. It was far from the first time he’d seen an alien, but he couldn’t help thinking that this one was far more dangerous than the captives — or the dead bodies that had been fished out of the wreckage, months ago. Up close, it seemed to be breathing heavily… and it was floating. There was no gravity in the alien ship.
Is that how they produce better drives? He asked himself. They don’t bother with internal gravity?
“Send. Shuttle.” The alien said. The voice was atonal. Clearly, Polly MacDonald hadn’t been the only one trying to break the communications barrier. “We. Will. Come.”
“We’re picking up a set of images,” Janelle said. Her voice had steadied, somehow. “They’re showing us where to dock the shuttle.”
Ted looked at the diagrams, then nodded. “Tell the shuttle to launch, but remind the Marines to use full biohazard protocols,” he ordered. He looked back at the screen. “…Henry, you will have to be checked thoroughly, as will your guests. Can you explain it to them?”
“I can try,” Henry said. He had shown no visible reaction to hearing Janelle’s voice. “I understand protocols, sir. I’ll try to explain it to them.”
“Good,” Ted said. “The shuttle will be with you in” — he glanced at the display — “ten minutes. I look forward to seeing you again.”
But it won’t stop us poking and prodding at you until we’re sure you’re not under outside influence, he thought as the channel closed. And we may never be entirely sure…
He looked over at Janelle. “You can’t see Henry until the doctors have checked him thoroughly,” he said. “But you can watch, if you like, and meet him afterwards. I think you both deserve a chance to meet and talk.”
Janelle looked at him doubtfully. “But what if he doesn’t…”
She broke off. Ted snorted, inwardly. The CIC of a carrier in the middle of a hostile star system was no place for a discussion about someone’s relationship. There was quite enough of that already. But she deserved something more.
“I think you’d be best finding out now,” Ted said, quietly. He understood. Janelle had been shocked, badly, to learn who Charles Augustus really was. It had ruined her life and damaged her prospects without the consolation of having him in her life. And now… Ted knew he wouldn’t have been so concerned if it had been anyone else dating her. “And then you will know.”
“Yes, sir,” Janelle said. “And thank you.”
Ted watched her leave the compartment, then keyed his console. “Captain, we will need to put some distance between ourselves and Target One,” he said. “Plan out a course through Tramline Four as soon as possible.”
“Aye, sir,” Fitzwilliam said.
Henry wasn’t sure what he’d expected from Ark Royal. He hadn’t expected a heavily-modified Marine shuttle, let alone armoured marines who had invited the two humans and seven aliens into the shuttle in a manner that could hardly be considered diplomatic. The aliens seemed to take it in their stride, but Henry was annoyed and Jill seemed openly worried. What if the aliens decided to be insulted later?
But they showed no sign of reaction as the shuttle powered its way back towards the carrier, even when the Marines started scanning them for unpleasant surprises. The small bags of equipment the aliens had brought with them were inspected carefully, with each of them checked thoroughly before being returned to the aliens. None of it seemed dangerous, Henry decided, although the Marines appeared doubtful. But they were unwilling to cause a diplomatic incident by confiscating it.
His tension grew as they approached the carrier, only to be directed to an airlock instead of the shuttlebay. The Marines watched them carefully as the hatch sealed, then pointed towards the airlock. Outside, there were a small team of medical officers in biohazard gear, eying them warily. A pair of trolleys were already waiting for them.
“Go to the docs,” the Marines ordered. “We’ll take care of the aliens.”
“Don’t say please and thank you,” Henry said. “Be blunt — and keep them together.”
The Marine nodded. Henry nodded back, then climbed onto one of the stretchers. Jill climbed onto the other one and lay down, allowing the medics to push them into the biohazard room. Henry sighed inwardly as the doctors started taking blood samples, washing their skin with various chemicals and poking and prodding everywhere. It felt worse than the medical exam he’d undergone during basic training, what felt like years ago. The pilots had joked it was an endurance test rather than a genuine medical inspection.