Second Born

"Fair enough. Now, we had best return to the Palace and write the contract for those pulse-rifles."

In the coach returning to the Palace, Derica turned to her sister.

"That was some kiss you gave that hooman, Thia. When did you take to walking on the wild side?"

"When Edward treated me the way all the scions treat you, Rikka. He is noble, gentle and gallant. He says he is proud to be seen with me. No one has ever said they wanted to be with me just for me. You know what it's like."

Derica nodded sadly. She pitied her sister. Not only the second born, but so heartlessly plain too? The gods were sometimes cruel indeed. The only scions that had ever paid her younger sister any attention had been out for their own advancement or were predatory-stud types who wanted to bed a princess just to say they had done it, and few enough of either.

"So you are really interested in him? Interested enough for bedsport?"

"For more than that, if he is willing." Hazel eyes met black eyes squarely.

"Father had him researched -- "

"I know. I did the research and wrote the report."

"What did you learn about his personal life?"

"He is the second son of a count and unmated. He had a distinguished career in his planet's navy and retired earlier than might be expected; why, I don't know. The military attaché from his planet respects him, though. Whatever the reason he left the service, it was for nothing dishonorable. He likes to dance, and he's good at it."

"That's little enough to know about a male, much less an alien male, before commencing une affaire de coeur, Thia."

"For me, it's enough that he calls me 'his princess' and means it." She smiled, remembering the night before.

Derica studied her sibling. "I think I had better do some discreet investigating of my own. And I know just whom to ask," she thought.

Chapter 5

Aboard The Peregrine

The pulse-rifle contract was signed and sealed later that afternoon in the King's study. After a celebratory drink, I begged leave to go to the spaceport to begin assembling the fieldpiece for the test.

"It may take a day or two for me to put it together working alone," I said. "I'm going to be doing things that require a gun crew. Even with the equipment in my ship, there will be times when I need more than two hands. That makes it slow work."

"If an extra pair of hands would help, Lord Edward, I would be happy to assist you," said Kinthia innocently. "I've never been aboard a spaceship. I also would like to see that Diana machine you mentioned as we danced."

I looked at the King. "If the Princess could be spared from her duties, I would be grateful for her help, Sire."

The King nodded slowly. "It would be good for morale. The sergeants could hold her up as an example to the bombardiers: 'If the Princess can assemble a gun and she all untrained, then YOU trained gunners can do it too!' It would give them a good spur. By all means, take her." Out of her father's line of vision, Princess Derica hid a smile.

"By your leave, Sire?" King Berit sketched a salute by way of dismissal, reaching for a bell pull. I had no doubt that by the time we reached the drive before the Palace a carriage would be waiting for us.

As Kinthia and her alien left the Palace for the spaceport, Derica went to her apartment in the Royal Wing. Her ladies-in-waiting were in the reception room doing various sorts of handwork while one read to the rest. She waved to them to keep their seats and with a flip of a tendril motioned the reader to join her in her study.

"Casilta, I need you to go to the pied a terre in town and adjust the shades and the shutters." Briefly, she explained how she wanted them arranged. "Wait for me there," she concluded.

"As you wish, Highness." Passing through two doors so as to bypass the reception room, Casilta left on her errand. As senior lady-in-waiting she was a confidante to the Crown Princess, and her eyes and ears into the great houses who waited upon the Court. The two of them had ventured into the city in search of fun and romance dressed as the daughters of prosperous merchants many times. The Heir personally owned an apartment house in a fashionable district through a series of cutouts. She maintained a love nest there that she used for discreet trysts; two other apartments in the building were available to her ladies. Every so often, Casilta was asked to open or close various windows, shutters and curtains, or to put a lamp on a table in a particular room. She knew better than to ask the future sovereign why she wanted these things done, only that they were to be done.

At siesta time Lurwica, better known to her employer as Honey, left the Novalbion Embassy intending to lunch at a quiet restaurant she knew a few blocks away that was favored by Medusans who worked for various off-planet embassies and companies. Her route took her past a certain apartment house. She took note of the position of the windows and shutters and changed her plans for the evening.

That evening she quietly let herself into the apartment with a key. Derica was waiting with a light supper and a bottle of chilled zulac. The Princess poured and they sat in the dining room. After they had sipped it, the Heir came straight to the point.

"I would like you to find out everything you can about Edward Wellesley."

"I can tell you a little now, Highness. He is an old friend of Colonel Andrews, the military attaché at the Embassy. He works for an armaments firm on Novalbion and was an officer in Novalbion's navy. I believe he thinks like a serving officer yet, though he is retired. Hurry asked me to find him an apartment, as he expects to be here for some time attempting to sell munitions to the government. Give me a day or two and I will have a full biography for you."

"I am most interested in his family, why he left the navy and anything you can learn of his character. Also, anything you can learn about his employer."

This was far from the sort of information the Princess usually wanted, but Lurwica had worked for her long enough to know she did not ask for intelligence just for the fun of it. She nodded acceptance of the assignment.

Intelligence work is part investigation, part observation. This time she could do both easily simply by following her inclinations, a situation that seldom occurred.

Hurry answered the knock on his apartment door to find his secretary waiting. They had a comfortable relationship both in and outside the Embassy. It was not unusual for her to stop by unannounced of an evening.

"Good evening, Honey. What brings you here?"

She stepped inside, her hair wrapping around his wrists to pull his arms around her while her hands busied themselves first with the sash of his dressing gown and then with what it concealed.

"I have an itch that only you can scratch, Hurry," she said in a sexy growl before she kissed him. Her tendrils insinuated themselves under the dressing gown to stroke his back as he slipped an arm around her waist. He cupped a breast as they walked to the bedroom.

"I always stand ready to help a lady in distress," he said as he swung the door shut behind them.

After their lovemaking, she lay on his chest with a satisfied smile, her hair feather-touching her lover affectionately. His face and eyes smiled with the smug satisfaction of a male who knows he has pleased the female in his arms.

"You seem to know that salesman who went to the ball, Edward Wellesley, very well. Is he an old friend of yours?" she asked casually. "You've never asked me to aid other Novalbions who have called on you at the Embassy."

"I've known Buc for years, all the way back to the Space Academy."

"Why do you call him 'Buc,' damislik?"

Hurry chuckled as he remembered. "It's a nickname that goes back to his days as a 'young gentleman' in his second year at the Academy.

"Every year the Corps of Midshipmen is divided into two divisions, the Blue and the Gold. They man ships taken from the Ready Reserve Fleet and fight an action using pulse-lasers, guns, missiles, and torpedoes that have only enough oomph to register on the sensors. The computers switch off systems that have been 'damaged' and inform middies and ships that have been 'killed,' that they are out of the game. They record repairs made, reactivate systems at various levels of effectiveness and the like.

"My final year, I was given command of a ship. We were assigned by the Cadet Commodore of the Gold Division to man a scout carrier, mother ship to eight scout ships. I gave Edward command of one of the scouts and he came to me with a novel idea, something that so far as I knew had never been tried before.

"The Blue Force was lurking in the asteroid belt, setting up for a fast inbound strike. He led in four scouts with their systems powered down so they appeared on the screens of the Blue Force flagship, the old battleship Temeraire, as just more metallic core material. The Cadet Commodore commanding the ship ignored the 'asteroids.' Edward, using only his eyes, positioned his scouts and force-docked them to the flagship. His men, reinforced by 30% of my crew, poured out of the scouts and seized Engineering, Life Support and the Emergency Bridge. First they 'killed' the Blues in those spaces, blew emergency hatches to space to make it impossible for the Blue crew to get at them, and 'cut off' life support to the parts of the ship his Gold crew did not control. Next, they cut the circuits to the bridge and routed everything to the Emergency Bridge. From there, Edward jumped Temeraire into hyperspace.

"He kept her out for five days, until the exercise was over. He jumped back into the system half a light-second from the Reserve Fleet's orbit, which scared the Cadet Commodore, the Admiral of the Reserve Fleet, and Novalbion System Control half to death. Without a battleship for the Blues to rally around, the Gold Force had soundly beaten the Blue Force. Edward was awarded the Medal of Merit for the initiative that led to our side winning the battle. I received a Service Medal for my part in the operation, myself. So did the other scout captains.

"When the Commandant of Midshipmen presented the medals, he referred to the exercise as 'Edward Wellesley and his brilliant band of buccaneers boosting a battleship.' To the Service, he has been Buccaneer Wellesley ever since; 'Buc' for short."

"A daring and resourceful male, like you, my sweet." She kissed him and they gently played with each other for a bit. He asked, "Why the interest in my old friend?"

"Oh, a friend of mine saw him at the Ambassadors Ball and wondered about the hooman that was dancing with the Carpenter's Daughter." She laughed and Hurry joined her, goaded by her hair going after his tickle spots. Some jokes transcend cultures.

"He had an interesting career, Buc did. He spent most of the Junker War in the Fleet Reconnaissance Force. Everywhere he went, action followed; he seemed to attract the Junkers and the Alphans like a magnet.

"When he had the Percival, a Knight like the one he'd commanded in that exercise, he detected a Junker convoy in hyperspace, slipped up behind them, jumped out of it with the Junkers as they emerged into the Canis system, salvoed every red tip he had, blasted the hyperdrive engines of the pocket battleship Grafin Ilse guarding the rear of the convoy with his shock-cannon at point-blank range and jumped back into hyper again before they could react. That escapade cost the Junkers dearly; three merchantmen destroyed and two more damaged, and Grafin Ilse's hyperdrive was wrecked. She spent the rest of the war trapped in the Canis system because the Junkers couldn't spare a recovery ship to bring her to a shipyard for engine replacement. Worse than if she'd been destroyed, really; her crew still had to be fed, and Canis is a long way from the Junkers' home system. Her unavailability put a crimp in their battle planning.

"In the destroyer Flamberge, he encountered a neutral Socratic merchantman captured by two Alphan pirate ships. He destroyed them both and force-docked with the freightliner just as the prize crew jumped her into hyperspace. He led his crew in retaking the ship. He got the Cross of Valor, a promotion, and a Socratic decoration for that one. He also was sent to the Naval Staff College on the long course. That's the course you are given only if the Navy believes you'll be an admiral one day. Senior four-stripe captains would kill to get that assignment, and he got it as a newly promoted three-stripe commander.

"I was in command of his Marine Assault Detachment when he was captain of the reconnaissance cruiser David Stirling after he got back to the fleet. We served together for three years, and in those three years I saw more action than I'd seen in all my prior service. Smash-and-grab raids, searches for potential advance bases, once a rescue to get back the survivors of the Mountbatten ... if Command came up with a lunatic mission, we were the ones to whom they gave it. Three years of wondering what in heaven's name the next impossible job would be and how we would accomplish it, and enjoying every minute of it. My Marines and his officers turned down promotions to stay with the ship, which is almost unheard of.

"Traditionally, the Heir serves for a few years in the Royal Navy. The Admiral of the Fleet assigned His Royal Highness to the Stirling instead of to one of the battleships as is the usual practice, because we were where the action was. 'Sublieutenant Prince' spent two years with us, earned his 'crown and crossbones,' was decorated and promoted on Buc's recommendation, and fought to stay with the ship when the Admiralty ordered his transfer to a safe staff job. Rumor had it the King had to personally order his son to take his next assignment -- but thanks to Edward pulling some strings, Princey's new berth was not the safe groundside job the First Space Lord had intended. Instead, he got command of the Knight-class scout Sagramore.

"It took Command about a year to figure out what had happened, what with communications lag. Princey did well with the Sagramore in the year and a half he had her, but Buc's getting her for the Prince didn't win him any friends at the Admiralty!" He chuckled at the memory.

"He must come from an important family to have stayed in the Navy after that. Our king would not be happy at all if someone interfered with his plans for Princess Derica."

"Well, yes and no. He's the second son of the Earl of Islington, who retired from the Army as a lieutenant general. Doughty old blighter, not terribly innovative but with the tenacity of a bulldog once he committed to battle, they say; and loyal to his men. When Novalbion fought the Anatolians 40 years ago, he won a battle against them where he was outnumbered 2 to 1, breaking the back of their army. That battle led to the peace treaty that ended the war, and is taught at the Military Academy and at the Staff College.

"His older brother is still in the Army, a general now. Buc never talked about him much, but after the Gininad operation Robin came to visit while the Stirling was being refitted. He had Robin to dinner aboard and I sat opposite him.

"He's one of those lucky dogs you run across now and then, a golden boy. Everything he tries succeeds. He has never put a foot wrong; he could fall into a latrine and come out smelling like expensive perfume with a handful of flawless rubies to boot. You could hate him if he didn't work at being likeable, as if he knows how he affects lesser mortals.

"According to the rumor mill Viscount Robin is on track to become Chief of the Imperial General Staff some day. He has almost every medal and honor a soldier can earn, even a knighthood for bravery. He'll have the Earldom on top of all that when his father passes on. He's a handsome devil and women flock to him like moths to a candle. Almost everyone he meets likes him. If I were the Buccaneer, I'd hate him; but Edward doesn't seem to. Resents him a bit, perhaps; but he's decided to make his own way and is a success in his new career."

"Edward seems to be something of a golden boy himself. He climbed to captain's rank in 10 years or so, didn't he? And he commanded three ships, which is nothing to sneeze at; and he had your Crown Prince assigned to him specially. So why isn't he still in your Navy, dear George?"

"Politics. He was one of the planners of Operation Mastiff, a critical battle near the end of the Junker War. The Buccaneer is the best hyperspace navigator I have ever met. He's something of a legend in the Royal Navy because he can read the eddies and flows of hyperspace, including the disturbances caused by the passage of another ship, the way most people read print. It was his skill at reading hyper that let him ambush that Junker convoy. It was his skill at navigation coupled with his reading that got the Third Battle Fleet inside the Alphan patrol perimeter before they even knew it was there. That allowed the fleet to smash the Alphan ships and the Junker planetary defense batteries quickly.

"But jumping in so close also allowed the Alphans and the Junkers to smash back before they were beaten. Novalbion won the fight, destroyed most of a combined battle fleet, and took the planet for a base we needed; but we paid a heavy price in ships destroyed and damaged, and in sailors and Marines killed. The opposition party in Parliament and the media thought the butcher's bill was too high for what we got. So did some of the bliffies at the Admiralty.

"Buc took command of the Battle Fleet after the fleet commander, Admiral Lawrence, bought the farm. He also took command of the flagship because all her senior officers were killed, even though the same missile that killed the Admiral, the battle staff, and the ship's officers had wounded him. He was the only member of the command group to live through the battle. That meant he was the one to get the credit ... and also the blame. The Crown wouldn't allow the Admiralty to court-martial him, but the Palace couldn't stop the First Space Lord from ordering his medical retirement. He wasn't unfit, but the loyal opposition demanded a scapegoat for what they called a Pyrrhic victory. Edward Wellesley was it."

Honey shuddered and snuggled closer. "Poor man. To succeed and yet be labeled a failure? That is harsh and unfair to him." To her surprise, her eyes were damp with unshed tears. Her lover obviously thought his friend had been hard done by.

"Let's not talk about it any more," she whispered. Rubbing against him and caressing his erogenous zones with her tendrils of hair, she urged Hurry to forget Novalbion politics by losing himself in her lush body.

Kinthia didn't say much on the way to the port. The driver took us straight to the Peregrine. I handed her down and she spoke to the driver.

"Return to the Palace, if you please. We'll make our own arrangements to get back. What we have to do will take some time. There is no reason for you to wait when I am sure you have other things to do."

I could tell the driver didn't like this; but I'd been on a number of worlds where governments employed chauffeurs to ferry officers and visiting executives. I reached up to him and took his hand.

"It's a warm day today. Take your time going back so as not to overtire your beasts. Stop and see they are watered and fed, perhaps." When I let go of his hand, a bezant remained in his palm. He touched his whip to his cap brim and shook up his reins. I suspected he'd arrive back at the Palace later rather than sooner. Kinthia eyed me with a new respect.