Sven

Onkel Michael was my father's best friend, his Academy roommate. I grew up with him coming to dinner, telling stories and teaching me the first basics of being a Garrison officer. He was a navigator himself when I was little, was the first one to show me the stars, gave me the thirst for exploration that has put me where I am.

But it is not Onkel Michael I am on my way to face now. It is Space Marshal Graham, my ultimate superior, and I come with an intergalactic scandal that could end my career before it begins. But I see no other alternative. Romelle is terrified of being sent back to marry Prince Lotor, and of losing me. She clings to my arm as we make our way through San Francisco, and I can feel her trembling as we take our seats on the hovertram. "Relax, kjaereste," I whisper to her, ignoring protocol to slip my arms around her and pull her into my lap. "I am here, you are safe, and I vill not let anything happen to you, I swear it."

She looks up at me with those lost blue eyes. "I don't want you to get hurt, Sven. Or get in trouble because of me. Maybe . . . maybe I should go with Father and Avok."

"Here, now... none of that." I cup her face in one hand. "Ve talked about dis, remember? Vhat I do is my own choice. And I choose to help you, to protect you, because I love you and vant you vit me." She gives me a ragged smile, and I lean down to kiss her. "It vill be all right, belief me." She seems reassured by that, and we ride the rest of the way to the Academy in silence.

ROMELLE

I don't want to lose him, I don't want to leave him, but. . .I don't want him hurt either. And if I stay with him. . . Goddess, Father will kill him for "defiling" me. I don't want to think about what Lotor would do to him. . . no, I can't let that happen! Away, I have to get away, keep him safe. . . .

A strong pair of arms around my waist pull me against a broad chest, a whiff of cologne intrudes on my internal panic. "It's all right, Romelle," Sven whispers, and my panic finally breaks. "Calm down; I can feel your heart pounding. You're safe, remember?"

"But you aren't," I whimper into his chest, feeling his strong heart beat against my cheek. "Sven, please. . . Father will kill you for touching me, and Lotor. . ." I can't even finish the sentence, I'm shaking so hard.

A finger comes up beneath my chin, tipping my face up to look into Sven's gentle gaze. "I can take care of myself, kjaereste. I vill not allow you to be abused to spare my own life. I cannot." Our vehicle has stopped; Keith and Lance step out ahead of us. Between them and Sven, I am very effectively hidden from view. Sven offers his arm, formal as any of my father's courtiers, and I take it, knowing it is all he can offer in uniform at his Academy. He tucks my hand tighter into his elbow and gives it a brief squeeze. "Remember I love you, and I will do whatever is needed to keep you safe. So vill Keit und Lance." The other two turn and grin at me when Sven says their names, and I have to giggle. Lance tosses me a goofy salute, then turns around just in time to give the real thing to a passing officer. All too soon, we're in an elaborate office, waiting for an older man to notice us.

SVEN

Onkel Michael is on a COM call when we enter his office, one that (a) is apparently about Romelle, and (b) is not going well. All we can do is stand at rigid attention, pretending as hard as we can that we hear nothing, until he ends the call and glares at me. "I don't have time for social visits, Commander Holgersson," he snaps. Not a good sign; no one here but us, and he always calls me Sven in private. "State your business, so I can get back to trying to find this damned princess before Pollux declares war on the Alliance."

Faen. . .I did not know it had gotten that bad already. I can feel Romelle shaking between me and Lance, but before I can say anything, she's stepping forward, her head held high like the princess she is. "You can stop looking, Marshal," she says calmly, though I can see her lips trembling. "I am Princess Romelle, and I formally request asylum from the Galaxy Alliance."

The look Onkel Michael fixes the three of us with could cut diamonds. "Captain Kogane. . .explain, briefly, just how you three got involved in this?" I hear Keith gulp, but he calmly gives an abbreviated version of the story I told him and Lance this morning. "I see. . . .and why did you not report in immediately? King Coba is very anxious to get his daughter back; she is loved and missed on Pollux, and her fiancé is eager to see her."

Wrong thing to say. . . Romelle goes white beside me, and I just manage to catch her before she hits the ground. Without asking permission, I carry her over to the office couch and settle with her in my lap, rubbing her back and talking to her softly. As she starts to revive, I look up at Onkel Michael. "Sir, vit all due respect . . . King Coba and Prince Avok have never been anyting but abusive to her. I did not vant to send her back to dat if I could help it. Und de fiancé dat is 'eager to see her'? Dat vould be Prince Lotor of de Nint Kingdom."

"Are you sure?" Onkel slowly drops into his desk chair, eyes never leaving me and Romelle. "That's quite an accusation. What evidence do you have?"

"For starters, sir, we've all been trained in observation, and in the signs of emotional trauma." Lance speaks up for the first time. "Romelle shows all the classic signs we were taught to look for, and I really don't think she would've run away if her life was all sunshine and roses. As for the engagement . . . why would she lie?"

"Please, sir," Romelle says softly, looking down at the floor. "It's true, all of it. Please help me."

Michael looks at her, then me. "And just what do you propose? You four came in here like you had a plan."

"Let her stay with us, at least for now," Keith answers. "She trusts Sven, she's coming to trust Lance and me, and we're more than capable of handling any threats."

"You three are scheduled to deploy with Lieutenants Stoker and Garrett in three weeks," is the answer, with a shake of Onkel's shaggy head. "Your mission is too important; we have to come up with a more viable option."

Romelle's shaking against me now, and I realize I'm going to have to get drastic. "Sir, this IS the only viable option. As Keit said, ve are de only vons Romelle trusts. Besides. . ." I swallow hard, knowing what I have to say next is not going to go over well with anyone in the room. "Romelle and I vere. . . intimate last night. I. . .got caught up in de moment, und I did not tink to use protection." Romelle stiffens in my arms, then buries her face in my tunic. "She could very vell be carrying my child right now."

"That is the stupidest thing I've ever known you to do, Sven," the marshal growls. I cannot argue with him; I completely lost my head the minute I saw Romelle last night. "What are your plans to resolve this diplomatic nightmare you've dropped in my lap?"

My arms tighten around Romelle as I answer, "I feel as tough I haf known Romelle all my life, und I love her, very much. If she vill haf me, I vant to marry her. Den. . . if she cannot stay vit me vhen ve deploy, I vill take her home to stay vit my mother until I can send for her."

"Please don't talk about me like I'm not sitting here," Romelle says, so softly I can barely hear her, then she sits up. "Marshal Graham. . . please, I want to stay with Sven, but. . .not if it puts his life or his career in danger. I won't do that to him."

"Oh, his career's in no danger, Highness," Onkel answers, startled. "It's been obvious how you feel about each other since you walked in here; I'm not in the habit of getting rid of my best pilots for falling in love. And believe me, Sven is more than a match for anything that gets thrown at him."

"You know. . ." Lance says slowly, clearly thinking out loud, "If you can get our. . . contact to agree to it, coming on our mission might be the safest thing for Romelle. No one would know to look for her with us, and we can easily protect her."

Onkel nods slowly. "You make a valid point, McClain. . . I will speak to your contact, I suspect there will be no problem. You three. . .I want you out of New Francisco until the summit is over. Take Romelle to Norway; Anna will murder all three of you if Sven marries someone she hasn't met."

My shudders are mirrored by Keith and Lance. "Gods forbid. . . thank you, Marshal. . . you won't regret this." The three of us salute sharply; when Onkel returns it, I give Romelle my arm and we head for home.