Princess in the Tower Gold

[reliarobot]

"Prince of Denmark, this is Rainier Control, sending flight pattern."

"Roger that, Control. How's my princess today?"

The woman in the control tower quirked her eyebrow. "Keep the nicknames to yourself, Prince."

"Ouch! Rejected again by the ice queen!" Jeered another voice on the comm, before it got squelched by Control. Before she could do anything else, another voice piped up - this time, from behind her.

"Mommy! Mommy! Can I talk to Prince? She's so nice, I wanna say hi!"

Eria Lovelace - ice queen of Rainier Station, tower control, and iron fist of the flight paths - smiled at her daughter. "Okay, honey. Just like I taught you, okay?"

Ira Lovelace nodded seriously, her young face solemn and still a little sticky from the candy she'd been eating. She jumped up into the empty control chair beside her mother, put on the headset, and flicked the comm channel to private. "Prince of Denmark, this is Tower Control with an important message: Hiiiiii!! Did you miss me? Did you bring anything back for me? Huh? Huh??"

Laughter echoed over the private comms channel. "Good to hear your voice, princess! I bring for you the finest of chocolates and oat creams."

"Yayyy!! You're the best, Prince!"

Eria smiled as she watched her daughter chatter with the captain of the Prince, then focused on the flight manifest it had filed, and the time dilation it would entail. She sighed quietly, not breaking the flow of her daughter's comments. If she seemed more withdrawn in her interactions with the other vessels, well... she was the ice queen, after all.

---

Ira Lovelace sat in the control tower seat, her hair starting to go grey. Another day of directing space traffic was nearly at its end. She tapped the comm of the last ship in the queue. "Rainier Control to incoming vessel, state your identification and transmit docking requirements."

"Rainier Control, this is the Prince of Denmark, requirements transmitting."

Ira's brows drew together, and her tongue stuck out between her dark lips. Her finger hovered over the transmit button. Before she could press it, the Prince transmitted again.

"How's my princess today?"

Ira's eyebrow quirked, but she couldn't help a small smile starting at the corner of her mouth. "Keep the nicknames to yourself, Prince," she found herself saying, smile widening as she said it. She squelched an incoming comm before it could clutter her radiowaves. She transmitted a flight plan, and docking coordinates, and a single line of text - welcome home, Prince.

The captain of the Prince sent her back one response - I bring for you the finest of chocolates and oat creams.

Smile even wider now, Ira logged out of her console and handed off primary comms to her replacement before following ancient muscle memory to a fondly remembered dock.