His Majesty's Starship Read Online Free PDF Page B

woman came in carrying a tea tray and Gilmore was trying to place her – not any of the senior politicians, not a member of the Fleet – when it finally dawned on him that she was here purely to serve the tea. After that he couldn’t take his eyes off her: he couldn’t believe that in somewhere like UK-1, where everyone paid their way, there were people whose sole function was to pour tea.
    “So, do you like my kingdom?” the king asked. He did lower himself to passing the cups himself once the servant had gone. They sat in chairs side by side and looked out at his realm. Prince James sat opposite them and drank silently, rarely taking his eyes off Gilmore.
    Gilmore wondered why the king seemed so anxious to get his approval. He was like a small child, constantly drawing attention to his new toy. “It’s a grand achievement,” he said. “It’s been something to look forward to at the end of each voyage.”
    “I’m glad. I enjoy it too, you know. More than I would if I still had my ancestral throne, I suspect. I have a kingdom of seven thousand four hundred and thirty seven subjects, which is quite a comfortable size to rule. Of course, everyone thinks I’m mad. You think I’m mad.”
    “Not anymore.”
    “Really? How kind.” The king sipped his tea. “And if you don’t think I’m mad anymore, what do you think?”
    “I think you know exactly what you’re doing.”
    The king beamed. “Then we’ll get to business. I heard about your last mission, by the way – that run-in with the scuttler. Shame it ended that way.”
    “Yes,” Gilmore said. An enquiry had been held while
Australasia
was on its homeward voyage and he had been cleared of all blame, which still didn’t make it easy. Lives had been lost, and wouldn’t have been if he had just left things alone.
    And neglected your job. He was used to having the two halves of his intellect slug out the different sides of an argument, and he was able to relegate it to the back of his mind while he listened to the king.
    “But that stunt you pulled to make it back off – that was inspired, Commander. And not the first time you’ve pulled something that isn’t in any of the books.”
    “Maybe I should write a book,” Gilmore said.
    The king chuckled as he pulled out an aide and flipped it on. “Maybe. And I heard about the torpedo, of course. Is your ship okay?”
    “Our radiation shielding held up, so no crew exposure. The ship was blinded for a couple of minutes but that was all. No blast damage.”
    “Excellent,” the king said. Even nuclear weapons weren’t that effective in space, with no air to carry the shockwave of the explosion: heat and radiation were the killers, and they were dissipated over space distances. But they were good enough to hold an enemy at bay, which was what the scuttler had been doing. “You know, there’s a lot of theoretical work going on about space warfare. Fascinating stuff. Nuclear weapons for long range combat, lasers and solid objects for close quarters. Early days yet, of course.”
    “So far,” Gilmore said. He couldn’t help thinking that if even scuttlers now had access to weaponry, it was more than early days.
    The king changed the subject.
    “Now, let’s see.” His eyes scanned the display as he spoke. “You’ve commanded the
Australasia
for three years, doing sweep duty. Prior to that you were chief executive officer on the
Oceania
, which was your first job in the Royal Space Fleet. My spies report that you run a happy ship and none of your crew members ever have any complaints about you. You’ve worked for the Fleet for seven years in all.”
    Gilmore sipped his tea, saying nothing.
    “
Oceania
was your first job for us,” the king said. “Before that, you were with the Starward Space Company, on the Solar Sailor.” The king still smiled, but the cheer had left his eyes. This wasn’t quite an interrogation, Gilmore thought, but it was damn similar.
    “Correct,” he said