Ship's Boy Read Online Free PDF Page A

majority the ship was in hard vacuum by then, and what wasn’t didn’t show anything alive, milord’s cabin excepted. Which was just as well, I decided—there was no way I could open the pressure door without letting all the air out again, and I didn’t think milord would survive the stress of another survival-bubble inflation.
    Somehow I found myself floating at James’ side, gazing down at milord. Even as sick as he was, there was a regal, even royal air about him. There were those who claimed that he was a bastard son of His Majesty himself, and perhaps it was true since the House of Marcus had been upgraded to a dukedom. Because the formal investiture hadn’t taken place yet, however, milord was still just a Lord. The king was otherwise childless, people whispered, and if the much-beloved and soon-to-be Duke of Marcus was actually acknowledged as being of the blood royal, well…
    I looked over at James, and suddenly saw him with new eyes.
    He misunderstood me. "I’m so sorry about your father,” he repeated, reaching out to take and squeeze my hand. “Father loved to chat with him—he told me once that his yacht’s engineer was the only person in the universe who spoke to him honestly and told him dirty jokes.” James looked away. “I think he loved him most of all.”
    I felt my own eyes tear up; barring a miracle there was only twenty minutes or so left for any of us by now, though I hadn’t dared say so yet. “And Father loved him back,” I answered. “All of us bunnies do. We appreciate how well we’re treated.”
    Then there was a great coughing and wheezing, and milord’s eyes opened! Instantly James dropped my hand and took up his. “Father!” he cried. “Oh Father! I thought you’d never wake up!”
    Milord reached out with his other arm, and James crawled into bed with him. Then they embraced and wept for a seemingly endless time, as best as the big medbox perched on the old man’s chest allowed. Then he looked up at me. “Did I hear correctly?” he croaked. “Tobias is dead?”
    I nodded. “Everyone is, milord. We’re the only survivors.”
    He closed in eyes in pain. “I’m so terribly sorry,” he replied. Then his eyes hardened again. “Report, son! Starting with the warp failure—I was in touch right up until then.”
    I snapped to attention, which I imagine looks rather silly in free-fall. “Milord!” I began. “At approximately fifteen-hundred Zulu time…” Then I continued with the standard shipboard formula, detailing everything I’d seen, done and learned except for the bit about us re-entering soon. When I came to that part, I looked suggestively towards his son instead. Milord’s eyebrows rose and I knew he’d understood. “James!” he declared when I was finished. “Does that jibe with what you know?”
    “Pretty much,” he answered. Then it was his turn to look away. “Jenkins… He saved our lives, Dad. And died doing it.”
    Milord’s eyes closed in pain. “So many good friends lost,” he muttered. Then he used his arms to lever himself upright, something I supposed he was incapable of in anything but freefall. “I’m thirsty, James. Can you get me a drink of water?”
    “Sure, Dad!” he cried, kicking off the bed and drifting towards the lavatory.
    The moment he was gone, milord turned to me. “What did you hold back?” he demanded.
    I looked down again. “We didn’t achieve orbit, milord. I’d have to look again to be sure, but we have about ten minutes left before uncontrolled re-entry.”
    “No!” Milord whispered, his eyes closing in pain. “Not my youngest son too! Not that way!” Then he opened them again and looked at me. “There’s no hope?”
    I shrugged. “No, milord. Not unless someone attempts a pickup in the middle of a firefight. Besides, the last time I looked practically everything in the sky belonged to the Emperor.”
    Milord nodded. “And the Emperor doesn’t take prisoners—not even noble ones.” He closed