His Majesty's Starship by Ben Jeapes Read Free Book Online Page A

related to the internal security of the Royal Space Fleet, and in that regard you, Mr Loonat, are under arrest.” His hand darted out and grabbed the aide, switching it off as he flipped it shut. “And under such terms,” he added with a smirk, “I’m also allowed to impound your aide.”
    *
    Gilmore sat in his apartment in ‘C’ wheel, the crystal chips that held the files of
Australasia
’s crew on the table in front of him. Three positions filled: three to fill. Who to give them to? A lot of choice-
    He had Hannah and he had Samad, as he and the king had known he would. They all knew it had been a cheek, a major cheek, for Gilmore to ask a just-qualified captain if she wouldn’t mind remaining a first officer for a bit longer, but ...
    When Gilmore had transferred to the Royal Space Fleet, one step ahead of burn-out, severe depression and a breakdown, it had been Hannah who in her quiet and efficient way had helped him get a crew and ship into shape, and in the process helped rebuild his own esteem. He needed her.
    “A personal message,” said his apartment’s resident AI. Its voice was female, which was simply the voice it had had when it came from the shop. Gilmore had never seen the point of pretending AIs were people: a human was a human and a speck of crystal was a speck of crystal, so why try to compare the two?
    Ships had their own personalities, of course, but then, a ship was a ship.
    “Show it,” he said, and a life size image of the sender, a young man, appeared just next to a holo on the mantelpiece of the same person, taken a few years earlier as a boy and grinning happily at the camera. A delighted Gilmore knew the young man’s age to be 17 years and ten months. Well, well, he thought.
    “Hi, Dad,” the image said. “Joel. You know, your ... um ... son?”
    Gilmore winced. The question was not unreasonable.
    “Well, I passed out, Dad. Um ... nothing great. Grade blue.” Joel grinned and it was exactly the same grin as the boy on the mantelpiece. It robbed him in a moment of his carefully acquired adulthood. “Sounds familiar. Must be in the genes, hey? Anyway, I’m now a fully qualified Middie and it seems ... well, the one line recruiting like mad right now is the RSF, and they’ve taken me. So I’m off to UK-1 in a fortnight’s time, ETA April 11th.”
    Gilmore shut his eyes and groaned. He was to leave UK-1 on the eighth.
    Joel shuffled, as if uncertain what to say, then suddenly grew more confident. “Um ... I know you’ve always said the RSF is a dead-end line, and believe me it’s not quite what I had in mind, but ... well, like I said, they’re recruiting and I’ve got to start somewhere.” The grin again. “’Course, that’s not what I told recruitment. They think it’s my life’s ambition to work for the Fleet.”
    You think, Gilmore thought.
    Now the awkwardness was back.
    “Um ... ah ... Dad, when I registered, I had to decide what I was going to call myself from now on. Um ... I ... I decided on Gilmore, if you don’t mind.” Joel blinked bashfully at the camera. “So I’m Mr Midshipman Gilmore,” he said, as if he could scarcely believe it himself. “And I’m going to be King Richard’s loyal subject too. Well, um ... I thought I’d let you know I’m coming. I’ll tell you my news when we see each other. If we see each other. I mean, you might be off-station all the time I’m there ... anyway, we’ll catch up, Dad. Bye.”
    The image froze and Gilmore stared at it, drinking in the latest picture of his son. Joel’s mother – and his father – had thought she was marrying a dynamic, up-and-coming young spacer. It hadn’t worked. Joel had been a toddler when the inevitable happened and Gilmore hadn’t had the heart to take him away from his mother.
    When Gilmore had moved to UK-1, contact had become even rarer.
    “House, record reply,” he said. “Audio and video.”
    “Recording,” said House. Gilmore cleared his throat.
    “Ah ... Joel.