His Majesty's Starship (13 page)

He stopped, remembering where he was, and Gilmore filled in the remainder of the speech: if we’d got this data sooner and not two days out from the Roving. In fact, why hadn’t the king’s people started work on this the moment they had the recording?

“Well, there it is,” the prince said. “That will be all, gentlemen.” They had half-turned to go, when the prince added: “oh, on a ship this size I quite understand that you can’t keep secrets from each other, but there’s no need to mention this in Arm Wild’s presence, eh?”

*

The Roving lay below them and it was everything they had dreamed of. Blue oceans, whispy white clouds, the land a patchwork of shades of green and brown. The polar caps gleamed painfully white.

“I can breath the air from up here,” Samad said, and the others knew what he meant. Most of them hadn’t been on Earth for years – Kirton never at all – but still, those that had could remember the grimy air, the endlessly recycled water ... But here they would have it for free – clean air, clean water, empty open land to run free in.

After negotiation with the current occupants.

That was the variable, Gilmore thought. No one knew anything about the Rusties’ home world. They, too, might have huddled, oppressed masses crying out to come and settle on the Roving. Or, like some governments on Earth, they might want to keep their populations at home and use the Roving’s natural resources to look after them. Turn the world into a giant mine.

What had the Rusties said in their invitation? Something about, if two such similar races carried on separately, sooner or later they would clash. They had to start cooperating now. It had struck Gilmore then, and it still did, as the wisest thing that had been said in this whole affair. Humans and Rusties had to work together for their mutual good, and it would happen on the Roving.

The two words Gilmore had waited so long to hear were spoken by Peter Kirton, now on watch.

“Orbit established.”

“Power down main engine,” Gilmore said. “Disengage navigational controls. Link attitude thrusters to main computer for automatic correction.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

The journey was over: they could no longer be considered to be travelling. Once orbit was established, a whole new set of paradigms took over. No one needed to be on the flight deck any more: the automatics could keep the ship in orbit for as long as there was fuel in the tanks and all that was needed was someone on board at any one time to handle emergencies or call in help.

“All delegation ships.” The voice of a Rustie translator unit sounded from the comms desk. “Welcome to the Roving. Please set your scanners for visual, forward.”

Kirton looked at Gilmore. “Sir?”

“Do it,” Gilmore said. The view on the main display changed to dark sky with just a sliver of the Roving at the bottom right corner.

Silvery specks showed as a cluster in the centre of the display. They approached the fleet with discernible speed.

“Radar?” said Gilmore.

“Ten ships, sir,” Kirton replied. “Approaching fast-”

“A welcoming committee,” said Arm Wild. “I dare say they have chosen to honour you with a fly past, Captain.”

“How thought-” Gilmore said, and didn’t finish.

The flight of Rustie ships – small craft, much smaller than the fleet’s prideship – banked suddenly, swerving to one side, then back again. Then in a flash they were past the ship and off the edge of the picture, but not before they had started a starburst manoeuvre around the fleet.

“Bloody show offs!” exclaimed Julia.

Gilmore looked at the Rustie across the flight deck. “We’re impressed, Arm Wild,” he said. And, silently, he applauded the Rusties. In their inoffensive, polite way they were making it quite clear that for the moment the humans were guests only. Human tech could not have managed that display.

If those Rustie vessels were armed, he thought, we wouldn’t have had a chance against them, torpedoes or not. Prince James, too, seemed thoughtful.

Oh, yes. Clever, clever Rusties. He pushed the thought aside.

“I want everyone in the wardroom,” he said. “Will you join us, Arm Wild?”

“We are now on orbital watch,” he said five minutes later. The full ship’s complement was present: holding this meeting in the wardroom instead of the flight deck was a symbolic act to show that they had indeed arrived. “Number One?”

“Sir.” Hannah Dereshev consulted her aide. “The minimum legal requirement for orbital watch is one human on the ship at all times. However, we’re a military ship in orbit around a new world with a hundred and one unknowns out there, so we will have two people on watch, for a period running from midday to 11:59 and 59 seconds, ship time. Remember our time signal is now coordinated with the Roving day and our 24 hours actually last for 26, so you might find yourself getting unexpectedly tired in the late evening.

“Number one watch is the captain and Ms Coyne. Number two is myself and Mr Nichol; number three is Messrs Loonat and Kirton. It is now 15:48 so the first watch gets a bargain. That watch is you two, Samad, Peter. Subsequent watches run in numerical order.”

“Aye aye, sir,” they said with resigned grins. They knew they had already been chosen by lot.

Hannah went on. “Now, a day is a long time, and it’s even longer here, but the system was chosen so that each of us can have two full days of free time between watches, to do as we will downstairs. The watches aren’t writ in stone and you’re welcome – at your own responsibility – to swap between yourselves. Just let me know any changes, and any problems that you have, well in advance.

“Mr Nichol, Mr Loonat, please ready the landing boat for atmospheric use. Mr Nichol will be taking His Highness and Arm Wild down to the meeting place at 08:00 tomorrow. Crew dismissed.”

Gilmore tapped on the door to the prince’s cabin, bidden by yet another summons.

“Enter.”

Gilmore found the prince gazing at a live view of the Roving on his wallscreen.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” the prince said. “Plantagenet, record this for my personal records, will you?”

“Certainly, sir,” said the AI’s voice. James was already back in his reverie.

“Look at it, Captain,” he said. “Vast spaces, vast natural reserves ... the UK deserves this place.”

“Seven thousand people would rattle about a bit, sir,” Gilmore said.

“Pah,” said the prince. “Do you think we’ll keep it all to ourselves? Of course not. There’s millions, billions on Earth who’ll be queuing up for a chance to come here and start again, and we’ll be in charge of it. We’ll clean up, Captain! Of course, we’ll have to insist that they become UK citizens-”

Gilmore had a sudden, horrible feeling that he knew where this was going.

“A whole new empire,” he said.

“Bigger and better than ever before!” said the prince. “India, the jewel in Queen Victoria’s crown? A pebble, compared with what we’ll make of this place.” He gestured dramatically at the image. “The East India Company? Street traders. Wait until we start issuing shares in the Roving Company-”

“Can I ask what you wanted to see me for, sir?” Gilmore said, more to shut the prince up than anything else. Didn’t he realise the days of empire were gone? You couldn’t have empires nowadays. People were too aware. Too free, and too accustomed to freedom. And those states that did approximate empires, for example the Confederation of South-East Asia, just served as examples of why the idea didn’t work anymore.

Not that there was any chance of the prince’s dreams coming true, Gilmore reminded himself. As if.

“Ah, yes.” The prince pulled himself back into the real world. “Yes, Captain, I’d appreciate your presence with me at the Convocation.”

“Sir, I’m on watch tomorrow,” Gilmore said politely. The Convocation was what the whole mission was about: the Rusties had mentioned it in their invitation. First, the delegates would be given a whirlwind tour of the world so as to finalise their proposals, then they would meet together and present their respective claims to be joint masters of the Roving with the Rusties. Gilmore didn’t have time for that when he had his ship to care for.

The prince looked at him as if he were mad. “Captain, we’re here! We’ve arrived! Nothing’s going to happen in orbit and I need you on the surface. All the others will be there with their hordes of advisers and assistants. Frankly, Captain, you can give me face down there.”

“Sir-”

“There’s two of you on each watch, correct?” the prince said. “And all you have to do is be here – you don’t have to work or anything?”

“Yes-”

“Then it’s settled. Get one of the others to stand in for you.”

“I should stand my watch, sir!” Gilmore snapped.

“What you should do, Captain, is serve the best interests of the United Kingdom, and I say that means accompanying me. This conversation is over.”

The prince made sure it was over by holding the door open, even while Gilmore was trying to think of a final answer. He left the cabin, fighting the urge to kick the wall, and saw Hannah. She had the next-door cabin and she must have overheard. “We’ve got to rearrange the watch already, Number One,” he said coldly.

“Captain, I don’t think this is the first time he’s going to demand your time,” she said. “Either we accept that Julia will be on her own sometimes, and you join your watch when you can, or we’ll be permanently rearranging.”

Gilmore ground his teeth. “I suppose so,” he said. It was small consolation. For the first time the prince was actively interfering with his running of his ship, and he wondered how many more times it would happen and how long it would take them to come to blows.

- 11 -

18 May 2149

The view through the ports cleared as
Ark Royal
’s docking arm moved
Sharman
away, and Gilmore got the first chance to look at his command from the outside since leaving Earth. The voyage had been shorter than many conventional trips across the Sol system but still, after such a distance he felt the ship should show something. Should be somehow battered a bit; dignified but worn, like a sailing ship of old that had just circumnavigated the globe.

Ark Royal
looked just the same as when she had left the dockyard.

He heard the clunk of the docking arm releasing and felt the vibration of the boat’s thrusters; he saw
Ark Royal
’s hull slid by, then the edge of the ring. He switched the display in front of him to a rear view. The ship’s prow moved slowly towards the top of the image and receded as the boat dropped down out of her orbit.

Gilmore’s eyes narrowed as he caught the subtle bulges on either side of the bow, which hadn’t been there the last time he had had this view. Now he knew they were there they seemed to stand out a mile and he wondered how obvious the torpedo attachments looked to anyone who didn’t know the ship’s design.

Another, stronger vibration as the main engines fired and
Ark Royal
moved rapidly off the display. He switched it off. She had looked special. Not changed, but special. Maybe it was all in the mind but she was his command; she had carried him across lightyears to this system and now she was serene and unperturbed in her orbit, waiting for him to return.

He sat back in his seat and fidgeted. His weathersuit was stiff and unfamiliar about him.

“This is
Sharman
, complying,” Nichol said from the cockpit, replying to some unheard flight direction. Then, to his passengers: “atmosphere in two minutes, Captain, your majesty.” He had his back to them and so didn’t see the look of irritation on the prince’s face. Gilmore supposed that of all the faults Nichol could have had, being unable to remember the distinction between ‘highness’ and ‘majesty’ was the least, but clearly the prince thought otherwise.

They flew in from the east, over the Roving’s largest continent: the fleet’s landers travelled in echelons towards their destination on the continent’s western coast, overlooking the Great Strait. Below them was a dark, thick carpet of trees – the rain forests that covered the continent’s eastern cape. They flew over a range of skyscraping mountains and came to a wooded plain that stretched into the distance.

It took another half hour to make the landing. Arm Wild had said that the capital’s name was untranslatable, but because his translator was set simply to say ‘Capital’, that was the name it had acquired among the humans. It was a sizeable community that covered the flood plain and rose up out of the valley of a large river the width of the Mississippi. Gilmore wondered if the Rusties below were standing and looking up at the small alien invasion going on above them.

“Landing in five minutes,” Nichol said. They were approaching Capital’s spaceport, an ugly concrete blot on the green landscape to the north of the city. There was a roar as the verticals took over, supplementing the now meagre lift of the boat’s wings. A whirr as the landing carriage dropped; and, finally, a slight bump as they touched down. The engines quietened from their high whistle to a faint murmur and
Sharman
was rolling forward at walking speed. Then it stopped and the engines died down entirely. They were on the Roving.

Gilmore grunted as he stood up.
Ark Royal
’s ring had gradually been cranked up during the voyage to simulate the Roving’s Earth-plus gravity but still it was an effort.

Nichol appeared from the cockpit, also wincing slightly. “They’re ready for us when we are, sir,” he said.

Gilmore nodded. “Welcome home, Arm Wild,” he said, and cracked the hatch.

It was a bright and sunny in Capital: a spring day for a town with a maritime climate. There was a fresh breeze blowing and Gilmore filled his lungs with sweet air.

Nichol was the last to step down onto the ground and he seemed about to make a chatty remark before finally remembering that he,
Ark Royal
’s most junior crewman, was in the presence of his captain and a prince. Prince James made the remark instead, speaking for all three humans.

“Isn’t it fresh?” he said. “Uncanned, unpolluted ...”

“Our transport,” said Arm Wild, pointing. A small fleet of wheeled vehicles was approaching the landing craft. “How many of you are attending the Convocation?”