Free His Majesty's Starship by Ben Jeapes Page B

minutes.”
    “Very good,” Gilmore said again, careful not to grin too. And it was – very good.
    “I resented your tone on the flight deck, Captain,” said Prince James in the privacy of his cabin. The prince had asked Gilmore to see him as soon as he handed over to Hannah and the starboard watch.
    Gilmore kept his voice low and calm, only hinting at his anger. “That is nothing,” he said, “next to my resentment of your assumption that you are excluded from shipboard procedure. You’re a prince and I’m just a lowly captain, but the laws of physics apply just as much to you as to me.”
    “But-”
    “Shut up,” Gilmore said. “I’ve been on ships when the boost has come on a fraction later than expected, or a fraction earlier, or not at all. It’s never happened with Samad on the engines, but it might still, through no fault of his own. I’ve seen people break limbs because they weren’t tied down, even at a very slight boost. But even that’s not important. What is important is that my crew are qualified professionals and if you are told to do something by any one of them, you damn well do it.”
    The prince’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll remember your insolence, Captain.”
    “Oh, for ...” Gilmore groaned. “You can’t really be this stupid, can you? The king’s too intelligent to let you be like this. For Christ’s sake, you’re going to take over his kingdom one day.”
    The prince bristled. “Do not take that tone with me, Captain.”
    “Then don’t deserve it, prince,” Gilmore said.
    James glared at him for a moment longer. Then: “I apologise, and I undertake to obey all instructions given by your trained professionals. That will be all, Captain.”
    And Gilmore found himself outside the prince’s door once more. He had a feeling he had probably called the prince’s bluff, on something. He also felt the prince hadn’t wanted it called.
    Just another month and then he’s out of my hands, he thought. God give me patience.
    *
    Samad Loonat sat at his station above the blast bulkhead in the drive compartment of HMSS
Ark Royal
. Metres away below him, a successive stream of fusion explosions was propelling the ship on its course; he paid it as much attention as he would rain the other side of a window pane.
    He paid far more attention to what was on his display. He frowned at it and shook his head. “Not possible,” he murmured. He ran the calculations again. Then he tapped his comm panel and called up to the flight deck.
    “Ade, I’m sending some figures to your station. Run them and tell me your results.”
    “Aye aye, sir.”
    Adrian Nichol took a minute to finish and communicate the figures to Samad. His tone told Samad that the discrepancy had been spotted.
    “Thanks,” Samad said. “Is the captain on the flight deck?”
    “Not at present. I think he’s in his cabin, getting some shuteye.”
    “Poor captain,” Samad said.
    “Captain, we’re forty tons over mass,” Samad said without preliminary. Michael Gilmore blinked, still a bit sleepy. His expression as he stepped off the lift had indicated that this had better be more than a misplaced decimal point. Samad hadn’t disappointed him.
    “What?” he said.
    “I’ve been running the same figures over and again, ever since we left L5,” Samad said. “They were all consistent until-”
    “Yes?” Gilmore said.
    “-until we docked with
Britannia
and picked up the prince,” Samad said.
    “Ah,” Gilmore said. Samad was flattered his captain didn’t ask him to check the figures again. He knew Samad would have checked them into the ground.
Ark Royal
could not be forty tons over mass ... but it was. “How does it affect fuel consumption?” Gilmore said.
    “We have enough to get us there. Not enough for the return trip unless we refuel.”
    They looked at each other.
    “I’m thinking,” Samad said, “of all the racket when we docked and undocked-”
    Gilmore winced. “But
Britannia
would have alerted us if