She wondered if she should take Coalson at his word. Surely being raised by such a man as Daviel Coalson couldn’t have been easy for Edmon — but neither could she accept a man would look on his father’s death so calmly.
Or perhaps I’m prejudiced against the Coalsons for what they’ve done. For Grandmother and my parents.
Before she’d spaced him — the reason she’d spaced him — Daviel Coalson had told her the truth. That it was his father Rashae who’d purposefully had the colony’s only air transport damaged the night of her father’s birth, resulting in her grandmother’s death, then Daviel himself who’d driven that same transport at her parent’s buggy, driving them off the road to their own deaths years later.
Truth to tell, she wished she could truly kill the man twice. A dozen times. A thousand, and Rashae Coalson along with him, for what they’d done to her family.
But other than being rude and callow, Edmon had done nothing to her. Perhaps he truly was different. On the other hand, could anyone good ever truly come out of so vile a family?
She looked over at Villar to find him staring at her in shock, and realized what he must be thinking of her answer.
Alexis shrugged.
“The first time didn’t take.”
Twenty-Four
12 November, aboard HMS Nightingale, darkspace, near the Dalthus System shoals
“Beat to quarters, Mister Ousley.”
Alexis kept her eyes on the navigation plot, though she could see the quarterdeck crew’s reaction in the corner of her eyes. No doubt they were all tired after the long, tack upon tack journey out of the Dalthus system. The system winds were particularly strong, blowing directly into its center, and it had taken several long days of calling all hands to the sails before they reached the system periphery and more variable winds — too many days, which should have been fewer if the crew weren’t so terribly apt at throwing the sails and rigging into disarray at the most inopportune moments.
For Alexis’ part, she was oddly happy to be back aboard Nightingale and leaving home again. It had been nice to visit, but she’d felt strangely out of place.
“Sir?”
“You heard me, Mister Ousley. Beat to quarters. We shall exercise the guns, now that we’re in more favorable winds and can keep a steady course for a time.”
“Aye, sir.”
Villar edged closer and spoke quietly, “The men are likely tired, sir.”
Alexis nodded. “Aye. And they’ll be tired some day when an enemy appears after we’ve fought the winds for days, or after a darkspace storm. I’d rather, when that day comes, they were tired than dead, and imagine they would as well. So we’ll exercise the guns, tired or no, until their performance is sufficient. For I assure you, Mister Villar, the least of those few enemies I’ve encountered in my short Naval career would make still shorter work of Nightingale in her current state.”
“Aye, sir.”
The sound of the call to quarters echoed from the ship’s speakers while they’d been talking. Alexis nodded to Isom, who arrived with her vacsuit held out for her, already in his own, and started changing. At least the quarterdeck crews seemed to have become more used to her and her ways, as they showed little reaction to her, concentrating on donning their own vacsuits instead.
Once her vacsuit was on, she watched the video feeds on the navigation plot, gauging the state of the guns and preparation for action against the timer running along the plot’s edge. Tired though they were, the crew was on its way to at least meeting their best time for bringing the ship to action, perhaps even bettering it, and that gave Alexis some optimism.
The shot garlands lining the center of the gundeck, really Nightingale’s only deck, were all full, gleaming with the charged canisters which held the capacitors and lasing tubes. The guns themselves were well back from the still closed ports, but ready to be run out as soon as those ports were opened. The crews on the guns were in their vacsuits, helmets donned and waiting for the deck to be de-aired.
All in all, Alexis thought it might be her crew’s best performance to date …
Right up until the moment there was a call for the bosun over the suit radios, a minute’s pause, then Ousley’s voice raised in a string of curses that shocked even Alexis.
“Belay vacuum!” Ousley yelled when his outburst was done. “Belay vacuum and keep the ship sealed! And you, damn your eyes, on your feet and come with me to the captain!”
“Why?”
Alexis buried her face in her hands as she awaited the answer to her question. The vacsuit gloves were rough on her face, but she rubbed her forehead anyway — she felt the distinct onset of a headache beginning there. A physical one to match the metaphorical standing on the other side of her desk flanked by Ousley and Corporal Brace, both of whom looked, by turns, furious and chagrined.
She raised her eyes, skewering Thomas Nabb with what she hoped was a piercing gaze.
Unfortunately, the man — boy, perhaps, as she didn’t rightly know his age — returned her gaze calmly, appearing not the least unsettled by her or the two older men who flanked him.
“Answer the captain!” Ousley barked, cuffing Nabb on the back of the head.
Nabb showed no outward sign of emotion at the blow.
“Followin’ my da’, miss,” he said, calmly.
Alexis sighed, was the boy that dense that he didn’t understand his father was halfway across settled space, in Hso-Hsi or farther?
“Nabb,” Alexis said, “your father’s not aboard this ship, nor even in the Royal Navy any longer, do you understand that? You’ll not find him this way.”
Nabb’s brow furrowed. “No, not findin’ him, followin’.”
“Do you understand what he means, Mister Ousley?”
Ousley shook his head. “Not a bit, sir. Dense as bricks, this one, and twice as silent. That’s the most he’s said since we found him in the hold.”
Nabb turned to look at Ousley. “Not stupid — just nothing to say to you.”
“Why you sodding —”
“Belay that, Mister Ousley,” Alexis ordered, thinking another cuff to the head was unlikely to improve Nabb’s communication. Not that she hadn’t a mind to strike him herself. His stowing away on Nightingale — and how’d he managed that? — complicated her life immensely.
She couldn’t just turn back to Dalthus — that would mean days of sail to return, then more days beating back against the winds the men had just managed to get out of. Nor did she feel she could just carry him along as a passenger.
First there’d be where to put him — it was one thing for Marie to have shared her cabin from Zariah to Dalthus, but even if she were comfortable with it the crew would look askance if she did so with Nabb. Nor did she feel it right to put him in one of the few other private compartments Nightingale had — doing so would displace either one of the midshipmen or warrants. While she might do that for a true passenger, she wouldn’t for a stowaway. Housing him with the crew, while he wasn’t part of the crew, would likely cause other trouble and resentment, something she felt she could ill afford with Nightingale’s already strained relations.
“Come aboard to join, miss,” Nabb said, finally.
Alexis stared at him for a moment.
“What? To join the Navy?”
Nabb nodded.
“Of all the …” Ousley shook his head in disbelief. “I seen your holding, sir, and how your folk are treated.” He cuffed Nabb’s head again. “Leave that to join the sodding Navy? Dense as bloody bricks!”
Alexis regarded Ousley for a moment, mouth quirked in a repressed grin. The bosun glanced at her, then colored as he realized she’d done exactly that herself.
“Nabb,” Alexis said, “if you wanted to join, why didn’t you say something while we were on Dalthus?” At least then she’d have been able to tell him no, regardless of how desperately Nightingale needed crew, and leave him safely at home.
Nabb shrugged. “Mum wouldn’t like it, miss.”
“Cross your own mum at home, do you?”
Ousley’s eyes widened and his mouth worked silently for a moment. “Now, look, you … that’s … that’s not the bloody point, now is it?”
Alexis rubbed her mouth to keep her sudden grin from showing. The thought of the fierce bosun confronting his, presumably, quite a bit fiercer mum almost made her laugh. If the situation weren’t so serious, she might have, but the Navy — and Alexis herself, through his loyalty to her — had already destroyed Wallis Nabb’s life. She didn’t want the same to happen to his son — though if he were determined to join, she didn’t see how she could stop it. If Nightingale wouldn’t take him, he could ship out of Port Arthur on some merchant and sign aboard a Royal Navy ship at some other port.
Moreover, she had enough potential trouble to deal with, having pressed the two miners aboard. Nightingale’s crew was small enough that every addition could drastically change the men’s attitudes. Iveson and Spracklen, the miners, had quickly joined up with the four extorters already aboard, as though they were old mates reunited.
Like does flock to like.
Alexis sighed and grasped at a straw. “How old are you, Nabb?”
“Seventeen, miss.”
Well, that was out then. She’d known he was younger than he looked, but had hoped he’d be younger still. If he’d been but fifteen, she’d be on firmer ground keeping him as a passenger. At seventeen he could sign aboard whatever Naval ship happened by, and another captain might not be so lenient for him having stowed away first. Which did bring up the question of how he’d managed that to begin with.
“He was in a stores locker, you say, Mister Ousley? I’d expect Mister Wileman to keep those well locked.”
“Aye, he does, sir, but there’s space in this one for the mess-kits and a few chests when we’re at quarters. When Wileman opens it for all that to be struck below, he finds this one looking back at him. Swears it were locked tight, though.”
Alexis frowned. “So how did you manage it, Nabb? That and getting aboard in the first place?”
Nabb reached into his pocket. “Weren’t hard,” he said, holding out fistful of circuits and wires along with a small tablet. He examined the lot and then picked one with his other hand. “Caught the signal from that man’s tablet — the one who opens them rooms?”
“Mister Wileman? The purser? You recorded the signal from his tablet when he opened the stores lockers?”
Nabb shrugged. “Maybe him, don’t rightly know.” He held up the wires and circuitry. “Code don’t change, though, miss.”
Alexis raised an eyebrow. “I trust you’ll have a word with Mister Wileman about security, corporal?”
“Oh, aye,” Brace said, “a word and more, sir.”
“And did you find our ship’s boat similarly vulnerable, Nabb?”
“Oh, no, miss.” Nabb shook his head. “I just helped to load things and stayed in a corner, like. Those folks in the red suits weren’t countin’ us come out or nothing.”
Brace flushed as Alexis caught his eye again. He cleared his throat. “And quite a few words with my lads, sir.”
“Yes,” Alexis said. “See that you do.”
She couldn’t fault that security had missed Nabb, she supposed. After all, the norm was to ensure the boat lifted without having fewer men aboard than when they landed, what with those having a taste of the Navy so often finding it less to their liking than they’d expected.
Which might, after all, be the solution to this particular problem, as well. She couldn’t turn the ship back to Dalthus, so if Nabb was going to be aboard, it might be possible to put him off this idea entirely.
“Very well, then. You want to join; you’ll join — at least until we reach Dalthus again. See he’s listed in the muster book as temporary crew, Mister Ousley. Ordinary spacer —” She met Ousley’s eye meaningfully. “— and don’t go easy on him for all he’s from my home. See he understands what it means to be aboard ship.”
“Oh, aye,” Ousley said, “I’ll see to that. Come on, then, lad, let’s get you kitted up.”
“Thank you, miss,” Nabb said. “I’ll do you and my Da’ proud, I will.”
“Enough of that!” Ousley cuffed him again and shoved him toward the hatchway. “It’s ‘sir’ to an officer, not ‘miss’, you sodding lubber … beggin’ your pardon, sir.”
“Quite all right, Mister Ousley.”
Nabb frowned.
“That ‘sir’ bit don’t make no sense.”
Ousley grabbed Nabb by the scruff of the neck and steered him through the hatch.
“Welcome to the Navy, lad. You shouldn’t have joined if you can’t take a bloody joke, see?”
Twenty-Five
18 November, aboard HMS Nightingale, Man’s Fall System
Alexis raised an eyebrow as she scanned the navigation plot. Nightingale transitioned from darkspace into the Man’s Fall system at the planet’s L5 point and the quarterdeck’s monitors came to life with their comprehensive scan of the surrounding space.
“Are we quite certain this is the place?” she asked.
Lord knows relying on my own navigation might put us somewhere else entirely.
Villar chuckled, then cleared his throat. “It is, sir.”
Alexis scanned the plot. Despite Nightingale’s navigation notes about the system and log entries from previous visits, she was still surprised. “I can understand them having no pilot boat or beacon, what with being such a young colony, but do they truly not even have a satellite constellation up?”
The plot showed … nothing. No ships in orbit, no satellites, not even background transmissions from the planet. It was as though Man’s Fall, both the system and the planet proper, had no human presence whatsoever.
“No satellites and no radio or laser coms either,” Villar confirmed. “In fact, there’s no way for them to even tell we’re here until we land.”
Alexis shook her head in wonder. It was one thing to read the navigation notes, quite another to see it for herself. A small colony might start without a satellite constellation, but to have no communication at all with ships coming into orbit?
“And they’ve really no contact with anyone but the Navy?” she asked.
“Not that I’ve seen since being here,” Villar said. “There’s an occasional merchant who tries, but they’re sent packing and reported to us — if we see them, we’re supposed to warn them from trying to trade here again, but with just Nightingale we’re spread so thin that such a thing is unlikely.”
“I see,” Alexis said. “Does that happen often, the visits by merchants?”
Technically, if a merchant ship ignored the Navy’s published navigation notes about the system, Alexis would be within her rights to take the offender in convoy back to Zariah for adjudication there, or send it back with one of her midshipmen and a prize crew. If the magistrate on Zariah found that the ship’s captain had willfully disobeyed the navigation notes, his ship might be forfeit.
In reality, though, she suspected it would take an egregious and repeated offense to make such an effort worthwhile, what with Nightingale being so shorthanded and having so much space to cover.
“Not too often.”
“I see.” Alexis recalled another question she’d had when reading the notes and log. “And the emigration broadcast? Must our orbit cover the entire planet, as they have no constellation to rebroadcast it?”
One of the requirements of a colony’s charter, if they wished to receive any services or protection at all from New London, was that anyone, colonist or indenture, be allowed to leave the planet. In return, the colonies had great latitude in their local laws and customs — at least until they requested more in the way of services from the Crown.
Part of a Naval ship’s responsibilities was to broadcast a reminder of that. The theory being that even those
on-planet without a tablet to receive the message would have access, or know someone with access, to one.
What, exactly, they’re to do about it — or I’m to do about it — is rather less specific in the orders.
Like many of her orders, she was told simply to “make all efforts to enforce free emigration” while simultaneously “not offend the customs and sensibilities of the colony world”.
“Lieutenant Bensley always made the broadcast from just over their port city,” Villar said, “there being no one who’ll hear it anyway, you see.”
“What?”
“They — well, you’ll see, sir. I’ve never known quite how to explain it.”
Landing on Man’s Fall was unlike any world Alexis had ever before visited.
They first overflew the town — for as Villar explained, Man’s Fall had only one settlement which could be granted that name — then on to the landing field. Unlike other small colonies, Man’s Fall’s field was not centrally located to the town and its merchants. Instead it was nearly five kilometers away. The only structure near it was a small, rough-hewn building at its edge.
“They’ll be here in an hour or so,” Villar said as they exited the boat to stand on the field.
The field itself was overgrown and native grasses came several inches up the boat’s landing struts.
Alexis looked around in bewilderment.
“The Navy waits on them?”
“It’s part of their charter — accepted because they ask so little else, I suppose. Keep ships, pirates and merchant alike, away from the system, and land our own boats here to wait.” He nodded toward the purser waiting at the boat’s rear loading ramp. “Wileman likes it, though, as they’ll charge us half what other systems would.”
The hands were making their own way off the boat via the stern ramp, and Alexis noticed Nabb among them, laughing with one of Ousley’s mates. She hoped he wasn’t getting too attached to the idea of being in the Navy — or, rather, that Ousley wasn’t going so easy on him as to allow him to — for she still intended to return the young man to his mum and the safety of her grandfather’s holdings when next Nightingale stopped at Dalthus.
HMS Nightingale (Alexis Carew Book 4) Page 18