HMS Nightingale (Alexis Carew Book 4)

by J. A. Sutherland

  Thirty-Two

  21 December, Al Jadiq System

  The sky above the Al Jadiq landing field was overcast with low clouds and a light drizzle fell, apparently for quite some time if the state of the landing field was any indication. The field itself was sparse grass and dirt, turned into mud by the rains, save for a paved section near one end.

  Alexis grimaced as she stepped off the boat’s stairs into several centimeters of mud.

  They’d set down near the entrance to the government buildings which, curiously, was at the opposite side of the field from the only accessible market, as well as the only paved areas. The rest of the landing field, nearly half a kilometer across, was surrounded by a high, solid wall.

  “Not very welcoming,” Alexis said, moving to the side and allowing Villar to step down into the mud with her. Naval precedent called for the senior officer to be last on and first off a ship’s boat.

  “We’re kāfir, sir, unbelievers.” Villar edged to the side as well, to allow the rest of the men to exit. “They don’t really want us here at all.”

  “So they’ve put the government offices we must visit to one side and the market where we’ll purchase supplies at the other?”

  Villar nodded. “We’re not all that welcome in the market, come to that — only reason it’s open to us is they have to, I suspect.”

  “Belay that,” Alexis said, holding up a hand to stop the men disembarking the boat. “Do they offer vehicles at all? For us to get the supplies across this swamp?”

  “Never have before — it’s tote and carry.”

  “I’ve three antigrav pallets,” Ousley, the bosun, said from midway up the boat’s steps. “It’s multiple trips or shoulder what won’t fit on them.”

  So slog through this muck more than once or do it carrying a load.

  “That’s ridiculous,” Alexis said. “Mister Villar, you and two of the Marines with me. Mister Ousley, tell the pilot to move the boat to one of the paved areas by the market and load there.”

  “Aye —”

  “Sir,” Villar interrupted. “That’s not how things are done here. The Jadiqis insist we put down on this side of the field. That side is for their own shipping.”

  Alexis frowned. “Their own? Not visiting merchantmen?”

  Villar shook his head. “They discourage other merchants from coming, unless they’ve contracted with them for some reason. Those two ships in orbit now are Jadiqi-owned, likely waiting on some cargo to be ready.”

  “The colony itself owns two ships?”

  “Four, I think, sir.”

  “However have they managed that?”

  Villar shrugged. “Al Jadiq has a great deal of wealth, sir.”

  Alexis compared the size of the system’s main town to that of Man’s Fall and had to agree. Still, with all that wealth, they could have done more with their landing field.

  “I’ll not have my men trudging through this muck, Mister Villar. If the Jadiqis wish to object, they may do so while I meet with them.”

  “As you say, sir.” Villar gestured to two Marines on the boat’s ramp. “Raffield, Bounds, you’re with us. Mister Ousley, you have your orders.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  There was a moment’s confusion on the ramp as the two Marines made their way down and the rest of the men made their way back into the boat. Alexis turned and strode toward the gate in the wall nearby, Villar and the Marines following her.

  “They won’t like this at all, sir,” Villar said, his voice low. “The only reason the market is open to us at all is that it’s a part of all colonial charters that the colony must allow resupply rights to the Navy.”

  “Do they treat visiting merchantmen with the same lack of courtesy?”

  Lounds and the Gale would have been here and gone in the time it took to repair Nightingale, and she couldn’t imagine him putting up with this sort of thing.

  Before Villar could answer, the gate opened at their approach, held by two guards with laser rifles slung over their shoulders. The guards looked past Alexis’ group to Nightingale’s boat and spoke rapidly to each other in a language Alexis didn’t recognize.

  “Through here then?” Alexis asked one of them, gesturing to the long, dimly lit corridor behind the gates.

  The guard glanced once at her, then quickly turned his attention to Villar.

  “Wait in the room at the end,” the guard said. “You will be called.”

  Villar nodded and gestured for Alexis to proceed him. Alexis started to say something, but Villar widened his eyes and shook his head slightly. As he’d been here before, Alexis decided to accept his lead for the moment, waiting to speak until they were some distance down the corridor.

  “What was that about then?” she asked.

  Villar cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. “It’s, well … you’re a woman, sir.”

  “I see.” Alexis had read the briefing materials aboard Nightingale regarding Al Jadiq. She’d found much of it bewildering, yet the colonists had chosen to set themselves up with those rules and everyone who’d emigrated from Zariah had accepted them, so who was she to judge?

  “I don’t think you do, sir, not really.”

  Alexis glanced over at Villar and raised an eyebrow. It was a risk for a junior officer to say something like that to his commander — many wouldn’t take it well. She considered it a measure of the changes in her relationship with Villar since their talk that he was willing to, though she could wish the circumstances were different.

  “Go on.”

  “Women don’t do business here, sir. I think this will be a very … difficult interview.”

  They reached the end of the corridor and another pair of guards opened the doors there. Through them was an empty room.

  Quite empty.

  No windows, no chairs, a bare floor of some poured material. Only yet another pair of doors at the far side.

  “Wait,” one of the guards said before closing the doors they’d entered through and leaving them alone.

  Alexis moved to stand at the room’s center. “I assume we’re being observed?”

  Villar nodded. “I’ve always assumed so. Lieutenant Bensley believed so as well.”

  “Then we should speak no more,” Alexis said, settling in to stand and wait for some time. She had a suspicion they’d be kept waiting as a sort of power play.

  “Aye, sir.”

  The wait, though, turned out to be remarkably short as a moment later the doors at the far end of the room were flung open and a man stormed in.

  “Your boat has moved!” the man yelled. “You must recall your boat to this side of the field!”

  “Good day, sir, I’m —”

  Alexis stepped forward and held out her hand to the man, but he swept by her without a look and approached Villar. Alexis turned to watch him, more amused than offended. The man was dressed in a modern suit, but had an odd sort of cloth over his head, held in place by a braided band. He had a neatly trimmed beard and mustache that Alexis glimpsed as he rushed by her.

  “Why has your boat been moved to the market side of the field? You must return it at once!”

  “Mister Khouri, sir,” Villar said, gesturing toward Alexis. “May I present to you Lieutenant Carew, Nightingale’s new commander?”

  “New commander? You were to be the new commander until Lieutenant Bensley’s return. Where is Lieutenant Bensley?”

  Alexis stepped back to Villar’s side and held out her hand again.

  “Lieutenant Bensley was called away, sir,” Alexis said. She gave a little shrug and smile. “Such is the way of the Navy. I’m in command of Nightingale now — Mister Khouri, was it?”

  Khouri turned away from her, still speaking to Villar.

  “Your boat!”

  Alexis had to force herself not to smile at the absurdity of it. She was standing right there, and yet the man refused to even acknowledge her presence. Villar looked to her and she gave him a slight nod. She’d let him carry thi
ngs a bit and at least see where it went.

  “The rains, Mister Khouri,” Villar said. “They’ve made the field quite a mess, you see.”

  Khouri faced Villar, apparently satisfied that he’d spoken instead of Alexis.

  “You must recall it.”

  Villar glanced at Alexis. “Of course, sir,” he said, then hesitated. “We’ll have to recall the men from the market, as well, as the pilot will be with them. That will take some time, I’m afraid. I know you don’t like for us to be groundside for longer than necessary.”

  Khouri’s jaw clenched.

  “And this will delay the rest of our meeting,” Villar went on. “I suppose Lieutenant Carew could remain here and meet with you while I went to retrieve the men and have the boat moved.”

  Alexis kept her face impassive, but she was rather impressed with Villar. He was showing a streak of absolutely polite, bland-faced aggressiveness that she wouldn’t have suspected.

  “This once I will allow it,” Khouri said finally. “As a courtesy. Due to the rains.”

  Villar nodded. “Of course, Mister Khouri.”

  “Come.”

  Khouri strode toward the doors he’d entered through, clearly angry. Alexis and Villar shared a look — she hoped she managed to convey her approval of how he’d handled things — and followed.

  “The Marines wait here,” Villar whispered to her. “It’s how things are done.”

  Alexis nodded.

  Once through the far doors, Khouri’s guards closed them.

  The next room was as ornate as the waiting room had been bare and Alexis assumed she’d be properly impressed if she’d been left waiting as long as she suspected was the norm. Large windows looked out on a broad square filled with people. The floor was covered in layers of rich carpets, and more colorful hangings decorated the walls. The center of the room was dominated by two chairs and a low table, the only furnishings. One chair was significantly larger and more ornate than the other and Alexis was unsurprised that Khouri seated himself in that one.

  Alexis took the other and Villar stationed himself standing to her left.

  Khouri’s eyes narrowed briefly before he turned them to Villar.

  “Tea?”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Khouri drew a cup of tea from a samovar on the table beside him and offered it to Villar. Villar took it and Khouri drew a second cup for himself and settled back into his chair.

  Villar offered his cup to Alexis.

  “Thank you, Mister Villar,” Alexis said, taking it without removing her gaze from Khouri.

  The Jadiqi man’s nostrils flared, but he set his cup down, drew a third cup from the samovar, and offered it to Villar.

  He’s like a child playing at pulling the blankets over his head so the bogeyman won’t get him. The image of herself as the bogeyman, all terrifying meter and a half of her, almost made her laugh out loud.

  Alexis sipped her tea. It was dark, hot, and very sweet, a combination she found she quite liked.

  “When will Lieutenant Bensley return?” Khouri asked Villar.

  “Lieutenant Bensley may not return at all,” Alexis said. “Nightingale is my command until I receive further orders.”

  From the look on Khouri’s face, that time couldn’t come soon enough. Alexis suspected he might be willing to make any number of sacrifices or offerings his religion allowed toward that end, in fact.

  “Lieutenant Bensley shall be missed,” Khouri said, still addressing Villar.

  Alexis considered how long to let this go on. Her amusement with him was palling rapidly.

  “Mister Villar?” she prompted.

  “Sir?”

  “It occurs to me that Mister Ousley might send to us with any questions he has about supplies, and that this important conference would be interrupted in that event. Would you be so kind as to wait near the doorway so that your tablet doesn’t disturb us and take care of anything that comes up in that regard?”

  “Absolutely, sir, I’d be delighted to.” Villar spun without another word and went to stand by the door through which they’d entered, some six or so meters away, leaving Khouri with the decision of whether to continue his charade by yelling to Villar across the room or speaking directly to Alexis. She could almost feel sorry for the man.

  Finally, Khouri looked at her with a scowl.

  Almost sorry — if he weren’t glaring at me as though I were some disobedient child he lacked the authority to discipline.

  “Is it the intent of the government of New London to insult us?” he asked.

  “I assure you it is not, Mister Khouri.”

  “It is not enough that they have driven us from our home on Zariah, but they must now send you here?”

  Alexis frowned.

  “I was under the impression your colonization here was your choice,” she said.

  Khouri snorted. “Choice?” He shook his head. “We move to Abhatian, then to Zariah, now here to Al Jadiq. Each time the government of New London surrounds us with other colonies, merchants bring their goods and news, our children leave our ways for your decadence.” He glared at her. “Zariah was ours until too many were corrupted and took it away. It will not happen here; do you hear me?” His voice raised. “We will have our own merchants, our own protections, this time.”

  Alexis raised an eyebrow. It was a colony’s right to cut itself off like that if they so desired. New London would only offer the services requested, though more of those services came with further requirements a colony had to comply with. Still, unless the Al Jadiqis were willing to live as subsistence farmers for generations, as those on Man’s Fall seemed willing to do, it was quite an expensive proposition.

  “You see our ships in orbit?” Khouri asked.

  There’d been two ships in high orbit above the planet when Nightingale arrived and Alexis had been surprised when they’d responded to Nightingale’s signals that they were of Jadiqi registry and not merchants from coreward.

  “We have two others.” Khouri’s chest puffed out with pride. “They are crewed with true faithful who will not be tempted by what they see on other worlds.”

  Alexis had her doubts about that. The Penduli Station houses which eased a spacer’s loneliness might surprise Khouri with their effect on his faithful. She tried to push those thoughts aside, as they seemed unworthy. Perhaps Khouri’s faith in his faithful was well placed, she couldn’t really know that.

  Those thoughts also brought to mind Delaine Theibaud and the twin aches that she was so very worried for his safety and that it had been so very long since she’d seen him.

  “Fully crewed, we will have the means to trade and protect ourselves without your merchants and Navy.” Khouri smirked at her. “Not that your Navy has met its bargain with us. We hear of missing ships and wonder why we should keep our side of these agreements.”

  Alexis felt he had a point there. As she’d heard on Man’s Fall, and, to a certain extent, Dalthus, the colonies were rightfully unhappy with the current situation. Even given that, though, she felt the need to defend her Service.

  “There’s a war on, if you hadn’t heard.” Alexis tried to keep her voice calm and reasonable. Now that Khouri was speaking to her directly, she had some hope for the meeting. “We’re stretched quite thin to keep the Hanoverese from taking more worlds — perhaps even with an eye toward these.”

  The thought of Hanoverese troops and all she’d heard of their depredations on Giron arriving on Dalthus chilled her.

  Khouri grunted. “So you say.” He waved a hand at her dismissively. “And now they send us you, when they know our ways. What does the government of New London mean by this?”

  “I was appointed into Nightingale because I was available.”

  Khouri shook his head. “There is some intent here. All things have their hidden meanings. What does the government of New London mean by doing this?”

  Alexis frowned. There was something decidedly odd about the way the man referred to the g
overnment — it was usually said as … well, she supposed it would be difficult for such a man to acknowledge he was part of a star nation ruled by a queen. The rising hopes she’d had for this meeting began to fall again, and her anger grew at his dismissal of her and the implied dismissal of New London’s sovereign. Alexis might never have seen Queen Annalise herself, but men she respected honored her and that was enough for Alexis.

  “Her Majesty’s government,” Alexis said flatly. She’d had enough of this.

  Khouri’s jaw clenched again.

  “I wish to know if the government of —”

  “Her Majesty’s government.”

  “— the government of —”

  “Her Majesty’s.”

  “What does New London mean by this?” Khouri fairly growled. “In sending you in command of a ship to our world?”

  “I’m quite certain,” Alexis said, “that Her Majesty, Queen Annalise, has not the slightest knowledge of either myself or Nightingale.” She almost added that the Queen likely had no thoughts to give on Al Jadiq itself either, but saying so might be going a bit far. “Nor Her government on New London. My appointment came from an admiral here in the Fringe and I expect it’s no more than an entry in some database back on New London. There is no hidden meaning or intent, Mister Khouri, I assure you. Merely the vagaries of an overworked Service in the midst of a war.”

  Even as she said it, Alexis had to admit she wasn’t entirely sure herself. Hadn’t she just been thinking that there might be something more to her appointment? Was there some hidden intent or message in giving her Nightingale? And if there was, was it right to do so?

  “Mister Khouri,” Alexis said, suddenly quite tired of the games. Her experiences since taking command of Nightingale, from the vapid parlor games on Dalthus to the infuriatingly obstinate Stoltzfus on Man’s Fall to the ship and crew itself — and now this Khouri’s attitude of dismissal and refusal to deal with her simply because of who she was. It all seemed to settle around her shoulders like a vast weight. Or, rather, it had always been there and she was only now noticing how very weary it made her. “May we settle the business of my ship’s visit and both be on about other things?”