“The number four port gun crew and their gun to the ship’s boat as well, Mister Villar.”
Turn me away, will you, Mister Khouri?
“We’re going to bring our wayward Nightingales home.”
Thirty-Five
21 December, Al Jadiq System
Alexis settled herself in the boat’s cockpit next to the pilot. She could hear the bustle of activity from the passenger compartment as Brace and his Marines strapped in with the rest of her boat crew. There was a trio of muted clangs, a long pause, then a fourth. She assumed that was Ole Sparky, as the number four port gun crew had christened their weapon, being clamped down to the deck in the boat’s hold.
“Have you ever done this before, Rasch?” she asked.
Next to her, Rasch shook his head tightly, eyes scanning the boat’s controls. “Only in the simulation, when I was made pilot, sir. Been no need of it since.”
Alexis patted his shoulder. She’d expected that — it was rare enough that a ship’s boat was used to board another ship in normal space, much less assault a planet. Such maneuvers were for the pilots aboard the Marine transports.
“Do it just as you did then and we’ll all be fine,” she assured him.
“As you say, sir.”
“Sir,” Villar called from the passenger compartment. “All aboard and strapped in … if you’re certain this is —”
“Thank you, Mister Villar.”
Alexis could well understand his concern. Khouri’s earlier responses, or those of the Jadiqis saying he was unavailable, had left no reason to believe he’d change his mind and return the two spacers to Nightingale no matter how much she asked.
“Let’s be off, Rasch,” Alexis said, clapping the pilot on the shoulder.
Rasch worked the controls and the boat detached from Nightingale and sped toward the planet in a single motion. No adjustment of orbit or clearing maneuvers, simply an abrupt acceleration to its full speed aimed directly at the planet’s spaceport.
Despite the boat’s inertial compensators, Alexis felt as though she could almost feel the acceleration as the planet loomed larger and larger in the forward screen.
“Steady, Rasch,” she said. “And straight in. They’ll not fire on a Queen’s ship, even if they have anything in the way of weapons.”
Nightingale’s sailing notes for Al-Jadiq made no mention of defensive systems and the colony was so young that she suspected there were none. Still, she wouldn’t have suspected the presence of so many aircars, either. Al Jadiq might be young, but the colonists clearly had wealth from somewhere and there was no telling what they might have bought for themselves.
“As you say, sir.” Rasch swallowed hard.
This trip down went far faster than the last. The boat burned through the atmosphere at the very limits of its tolerances and Alexis kept a close eye on the cockpit’s monitors, knowing just how inexperienced Rasch was with this maneuver.
Despite that inexperience, Rasch brought the boat to ground less than ten meters from the building where she’d first met with Khouri.
Alexis was in motion before it had stopped moving, leaving the cockpit and stepping out onto the still extending ramp. Steam rose from the still muddy field and Alexis could feel the heat emanating from the boat’s hull.
The same two guards from earlier stepped in front of the door to block her way, expressions both puzzled and angry. The boat’s landing had kicked up the muddy surface of the field, casting dark water and soil toward them in a heavy wash. They weren’t quite covered in it, but their uniforms would never pass inspection — assuming the Jadiqis had such standards.
“Corporal Brace!” she called, not stopping in her pace.
Behind her she heard the rustle as Brace and four of his Marines spread out in a line.
“Arms!” Brace bellowed.
The two guards’ eyes widened.
“Aim!”
Alexis continued walking toward them. One of the guards glanced at the other, swallowed heavily, and both dove to the ground as Brace drew in a deep breath.
“Fire!”
Alexis had to work hard to keep from flinching at the crack of ionizing air around her. Brace’s men fired high, as she’d instructed them, but after seeing the gunnery of Nightingale’s crew she was none too confident in that of the Marines. The Marine complement, though, was better trained and drilled than the crew at large, not having been looted by passing ships as the Naval crew had been.
Sharp pops echoed across the plain as the Marines’ lasers struck the stone above the door. Stone cracked and pocked, shards flying off, at the sudden release of energy.
She stopped between the two prone guards. The plain was silent save for the sound of the Marines’ rifles being worked to load new capacitors for another shot and a bit of a crackling noise from the cooling boat’s hull.
“Bring it out, lads!”
Behind her, she heard the rumble of wheels on the boat’s ramp as Nightingale’s gunner and crew manhandled a ship’s gun to the hatch and pointed its crystalline barrels at the doorway.
“Gentlemen,” she said, looking down at the guards who were still prostrate in the mud, “I mean to see Mister Khouri. If you wish to have a doorway left to guard, I suggest you open the sodding thing for me instanter.”
Alexis seated herself in the chair she’d used during her previous visits.
“No one is available. Many hours,” the aide said again. The man had an odd accent and Alexis suspected this was not his first language. She remembered reading in the sailing notes that these settlers were so insular, even before they’d left Zariah, that many families never did business outside of their enclaves, and so taught their children their own language first.
Alexis stared straight ahead, trying to project calm and determination, rather than the rage she felt building in her.
There’d been a bit of hope when the guards opened the doors at the landing field, but she couldn’t have her lads trundle Ole Sparky down the corridor, not least because she wanted it available to protect the boat.
Instead she had Villar and only two Marines accompany her, keying her tablet to record and transmit everything around her back to the boat and then on to Nightingale. Despite her outward calm, there was also a bit of fear that the Jadiqis might not stop at a pair of spacers. Mightn’t they also decide to keep an officer or two and respond to Admiralty’s inquiries with a mild: Mister Khouri was busy for many hours — we have no idea where your lieutenant might have got to.
“Many manys,” the man said. He looked at her expectantly. “Very manys?”
Alexis took a deep breath to steady herself, certain they’d chosen someone like this to sit with her in an attempt to further put her off. She’d expected Khouri to make himself unavailable and wasn’t bothered by that, but she was bothered by the rest of her plan. It was risky, might not work, and would likely be frowned upon by Admiralty — or not. Given what she knew of Admiralty’s convoluted reasoning, they might well wish the opportunity to “apologize” for Alexis’ actions as a rogue captain exceeding her authority, while quietly implying there were far worse rogues than Alexis to assign to this patrol.
A pain began behind her right eye at that. She much preferred a straight-forward boarding action to the convoluted balancing act her orders and her duty to her crew had put on her these last few hours.
She took another deep breath, slowly so as to still project the calm and determination she wasn’t quite feeling, and forced herself to think only about the one reason for doing this that made her forget the rest and the possible consequences.
Ruse and Sinkey were hers, and she’d, by God, get them back.
“Now, look,” Alexis said, turning to the aide and pointing at Khouri’s empty chair. “Khouri knows I’m here, I know Khouri knows I’m here, and I’m quite certain that he’s nearby watching me say I know he knows I’m here. So, Mister Khouri,” she said louder, “wherever you are, in five minutes’ time I am going to return to Night
ingale’s boat … then I am going to lift, set down in the middle of your bloody town, and my Marines and I will be knocking on random doors until I have my lads in hand.”
“Quite a few manys?” the aide asked hopefully.
The far doorway opened and Khouri entered. He jerked his head at the aide, who hurriedly left as though it was the kindest thing anyone had ever done for him.
Khouri settled himself in his chair, drew a cup of tea from the samovar without offering any to Alexis, and sipped.
“I shall complain to your Admiralty of your actions,” he said finally.
“I’m sure you will,” Alexis said. She leaned forward and glared at him, “but don’t be too quick about it, as I’m far from finished.”
Khouri snorted. “What will you do? You have a tiny ship, a tiny crew —” He laughed as though suddenly quite pleased with himself. “— you are a tiny girl. We are an entire planet — and as representative of that planet, I tell you to take your tiny ship and leave now. Your business is through.”
“Not nearly,” Alexis said. “Your police, these Jannasari, took two of my men from the marketplace. I’ll have them back now.”
Khouri shook his head. “We have none of your men. This thing did not happen.”
To be honest, Alexis had harbored some doubts herself. She had only Brissenden’s word and he hadn’t actually seen Ruse and Sinkey taken, but Khouri’s attitude convinced her that he was lying. He was simply so dismissive and denied so hotly that her final doubts vanished.
“My men, Mister Khouri, will be returned to me instanter, or there will be consequences.”
“What? That you will search for them?” He shrugged. “I will add this to my complaint, you will not find them, and eventually you must leave.”
He was right about that, Alexis knew. No matter what she wished, Nightingale must eventually sail on about the remainder of her patrol and, once she did, Ruse and Sinkey would meet their fate.
Alexis steeled herself. She’d known it would come to this, but had still hoped Khouri might produce her men. Her actions might be a mistake, but with such conflicting orders to work by it really came down to only one thing — Ruse and Sinkey, whatever their faults, were Nightingales. They were hers and she’d not leave them.
She swiftly reached behind her to the carefully tailored pocket at the small of her back and drew the flechette pistol she’d carried since her time aboard HMS Shrewsbury then aimed it at Khouri, waiting for him to react.
Khouri’s expression grew puzzled. He looked to either side, then behind him, then down at his lap before returning his gaze to her.
“What is it you point at?” he asked.
Alexis blinked, then looked at her hand and adjusted her grip so that the tiny flechette pistol wasn’t entirely hidden in her grip.
“It is small, yet mighty, Mister Khouri, I assure you.”
Khouri’s expression hardened.
“You would not —”
“Yes, I would; yes, I will; no, you won’t,” Alexis said. “You’re about say a number of things to become even more tiresome, and I’m bloody well fed up with it, so let’s have those be the answers to everything you’re about to say. Mister Villar!”
“Sir?”
“Will you confirm that my tablet is transmitting to the boat and thence to Nightingale?”
“Uh … aye, sir, is this —”
“Kindly take Corporal Brace and his men back to the boat, Mister Villar.” She fixed her gaze on Khouri. “If I have not returned in one hour’s time, you are to lift and set sail for Dalthus. There you are to supply Nightingale’s log and this recording to any and all outgoing ships for transmission to Admiralty. The message is that Al Jadiq has taken Queen’s men off a Queen’s ship, detained or caused harm to the commander of a Queen’s ship in the performance of her duties … and is in rebellion against the Crown.”
Khouri blanched. Alexis could see the thoughts working in his head. The mere accusation of rebellion would bring a fleet to Al Jadiq. A fleet with an admiral who might or might not see things Khouri’s way after a thorough investigation of these events. Would he take that risk, given the possible consequences?
If found to be in rebellion against the Crown, it would be hanging for a man.
Not that he’ll be alive to see the consequences, Alexis promised herself. The penny had been rolling out a ship’s gun on the landing field, now she was in for the full pound and more.
“Threaten as you will,” Khouri said, but Alexis thought she could detect a sheen of sweat on his forehead. “I say I do not have these men and there is nothing you may do about —”
He cut off abruptly, jumping as flechettes cut into the chair cushion next to him. Bits of fabric and stuffing puffed into the air and the room echoed with the high-pitched zip of the little gun.
“Sir, I really think —”
“To the boat, Mister Villar. This is my doing and none of yours.” She hadn’t told Villar this would be her endgame, hoping it wouldn’t come to it, but also not wanting him to be implicated in her actions.
“Aye, sir.”
Alexis waited while Villar and the others left, keeping her eyes fixed on Khouri.
“I’ll have my men back instanter, Mister Khouri,” Alexis said, “I will have my men or I will shoot you and any who stands in my way as I search for them.”
“Are you mad?” Khouri asked finally.
Alexis considered how very often she was asked that and these latest circumstances — risking her career and threatening to kill this man and more over a pair such as Ruse and Sinkey — then nodded firmly. Whatever else, they were hers.
“Yes. Quite, it seems. And now it’s time for you to realize that your life is in the hands of a madwoman and act accordingly, yes?”
“Thank you, sir, thank you!” Ruse said as soon as the door to Khouri’s audience chamber shut and they began their way down the corridor to the landing field. “Thought we was dead, I did.”
Alexis fumed and let her temper get the better of her. The two men had put her in an untenable position with their actions — abandon members of her crew or offend, threaten, Al Jadiq’s colonial representative. The Jadiqis might well have been looking for an opportunity to flex their power over some of Nightingale’s crew, but, damn them, these two had willingly given them the opportunity.
More than that, she was still furious with the two for joining with Iveson, Spracklen and the others in extorting the other men. And angry with herself for brining those two aboard. If it hadn’t been for the insult to the Service and Nightingale in the Jadiqis actions, for her own sense of responsibility to her lads …
“I didn’t do it for you, Ruse,” Alexis said, jaw tight. “Were it just you two I’d have left you there to be shortened. Damn your eyes, a bigger pair of disappointments I’ve never seen.”
Ruse hung his head.
“It weren’t but a bit of fun, sir,” Sinkey said. “We never touched her nor would have, just a bit of a flirt, really. Why, she were even smilin’ at us …” He frowned. “Well, her eyes crinkled up an’ looked like a smile, that being all we could see in those things they wear. What’s the harm in —”
Alexis rounded on the pair, backing them up against the corridor’s wall.
“Do you think I give a tinker’s dam about you two chatting up some girl in the market?” She fought the urge to grab them by the ears and drag them to Nightingale’s boat. “I’m talking about what you’re up to aboard my ship.”
“What —”
“Do you think I’m blind? You and your mates, Scarborough and Iveson and the others — you two’ve gone over to the worst of the lot.”
“We’re just —”
“Stealing from your mates is what you’re ‘just’.” She stepped back and looked them up and down with disgust. “Thieving lubbers, the lot of you.”
Ruse bristled at that.
“But —”
“No,” Alexis said. She met both of their eyes in turn. “I’ll hea
r no excuses and I’ll not pretend to not know what’s going on. Not with you two, not here, and not after pulling your sorry arses from the fire.”
Ruse hung his head and Sinkey swallowed hard.
“I’ve read your records lads, and I expected better of you.”
Sinkey frowned and his brow furrowed.
“You did?”
Alexis stared at him for a moment, straining for a thought just out of her reach.
How could he not realize that?
Nearly all of Nightingale’s crew were performing far below her expectations. From the ship-handling to the guncrews, her crew was a lamentable mess. But what had she really done about it?
She blinked.
Nothing.
Oh, she’d ranted in her cabin where only Isom could hear her and set them to drills. Given them goals, but no real reason to strive for them. No real reason not to disappoint her.
No reason to stand with me, she thought.
More than that, she realized that Sinkey’s question wasn’t just that she’d expected better of him, but that she’d read his records and had any knowledge of him. Since she’d come aboard, she’d been so isolated on the quarterdeck or in her cabin that she’d not made many connections with the common crew — not like back aboard Shrewsbury, or even Hermione, where she’d known the men of her division so well. She’d spent time talking to them — oh, not some Captain Goodfellow, wanting to be liked more than obeyed, but she’d known each man, at least a little bit about him.
Her heart sank. This whole mess, right up to these two being taken by the Jadiqis wasn’t only her crew’s fault, but hers as well. She thought about her first commander, Captain Grantham, and how he’d walk through Merlin’s sick berth after an action, always with a word or some personal note for every man there.
Could I do that? Is there even one thing I know about every man aboard my ship?
Her face flushed as she realized there wasn’t.
No reason to stand with me, for I’ve not stood with them.
She flushed as she realized that, and as she realized why. The loss of Belial was still raw in her memory, and the loss of that crew. Knowing them, knowing the Nightingales, would bring them too close and open her to that kind of loss again.
HMS Nightingale (Alexis Carew Book 4) Page 26