Mutineer

by Sutherland, J. A.

  She’d even had to begin holding her own little Captain’s Mast each day, assembling the men and assigning punishments to the three or four who’d been brought back by the Patrol in the previous twenty-four hours. Usually confinement to the pub for a day and an assignment to clean it spotless. The publican had looked askance the first time her spacers had grabbed buckets and headed for his kitchen, but now he seemed to eagerly await the results of each day’s gathering. He’d be sad to see them go, she suspected, for her group had not only filled the ten sleeping pods the publican kept, but took many of their meals there as well.

  She’d even been able to negotiate a reasonable price. Sixpence per man each day bought them the use of all ten sleeping pods, a breakfast of beans and sausage, a dinner of soup and bread, each with half a pint of beer, and the publican’s wife had thrown in a laundry day each week.

  And lucky I could draw them an extra uniform from the station’s quartermaster, or it’d be a sight on laundry day.

  “Neither, Mister Carew,” the lieutenant said, unsmiling. “This one’s tried to run.”

  Alexis’ eyes widened in shock. “Where is he?”

  “Outside,” the lieutenant said, nodding toward the pub’s hatchway.

  Alexis hurried past him and into the corridor. Isom was there, arms held by two marines, head hanging and blood running down his chin.

  “What happened to him?”

  “Spouted some rot about the regulations and my boys shut him up.”

  Alexis clenched her teeth. If Isom had spouted anything in the regulations, he was most likely right and this lieutenant a fool, but there’d be little gained in arguing it.

  “Would you bring him in, please,” she said to the marines, “and set him down.”

  “I only brought him here to inform you before taking him to the brig,” the lieutenant said. “I was expecting a captain when he said he was berthed here, not a midshipman.”

  Alexis tried to smile. “I understand, Lieutenant …?”

  “Garman.”

  “Thank you, sir,” she said. “If we could only let him sit down while you and I sort this out, Lieutenant Garman? My ship hasn’t returned yet and Captain Neals left me in charge of the men in his absence.” Which, strictly speaking, is the truth.

  Garman frowned but nodded to the marines. They entered the pub and let Isom slump in a chair. The half dozen or so men who were having their breakfast looked up, curious about what had happened, but Alexis waved them away and they sat back down, but not before throwing a few dark looks toward the marines.

  “Now, Lieutenant Garman, sir, may I offer you and your men a drink?” She caught the eye of the publican who grabbed glasses and came over to them.

  Garman grunted, as though surprised to be offered something by a midshipman. “A glass of port wouldn’t go amiss, I suppose,” he said. “Beer for my men.”

  Alexis nodded to the publican and waited until the three had been served. “May I ask what Isom did, sir?”

  “Tried to leave the naval section of the station. Clearly planned to sign aboard some merchant and run.”

  “Not runnin’,” Isom mumbled.

  Alexis knelt in front of his chair and grasped his hands. She looked up into his battered face. “What were you after, Isom?”

  “Tryin’ t’see Mis’er Grandy,” he mumbled, the words thick through his battered face. Alexis had no idea who Mister Grandy might be, but didn’t see that it mattered to the problem at hand.

  “He had no pass from an officer, Carew,” Garman said. “He was trying to run.”

  “Don’ need pass. No regulation.”

  “I’m confused, sir,” Alexis said, turning to Garman. “Is there such a regulation?”

  Garman frowned. “Well, it’s usual for them to have a pass, certainly — something that states their business and such. Don’t know that there’s a specific regulation, come to think on it.”

  And you couldn’t be bothered to think on it before beating the man bloody? “I see, sir.” Now it was Alexis’ turn to frown. “You see I have charge of these men until my ship returns, and Isom here wasn’t at all late for watch or checking in — he’s effectively on liberty.”

  “He had your permission to hare off like that, then?”

  “Rather I haven’t expressively forbidden it.” She resumed her seat. “The men have some prize money and we’re at loose ends until Hermione, our ship, returns. So long as they’re back here when I ask them to be and get into no more than the usual and expected bit of trouble, they’re free to do as they wish.”

  Garman grunted. “I think you allow them too much license, Carew.”

  “My captain may, as well, when he returns, Lieutenant Garman.” She smiled and spread her hands wide. “But if there’s no regulation violated and I don’t consider him to have run …”

  “Hmph.” Garman drained his glass and stood. “No sense dragging him to the brig if you intend to say he had your permission to go where he did, I suppose.” He frowned. “I think you’ll regret it, though.” He nodded at Isom. “This one’ll run. He’s got the look about him.”

  “Thank you, Lieutenant Garman. I’ll take that under consideration and review my dealings with the crew, for certain, sir.” Garman nodded and gestured for the two marines to follow him out. Alexis waited until the hatch had closed, then muttered, “And you’re welcome for the drink, you arrogant sot.” She turned back to Isom, who was trying to rise. “No,” she said, easing him back. “Sit still. Matheny! Broady! Come help Isom to the head and get him cleaned up.”

  Isom shook his head. “Have to see Grandy.”

  “We’ll talk about that after you’ve cleaned up and had a bit of a lie down. I promise.”

  Isom nodded and the two other spacers draped an arm over his shoulders and helped him up. They went off into the back where the sleeping pods and head were while Alexis returned to her table. Her breakfast was cold and she hadn’t the appetite for it, in any case.

  When Isom returned he was cleaner, still battered but not as bloody. Alexis gestured for him to sit and she nodded to Nabb who was standing nearby. “A bit of grog, I think Nabb,” she said. Isom sat hunched in the chair, head bowed and silent. Nabb brought a small mug of grog, watered rum and lime juice, to the table and set it before Isom.

  “Thank you, sir.” Isom at the same time Alexis said, “Thank you, Nabb.”

  Nabb stepped away and Alexis turned her attention to Isom. “Now, then, have a drink and tell me about it. What’s so important that it was worth a beating, for I believe you when you say you weren’t running.”

  Isom looked up at her and took a long drink. “I was a legal clark on Uffington.”

  “So you’ve said.”

  “Well, sir, there’s a firm on Penduli, name of Grandy, Penthurst, and Dulle, sir. There was a property matter some time ago and I had an extended correspondence with Mister Grandy, you see.”

  Alexis frowned. “So this was all about seeing some friend?”

  “No, sir! Mister Grandy, he’s a full solicitor and I’m merely a clark … was a clark. No, sir —” He lowered his gaze again. “— just thought that, perhaps, Mister Grandy might…”

  Alexis suddenly understood. “You think this Mister Grandy might be able to get you out of the Navy?”

  Isom nodded, turning red. “It’s not that I think I’m better than the Service, sir …”

  Alexis stood. “Isom, I’m sure you’re a fine legal clark, but if there were ever a man less suited to naval service than yourself, I should dearly wish not to make his acquaintance. Come on, man, don’t dally,” she said, gesturing for him to rise.

  Isom looked at her in surprise.

  “Hermione and Captain Grantham could return at any moment. If this Grandy’s to have a chance, we’d best be about it.”

  Alexis led Isom to the nearest boat bay and booked them passage to the planet’s surface. While they waited, her initial enthusiasm began to wane as she asked him more questions, but she’d alread
y committed to taking the man to Grandy’s offices.

  “So there’s been no response from him to your messages?” she asked.

  “No, sir, I’ve tried to call when we’re in port and sent him messages, but no response at all. I think …” He trailed off and stared at the deck. “Perhaps because messages are from a common spacer and not a clark at a law firm, he may not recognize me?”

  Alexis doubted that. She had a moment’s thought that Isom’s messages might be affected by whatever had kept her from receiving hers as well, but he’d received responses from others he’d written to. The next boat came and they boarded for the short flight to Penduli’s surface.

  They stepped off the boat onto a landing field covered in water from a persistent, light rain. Alexis looked around, wishing the day were clearer, for Penduli was a well-established planet with a population of over a hundred million. The main port itself had half a million permanent residents. She looked around in wonder, as some of the buildings lining the landing field were as much as ten stories tall — Dalthus rarely built above three, and that counting attic space.

  She led Isom to the edge of the field where there were cars for hire, all ground vehicles, though the occasional air car darted through the space above them.

  And not a horse in sight anywhere — what must the Core Worlds themselves be like?

  They arrived at the address, a suite of offices on the fourth floor above a coffee house. A stunning young woman looked up from her console as they entered. She ran her eyes over the two of them, clearly taking in Alexis’ rank and Isom’s disheveled appearance. “May I help you in some way?” she asked.

  Alexis took an instant dislike to the young woman. She’d seen that look on the faces of her peers on Dalthus, usually directed at some farmhand or shopkeeper. An instant appraisal, judgment, and dismissal as unworthy of further attention or any real courtesy. She forced her face into a smile.

  “Yes, please. Mister Isom to see Mister Grandy, if it’s convenient.”

  The woman pursed her lips into a delicate moue. “Oh,” she said. “I’m afraid that would be impossible. Mister Grandy is quite busy today.”

  Alexis had a sudden understanding. Isom’s description of his correspondence with Mister Grandy had given the impression of a warm, jovial man. Not the sort who would ignore messages from a colleague’s former clark, even if the circumstances were somewhat unusual.

  “I see,” Alexis said. “And you are the keeper of Mister Grandy’s schedule, I take it?”

  The woman nodded, a self-satisfied smirk on her face. “If you’d like to leave a message, I’m sure we’ll contact you when Mister Grandy has an opening.”

  Alexis nodded. “And you are the passer of Mister Grandy’s messages, as well, I assume?”

  Another nod.

  “Well, then,” Alexis said, settling herself into a nearby chair and gesturing for Isom to do so as well.

  The woman looked confused for a moment. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Alexis pulled out her tablet and settled back in the chair, giving every impression that she intended to be there for some time. “Waiting for Mister Grandy,” she said.

  “You can’t do that!”

  “Dear,” Alexis said, “if you’re capable of a thought that’s at all beyond the ornamental, you’ll see clearly that I’m already doing so.”

  “I shall call the authorities!”

  Alexis looked up from her tablet and narrowed her eyes as though thinking hard, then nodded. “Yes, please do.”

  “I … what?”

  “I’m sure the arrival of the authorities will cause some sort of ruckus, at which Mister Grandy will appear and we can be about our business.” She waved her hand dismissively and settled back into the chair. “Do as you think best, dear.”

  The woman clenched her jaw and turned back to her console. Isom made to speak, but Alexis held out a hand to restrain him. She checked her tablet for messages — she was receiving occasional messages from the Port Admiral’s station, addressed to her at Penduli Station, but still nothing addressed to her on Hermione. She’d thought, at least, that their extended stay on the station would allow her messages to catch up with her. After a few minutes, she noticed the woman at the desk speaking lowly into her console. The woman nodded, but her lips were pursed, clearly unhappy with what she’d heard.

  “Shouldn’t be long now, Isom,” Alexis whispered.

  In fact, it was less than a minute before a man hurried out of the back offices. He was past middle-age and balding, with a thin mustache. His gaze passed over Alexis and the rest of the waiting area before fixing on Isom.

  “Mister Isom?” he asked, his smile faltering a little. Alexis couldn’t blame him for being unsure, as Isom was dressed as a common spacer and still sported the bruises and cuts from the beating he’d taken from the port marines.

  “Mister Grandy!” Isom said, standing and holding out his hand. “Thank you so much for seeing me.”

  “Of course,” Grandy said. “Of course! It’s a pleasure to meet you finally. Your work on the Wickholm property was first rate — my client was exceptionally pleased with the result.” He looked Isom up and down. “But what is this? You’ve given over the law for naval service?”

  Isom flushed and looked at the floor. “That is the matter I wished to speak to you about, Mister Grandy,” he said. “The joining was not by choice, you see.”

  Grandy’s face fell. “Oh, dear,” he said. “Caught up in the Press? Indeed?”

  Isom nodded.

  “I see. Well, come back to my office and tell me what’s happened. We’ll see what can be done.” He turned to Alexis and held out his hand. “And you, Miss …”

  “Carew, sir,” she said. “Midshipman aboard Hermione, the ship Isom is serving on.”

  “Would you come back with me, sir?” Isom asked. “In case Mister Grandy has questions about the ship or the Service?”

  “Of course, Isom.”

  Alexis followed Grandy and Isom back to his office. Rather than sitting behind his desk, Grandy ushered them to a sitting area with four deep chairs around a low table. Grandy waited, making small talk about legal matters with Isom, until the woman had brought coffee for them all, served with cream, sugar, and a dark look for Alexis.

  As soon as the coffee was served, Grandy became quite business-like. His tablet was suddenly in his hands and he was tapping away as he asked Isom to tell his tale, interspersed with questions about minute details. Alexis sat back and sipped her coffee. Isom’s tale was common one for spacers since the start of the war and the reinstatement of the Impressment Service. Less so for a landsman who’d never been to space, but he’d been caught up in it nevertheless.

  “Well, sir,” he said, “I’d been out one night near the port, you see, and was making my way home. It was a bit late, but there were still plenty of people about —”

  “Why were you near the port to begin with?” Grandy asked. “It hardly seems the place for you.” He inclined his head to Alexis. “Meaning no offense, Miss Carew, but naval crews are somewhat rowdier company than one expects of a law clark.”

  “None taken, Mister Grandy,” Alexis said smiling. “I’m sure ‘rowdy’ is quite the politest thing my lads have been called in port.”

  “Indeed,” Grandy said and looked expectantly at Isom.

  “I … well …” Isom flushed and Alexis had a sudden suspicion.

  A legal clark with prospects, but no real standing as yet. His opportunities for meeting a woman would be limited, while the port would offer access at a cost affordable on a clark’s wages. Or a cost much greater, as it turned out for him.

  “There was a lady involved, Isom?” she asked gently.

  Isom flushed more and nodded.

  Grandy cleared his throat and waved a hand. “I see, well, the reason you were there will likely have no bearing on the case. Do continue, please, Mister Isom.”

  “I was making my way home,” Isom repeated, “and sudde
nly there were men running down the street past me. Running hard and shouting from ahead, so … well, I turned and ran with them.” He looked from Alexis to Grandy, eyes wide. “I wasn’t sure what they’d be running from, you see, and … it’s a hard area, as you said. The next I knew, there were men ahead of us. They rushed into the crowd and started striking people with stunners. One of them struck me and I blacked out.”

  Isom was hunched over in his chair and Alexis saw that his eyes were wet and she reached out to lay an arm across his shoulders.

  “When I woke I was in the hulks. Twenty of us jammed into a compartment, waiting for transfer to some ship. I tried to tell them I wasn’t a spacer! Never been to space at all. I was a bloody clark, for pity’s sake, never been outside the city, even!” He rubbed at his eyes. “They’d taken my tablet and they wouldn’t call down to the city to check who I was at all. Said I was a liar and a spacer.” He spat out a laugh. “Pointed to a tattoo on my arm as proof.” He rolled up his left sleeve to show a tattoo on his inner arm, a fouled anchor many spacers got as their first tattoo. “I’ve never wanted a tattoo and it was still bleeding when they pointed to it. I suppose they had it done while I was unconscious to prove I was a spacer.” He shrugged. “Then I was put aboard Hermione and sailed for the border.”

  Alexis felt her eyes burning. It was one thing to choose the naval life, another to be forced to it by circumstance as she had been, but something very different to have had your life stolen and be thrown into it against your will. She couldn’t imagine how Isom must feel.

  And to be put onto Hermione to top it all?

  Grandy was silent for a time, brow furrowed. “Mister Prescott is aware of your situation?” he asked. Alexis assumed this was Isom’s former employer.

  “He is,” Isom said. “First I had access to send a message, I informed him. He’s said he’ll look into it, but it’s hard with me aboard ship so far away and not there to make the complaint myself. I thought, being here …”