Mutineer

by Sutherland, J. A.

  “Not a bit, sir,” he said. “Found it just like you said at the edge of that field. Looked like some men were up and at breakfast nearer the farmstead, but no guard a’tall. Might as not even know we took her yet.”

  “Moberly!” Alexis called over her shoulder. “You and Lain see to loading the men!” She turned to face the growing crowd. “It’ll be crowded, mind you, lads! So watch your tempers!”

  “Aye sir!” came the chorused reply.

  Alexis hurried to the hauler’s cab. It would be crowded, indeed, with more than seventy men and their bags crammed into the hauler’s cargo compartment. Moreover, it would be uncomfortable, with no seating — and no pressurization or heat for the long flight to the nearest port almost two thousand kilometers away. Even at the hauler’s top speed the trip would be hours long with little room to sit down.

  “I hear it all went smoothly, Collison,” she said, climbing into the hauler’s cab.

  “Weren’t even locked, sir” Collison said, lip curled in disgust.

  “I’m sorry, Collison. The very next time we’re captured, I’ll try to ensure it’s a properly distrustful planet, shall I?” She settled herself behind him. “Where do we stand, then?”

  “Disabled the transponders right off, sir,” he said. “Such as they was. This system don’t have enough satellites fer proper navigatin’, ferget about trackin’.” He gestured at the sparse console. “By guess and by eye ter get us anywheres, but there’s a decent map.” He tapped one of the panels that showed a map. “I’ve an idea of the proper course for the port, sir.”

  “Anything on the radio?”

  “Nothing, sir, but it’s nearing dawn. I’d ‘spect they’ll find this thing’s missing soon.”

  “All right, Collison,” she said. She opened the cab’s door to hop out and check on the loading. “Good work.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Alexis made her way to the rear of the hauler, trying to think of what might happen next. What would happen on Dalthus if a hauler went missing? First whichever holder had hired its use would try to raise it on the radio … no the hauler’s pilot, there at the holding, would try to raise it. He’d want to know what fool was off joyriding in it and he wouldn’t want to alert the dispatcher that he’d gone and lost one of the most valuable things on the planet.

  Then there’d be the sheepish call to the dispatch office. More calls to locate the other pilots. Had someone made a mistake and taken the vehicle on another run? It could be an hour or more, she hoped, from the time they discovered it missing to when they suspected foul play. Longer, perhaps, if the original pilot received a response to his initial queries — something garbled, with a great deal of static, but just enough to make him think there had been a misunderstanding or emergency? It was certainly worth a try.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “I make it one boat, sir.”

  Alexis reached forward and turned off the hauler’s radio. They were in sight of the port’s landing field and the hauler’s original pilot and dispatcher had grown angry and suspicious with her anyway. She’d managed to put them off a bit, at least until the prison guards’ replacements had arrived to find their fellows locked up. Once that news had filtered from place to place over the radio, it had been pretty clear who had taken their hauler. Now she could only hope that whatever response was organized took enough time for her and the crew to reach the port and take a boat. The only boat, she saw as the port’s landing field came into view. She’d hoped for more than one boat to be on the field, which would mean more than one ship in orbit — more than one chance for it to be a ship large enough for her crew and not some pinnace or cutter that would hold less than half of them. One’s better than none, though.

  “I’d hoped there might be more than one, Collison,” she said, “but we’ll make do, yes?”

  “Aye sir,” he answered. “Makin’ do’s done us well so far, it has.”

  Alexis took a deep breath. “Let’s be about it, then,” she said.

  Collison nodded and hunched over the hauler’s controls. He seemed to have the hauler aimed directly for the ship’s boat and as they got closer and lower with the hauler still at high speed, they overflew the boat with barely a meter’s space to spare and dropped to the field immediately past it. If the hauler hadn’t had its own gravity generator and inertial compensator, the men in the cargo compartment would have been flung about like rag dolls. As it was, Collison slammed those compensators off as soon as the hauler had stopped moving and that was the signal for the men in back to a.

  They threw open the doors of the cargo compartment and fell on the few merchant spacers around the boat. It was over before Alexis and Collison were even able to exit the cab and rush to the rear of the hauler. Shocked by the hauler’s abrupt arrival and the rush of men, the boat’s small crew was overwhelmed. Lain and Moberly wasted no time in identifying the boat’s pilot and dragging him to Alexis.

  “What ship?” Alexis demanded.

  “Que?”

  Oh, I’m bloody tired of hearing that, I am. “Navire! Ce navire?” Her crew was busy crowding aboard the boat.

  “Trau Wunsch.”

  “How big? La taille?” In the corner of her vision she could see Neals and the other officers standing to the side while the crew streamed aboard. Are they really? Would Neals really stand on precedent and insist on boarding last even given the circumstances?

  The pilot was pale and shaking. “Barque, une cent de tonnes.”

  Alexis almost shouted with delight. It would be large enough … just. The ride up in the boat would be standing room, with most of the crew stuffed into the boat’s hold or stacked like cordwood, but a ship that size would be enough for them. It would be tight, and they’d have to sleep in shifts with many berthing in the hold, but it would be enough — there’d be enough air and water to sustain them the week or two it would take to reach New London space, and food might grow short, but they could do it.

  “En haut! Immédiatement!” She gestured for the pilot to enter the boat.

  “Que?”

  “On the boat and take us up!” Alexis yelled, pointing at the ramp. “Vous prenez l'avion!”

  The man blanched and Lain gave him a shove toward the ramp. “Up you go, lad, a’fore the cap’n feeds ya yer own liver!”

  Alexis followed them, calling out, “Get aboard, lads, and hurry!” she called out.

  She rushed up the ramp and into the cockpit, seating herself beside the pilot. She wracked her brain for the French to make him understand.

  “Vous nous prendre pour le navire. Aucun avertissement. We take your ship and you have the boat and your life, yes? No warnings!” She drew a finger across her throat to underscore the threat. “Comprenez vous?”

  “Oui!” the pilot nodded, head bobbing rapidly.

  Lain and Moberly crowded into the cockpit behind them.

  “Lads’re aboard, sir,” Lain said. “Captain Neals is on the ramp.”

  * * * * *

  The taking of Trau Wunsch went quickly. The boat’s pilot made some excuse for returning to the ship so quickly. Alexis didn’t know exactly what, because the pilot was speaking German, Trau Wunsch being from Hanover proper and not one of the formerly French worlds. She was confident, though, that Moberly’s hulking presence next to him kept the pilot honest.

  They likely could have taken the ship simply by announcing their intentions on the way up to orbit, though, as Trau Wunsch had only three men aboard as an orbit watch. The rest were on leave or about business in the port. Once the boat made fast and the hatch opened, there was no resistance as Alexis’ crew stormed aboard and took control.

  “All hands to the sails, Mister Lain! At least those we’ve vacsuits for and’ll fit.”

  “Aye sir!”

  Alexis ran her fingers over the barque’s navigation plot, confirming, for the third time since entering the quarterdeck, that the ship’s systems were unlocked. Unlocked … but in bloody German, which’ll be a challenge in
itself.

  “Sergeant Moberly, are our reluctant benefactors well away?”

  “Aye sir! Into the boat and the cockpit locked against them. Shoved away and drifting. They’ll not bother us ‘til a boat from one o’ them other ships comes for them.”

  “Thank you, Moberly.” She rested her palms on the plot. “Take the signals console, Simcoe, as best you can. Get us underway, Ficke.” She tapped the plot. “This moon here is closest — we’ll transition at L1. No more than half power to the conventional drive, mind you, Ficke … lord help us if they’re in the same state as the rest of this tub. Mister Lain, I’ll want the masts raised and all plain sail ready to charge the moment we transition.”

  “Aye sir!” the men chorused.

  The ship’s quarterdeck was a bustle of activity. The mess deck was even worse, with all her crew crowded in and trying to sort out who would best fit the bare two dozen vacsuits aboard. Most merchant ships carried the minimum of crew, and this one was no different. That was lucky for them in taking her, for half the crew had been planetside and there’d been only three of those left awake when their stolen boat arrived and made fast. Awake and eating bloody breakfast on my quarterdeck! Alexis shoved a dropped plate and its contents aside with her boot. Eating on the quarterdeck, indeed. Their orbit watch was as slovenly as the rest.

  Trau Wunsch was not well-kept. The decks and bulkheads were filthy, her mess deck was cluttered and strewn with the crews’ possessions, and the air had an odor to it. Not just the staleness and undertone of old sweat that a normal ship had, but a sour, gagging reek, as though some long forgotten cargo were rotting in the hold.

  “Sergeant Moberly!” Alexis went on, returning to the long list of tasks that would see them underway.

  “Sir?”

  “Two marines to the hold, if you please, and they’re to see no one goes down there on a lark.” She had faith in most of the lads, they were still in far too much danger to take things less than seriously, but one or two might take the chance for a bit of exploring. She’d need her lads whole and sensible, not raiding whatever wine or spirits were stored aboard.

  On the monitors, Giron fell away and behind them as Ficke applied power and pointed the ship toward the nearest moon and its Lagrange point. Did I just feel the ship move?

  “Mister Lain!”

  “Aye sir?”

  “Two lads to engineering, lively now, and they’re to see to the compensators. They’ll not be able to read the consoles until we’ve changed them to proper English, mind you, so pick those who’ll know what to look for in the readouts.”

  “Aye sir.”

  “And two more to the hold, while you’re about it, please. Steady lads, and I’ll have an accounting of our stores.” They’d need to know how they were set for food and water. With so many more men aboard than the ship normally held, they could be on short rations for this trip. She looked around the quarterdeck, trying to think of what else needed doing before they transitioned, and after. The myriad little things it took to keep a ship running and safe. Her foot slid out from under her as she turned and she barely caught herself on the edge of the plot. Her face twisted with disgust at the smear of egg yolk across the deck and on her boot. “And an idler with a bucket, Mister Lain — handsomely, but I’ll have this mess cleaned off my quarterdeck!”

  “Aye sir!”

  Alexis heard a muttered oath and looked up from the plot in shock. She scanned the quarterdeck for who might have made the outburst. Oh dear …

  Captain Neals, along with the other officers, stood to the side. Crowded into the corner, really, as the quarterdeck itself was far smaller than a Navy ship’s. He was scowling at her, face red. Alexis had all but forgotten him — having him locked away in the hauler’s cargo compartment, in the passenger compartment of the boat on their way up, and, certainly, at the rear of the short, anti-climactic boarding action to take Trau Wunsch had been a great relief. She hadn’t even noticed that he and the others had made their way onto the quarterdeck, so focused was she on getting underway. Her quarterdeck, as she’d just named it, clearly to Neals’ greater displeasure.

  “Ah, captain?” She caught her lip between her teeth. “Since you cannot …” She shot Williard a pleading look, but found no help there. “Would you, perhaps, like to retire to the master’s cabin? Mister Lain! A detail to the master’s cabin to make it habitable for Captain Neals, if you please!” Oh, bugger it, I did it again … could I’ve made it clearer I only want him gone? And then give more orders while he’s here?

  Neals’ face grew redder, but he said nothing. Simply nodded curtly and stalked to the quarterdeck hatch, followed by the others.

  Alexis turned back to her plot before the hatch had closed. The other ships around Giron were staying steady in their orbits. She breathed a silent sigh of relief at that, if any of them had chosen to come after Trau Wunsch, they’d be hard pressed to resist.

  “Simcoe,” she said, turning to the signals console. “My compliments to the gunner, please, and I’d admire a report on the state of our armaments.”

  * * * * *

  “Sail! Starboard beam, down thirty! Close aboard!”

  Alexis rushed from the navigation plot to the tactical station, a jolt of fear running through her. They were still well within Hanoverese space and unless Hache hadn’t been paying attention, close aboard meant it had to be a warship lying with sails dark and unpowered.

  “I was watchin’, sir,” Hache said. “Just appeared like, right where she is.”

  A picket, then. With the border and space so vast Alexis had hoped the odds would be on their side and they’d be able to avoid any Hanoverese ships and make it to New London space without incident. Apparently they wouldn’t have that luck.

  “Signal, sir!” Moreton called from the signals console. “She’s flying Hanoverese colors … Heave to for inspection.”

  Trau Wunsch was flying Hanoverese colors as well. Alexis had hoped that would get them past any cursory look by an enemy ship, but that wouldn’t fool them once they boarded.

  “Small, sir,” Hache said. “Pinnace, no more than six guns.”

  Alexis caught her lip between her teeth. Six would be more than enough, given the state of Trau Wunsch. The merchantman was large and had ports for eight guns, but only four aboard — tiny two-pounders, no better than flashlights. Of those, one’s barrels were so scarred and pitted from previous use that the gunner had declared it unusable. Another he allowed they could try in dire straits, but reckoned it more of a danger to their own ship.

  The guns weren’t the only thing the merchant captain had skimped on. They’d found that Trau Wunsch had barely three dozen cartridges for the guns aboard and those were so ill-kept that the gunner had immediately had them all torn down and reassembled. Their contacts would need replacing and their capacitors checked for wear. A capacitor failure on the gundeck would be catastrophic. They had, perhaps, a dozen rounds they could rely upon and a dozen more that might or might not fire.

  Alexis wanted to scream in frustration. They were so close, she suspected, to the border that the next ship they encountered after this would likely be from New London. Instead she forced her voice to stay calm and level, hearing her first captain’s words in her head. Decorum, Mister Carew. You must keep a steady hand to steady the men.

  “Beat to quarters, Mister Lain,” she said, a bit surprised at how calm she sounded. “But keep the guns inboard. Half those with vacsuits to the sail locker and half to the guns, please.” She waited while the bosun rushed forward to the ship’s mess deck where the guns and the bulk of the men were.

  Vacsuits were another thing they lacked. The merchantman normally had a crew of twenty-six, including the captain and mates, far fewer than the number of Hermiones now crammed aboard. She’d told the bosun to assign those suits to the sail and gun crews as best he could. Some of the men would be in suits that were ill-fitting and all of them have complaints about the plumbing. Alexis would have no suit at all — the
re’d be none small enough for her, and as for that plumbing, well, Trau Wunsch had an all-male crew.

  When the mess deck was cleared for action and the air evacuated, those without suits would have to cram onto the quarterdeck or into the holds as best they could. The thought of going into action in this fragile hulled scow with most of her crew unsuited filled Alexis with dread.

  “Keep the Hanoverese colors flying, Moreton,” she said, “but be ready to replace them with our own.” Flying false colors was a legitimate ruse of war, but the first shot had to be fired under their true colors.

  Alexis looked at the navigation plot for a moment and shook her head. There was no chance of outrunning the Hanoverese pinnace. Even though Trau Wunsch had three large masts to the much smaller pinnace’s one, the maintenance on her particle projector had been neglected and none of the sails could be fully charged.

  I do believe I’ve stolen the worst-kept ship in the entire universe.

  “Signal Will Comply, Moreton,” she said. “They’ll expect us to take a moment to send men out to work the sails.”

  The bosun returned, followed by ten of the men all in vacsuits. Shortly after they’d made their way into the sail locker, Captain Neals and the rest of Hermione’s officers entered the quarterdeck. Alexis had given them the master’s quarters, crowded though it was. It gave them some privacy and kept them out of the way of the rest of the crew. Alexis herself had been standing watch-and-watch, bedding down for a few hours’ sleep in a corner.

  “What are you about, Carew?” Neals demanded. “Why was quarters sounded?”

  “Sir, there’s a Hanoverese pinnace after us,” she said. “If you could please —”

  Neals rested his hands on the edge of the navigation plot and leaned over, eyes narrowing. “You let him get this close? You incompetent …”

  Alexis clenched her jaw.

  “Sir,” Williard said. “We may really not participate in the action, we—”