Alexis wondered if it was really a choice they had.
“Do me best, sir,” Gutis said. He tapped his console and spoke to the men aft in the passenger compartment. “If that last weren’t enough t’get y’strapped in, lads, this next’ll do for you.” He turned to Alexis. “Best you head back, sir. Passenger compartment’s safer for what’s to come — I can keep her level for a bit while y’make yer way.”
Alexis took in his hands, clenched on the controls, knuckles white, and thought of him alone in the cockpit as the surface of Erzurum rushed at them through the viewscreen. She reached across the small space and laid a hand on his forearm.
“I think I’m best off here, Gutis. You’ve seen us this far — you’ll see us the rest of the way.”
Sixty-Seven
What choice Gutis had in their landing spot was less than either he or Alexis might prefer. They wound up in a heavily forested area some ten or more kilometers from the nearest settlement.
The engines were all but gone — shot away in the action with the other boat, and Gutis shutdown the fusion plant as soon as they came to a stop to avoid its exploding too. His hands moved rapidly, almost of their own volition, while his eyes held a wide, glazed look.
The pilot turned that look from his now dark control board to the mass of greenery and pile of plowed up dirt outside the viewscreen.
“We’re down, sir,” he said, back straight and eyes fixed forward.
The trunk of a very large tree, larger than Alexis thought the boat’s bow could have sheared through without crumpling as far back as the cockpit, only two meters ahead of them.
“So I see,” Alexis answered. She carefully eased her cramped hands from the seat’s arms. “I presume we’ll not be lifting again.”
“No, sir,” Gutis said, barely moving anything but his lips. “Rather not lift this boat again, me.”
Alexis unbuckled and rose. “Let’s see to the lads, then.”
She waited a moment, but there was no movement from the pilot.
“Gutis?”
She grasped the pilot’s arm and he rose with her pull, eyes still forward.
“The tree …” he said.
“Come on, then,” Alexis said, guiding him to the cockpit hatch.
“Big tree …”
“Wondrously big, Gutis, but we didn’t strike it.”
“Broke the boat, sir — sorry about that.”
“It’s quite all right, Gutis, we’ll get you another.”
The boat’s passenger compartment was dark and smoke-filled, but Nabb and a few others were already up and working on the hatch. Light came in and smoke poured out as it opened and the occupants leapt out to the forest floor.
Outside, the smell of melted hull material was overpowering and mixed with the scent of burning vegetation. Smoke rose from the boat itself and all along a hundred-meter furrow plowed behind it. Snapped and uprooted trees — none nearly so large as the one in front of the boat — were scattered along the path.
Alexis steered Gutis to the edge and two spacers lowered the pilot to others who took him in hand. They settled him off to the side and left Creasy to watch him while Alexis and Nabb examined the boat.
The boat, once viewed from outside, was a wonder of its hull properties for having stayed together. The outside was pocked and scorched with laser fire and streaks of melted material where they’d come too fast through the atmosphere at times.
“There’ll be a pint or two comin’ his way from the lads, sir,” Nabb said, nodding to where Gutis sat.
“And well-earned,” Alexis agreed.
That settled, everyone out of the boat, and, after examination, with some assurance that the boat was not going explode at any moment, Alexis retrieved a radio and tried to determine what was happening with the battle above.
What she discovered was not entirely heartening.
Though all of private ships had sustained some damage, it appeared Mongoose was the only one which had been taken out of operation. They were in possession of Erzurum’s orbital space, with the orbiting frigate taken and its pirate crew captured. The oncoming pirate ships and gunboats had retired to take up orbit around Erzurum’s moon, with more arriving from darkspace as time went on.
The surface actions were successful, with nearly all of the objectives taken, but there were a much larger number of ship’s boats belonging to the pirates on-planet than had been expected. Those boats, one of which had sent Alexis and her crew crashing to the surface, made for an odd sort of standoff.
While the ships in orbit stared off with the pirates around the moon, the two forces in-atmosphere were settling into the same, with neither having the numbers necessary to be sure of dislodging the other with certainty.
Mongoose’s boat had the poor luck to come down in an area essentially held by the pirates, with no other forces from the private ships nearby to support them.
This put them in a rather poor position, with their own boat disabled. If they were to call for help from their own forces, that call would likely be heard by the pirates too. Those pirates were closer and it was unlikely any boat from their own ships would be able to make its way to them for rescue.
It appeared they were on their own, at least until the situation changed or they were able to make their way to a place with friendlier skies above them.
Moving was something they’d have to do soon, certainly, for the crash site was easily visible from the air and might soon be investigated by the pirates.
Alexis looked around, trying to recall the brief, harried glimpses she’d had of the surrounding terrain as the boat came down.
Somewhere in, perhaps, that direction was a settlement — they might be able to seize some form of transport there.
“Nabb?” she called.
“Aye, sir?”
“I know spacers aren’t fond of it, but I’m afraid we’ve a bit of a hike ahead of us.”
Nabb nodded. “Expected that.”
“Find Dockett, will you, and the two of you see to getting the supplies off the boat and divided amongst the crew for carriage — the wounded, also. See who may be able to walk and who must be carried. All of them armed — firearms for any with some skill.”
“Aye, sir.”
They were almost ready to start off. The crew was formed into two columns, supplies — as much as they could carry — spread out amongst them and everyone armed. Those too wounded to walk were on hastily cobbled together stretchers carried by men with a lighter load of supplies.
It had taken longer than Alexis was comfortable with and she kept scanning the skies, expecting to see a pirate boat come upon them at any moment. She wanted to be well away and under cover of the forest canopy soon.
She came around the boat’s bow and found Nabb, Dockett, and Isom huddled in an apparently heated conference near the boat’s hatch. The three looked up at her appearance and stopped talking, Dockett leaving the other two and walking toward the stern while Nabb and Isom came toward her.
Alexis caught Nabb’s and Isom’s arms as they went to pass her on either side.
“A moment, you two.”
She waited until Dockett disappeared around the boat’s stern, then tugged the pair into position where she could see their faces. Both were looking down, as though children who knew there was a scolding in the works.
“The two of you’ve been chivying Dockett about something, and I’ll have the what of it. We’ve enough trouble and enough to do without tensions amongst the crew.”
Nabb and Isom shared a look, each nodding his head slightly at the other, then frowning back.
“One of you, out with it now!”
“It’s really nothing, sir,” Nabb said.
“Not nothing if it has this effect on my bosun,” Alexis said. “The man goes nearly apoplectic at the very sight of you two.”
“There’s a dispute about a debt, sir,” Isom said. “Nothing more. I’m sure we’ll work it out in time. No need to bother yourself.”
<
br /> “A debt?”
“We’re owed from your duel, sir,” Nabb said. “Us and your boat crew — most of ‘em, least ways.”
Alexis’ brow furrowed. Stranded on a hostile world would not be where she’d worry too very much about gambling debts, but she knew the crew took these things seriously. They had the oddest notions about right and wrong sometimes, and would take a stand over seemingly insignificant slights.
Still, she’d expected all the betting on that duel would have been settled — at least those aboard any one ship. She supposed the bets that went between ships would have to wait until they were all back on some civilized world — though she really didn’t know how Dockett might have arranged that.
No matter that, though, if there was tension over Dockett’s book, and possibly more over bets with the other crews, she’d best find out the details and try to smooth things over. Their band had enough troubles without borrowing more.
“He’s not refusing to pay, is he?”
Isom shook his head, then sighed. “There’s only a bit of disagreement about the terms.”
Alexis frowned. “How can there be? I do recall winning, after all.”
Nabb scratched at his neck and looked away.
“You did bet on me to win, didn’t you?”
“Oh, aye, sir! Never else!” Nabb said.
Isom elbowed him. “You tell her the rest.”
“Nabb?”
“It’s only how the betting fell out, sir,” Nabb said after a long pause. “Most of the money from the fleet had Spensley killing you, truth be told, so there were fine odds on you killing him, and that’s where most of Mongoose’s coin went, see?”
Alexis nodded. “So, what? Most of are lads are set to collect a tidy sum, but it’s from the other ships and collecting it might have to wait until we’re well away from Erzurum and know just how many of the other ships’ crew are still alive to collect from. It seems reasonable to wait.”
“It’s not that, sir,” Isom said.
Nabb shook his head.
“Well what is it, then?”
“It was Nabb’s thought at the first, sir.”
“More Creasy’s,” Nabb said.
Alexis resisted the urge to grasp the two by their collars and shake them.
“What thought?”
Nabb took a deep breath. “There were a lot of money on Spensley killing you,” he repeated, “and we all betting on you killing him …” He paused. “Then Creasy says, ‘What about her slicing the bugger up and then leaving the bastard alive once he’s all cryin’ and helpless, such as she’s like to do?’” Nabb shrugged. “Dockett had to figure the odds special on that.”
“Once Creasy said it, sir, it did seem obvious,” Isom said.
“Nearly all the old Nightingales put their money there, sir,” Nabb added.
Alexis stared at them, mouth hanging open and aghast. “You bet that I’d maim the man and leave him alive?”
“More that you’d see no need of killin’ him, sir, once he was all helpless and such.”
Isom nodded. “There is a certain trend, sir, once one looks for it.”
“I — there is no trend, I’m certain.”
“That Coalson bloke you had to kill twice,” Nabb said, “then that Hannie fellow what run off afire, we’re told.”
Isom nodded. “Captain Neals, though not physically damaged, certainly had his career … well, maimed would not be so very harsh a description for a frigate captain to be put in-atmosphere with no hope of commanding a ship again.”
Alexis stared from one to the other and saw that they were serious.
“Now, look, you two, this is not something I do, no matter Creasy’s delusions — and recall, please, it’s him who talks nothing but bloody, spectral Dutchmen and ‘spirits of the Dark’ inhabiting the ship’s vermin!” She noted they both winced at that, for they, and the rest of the crew, didn’t like it a bit when she named their little mascot a vile creature.
“Coalson,” she went on, “was thought dead when I put a broadside into his boat, there was no reason to think he still lived, and I did kill him properly when next we met.”
Isom shrugged. “Set him adrift in darkspace with just a suit, sir.”
Nabb nodded. “Not a proper killing — I mean if one wants to be sure of a thing, sir.”
Alexis pondered that. She’d had the chance to see Coalson hung, or could have simply put a flechette or laser through the man’s eye, but instead she’d cast him adrift in darkspace — a fate most spacers considered the worst of ends. She’d wanted him to suffer for what he’d done to her family, after all, but had there been some other motive?
“I had to run from that agent in Hanover and escape. It’s not as though I could have killed him and didn’t; it’s that I simply couldn’t.”
“I’d imagine being set afire would … irritate him, sir,” Isom said.
“Probably all right now,” Nabb allowed, “but it’s the spirit of the thing, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Creasy was clear there was a sort of — what did he call it? Symbolism?”
Nabb nodded. “That were it.”
“I never so much as scratched Captain Neals! And we never fought, either, not like that!”
“Could’ve left him on Giron for the Hannies to take, sir,” Isom said. His face was harder than usual. Isom had his own reasons to hate the former captain of Hermione. “Or killed him on the way back. No more than he deserved.”
“Regardless,” Alexis said, “I never maimed him at all.”
Isom shrugged again. “Captain without a ship. Spend his days putting thumb to tablet with an open sky above him and end Admiral of the Yellow if he’s lucky, sir?”
“I —” Alexis broke of her next protest. That was a horrible fate for a man who’d once commanded a frigate, once one considered it. Aside from the lack of command, Neals would have a port admiral looking over his decisions every moment and the opportunities for profit, something she knew the man had dearly loved about commanding a frigate, were far less.
“This is nonsense,” she said at last. “I’ve killed any number of men — and I can’t believe I’m having to somehow defend myself by saying that.”
“Oh, aye, sir,” Nabb said. “When the heat’s on you’ll put a man down quicker’n spit. Every lad aboard knows that.”
“It’s only when you’ve a moment to think, sir, and the man’s no threat any longer,” Isom said.
Alexis frowned again. Did she truly hesitate? And was it some sort of failing?
“I shot a pirate dead between the eyes when I was just fifteen,” she said, her stomach quivering a bit at the memory and that figure’s visits to her dreams.
“And since, sir?” Isom asked.
Alexis opened her mouth to respond, closed it, then frowned. The two were beginning to sound like one of the Sick and Hurt Board’s surgeons who thought everyone should talk about anything that bothered them — forever asking questions and insist she think about it.
“It’s all right, sir, it really is,” Nabb said. “There’s some of the lads see it as a kind heart — others think it’s a right cold one that’d leave a man scratching at the deck with a sword through his tongue.” He shared a glance with Isom. “I think they take the side of what they need in a captain, either way.”
This was quickly getting deeper than she cared to ponder at the moment, what with Mongoose being surrounded by pirates and reliant on the dubious steadfastness of the other captains.
“I see nothing at all wrong with having granted Captain Spensley a bit of mercy,” she said finally. They could settle that at least, and move on. “I settled the matter, and there was no reason to further anger the crew of Oriana by killing him when he was clearly out of the fight.”
“Nothing wrong at all, sir,” Isom said. “Not saying it was.”
“Long as Dockett pays,” Nabb muttered.
Author’s Note
Thank you for reading Privateer, I hope you enjoyed it.
If you did and would like to help support the series, the best thing you can do is leave a review at Amazon, Goodreads, or even your personal blog — reviews help other readers determine if a series is to their liking and authors, especially indy authors, rely on such word of mouth to get our books in front of new readers.
You can also join my email mailing list at www.alexiscarew.com/list. The list receives no more than one or two emails per month, with updates on my next book, as well as recommendations of other authors you might like. You’ll also receive some free short works in the Alexis Carew series.
Yes, there will be more books in the Alexis Carew series. By the time you read this, I’ll have been hard at work on the next one for several months.
Privateer does end on a bit of a cliff-hanger, and I apologize to readers who don’t like that sort of thing. In the past, I’ve been able to end the main story with the last chapter and then set up the next in the epilogue, which I think has worked well. With Privateer, though, the story itself is longer — one of the dangers of following a career like Alexis’. In order to fit her term in the Barbary into just one book, it would have to be nearly twice as long as any other in the series, so I had to find a reasonable place to break it up.
Regarding the naming of the region of space known as the Barbary, it comes from two sources.
First the ancestry of the settlers there, driven out of Hanover — or at least made unwelcome in the wealthier worlds — traces back to the North African coast which first bore the name Barbary.
Second, it comes the spacers (and earlier sailors) penchant for naming things. Sailors of the 19th century named an area of San Francisco the “Barbary Coast” for its predatory dives, opium dens, and places of general ill-repute, which would target sailors, much like Wheeley’s Casino.
“The Barbary Coast is the haunt of the low and the vile of every kind. The petty thief, the house burglar, the tramp, the whoremonger, lewd women, cutthroats, murderers, all are found here. Dance-halls and concert-saloons, where blear-eyed men and faded women drink vile liquor, smoke offensive tobacco, engage in vulgar conduct, sing obscene songs and say and do everything to heap upon themselves more degradation, are numerous. Low gambling houses, thronged with riot-loving rowdies, in all stages of intoxication, are there. Opium dens, where heathen Chinese and God-forsaken men and women are sprawled in miscellaneous confusion, disgustingly drowsy or completely overcome, are there. Licentiousness, debauchery, pollution, loathsome disease, insanity from dissipation, misery, poverty, wealth, profanity, blasphemy, and death, are there. And Hell, yawning to receive the putrid mass, is there also.”
Privateer (Alexis Carew Book 5) Page 39