Then there’s the odor … which the engineers and purser swear can’t be there. And yet … She sighed. A proper bath, perhaps, if the cost isn’t too dear.
She pulled her hair, still damp with sweat from her time outside, back into a ponytail and dressed. At least she had fresh clothing, and she’d save her water for just before going to bed.
She left the head and saw Roland sitting alone at the gunroom table, shoulders slumped. On a sudden impulse, she stopped at the pantry and retrieved a bottle of her wine. She walked up to the table and began pouring wine into Roland’s glass.
“What’re you …”
“You do not like me, Roland,” she said, sitting across from him and pouring herself a glass as well.
“‘Mister Roland’ is how you should address me, I am senior.”
Alexis gave him a small smile. Despite the older midshipman’s insistence on how he should be addressed, she’d found no regulation to that effect.
“It’s a courtesy,” he said.
“A courtesy? Yes, that would be most refreshing to find in your company. And again, you do not like me.”
Roland looked at her suspiciously but took a drink from his now full glass nevertheless. “I do not.”
“Why is that?”
Roland was silent for a long moment before taking another drink. “Do I need a reason, really?”
Alexis considered that for a moment. She’d expected him to say that he disliked her because she was a girl — at least that’s what she’d been assuming all along. On the other hand, he seemed to dislike Philip just as much, or possibly more.
“I suppose not, no.” She sat back in her chair. “As it’s just occurred to me that you do dislike everyone.”
Roland grinned widely and raised his glass to her. “There you have it then.” He drained his glass and held it out to her for refilling.
“And why is that, I wonder.” She poured again for him and even added a little bit to her own glass.
“Oh, don’t pretend you don’t know,” he said. “I see the looks.”
“‘Looks’?”
“Aye, the looks. When the captain’s grilling me — the looks from you and your sweetheart, Easely. From Lieutenant Caruthers. Even the captain, himself. Just as you were laughing at me on the quarterdeck not an hour past.” He glared at her. “You’ll face your own examination soon enough and see how you like it!”
“We were not! We’d been playing on the hull and were in high spirits, but how would we have known from the sail locker what was happening.” She paused. “And Philip is not my ‘sweetheart’.”
Roland glared at her for a moment, then shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Go ahead and laugh.” He took a large swallow. “Twenty-two next month and still a midshipman?” He snorted. “Worth a laugh or two, that.”
Alexis was more confused than ever. Well, she and Philip did tend toward amusement when Roland became tongue-tied at the captain’s examinations, but only because he was so utterly rude the rest of the time and so utterly insufferable about those things he was good at, that it was quite satisfying to see him fail at something. Which may not be an entirely charitable attitude, she admitted. He was certainly wrong about the captain and Caruthers, though, for she’d overhead the two talking about Roland, something impossible not to do when a conversation took place on Merlin’s cramped quarterdeck.
“You’re quite wrong about the captain, though, you know.” She scanned the gunroom, but they were still alone. She was certain the captain wouldn’t approve of her telling Roland what she’d overheard, but equally certain that the young man needed to hear it.
“Wrong, am I?”
“Yes, you are.”
“Really?”
“I heard him say so to Lieutenant Caruthers — they’d both rather have a Second Lieutenant than a senior midshipman out of you.”
Roland stared at her for a moment, eyes wide, then he clenched his jaw and narrowed them. “Having me on, are you?”
Alexis sighed. “Are you really so dense? Think for a moment,” she hurried on, seeing Roland’s face cloud. “If they thought you had no chance, why would they keep at it with you?”
“Entertaining, I suppose.”
“Roland! I’ve known them less than a month and can see they’d never do that!”
“It’s just …” He looked away and took another long drink.
“Is twenty-two so old then?” She really had no idea of what ages were appropriate for advancement, simply that she’d have to be three years a midshipman before she could stand for lieutenant herself.
“Not the oldest, certainly, but old enough,” he admitted.
Alexis began to understand and she had a sudden surge of sympathy for the young man, tempered with exasperation that he had so misjudged the situation with the captain, and no little anger at herself — she hadn’t thought she was the sort who’d take pleasure in another’s misfortune, but realized that’s what she and Philip had been doing.
“I’m sorry.”
Roland froze, glass half-raised. His eyes narrowed. “What?”
“You’re absolutely correct about Philip and I. Oh, not today, we were laughing because we’d just had a great run around the hull, not at you. But we have been amused by it before, and that was horrid of us.” She thought about Roland as she’d seen him earlier on coming in from the hull, pale and shaking, unable to respond to the captain’s questions. “It must … it must feel like when I’ve plotted the ship’s position all outside of explored space.”
Roland laughed. “That was a good one, that was.”
Alexis closed her eyes for a moment and clenched her teeth — really, he was so infuriating. “Roland.”
He cleared his throat. “Well yes, I hate it. Feel so damned useless and that’s not me. I know what to do — always come to the right decision … just takes me a moment.”
More than a moment, really. “What takes so much time for you then?”
“Have to consider this, then consider that and by the time I’ve given thought to this and these others, well the captain, he has that look upon his face. Don’t rightly know how you and Easely do it, going through all those things so quickly.”
Alexis considered his words for a moment. “I don’t.”
Roland stared at her, eyes narrowing.
“Truly,” she assured him. “I can’t speak for Philip, but really, I simply say the first thing that pops into my head.”
“But …” Roland blinked rapidly. “What if you’re wrong?”
“Well then, I suppose the captain tells me I’ve dismasted the ship and I have to go from there.” She paused, wondering if she’d been going about it all wrong herself. “But honestly now, after you’ve gone about all your theses and thats … which do you usually settle on?”
Roland was silent for a very long time. “But …” he finally began. “Well, generally the first thing I considered, but …”
“So, you see?”
Roland was staring at her as though she’d just tossed something foul onto the gunroom table.
“But what if the first thing’s wrong?” he demanded.
“Stanford,” she said, hoping the use of his given name might get through to him. “I think that you must act, for it is certain your opponent will. And what matters how sure you are of your response if he’s already moved on? If it’s the wrong choice, fix it, but better to do something than to cede all of the initiative and be forever reacting.”
Roland’s brow furrowed. “I shall have to think on that.”
“Really?”
He laughed. “Yes, perhaps that is the problem.”
“How do you suppose you could overcome it?”
Roland eyed her suspiciously. “You’ve something in mind, I suspect.”
“Yes,” Alexis agreed. “A proposal, if you will.”
Roland leaned forward, leering and looking her up and down. “And what did you have in mind?”
“Oh will you please stop with that? It tru
ly does nothing to your credit, you know.” She frowned at his answering shrug and went on. “You are much better than Philip and I at navigation. I simply can’t get my head around the guesswork involved … nor how we’ve no explanation for this nonsense of changing speeds.” She held up her hand as he started to speak. “No, I’ve had all the explanations I care to from the books Lieutenant Caruthers has recommended. No matter how they pretty it up, it still comes down to ‘We know what it does, but we’re buggered as to why — and here’s a nice bit of rubbish I’ve run up to try explaining, though I can’t at all prove it.’”
“That’s quite a good summary when you get right down to it,” he said, laughing. “So, if not to explain it, then what do you want of me?”
“If you’re to accept that you should just act on your first thought and damn the consequences, then I must try to just … make the guesses and damn the reasons.” She took a deep breath. “Perhaps we could simply remind each other of that instead of relishing each other’s failures? A bit of helpful quizzing instead of each of us studying independently?”
Roland scowled and raised his glass to take a long drink. “I’ll think on that.”
Thirteen
Alexis was in an uneasy state of both boredom and excitement. Boredom because her position at the signals console provided little for her to do in darkspace. With no radio signals possible and no ships in sight to watch for light signals, her watch was uneventful other than the occasional need to relay orders to trim the sails. The excitement was due to the fact that they were returning to Dalthus for the first time in weeks. Mere hours away from sighting the Dalthus Lagrange points in fact, if the sailing master was to be trusted. And though she knew they’d not be in-system long enough for liberty and a visit with her grandfather, their return did mean that Merlin would finally receive any messages sent to her.
“Shouldn’t be long now at all,” the sailing master said from his position at the navigation plot.
Grantham smiled. “You’re quite confident, Mister Gorbett.”
The two of them were waiting at the plot for Merlin’s computers to identify potential Lagrange points in the images taken through the optics. Once a potential point was identified, it would be up to the captain and master to decide if it truly was one and the ship should alter course. In fact, all of the officers, Caruthers, as well as Philip and Roland, were on the quarterdeck, eager after their last two weeks in darkspace for the transition to normal-space and sight of the stars once more.
The spacer at the tactical console, an even more boring duty than Alexis’ station, for he had not even the relaying of sail orders to look forward to, suddenly sat up straighter and stared intently at his screen.
“Sail, sir, four points off the port bow, up three.”
The captain went to the station and peered at the screen. Alexis, from her station, could see nothing, but then the two expanded the image and she could make out a faint dot of light.
“It’s a sail and not the pilot boat’s beacon,” Grantham said. He returned to the navigation plot and began sliding his fingers over it. “Off our own course, though.”
“By some distance, sir,” Gorbett said. He adjusted the plot to extend their own projected course and highlight where they estimated the Dalthus Lagrange points to be. “He’ll miss the Dalthus IV points entirely if he keeps on, I wager.”
“Mister Carew, light our colors, if you please. If they are off course, then perhaps, that will alert them and draw them back in line.”
Alexis bent over her console for a moment, entering the commands that would light up Merlin’s mast and spars with the bright red and white lights identifying her as a Queen’s Ship.
Minutes passed uneventfully and then, “She’s increased sail area, sir.”
Grantham brought the image from the forward optics up on the navigation plot and grunted. The dot of light had grown considerably, more than could be accounted for by Merlin’s drawing closer.
“Seen the pilot boat, do you suppose, sir? And it’s us who’re off course?”
Grantham narrowed his eyes. “Or seen us and wish no part of it. Mister Roland?”
“Yes, sir?”
“What do you suppose we should do in response to this situation?”
Roland froze, his eyes wide. “I …”
“Mister Easely?” Grantham asked after a moment. Roland lowered his eyes, staring at the deck and flushing red. “Decisiveness, Mister Roland. The perfect course matters little if you’ve already sailed past your destination before you set it.”
“I would alter course toward the Sail, sir,” Philip said.
“Hmm.” Grantham turned to Alexis. “Mister Carew?”
“I agree with Mister Easely, sir,” she answered immediately. She glanced toward Roland. He pursed his lips and gave her a slow nod. Perhaps he really would think about what she’d said.
“And why is that?”
“If they’ve increased sail for having seen the pilot boat, then we’re off course and should follow. If it’s for having seen us … well, that would make me curious.”
“Curious, yes.” His eyes narrowed. “I am indeed curious. Mister Caruthers, we’ll bend our course to theirs, if you please. Mister Carew, alert the sail watch that I’ll have the royals bent on.”
“Aye sir.”
“Sir,” Gorbett said. “If our own position and course are correct …” He ran his fingers over the navigation plot quickly. “Here,” he added, pointing. “If we’re on course for the planet’s L4, then they’re heading straight for L3 — far side of the sun.”
“And a fair approach for those who wish to remain unnoticed, sir,” Roland added.
“What does that suggest to you, Mister Roland?”
“Smugglers, sir,” Roland said quickly and with a glance at Alexis. He consulted his tablet. “But Dalthus has little in the way of import duties.”
“There are other reasons to smuggle, Mister Roland. To land something you’ve no right to possess in the first place, for instance.”
They sailed on, closing with the other ship.
“We’re close enough to make out signals, sir.” The image of the other ship had grown enough, though blurry from magnification, to make out its sails and yards.
“Very well. Mister Carew, make Heave To and Inspection, if you please.”
“Aye sir.” Alexis turned to her console and sent the signals that would cause the lights on Merlin’s masts and yards to change color and pattern for the other ship to read.
“No response, sir,” she said after a few minutes.
“And they’ve not slowed, either, sir. They’re sure to have seen us by now.”
“Oh, they’ve seen us, Mister Gorbett. I’ve no doubt of that.” He nodded quickly. “Mister Caruthers, clear the ship for action. Mister Roland, I’ll have you in the bow chasers with the gunner, please.”
There was a sudden flurry of activity as the orders were passed and spacers rushed to take their stations and prepare the ship for action. Alexis had seen this done often enough as drill, but this time was in earnest. Men rushed throughout the ship, ensuring that every hatch and compartment was secure. Anything that might be pulled loose in the rush of decompression if the ship were holed was packed up and struck down into the hold. On the gundeck, the men clambered into their vacsuits and pumped the air out before opening the gunports and rigging the gallenium nets that would allow their radios to work for a time. At least until those nets were shredded by enemy fire and darkspace made its way inside.
Alexis felt an odd surge of excitement at the thought. The ship ahead was no longer just a strange sail, but a ‘Chase’, prey for Merlin and she felt her heart quicken at the thought. She placed a copy of the navigation plot in a corner of her console, watching the tracks of the ships as the range between them closed. The plot showed arcs to fore, aft, and either side, representing the range of Merlin’s guns. Shorter fore and aft, where the less powerful chasers were stationed, but eventually they closed so
that the fleeing ship was in range.
“Mister Carew, request that Mister Roland put a shot beside her, if you please. Beside and not into. I suspect they’ll not wish to fight and simply hope they may escape us somehow.”
“Aye sir.” Alexis turned to the signals console, her stomach knotting. A boring station it might be at times, but in action she was to be responsible for communicating the captain’s orders to the rest of the ship. By radio or communications line to those inside the hull where the darkspace radiation wouldn’t interfere with the signal, or by light codes and at worst, messages passed by hand where it did.
She switched to the frequency Roland would be monitoring in the cramped enclosure of the bowchaser and passed the order along, hearing him respond, though the channel crackled and hissed with static.
A moment later, the monitors displaying the Chase showed a bolt of laser light flow by the fleeing ship to port. It almost oozes along, Alexis thought, still disturbed by the odd way things behaved in darkspace.
Minutes passed, but there was no change in the Chase’s speed and no signal that either Alexis or the signals computer could detect.
“They’re certainly aware of us now, sir,” Caruthers commented.
“No doubt,” Grantham said. “Another shot, if you please, Mister Carew. Inform Mister Roland that I am desirous it be as close as he and the gunner may manage without actually hitting her.”
“Aye sir.”
She passed the order along and a moment later another shot flashed out from Merlin’s bow. This one, she was certain, would strike the other ship. It slid by along the Chase’s starboard side, so close that she couldn’t tell it hadn’t hit until it was clearly past.
“Mister Breech has outdone himself with that last.”
“Yes,” Grantham said. “And still they run.”
“Must be a valuable cargo,” Gorbett said. “Punishment for smuggling’s not so great as to take a risk like this.”
Alexis Carew: Books 1, 2, and 3 Page 15