Alexis Carew: Books 1, 2, and 3

by J. A. Sutherland

  Alexis nodded. She began to suspect, despite Delaine’s claim that these systems were taken from that French Republic in his “grandfather’s grandfather’s time,” that the folk here did not yet think of themselves as Hanoverese. I wonder what difference that makes in the war with New London.

  The marine guarding the door announced them, looking odd to Alexis in a blue uniform instead of the scarlet she was used to New London’s marines wearing. Delaine motioned her to wait and stepped inside, closing the hatch behind him. Alexis waited patiently until Delaine reopened the hatch and waved her inside.

  “So, Aspirant Carew” Commodore Balestra said when she entered. “You wish tools for your men, so that they may improve the prison?”

  “Yes,” Alexis said. “And some other things, commodore.”

  Balestra frowned. “Other things?” She raised an eyebrow at Delaine, who shrugged and shook his head.

  “Yes, if you please. Since I’m here, you understand, and so as to not have to bother you again.” Alexis had thought about this on the trip up. Isom had been a font of information he’d garnered from former prisoners and his own reading of the regulations, if she were going to ask, she should ask for everything she could think of that would make the men’s lives in captivity easier. “I understand that the other officers may draw on their pay to support themselves in the town — that the pay will not arrive until you have informed New London of Hermione’s capture, but that they may borrow against its arrival?”

  Balestra nodded.

  “I should like to do the same in order to purchase supplies for the men’s mess. The food you supply is quite good, please don’t mistake me, but they could do with a bit of meat now and again, I think.” What was the term the guards used? “We are ‘bifteck’, after all.” The term had not been used in a pleasant way when she’d heard it, no more than the spacers who referred to their captors as ‘frogs’. She tried to gauge Balestra’s reaction to this, but the commodore’s face was impassive. “And they should have some opportunity to get out and about instead of being cooped up forever inside.”

  “This is all?”

  “Perhaps they could be allowed to send messages home. To their families?”

  Balestra regarded her steadily and Alexis fought to keep her own face impassive.

  “When last you are here, I ask you for your parole. I say to you, you may shop in the market, you may walk in the hills. Very nice, yes?”

  Alexis nodded. Her stomach fell at the thought that her decision to refuse parole might now jeopardize her crew.

  “Now you ask of me to shop in the market and walk in the hills. Is this all to change this decision?”

  “I …” Alexis wasn’t sure how to respond or what Balestra wanted to hear. If she gave her parole now, it might seem that her requests were merely for herself, not for her crew — and truthfully she still felt parole was not the right decision. “If you prefer, commodore, I will not profit by this. Someone else may shop, I only ask for access to my pay so that supplies may be bought. I will eat only the food you provide. I will remain in the prison, I only ask that my men be allowed some small amount of time outdoors. I do not ask these things for myself, only that I do not wish to see the men remain in these conditions.”

  Balestra half rose, her voice angry. “Do you say I mistreat these men?”

  “No, I—”

  Delaine coughed loudly and ran a hand over his mouth. “Deux toillettes.”

  Balestra glared at him, but sank back into her chair. “I was not informed of this.”

  “That is what I meant, commodore,” Alexis said, “not that you mistreat them, but that those who should have informed you of … oversights did not do so.”

  “Non, I have heard nothing from your capitaine or lieutenants of this. Nothing from them but asks for more of their pay. Les putes of Courboin grow rich from them.” Balestra took a deep breath. “I will not ask for the parole entièrement — by force, it has no honneur. But you must give the parole in these things you ask. The treatment of your men is a matter of honneur, oui?” She frowned. “The soldiers, I know for them it is not so, but we in navies may still hold to older ways, you understand?”

  Alexis thought she did, but Balestra continued.

  “Messages, I may not allow. Until New London is aware of your ship’s loss, we will not tell them. You will have the tools, but you must give your word, as le officier — the tools are for the building, no escape and no harm to the people, you understand?” Alexis nodded. “You will have your pay and may go to the market, but you will return, yes? Your word on this?” Alexis nodded again. “You and your men may go and … frolic in the sun as you wish. Of the men, one in three, only for two hours a time, oui? At the end, all return to la prison. Do you agree? Your word?”

  Alexis nodded again. “Yes, my word on it, commodore. Thank you!”

  Eighteen

  The next morning, Alexis wakened to shouts and the slamming crack of steel on concrete. She threw on her uniform and rushed from her blanket-walled cubicle to find a dozen men swinging picks into the warehouse’s concrete floor near the head. The rest of the men were crowded around, laughing and yelling encouragement.

  “Put yer back into it, mate!”

  “Put yer wife’s backside into it and make a real swing!”

  Alexis made her way to the back of the crowd. “Make a lane!” she shouted, jabbing the two nearest men in the back. They stepped aside, grinning, and she walked through to the front. Delaine was there and made his way to her side.

  “The tools must be returned to the truck outside each day, mon mignon, and will be counted by the guards, you understand?”

  Alexis nodded, a little surprised that the tools and supplies had arrived the very day after she’d spoken to Commodore Balestra. “You wasted no time. Thank you.”

  Delaine grinned. “I am not so foolish as to waste time in pleasing you, Alexis. And now I shall escort you to the market, yes?”

  Alexis was a bit shocked. She’d expected an escort, but hadn’t thought it would be Delaine. The ease with which he’d gained a meeting with Commodore Balestra made her suspect that he was not simply any lieutenant, but was, perhaps, the commodore’s Flag Lieutenant, an officer designated as her personal assistant. Though he might also have simply been given responsibility for the New London prisoners, and that would explain his presence. Regardless of the reason, she was pleased to see him.

  She followed him out of the warehouse and saw Lain and a number of her crew unloading a truck full of supplies under the eyes of the French guards. Bags of concrete, piping, and plumbing fixtures. She smiled. Clearly the men had things in hand, they could keep a ship repaired and running after all, and she could tend to the market. They’d be glad of some real meat for once.

  “We will walk, yes?” Delaine said, nodding down the road to the town some kilometer away. “It is a pleasant day.”

  “It is,” she agreed. The air was cool, Courboin was well into autumn and harvest time, but the sky was clear and the sun warm. The sight of the town reminded her of Dalthus — it was a bit the size of Port Arthur, seeming to be struggling with the transition from agriculture to commerce. Large enough to need a warehouse the size of the one she and the men were housed in, but not so large that it had lost the feel of a farming village.

  The walk was quite nice and Alexis found herself enjoying herself a great deal. It had been ages since she’d seen the sky for any length of time. The lighting aboard ships and stations never wavered, except inside the cabins. There was no night and day, only the schedule of the watches. She’d once complained that she couldn’t tell night from day aboard ship and been told, “Day is when the captain’s awake.”

  She took a deep breath of the air and felt a pang of longing for home. The scents were subtly different, but much closer to Dalthus than the dry, stale air aboard ship.

  Delaine led her to the center of town where an outdoor market thrived throughout the town square.

  “T
hat is where the other officers from your ship reside, Alexis,” he said, pointing to a nearby building. It was a tall building for the town, three stories with a vacant storefront on the ground floor and a residence, intended for the shop owner, behind and above. It was certainly a step up in accommodations from a converted warehouse, and Alexis felt her anger at Captain Neals and the others grow again. She fought it down, determined not to think about it. If she’d given her parole as well, she’d be more comfortable, but she never would have known that the men were being so neglected, nor that she could do anything about it.

  They entered the market area and Alexis began shopping in earnest. The first stop was a butcher’s stall, where she asked to have an entire side of beef delivered immediately. She had confidence that the cook would find the fairest way to divide it between the men. Though what he’d do when faced with beef that looked like a cow instead of a pudding, she didn’t know. The shock may do him in, poor man.

  She assured Delaine that she had more funds than just a midshipman’s pay to draw upon, as all of the costs would be fronted to the merchants by the Hanoverese Navy until New London was notified of their capture and her accounts became available to her. The full side of beef was an extravagance, a treat from her, given the time the men had done without. For future deliveries she arranged for only less expensive cuts, as well as pork and chicken to provide some variety. Those the men would likely not thank her for, thinking beef, even from the vat, was their due, but she wanted to hold the ongoing costs down as best she could, not knowing how long the war would last. There’d certainly be no more prize money flowing into her accounts while she was a prisoner.

  She also arranged for fruits and vegetables to be delivered regularly and bought a bag of apples to take with her, opening it and biting into one before she’d even left the vendor’s stall. The sweet tang filled her mouth and she sighed with delight. Real Fall apples, fresh from the trees and not boxed for cold storage for weeks on end.

  “You have been long aboard ship, Alexis?” Delaine asked.

  She swallowed hurriedly and held the bag out to him in offering. He selected one and bit into it, nodding his thanks.

  “Ships and stations,” she said. “Very little time on planets since I joined, and less even since I went aboard Hermione.” She looked around the market, realizing that she had placed orders for everything she thought she and the crew might need. Disappointment set in that she’d have to return to the warehouse so soon, but she didn’t want to take advantage of Delaine’s good will. “I suppose that’s everything. We can go back now, I’m sure you have other duties you should be attending to.”

  Delaine smiled. “Ah, but I wish to see the rest of the market myself,” he said, “and I am told there is a pastry at the cafe there which I should not miss, so you must accompany me until I have the time to return you, yes?”

  The days turned into a comfortable pattern. Lain had the men hard at work on building the new heads. They broke up the concrete floor to expose the piping for the current heads, then Delaine arrived with new pipes and fixtures for them to install. Walls went up with surprising speed, and Alexis had the men divided into three watches, each of which she escorted outside for two hours’ time during the day. They even organized a bit of sport, and she thought she might ask if she could be allowed to bring all the men outside at once for one day each week and have a sort of competition between the watches.

  Every third or fourth day, Delaine would escort Alexis down to the town market. There was little for her to do there, frankly, as the deliveries she’d arranged arrived on schedule each week with no issue, but Delaine insisted it was best for her to confirm them periodically with the shopkeepers, something she suspected was not entirely true. She appreciated their days together, but felt a bit guilty that she was taking him away from his other duties to escort her.

  “I appreciate the time with you, Delaine, I truly do, but I wonder at it. It seems to me I shouldn’t have this much freedom without giving my parole.”

  They were walking back from the market, taking a roundabout route along the edge of town. The houses were far apart here, separated by expansive fields and gardens. They’d lingered long in the market and at the cafes and the sun was low, sending long shadows over the path.

  “Ah, ma fifille, but that is exactly why, you see.” Ever since their first trip to the market, he’d begun referring to her in different ways that she suspected were quite French and quite not the way to refer to an officer, but she didn’t object.

  I played that card, won, and then spent the winnings on toilets.

  The fact was, she didn’t object because the attention was flattering. On Dalthus, her interactions had always been colored with her grandfather’s position. Boys from the village were quite proper and respectful, at least once she’d reached a certain age and throwing each other into mud puddles was no longer appropriate. Her suitors, from the class of landholders like her grandfather, and their attentions held the unspoken knowledge that her grandfather’s lands were far more interesting than she herself was.

  With Delaine, it was different. She had no position or lands here, in fact, she was simply an enemy prisoner. It was probably not appropriate or officer-like for him to pay her such attention or for her to accept it, but she found herself not caring. It was the first time someone was so clearly interested in her for herself alone, and the knowledge filled an emptiness she hadn’t realized existed.

  “The others,” Delaine continued, “they have given parole, so we cannot question them. You, though, I may ply you with my charms and soon you will give to us all the secrets of New London. Do you see?”

  Alexis felt a moment’s alarm that he might be serious, but saw his eyes and his lips twitched, and relaxed with a smile. He was simply being outrageous — which was either very Delaine or simply very French. She had yet to discover where the one truly ended and the other began. She laughed. “I’m a midshipman but two years in. I doubt I have any secrets for you.”

  Delaine’s face was very serious, but she could see his eyes dancing. “But how am I to know this until I have plied you? And then —” He shrugged, a gesture that seemed to have a language all its own for him. “— secrets, no secrets … still I am the winner, mais oui?”

  “Hmm,” Alexis said, fixing a stern look on her face. “I think you will find, sir, that I am not so easily plied.”

  Delaine reached out and took her hand as they walked. Alexis almost stumbled as her fingers warmed within his. The sensation seemed to flow up her arm into the rest of her. She shivered, though not from the chilling air.

  Oh, dear, perhaps I am …

  Delaine stopped walking and turned her to face him, taking her other hand in his. Warmth flowed through her from his touch and she found herself trembling. Delaine moved closer to her, not touching, but she could feel the heat of his body. Her vision narrowed until all she could see was his face, leaning closer to hers and then her eyes closed.

  Why did I close my eyes? His lips touched hers and she gasped. It seems I am disturbingly pliable after all … what an odd thing to discover.

  Delaine’s lips left hers and she opened her eyes to find his face still close to hers. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her thoughts. She felt the circumstances called for her to say something, but she wasn’t at all sure what might be appropriate.

  “That was … quite pleasant,” she whispered.

  Delaine’s brow furrowed. “Plaisant?”

  Alexis cleared her throat. “Yes, well you may be French, but I am of New London and we are not … unduly expressive.”

  He grinned and leaned toward her again. “‘Pleasant’ is all I am due?”

  Her eyes closed again.

  How very odd … it’s like a reflex, I’m simply not in control of …

  Delaine’s lips touched hers again. This time she felt a warm, soft, wetness and her lips parted with his, again without any conscious thought. What thoughts she did have blurred and she lost trac
k of time. His lips left hers again and she opened her eyes, breathing deeply.

  “Very nice?” she ventured.

  Delaine’s arms went around her, one hand behind her back and the other cupping the back of her head. He pulled her to him forcefully and she found it was time for her eyes to close again.

  I believe I’ve found something one does not tease the French about …

  Reality narrowed to where Delaine was touching her. Which was quite a lot of places, really, as her knees buckled and she found herself remaining upright only with his support.

  No … no, teasing the French about this is actually quite productive, I think …

  Her eyes opened again and she stared at Delaine’s face inches from hers. She swallowed hard and braced herself.

  “Adequate.”

  “Yes, Isom?”

  “The men’re finished with the head, sir. They’d like to show it to you.”

  Alexis laughed. She could understand them being proud and satisfied that they’d done good work, but being asked to tour a head was certainly new. “I’ve seen most of it every day, Isom. Used a bit, in fact. But, yes, I’ll come see it finished.”

  She crossed the warehouse floor to the area they’d walled off to create the new head. It seemed as though all of men who’d worked on it were gathered there, grinning widely.

  Can’t imagine them being so pleased with a toilet.

  The crowd made a lane for her to the new head’s doorway and she entered. It was much as she’d last seen it the day before, though they’d cleaned up all the signs of construction. The tile and pipework fairly gleamed, in fact. At the end, they’d somehow gotten far more material from the Hanoverese than they’d asked for. Down one lane from the doorway were a full two dozen toilets and down the other stood the same number of sinks and shower stalls. Each with far more privacy than the men were used to aboard ship. At the end of the showers, a group of two dozen men stood, grinning even wider than those outside.