“My lads will see to it, sir,” he said. “Take ‘em down gentle like.”
“And you’ve told them the words I gave you?”
“Aye, sir,” Moberly said, nodding. “Hands up and throw down yer gun, all Frenchified. Couple of the lads had trouble wrapping their tongues around it, but the meaning’ll come through, I think.”
Alexis nodded, though not very confident. My mangled guesses at the words and their thick tongues, we’ll be lucky to get by without asking the guards to the summer dance. “Good then. Go see to it. We’ll give it an hour past dark and then move. Lain, do you have the man I asked for?”
“I do, sir. Collison’s the man you want. Pinched fer stealing aircars on Etal and says he can pilot anything and steal most.”
“Good,” Alexis said.
She stood and pulled the blanket of her little compartment aside for them to leave. She laid back down on her cot to wait, wondering if this was the right thing to do. If Delaine hadn’t told her the men would be transferred, she likely wouldn’t even attempt it. Escape depended on too many variables. She had confidence that her men would be able to overpower the guards, but she also had to be right that the antigrav hauler she’d seen in the fields would return early in the morning, before dawn. That was the norm on Dalthus, but she was making a huge gamble that it would be the same on Giron.
Delaine had to be telling the truth that the entire fleet had sailed to meet this new admiral. A single warship in orbit would put paid to any chance they had. At the same time, there had to be at least one merchantman in-system, and at least one of its boats landed at the port. It would be rather embarrassing to break out of prison, steal a hauler, and rush over two thousand kilometers to the port … only to be left standing on an empty landing field when the Hanoverese fleet arrived.
Alexis closed her eyes, hoping to nap, but she still had a decision to make about the night’s plans. What to do about the officers in town? Entering the town to retrieve them would increase the risk to the entire group. And did she really want to? Williard, perhaps, was worth saving, but there was no doubt New London and the Fleet would be far better off to never see the likes of Neals again.
Part of her longed to leave the midshipmen behind, but that was a vengeful, spiteful part of her. In the end, she couldn’t predict the Hanoverese reaction when they arrived and found she and the crew had escaped — would they honor the officers’ paroles, or would they punish them? That was what decided her — no matter her feelings about Neals, she couldn’t take the risk they’d suffer for her actions and decisions.
She managed to sleep fitfully, but wasn’t at all rested when a spacer lightly shook her shoulder and whispered, “It’s time, sir.” In the dark and with his voice so low, Alexis couldn’t tell who it was. She rolled off the cot and put her boots on, having slept in her uniform.
“Sergeant Moberly said as you’re to wait here ‘til it’s over, sir, if it’s all right with you. Be more’n enough confusion out there in a bit.”
“Yes, Scholer,” she said, recognizing him now. “At least until it starts.”
“That’s not what Sergeant Moberly said —”
Somewhere in the darkness there was a muffled clang followed by a shout and then more shouting. Alexis ripped the curtain aside and strode out onto the warehouse floor. The lights came on, blindingly bright after the darkness, and Alexis could see that the struggle, at least inside, was over already. Each of the guards, even the ones walking the upper catwalk, was down on the floor, three or four marines and spacers surrounding them.
Within a few minutes, Moberly came in from outside, leading a file of marines, spacers, and chastened-looking French guards. “Lock ‘em in the office, lads,” he said, “and make sure they’ve no weapons or coms on them.” He crossed to Alexis. “All taken, sir,” he said, “and naught more than a bump or bruise to show for it.”
Alexis reached out and grasped his forearm. “Thank you, Moberly,” she said. “I’m afraid I have something more to ask of you, though.”
“Sir?”
“While Lain’s off to retrieve the hauler, I need a small group to come with me to bring back Captain Neals and the others.”
Moberly paused. “Is that wise, sir?”
Alexis saw the same look of doubt on Scholer’s face, as well as those of the spacer’s nearby. She could understand, even felt the same way herself. Entering the town to retrieve Neals and the others was an additional risk — both from being discovered in the town and from the officers themselves. There was no way of predicting how Neals would react. “Wise or not, it is what we will do, sergeant. I’ll have no one from Hermione left behind. No one.”
“Aye, sir.” His brow furrowed. “Four marines, do you think? So’s not to be too many tramping through the town?”
Alexis nodded. “That will do nicely.” She saw Lain approaching with another spacer.
“Collison’s ready to go, sir,” he said.
“Are you certain you can start a Hanoverese hauler, Collison?” Alexis asked. “And fly it?”
Collison grinned. “Never seen nothing I couldn’t steal and fly, sir.” His grin grew wider. “It’s keeping it too long that got me pinched.”
“Well, that won’t be an issue this time,” she assured him. “Once we’re at the port we’ll leave the hauler behind and there’ll be something new for you to steal for us.”
Collison laughed. “Always suspected the Navy was a good fit for me.”
“It’s quite possible it won’t be locked at all,” she said, “if they treat it as we did on Dalthus. There’s little point in stealing something everyone on the planet can recognize.”
Collison looked vaguely offended at the prospect of someone not locking their vehicle.
Alexis clasped him on the shoulder. “We’re all counting on you, Collison. Get that hauler back here instanter.”
“Aye, sir.”
She watched Collison walk away with Lain to join the spacers and marines who were going after the hauler. “You picked steady men to go with them?”
“Aye sir,” Moberly said. “And Lain chose a man or two who knows his way about sneaking in the dark.”
Alexis nodded. The Navy’s penchant for sweeping the gaols for crew was coming in disturbingly handy. “I’ll want only marines with us when we go to town, Moberly,” she said. “I think it best the captain not see any of the spacers until absolutely necessary.”
“And them not see him, sir? The lads’ll not be happy to see him and the others.”
“He’s still the captain, Moberly.” She saw that he looked uncertain. “What is it?”
Moberly hesitated as though deciding whether to speak. “Only that, well, is he, sir? Still the captain, I mean … with him giving parole and all?”
Now it was Alexis’ turn to hesitate. She hadn’t considered that. Parole was an agreement not to escape, after all — could Captain Neals and the others accompany them or would it violate their parole? Would the trip into town and its danger of discovery be for nothing? And what would the captain’s reaction be if he must stay while she left?
“Let me and the captain worry about that, sergeant,” she said.
Alexis led Moberly and four other marines out of the warehouse. The night was cool and quiet, with only the occasional buzz of an insect to break the silence. The guards from town had arrived in an old, decrepit ground-truck with an open bed, rather than the ship’s boat the fleet guards had used. And wouldn’t it make things easier to have that for our use? But, of course, if the fleet was still guarding them they’d have no opportunity to escape.
“Can any of your men drive this, Moberly?”
“I can, sir,” one of them spoke up.
“Well, get to it, Simcoe,” Alexis said. She took a seat in the driver’s compartment with Simcoe while Moberly and the others clambered into the back. They’d taken the time to arm themselves with the stunrods and pistols of their former guards, but Alexis dearly hoped they’d not have the need to use
them. In and out, then back here with the officers to meet the hauler. After that …
Well, after that she had only the vaguest of plans. Cram the men into the hauler and make for the nearest port. Hope that a ship’s boat from some merchant was on the landing field and could be taken. Hope further that they could take the merchant ship itself and that Delaine had told her the truth about all of the local fleet’s ships having left the system to meet the Hanoverese.
The quiet whine of the truck’s motor and the soft sound of its tires against the road barely disturbed the night as Simcoe pulled away from the warehouse and headed toward town. In a surprisingly short time they pulled to a stop in front of the building that housed Hermione’s officers. It had been a vacant shop and residence when they’d arrived and had been rented to house the officers much as the warehouse had been converted into a prison for the men.
“We should go to the back, sir,” Moberly advised. “If there’re servants they’ll be housed back there and might think it’s a tradesman come early, or a servant from another house.”
Alexis nodded. “Lead the way, sergeant,” she said. “This is your bailiwick.”
The six of them made their way to the alleyway behind the building and Moberly knocked sharply on the rear door. When there was no response for several minutes, he knocked again, then a third time. Finally they saw a light in the window and heard a shuffling behind the door before a voice called out.
“Que?”
Moberly opened his mouth and looked at Alexis, eyes wide and panicked. Alexis met his gaze, heart beating wildly. No, we didn’t consider that bit, did we? She stepped beside Moberly and leaned close to the door, wracking her brain for what French she’d picked up from Delaine and the guards. And hope it’s more than ‘my little hen’.
“Pardonnez-moi, madame. Je suis tombé …” I’ve fallen and … oh, hell, what’s the word for leg? “… ma cuisse est blessé.” She blushed and bit her lip. Have to go with ‘thigh’ and not just leg … and you’d think with all the body parts Delaine murmured in my ear … No, Delaine’s murmurings were quite a bit more … specific. Alexis flushed, knowing it wasn’t the time for such thoughts.
“Oh cher!”
Alexis heaved a sigh of relief as she heard the rattle of the lock and stepped back from the door. “Don’t harm her,” she whispered to Moberly.
He nodded and as the door started to open pushed forward, shouldering the door open and grasping the old woman behind it. He spun her around and clasped a hand over her mouth before she had time to more than gasp in surprise. The four other marines hurried past him, Alexis following behind.
“Calmer. Non blessé. Calme. Nous serons partis,” she whispered to the old woman, trying to calm her and assure her that they’d be gone soon and not harm her. The woman’s eyes were wide and darting around the room and she was breathing harshly behind Moberly’s hand. Alexis was certain she was butchering the words, but her meaning seemed to be getting through. “Calmer. Sil vous plaît? Nous voulons …” Well, no, I don’t actually want them, I suppose. “Les New London hommes.”
The woman stopped struggling and stared hard at Alexis. She made muffled noises behind Moberly’s hand, trying to speak. “Calme, oui?” Alexis whispered and the woman nodded. Alexis nodded to Moberly and he took his hand away from her mouth.
“Vous venez pour les hommes?” she whispered.
“Oui,” Alexis said, nodding. “We’ve come for the men, the New London men, oui.”
The woman jerked her head to the side, spitting on the floor. “Vous êtes les mutins? Bon! Prendre les! Les tuer, les brûler avec le feu, bon débarras!”
Moberly’s eyes widened in surprise at her tone and his grip must have slackened, for the woman shrugged out of his grasp and leaned back against the tall kitchen counter. She crossed her arms and raised her chin. “Bâtards! Imbécile!”
Alexis raised an eyebrow. She’d caught only a little of that. Something about killing them and … fire? I see Hermione’s officers have endeared themselves as always. She laid a hand on the woman’s arm. “Bientôt,” she said. They’ll be gone soon.
The marines were returning to the kitchen, having searched the ground floor, but she wanted to ensure it was only the officers above stairs. “Domestique?”
The woman snorted, nostrils flaring wide. “Un!” She grabbed her breast and waved a hand at the door. “Pfft! Et deux!” She grabbed her bottom and flung a hand at the door. “Pfft! Et trois! Pfft! Pfft!”
Alexis nodded, motioning for her to be quiet. She didn’t fully understand what the woman was saying, but took it to mean that there were no other servants in the house.
“Well,” Alexis said. “Now all we have to do is decide who’ll wake Captain Neals.”
In the end, she sent a marine to wake Lieutenant Williard, who woke the midshipmen and Mister Rochfort, and then sent Ledyard to wake the captain. He agreed with Alexis that the captain would not react well to being awakened by her or one of the marines, not after the mutiny and given his dislike of her personally. Ledyard soon returned with Captain Neals, who’d taken the time to dress himself in his full uniform before deigning to come downstairs, Wrigley and Patridge, his personal servant and his clerk, trailing behind.
Reina, the housekeeper, had introduced herself while they waited and busied herself with putting out plates of bread, cheese, and pastry for the marines. She even brewed coffee and spoke pleasantly to them as she poured. She understood some English, but spoke mostly French and Alexis was just as glad the marines spoke none of it as she overheard the woman pleasantly whisper, “Tuer le petit bâtard premier.”
‘Kill the little bastard first’? Good lord, what’s gone on in this house these last few months? She was almost afraid of what might happen if the woman realized they weren’t here to harm Hermione’s officers as she seemed to think. And what were they to do with her when they left? She’d have to discuss it with Moberly and find some way to restrain her until they were well away.
“What nonsense are you about now, Carew?” Neals demanded as he entered the kitchen. His gaze slid to Reina. “Coffee, you stupid, Frog bitch, and be quick about it!”
“Captain Neals,” Alexis said. “I’ve found out that a Hanoverese fleet is coming. All the ships that were here have sailed to meet them and we’ve a chance to escape, sir.”
Neals looked at her for a moment, then shook his head. “A Hanoverese fleet? There’s already a Hanoverese fleet here, Carew. Many ships and a commodore, do you recall? That’s a fleet, girl.” He sighed heavily. “You’ve interrupted my sleep for this nonsense?” At the counter, Ledyard and Timpson smirked at her.
“Captain,” Williard said. “Mister Carew’s explained it to me while you were dressing, sir. Commodore Balestra’s fleet isn’t properly Hanoverese. It’s more of a … a local defense force, do you see? And the people of these systems, herself included, it seems, think of themselves more as French.”
“That much was obvious from the first, Mister Williard,” Neals said, “since the entire town speaks nothing but Frog.”
“Yes, sir,” Williard said, “but Commodore Balestra’s been called to meet a fleet from Hanover proper, do you see? All of her ships, sir, and all of her men.”
Neals narrowed his eyes and looked at Alexis. “Well, why didn’t you say so, Carew? All their warships are gone? You’re certain of this?”
Alexis fought down the urge to snap at him that she had, indeed, said so. Her time away from Neals, it seemed, had gotten her used to being in command of her men and not at all prepared for Neals’ abuse again. “Such is the information I have, sir,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm and respectful. “Bosun Lain has taken a few hands and some of Sergeant Moberly’s marines to take a hauler from a nearby farm. It’s my hope that —”
Neals’ face had grown pinched and red as she spoke. “Bosun Lain, Carew?”
Oh … bugger it, I’m done for now. She hadn’t even thought of his reaction to the promotions she’d mad
e, not in the middle of trying to escape.
“Lain is a bosun’s mate, Carew, and a poor one at that!” He turned his attention to Moberly. “And what’s this ‘sergeant’ nonsense, corporal? Kill off your superiors and make a jump for yourself, is that it?”
“No, sir,” Moberly said, clearly shaken at Neals’ words.
Alexis stepped forward. “Sir, the men were idle and needed direction, sir.” She thought frantically of how to phrase it. “I did the best I could as the only officer present, sir. I’m sure you’ll wish to review everything yourself, sir, as captain, but —” She glanced at Williard, hoping he’d step in.
“Yes, sir,” Williard added. “I’m sure you’ll wish to review everything Carew’s done in your absence … and correct what messes she’s made, sir, but with the time we have …” He shrugged. “The very little time we have, sir?”
Neals clenched his jaw. “Yes, I suppose.” He glared at Alexis. “I’ll expect a most thorough report of all your actions, Carew, once we’re aboard a ship and away from this bloody system. Now how many men do I have and what is our situation.”
Alexis started to answer, but Williard cut her off.
“Sir,” he said, his voice sounding unsure. He was reviewing his tablet. While Alexis’ had been taken from her, the paroled officers had retained theirs. They’d have no access to the Hanoverese networks, but could use them to authorize purchases and for any information stored on them. “Sir, there is a … difficulty.”
“What?” Neals snapped.
“Sir, I’ve been reviewing the regulations and, well, we, all of us except Mister Carew … well, we gave our parole, sir.”
“What of it, Mister Williard? Speak up, damn you, it was just a moment ago you spoke of limited time!”
Williard’s eyes remained on his tablet as he slid a finger over the screen. He swallowed heavily, as though not wanting to speak. “It’s only, sir, that our parole was to neither escape nor take up arms against Hanover for the duration of the war.”
“What are you saying, lieutenant?”
“Well, sir —” He cleared his throat. “— I’m reviewing the regulations as they pertain to parole, and … well, we gave our word not to escape …”
Alexis Carew: Books 1, 2, and 3 Page 50