“Shut your gob, you little trollop!”
Alexis’ temper flared, but Mynatt advanced on Dansby.
“Anya,” Dansby said again. “I have a special, profitable, run to make that I want to oversee personally. When we’re done, Tarver will still be gone and you’ll have Marilyn, I assure you.”
Mynatt scowled at him then pointed at Alexis. “And the tart?”
“My niece,” Dansby insisted.
Mynatt stared at him for a moment, nostrils flaring. She looked Alexis up and down, then stormed off.
Dansby sighed. “Will you get us underway, please, Bowhay? I’ll have a course for you once we’re in darkspace.”
“Aye, sir,” Bowhay said. “Hands t’make way! Be about it lads!”
Dansby sighed again as the crew dispersed.
“Do you allow all your employees to speak to you so, uncle?” Alexis asked.
Dansby grunted and gestured for her to follow him toward Marilyn’s quarterdeck. The ship was a small sloop, which accounted for the size of the crew. Alexis had been more than a bit relieved at seeing how few crew members there were. The small number lent some credence to Dansby’s contention that his ships no longer engaged in piracy, for a pirate would have more men aboard. A bit of smuggling was easier for her to stomach.
“Anya’s a special case,” Dansby said.
“Perhaps she’ll have a better opinion of me once it’s seen I know my way about a ship?”
Dansby snorted. “No, I rather doubt that will be a help at all.” He gestured for her to follow him. “Come along then. There’re two cabins for the occasional passenger — both smaller than Anya’s or Bowhay’s, unless you’d like to speak to her about giving up the first mate’s cabin?”
“No,” Alexis said. “No, I’ll be quite satisfied with whatever is available.”
“Fine choice.”
Alexis’ tablet woke her at her usual time aboard ship, just before the start of the morning watch. She dressed quickly and spent a moment looking for her beret before remembering that she would not be wearing the Navy’s customary headgear aboard this ship.
Then she exited her cabin to find the rest of Marilyn dark and silent, not the bustle of activity she was used to at this hour. Farther down the mess deck she could make out the shadowed shapes of the crew still in their bunks. With a frown, she made her way to the quarterdeck, expecting to find, at least, Dansby up and preparing for the day.
Instead she found a single spacer drowsing at the helm.
The man snorted and jerked awake as she entered, looked her over once, and then settled back into his place with half-closed eyes.
“On your feet!” Alexis barked without consciously deciding to. The man jumped, staring at her with wide eyes. Her jaw was clenched with anger. It was one thing to keep a different watch schedule, which was why she assumed the rest of the crew was still abed, but to be asleep on watch certainly couldn’t be the norm for Dansby’s ships.
“Bugger off, girl,” the spacer replied, relaxing and closing his eyes again.
Alexis opened her mouth to yell at the man again, but paused in shock. She’d never been spoken to that way aboard ship, even the first she’d ever served on. It was suddenly driven home to her that Marilyn was not a Navy ship and that the rules could be quite different aboard her.
“Is it …” She struggled to keep her voice level. “Is it common then, to sleep during one’s watch aboard my uncle’s ships?”
The spacer sighed. “Captain Tarver didn’t care and Dansby’s not said different.” He grinned broadly. “Likely won’t see that one afore noon, himself, is my guess.” Alexis started to speak again but he cut her off. “Look, you, the helm’s set, we’re not carrying any cargo to worry about being inspected, there’s no pirates near the borders, what with all the warships, and we’re far enough in New London space still that there’ll be no Hannie hunting around for a quick prize.” He pointed at the navigation plot. “There’re no ships in sight and the computer’ll wake me if it suspects one, so … bugger off then.”
He closed his eyes.
Alexis blinked. She longed to call for the bosun, but Marilyn had none and no Captain’s Mast to bring the man up on charges either.
And no Articles to charge him under.
She looked around the quarterdeck. Aside from there being only a single spacer on watch, and him asleep, Marilyn was not at all well kept. The decks and consoles were grimy, and there were bits of trash in odd places — it looked a great deal like the Hanoverese merchant Trau Wunsch she’d stolen to escape Giron, and that ship had been in such poor condition mechanically that it had been sent to the breakers instead of the Prize Court.
She left the quarterdeck confused as to how to proceed. One thing was certain, though, she realized. Dansby had not made her position clear to the crew. They might know she was his niece, but not how she fit into the ship’s hierarchy, if at all — something which would have to be corrected immediately.
Alexis left the quarterdeck and made her way to the master’s cabin where Dansby slept. Abed until noon he might plan to be, but she’d see him out of it and dealing with his responsibilities.
She rapped on the cabin’s hatch.
“Dansby? Uncle?”
She rapped again, harder this time. There was a sound from within but no answer.
“Uncle Dansby?”
She grasped the hatch’s handle, intending to rattle it, but the hatch unlocked at her touch and slid smoothly open. Dansby had apparently not been at all particular when he’d given her the same access to the ship that he possessed. The cabin was dark, but Alexis heard another noise. She stepped inside switching on the light.
“There’s no use hiding from me, uncle. I’ve some things to disc …”
Marilyn’s master’s cabin was a single space, not the separated day- and sleeping-cabins Alexis was used to aboard larger warships. Dansby was, indeed, abed as the spacer had predicted. Also abed, and astride him, was Anya Mynatt.
“If you’ve come to join us, girl,” Mynatt said, turning toward the hatch but not bothering to stop her movements, “you should know I’m partial to a bit more in the way of curves on a lass.”
Alexis flushed. Yes, the rules were apparently quite different aboard this ship. She resisted the urge to bolt from the compartment, not wanting to give Mynatt the satisfaction of seeing her run.
“Uncle,” she began, but then saw that Dansby wasn’t looking at her. Was, possibly, still quite unaware of her presence at all. She cleared her throat. “Miss Mynatt, would you be so kind as to inform my uncle that I wish to speak to him on the quarterdeck? When he is not otherwise … occupied.”
Alexis backed out of the cabin without waiting for Mynatt’s response. She slid the hatch closed and leaned forward to rest her forehead against it, then realized what was still going on behind it and leapt back as though the hatch itself were somehow associated. She looked at her hands and started toward the head to wash, feeling suddenly quite dirty.
Dear heavens, but I already miss the Navy.
Alexis waited for Dansby on the quarterdeck, studying the empty navigation plot and ignoring the amused glances of the now awake helmsman.
Certainly now he’s decided to remain awake.
She caught her lower lip between her teeth, forced herself to stop it, then found her hands going to her head to straighten a nonexistent beret. Arms crossed and jaw clenched to keep from further fidgeting, she saw the helmsman openly grinning at her. Not the sort of grin at all that she’d experienced from spacers on Navy ships, no matter how hard the men were, but something else entirely.
Alexis glanced around the quarterdeck, but they were alone. There was no other officer, no marine sentry, no bosun for her to call on. The helmsman was now running his eyes over her in a way that made her feel decidedly greasy.
She wondered if she should leave and retrieve Dansby, whether he was quite finished or not, but dismissed the idea quickly. She’d be aboard some time and couldn
’t rely on him to always be near. No, she’d have to set some of her footing with the crew herself, and not in the Navy way with a bosun or the marines to back up her authority. Even aboard Hermione the captain wouldn’t have allowed the common spacers to treat her this way; it would have undermined the authority of all his officers.
She thought about Mynatt, who must have some of this crew’s respect to be first mate and expected to become captain. How had she come to be accepted as a leader among such a crew?
Certainly not by pretending to be a man.
Neither Mynatt’s dress nor attitude implied that, and she certainly knew there were no secrets aboard ship, so she must expect to retain the crew’s respect even after they found out about her and Dansby. Alexis suspected no amount of skill in ship handling or other spacer’s skills would turn the trick, either.
The helmsman caught her eye again and leered. The look made Alexis shudder and want to leave the compartment, which, she realized, would be exactly the wrong thing to do. More so even than the hardest men aboard a Navy ship, Dansby’s crew acted by a different set of rules than most. They preyed on others, one step above piracy and who knew what they went about on their own in ports, and would judge others to be predators as well, or simply prey.
No, she couldn’t be a Naval lieutenant aboard Marilyn. She’d have to be something else, something harder. She thought she had it in her to be that, but the possibility did frighten her.
Her thoughts ran to Midshipman Timpson of Hermione and how she’d tried to goad him into challenging or attacking her while they were prisoners on Giron. True, he’d been the one to install a filter in Hermione’s signals console that had trapped all of her messages from being delivered or sent for nearly a year, but part of Alexis had imagined simply walking into the cafe and shooting him. She worried what those impulses might lead her to, without the restraint of Naval discipline.
Alexis sighed. Worry she might, but she had little choice in how to deal with this crew.
She stepped close to the helmsman and leaned in, reaching behind her back for the hidden pocket where her new flechette pistol was kept. She had to rise up on her toes to get her lips next to the man’s ear.
“What’s your name?” she whispered.
“Embry,” the man said, pressing closer to Alexis, but then freezing in place as he came in contact with the flechette pistol she’d moved between them at a particularly pointed height.
“Do you look at Miss Mynatt in that way, Embry?” Alexis asked, no longer whispering and voice hard.
Embry swallowed. “Um, no.”
Alexis nodded. “Should I feel a need to prove my place aboard Marilyn, Embry, I’ll do so in a way that makes Miss Mynatt look quite kind and forgiving in comparison. Do you take my meaning?”
Embry stepped back from her, nodded quickly, then locked his eyes on his helm and cleared his throat.
“Endearing yourself to my crew, niece?” Dansby slid the quarterdeck hatch shut behind him and crossed to the navigation plot.
“Establishing boundaries, uncle,” Alexis said. She stepped back from Embry and slid the flechette pistol back into its hidden pocket. She clapped him on the shoulder with a friendly smile. “Isn’t that right, Embry?”
Embry stared at her for a moment, eyes wide, then relaxed and shrugged, as though she’d settled firmly into a different slot in his mind. “Fair enough.”
Dansby grunted.
Alexis nodded to Embry and went to Dansby’s side. If this crew gossiped amongst themselves half as much as a Naval crew did, then she might at least have put an end to that particular bit of nonsense.
“Which would have been clearer and less dramatic if you had made my position and role clearer when we came aboard,” Alexis whispered.
“I was a bit busy dealing with Anya, if you recall.”
“As you were this morning, uncle.”
Dansby flushed. “You wanted to speak to me about something?”
“Well, yes, several things, in fact. The state of the ship, for one.”
Dansby frowned. “What about it?”
Alexis gestured around the quarterdeck, wondering if Dansby truly didn’t see it. “Have Marilyn’s decks had even a single bristle set to them since you acquired her?”
Dansby rubbed his eyes as though pained. “I realize that … your side of the family trades in higher class of goods than I might,” he said, “but most merchantmen don’t. Marilyn looks as she does for a reason.” He knelt and unscrewed the fasteners on a panel beneath the plot. “Look, what do you see?”
Alexis knelt and looked inside. The components were spotless and the wiring was neatly tied up. Even the inside face of the panel Dansby had pulled off was practically shining, unlike the dingy outer side.
“What —”
“Most merchantmen are small, ill-kept, and one failed trade away from debtors prison,” Dansby said, standing. “When Marilyn is inspected at some port, I want the customs man to see exactly what he’s seen on the last dozen ships and what he expects to see of the next dozen. She is to be, in all respects, unremarkable.”
Twenty-Four
“Beets?” Alexis watched the crates of roundish vegetables being carted through the hatch from the boat alongside. “Of all things, beets?”
Dansby shrugged. “They don’t grow on Diebis — something in the soil.” He tapped his tablet as a crewman pushed an antigrav pallet with another four crates through the hatch and toward Marilyn’s hold. “We’ll make a nice bit of profit on this cargo.”
Alexis crossed her arms and waited until the rest of the pallets had come aboard and she was alone with Dansby at the hatch.
“You’ve stopped us at every world we’ve passed … more than every world. Our course has zigged and zagged for weeks now. I thought we were sailing for this Baikonur place?”
Dansby touched his tablet a last time and looked down the tube to the station. He waved to one of the station workers there and slid Marilyn’s hatch shut.
“Neither this system, nor any of the others we’ve zigged and zagged to offer much in the way of what Baikonur demands,” he said. “Diebis, on the other hand, requires beets, and is quite close to Kennet.”
“And?” Alexis asked, knowing there must be more.
“Kennet produces items of a, shall we say, intimate nature … much in demand by the miners of Baikonur.”
Alexis started to ask what products those might be, then decided that she truly didn’t want to know.
“Then why didn’t we simply sail directly to Kennet?” She shook her head. “Come to that, why not sail directly to Baikonur?”
Dansby gave her a pained look.
“We’ve had similar discussions before, I believe. Röslein is a merchant ship, dear niece, or must appear so. It would be odd, indeed, if she sailed straight from New London space to Baikonur, especially with a bloody war on.”
Röslein was the ship’s new name, changed in the signals console and all her registrations as the former-Marilyn had crossed the border to stop at the first system on Dansby’s list to trade with.
“You’ve forged your ship’s name easily enough,” Alexis said. “Why can’t you just forge these stops then and quit wasting time?”
Dansby rubbed his face. “I'm perfectly willing to falsify every bit of it, but the truth is so much more effective. If some overzealous local does happen to check things further than our logs, I’d prefer that as much as possible be the truth. Once someone's been overloaded with truth they stop looking for a lie, you see.”
Alexis closed her eyes and nodded. She didn’t like the delays but could see the sense of it.
“Please don’t try to teach me my business. We’re now an Hanoverese trader doing lawful business in Hanoverese systems. It’s why my crew speaks fluent German … and why I’d much prefer you stayed in your cabin while we’re in port.” Dansby shook his head. “I can’t believe Eades sent you aboard without your having learned the language.”
“I have a bit,�
� Alexis said, “but found French much easier.”
Dansby gave her a dubious look. “I don’t see how. German’s quite precise and logical — properly spoken French is indistinguishable from being asphyxiated.”
“Still … beets?”
Dansby double-checked that the hatch’s lock was engaged and motioned for her to follow him to the quarterdeck.
“Do you think a smuggler carries nothing but what he smuggles?” He made a derisive noise. “Legitimate cargoes cover the illicit ones — they’re what justifies our travels from system to system.”
Alexis had a sudden thought and grabbed Dansby’s arm to stop him.
“These ‘legitimate cargoes’ we’ve been carrying,” she whispered. “Are you saying they’re not all?”
“All what?”
“You know full well what I’m asking. Are there smuggled goods aboard this ship?”
“I’m not generally a produce hauler.”
“But you’re on a mission for the Crown!” Alexis kept her voice low, but she was furious. It was one thing to rely on Dansby knowing that he’d been a pirate and was a smuggler. It was quite another thing for him to endanger their mission with his activities. “What if the ship is searched?”
Dansby sighed. “I’ve been at this business a rather long time, you know. Besides, I’m known to the Hanoverese and they generally leave my ships alone. The subterfuge is more for the local system agents.”
“Known to them?”
“Yes, known. They know that I smuggle and make use of my services on occasion to get a man into New London or information out.” He waved a hand as she started to object. “Oh, Eades knows all about it. His men pick up the Hanoverese agents where I drop them off and keep them under surveillance.”
“And the Hanoverese don’t suspect this?”
Alexis Carew: Books 1, 2, and 3 Page 72