Lady Doctor Wyre: Jane Austen Space Opera, Book 1

by Joely Sue Burkhart

  Rifling through each guard’s pockets, Sig found the shackles key and tossed it over to Masters. He also confiscated both communicators and tazors. “Dare I hope that your acquaintance with the dread pirate Laffite might be more than as sheriff and wanted criminal?”

  “You may,” Masters replied, taking the offered equipment. “She hates Britannia as much as we do, but she’s not too keen about President Jaxson’s exorbitant tariff on everything from Francia. If they wanted to get us as far away from Lady Wyre as possible, then they couldn’t have brought us to a better spot to find an ally.”

  “Marshal, sheriff, and now pirate.” Sig laughed and slapped the man on the back. “You’re a man of many talents, Masters.”

  Madame President Jaxson possessed the stature of a mighty tree and unfortunately, a complexion to match. Ruddy and sun-tanned, her skin looked as rough as weathered, mossy bark. It was all Charlotte could do not to sit the poor woman down and slather her face with skin cream.

  “Lady Wyre, we meet at last,” the President intoned in a voice more appropriate for the battlefield than a private interview. “Welcome to the Capital of Americus. I trust your trip was uneventful.”

  “Quite,” Charlotte replied faintly. Dear, dear, no wonder Britannia had absolutely no regard for the fledgling government struggling to bring peace and prosperity to this planet. Queen Majel would look at Jaxson and see nothing but a horse-faced soldier in a dress, and a very ugly one at that.

  “I trust the marshals were courteous?”

  The woman beside Charlotte bristled. “Of course my marshals were courteous and most discreet in—”

  Arresting? Acquiring my cooperation against my will? Charlotte smothered her amusement as Director Howitzer floundered for an inoffensive term.

  “—escorting Lady Wyre to join you for the Solstice celebration.”

  “Indeed. Mr. Gatlin even helped me tighten my corset.” Charlotte gave the marshal a warm smile, earning a blush from him and a stifled growl from his director, who, if possible, wore an even more hideous gown of chartreuse ruffles. She was of such stocky blood that no corset could possibly create a curvature in her midsection. “However, I must declare that I would have been more pleased to accompany Sheriff Masters to the Capital instead of these marshals who were utter strangers, albeit extremely polite.”

  “Ah. You mean Marshal Wesson.” Jaxson offered a cut-crystal snifter of brandy, which Charlotte took eagerly. Director Howitzer sniffed with disapproval, so Charlotte threw back the dark amber liquor and held out her glass for more. “A woman after my own heart.” The President smiled with approval, and Charlotte noted the genuine amusement in the woman’s eyes. When she smiled, the President was quite attractive if still rather masculine in features, but then she frowned and a canyon tore across her forehead. “Regrettably, it has come to my attention that he’s a traitor.”

  Charlotte spluttered on her brandy. Director Howitzer took the opportunity to pound her so hard on the back that she nearly knocked out her teeth. “Impossible, Madame President. I assure you, Gilead Masters, or Wesson, whatever his name, is as true and loyal a man as I have ever had the pleasure to meet.”

  Abruptly, President Jaxson said, “That will be all, Director,” in a voice that invited no commentary.

  Ignoring that steely tone, Director Howitzer protested, confirming exactly who had provided whatever damning evidence to warrant for Gil’s arrest. “But, ma’am, if you’re going to speak to this…woman…about my marshals, I have a right to know what accusations she might bring against us!”

  “I promise no accusations,” Charlotte said with her most frigid smile. “Except those I lodge against you. That dress you’re wearing is a crime against silk and you really shouldn’t wear so many ruffles, dear. It does dreadful things to your thick waist.”

  Turning her back on the protesting woman, Jaxson simply stared into the roaring fireplace without another word. Charlotte sat daintily in one of the high-backed wing chairs thoughtfully positioned before the fireplace and sipped her brandy. She couldn’t help the Cheshire cat smile curving her lips as she traded amused stares for the ugly glare from the insulted Director Howitzer.

  With a loud rustle of tortured silk, the woman whirled and stomped toward the door. In a mean voice pitched to carry, she commanded her marshals. “Strike Wesson’s name from the roll and make sure the traitor is heavily guarded. I don’t want any accidents before the man can be brought before the firing squad.”

  Charlotte bit back her response until the director had slammed the door behind her men. “President Jaxson, surely you don’t believe that woman’s accusations. Gil is the most honorable man I know.”

  President Jaxson sat in the matching chair. “You say this when he mislead you about his true intentions?”

  “I do,” Charlotte replied with fervor. “He never lied to me. He was a good and caring sheriff, which is a subset of his duties as marshal. Instead of protecting all of Americus, he was protecting Queenstown, and me, indirectly. I realize he must have been assigned to watch me and to gain my confidence, which I gave most reluctantly, I assure you. I would not be sitting here this day chatting so amiably with you, Madame, if not for his friendship and influence.”

  “I see.” President Jaxson stared down at her drink and smiled ruefully. “Then I suppose I must recall the warrant sending him to Angola Prison.”

  Charlotte shuddered at the thought of Gil trapped in that dreadful swamp prison full of poisonous snakes and vicious crocodiles…and she didn’t mean the creatures living in the murky waters.

  “What of the second man arrested with Marshal Wesson?”

  Staring into the fire, Charlotte schooled her features and allowed her mind to race. She dearly hoped that second man was Sig, because then Gil would have a much better chance of surviving or even escaping from his captors. But was any sort of cooperation too much to hope after last night? What if Sig had hunted the sheriff down to kill him and eliminate the competition, only to be arrested as an accomplice?

  “If it makes any difference,” President Jaxson continued in an even, careful voice, “I just had a transmission from Orleans—to which Director Howitzer is not yet privy—that the two men arrested in York have escaped from their prison transport.”

  Relaxing enough to sip her brandy, Charlotte suppressed the smile of joy threatening to give her secrets away. Then the second man had to be Sig; no one but Lord Regret would have been able to escape a prison transport headed for Angola, guarded by Americus’s best marshals.

  Fortuitous, indeed, that he’d escaped, for Lord Regret in hand would have made almost as powerful a bargaining chip. Desperate to win more allies against Britannia, President Jaxson could have simply bequeathed him to Francia and started another Hundred Year War.

  “My marshal must be very smitten with you, Lady Wyre,” Jaxson said wryly. “Not only is he a wanted man for failing to bring you to heel quickly enough to suit Director Howitzer, but the governor suspects the fugitives have joined Jean Laffite’s pirate fleet on Barataria.”

  The small port of Orleans made for a challenging landing because of an asteroid barrier. A few brave souls had settled on the three largest asteroids, a precarious existence of constant shielding and determined, foolhardy stubbornness to live on a barren hunk of rock without even a stable atmosphere. Charlotte had always wondered why people would attempt to carve out life in such inhospitable conditions, but she supposed a pirate would adore the challenge of creating her own kingdom where no one else could.

  Mind buzzing, she settled more comfortably in her chair and gave the President a dazzling smile of challenge. She hadn’t enjoyed a good verbal spar in entirely too long. ’Tis time to see what manner of lady Jaxson may be.

  “I couldn’t say who might be with my marshal.” She gave a slight emphasis to my and let a small smile quirk the corner of her mouth. “I also couldn’t say how they may have escaped a prison transport, unless the guards weren’t well equipped.” Nothing flickered
on the President’s face, so Charlotte assumed the guards had indeed been well armed. Sig must have outdone himself, then, and she had to assume that her two men were now well armed themselves. Although how Sig and Gil had decided to work together without killing each other she couldn’t quite imagine. “Or, sadly, your ship was lacking the most current technology.”

  A tiny flicker of Jaxson’s eyebrow confirmed that weakness. “Two guards were killed in their escape. I dread communicating their loss to the men’s families.”

  Nodding sympathetically, Charlotte made a low sound of regret. “Their families should be well compensated.” But she didn’t volunteer an amount or service in order to put the other woman at as great a disadvantage as possible. No one liked to ask for assistance, and she had a feeling that President Jaxson liked such weakness even less than most.

  “Alas, our new government doesn’t possess many riches. Despite our declared independence, we’re still forced to sell and trade our goods to Britannia for coin, or deal with privateers like Laffite.”

  A subtle threat, Charlotte noted, well aimed without being obvious, for she knew Queen Majel would empty her extremely well-supplied royal treasury to get Lady Wyre back into the Tower of Londonium. Jaxson will do well, if only she dressed the part more appropriately. Perhaps I can throw in a little shopping into our negotiation. “Surely Britannia is not the only powerful planet with which you have contact.”

  “Indeed, I’m sure Francia could be interested in a substantial trade, but for this particular item, I think the Military Intelligence and Galactic Sciences may be more interested.”

  Charlotte allowed a shudder to shake her shoulders and she dropped her left hand over the locket. Only a very faint buzz tingled her palm, warning how far away Sig must be. I have to find a way to keep us all safe. Even from Britannia. “I’ve heard such dreadful stories about the technology they’ve developed in the past years.” Founded upon my own dreadful experiments, God forgive me.

  “Which Britannia then unleashes on the next unsuspecting planet so Queen Majel can raze them to the ground and claim whatever resource she desires.” President Jaxson gripped the arms of the chair fiercely, as though she yearned to rip someone apart with her bare hands. “Such will be our fate eventually, I’m afraid.”

  And here was the opening Charlotte needed. “Perhaps not, Madame President. Dare I hope that you might have salvaged an Imperial cruiser during the revolution?”

  “You may.” President Jaxson nodded. “We’ve stripped and modified the largest to suit our needs, including a heavy lining of iron to fortify his armament, but he’s ponderous in the sky and we’ve had a bit of trouble with the engines.”

  “If he’s as large as you say, he’d make a wonderful primary defense for the Capital.” Charlotte took a sip of her brandy and frowned thoughtfully. “Of course you’ll need a city shield too.”

  President Jaxson blew out her breath in a loud huff. “I’m afraid we don’t have enough power to fuel such a shield. As you know, most of our colonists subsist on natural, primitive resources. It would be impossible to burn enough wood, for instance, in order to spawn a shield of such magnitude, and we possess none of Britannia’s technology.”

  “I might…perhaps…” Charlotte tapped her finger against her glass, dragging out her response until Jaxson looked like she was going to reach over and shake her. “Yes. I do believe I might be able to show your engineers a few modest enhancements. Of course I would need my equipment, most of which I hid beneath my cabin in Queenstown.”

  President Jaxson pressed a small button on the inside arm of her chair, and the entry immediately whooshed open. Marshals Gatlin and Colt carried a heavy steamer trunk between them. With a groan, they set it on the floor in front of the two ladies, and President Jaxson smiled sheepishly. “I suspected you might be agreeable in assisting us so I took the liberty of procuring your equipment. We don’t have much time, Your Grace. I know for a fact that Runners have been sighted in York. It’s only a matter of time before they find you.”

  Now came the most delicate negotiation of all. Charlotte kept her face and voice as smooth and silky as fine chocolate as she stood, mirrored by the President. “When they do, I shall be long gone. With my marshal and his accomplice, of course.”

  President Jaxson shook her hand warmly. “Whoever that man may be, yes, of course. Indeed, we shall be in debt to you, Your Grace. Utilize whatever manpower you need. Gatlin and Colt have requested that they be your intermediaries until Marshal Wesson can be found and returned to you.”

  Smiling, Charlotte leaned in close. “I do have one additional request, Madame President, of a rather personal nature.”

  Jaxson sobered and squared her shoulders. “Ask and it shall be done, Lady Wyre.”

  When Charlotte whooped in a most unladylike manner and clapped her hands excitedly, the other woman jumped and the marshals reached for their tazors. Ignoring them, she tucked her arm through Jaxson’s and pulled her toward the door. “Then we have a shopping date! Can you spare a quick trip to York’s East End?”

  “What, now?” President Jaxson sputtered. “I need new engines in my warship, not a gown. I must protest, Lady Wyre. Surely—”

  “Now,” she replied firmly. “I have something very special in mind for the Solstice, and you simply must have a new gown when Queen Majel receives my gift. It’s going to be a Solstice Eclipse that she won’t soon forget.”

  Chapter Eight

  The pirate frigate was one large party boat and Jean Laffite seemed determined to show that nobody could party as hard—and fly as fast—as her. Without heed, she flew them straight toward the Capital, weaving in and out of the guarded zones with the casual ease of a slippery, talented rake avoiding the most desperate mamas at a debutante ball, while personally draining at least half a keg of rum.

  Her crew wore a motley mix of high fashion and colonial garb. Half her age, her cabin boy wore a long white linen shirt that brushed the tops of his bare thighs…and little else while he did a jig on top of the built-in bar. Laffite wore sapphire blue breeches and her linen shirt hung open, baring her breasts for anyone who dared look. A dashing cavalier hat perched upon her scarlet hair, complete with a curling purple feather.

  When the famed pirate seized a handful of Sig’s arse, he suddenly realized that Masters had smartly already departed. Involuntarily, he touched a finger to one of his knives that had been so thoughtfully packaged for transport along with him toward prison. “Pardon me, Laffite, but I am most certainly taken.”

  She gripped him harder with a strong hand used to command and taking whatever she wanted. “I don’t see a ring on your finger, Dandy. I’ve always fancied having a gentleman in my bed. I want to see if the saying is true: the finer the clothing, the more they squeal when they come.”

  Masters will pay in blood for giving me such a ridiculous false name. “My lady is a jealous woman, though regretfully not of the marrying kind.”

  “Neither am I,” Laffite breathed in his ear as she began sliding her other hand down his chest. “What she doesn’t know—”

  Sig pressed the thin blade against the pirate’s wrist. One deep cut and he’d slice every tendon and major vein in her arm. “Will kill you.”

  Hesitating, Laffite didn’t back away immediately. She wouldn’t have earned such a reputation if she gave up a prize without a fight. Sig pressed the knife hard enough to draw blood, and she finally realized he meant every word. Laughing heartily, she released him, lifting her bloody arm up for everyone to see, although her crew was so drunk he doubted they’d remember it on the morrow. “Mr. Dandy is a virgin!”

  Everyone roared and Sig found himself blushing so hotly that his ears felt crisped. Gathering his dignity, he strode toward the door while the crew cheered. I can only pray they have absolutely no idea that I’m Lord Regret or I may have to kill every single person on this ship.

  It took nearly half an hour to find Masters on the observation deck, staring morosely out at the nigh
t sky. The lights of York winked below, so they’d be able to land near the Capital in an hour, assuming Laffite wasn’t too offended to let them escape unscathed. By morning, they could conceivably have located Lady Wyre, rescued her, and…

  Suddenly, Sig felt as depressed as Masters looked. Because once they found her and fought their way free, she’d have to make several crucial decisions that would affect the rest of their lives. All of us.

  “Your pirate friend nearly lost an arm for groping me,” Sig said, trying to lighten their mood.

  Masters grunted. “Now you know why I disappeared as soon as they opened the keg. Laffite’s appetites are…impressive. She would have had us both if we were willing.”

  Sig leaned forward, propping his elbows on the railing and dropping his chin into his palms. He couldn’t bring himself to say what they both feared, but unspoken, that dread thickened the air and hung heavy on his chest until he found it difficult to breathe.

  Would Charlie consider taking us both? Will she let us help protect her, or merely reject us both and sail off to some new colony to begin again?

  Even if she decided she wanted to keep them both, there was no guarantee at all that he and Masters could tolerate one another long enough to keep her happy. In all his forbidden daydreams of sailing away with Lady Wyre at his side, he’d never thought she might take another man with them.

  “Do you think she’s all right?” Masters asked in a voice as raspy as sandpaper.

  Sig heard the emotion in the man’s voice and knew he’d wanted to ask: do you think she’ll ever believe that I never meant to betray her? “I know she’s alive and well.”

  But he couldn’t say she’d forgive Masters for misleading her all these months. Charlie pretended to be all lady, consumed with pink silk stockings, tea and parties. She did truly love such finery, but underneath her frivolity, a steely spine and ice cold heart worked hand in hand with her lightning quick mind to earn her the fearful respect of an entire Society of formidable ladies. Part of the reason Sig loved her so much was that he never could guess which way she’d go, whether left or right.