HMS Nightingale (Alexis Carew Book 4)

by J. A. Sutherland

  HMS Nightingale

  Alexis Carew #4

  J A Sutherland

  Contents

  Part 1

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Part 2

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Darkspace

  HMS NIGHTINGALE

  Alexis Carew #4

  by J.A. Sutherland

  © Copyright Sutherland. All rights reserved.

  Cover Art by Steven J. Catizone

  (https://www.facebook.com/StevenJamesCatizone)

  Created with Vellum

  For Lieutenant Alexis Carew, it should be the perfect assignment — a command of her own and a chance to return to her home star system.

  What she finds is a surly crew, the dregs of every frigate and ship of the line to pass through on the way to the war’s front, a first officer who thinks the command should have been his, and colonial worlds where they believe a girl’s place is somewhere very different than command of a Queen’s starship. Add to that the mysterious disappearances of ships vital to the war effort and an old enemy who seems intent on convincing her he’s changed.

  Then there’s the mongoose with an unnatural affinity for her boots.

  For Mom & Dad

  If I could choose the childhood I’d most like to have had, it would be the one you gave me.

  The variety, the adventures, the freedom to explore … I wouldn’t trade those memories for anything.

  Today’s Child Protective Services might disagree, but they shouldn’t have joined if they can’t take a joke. :)

  Thank you.

  Part One

  One

  7 September, Zariah Station

  “Nightingale’s signalin’, miss,” the pilot of the hired boat called back to the small passenger compartment. “An’ who’ll I say comes a’callin’?”

  Lieutenant Alexis Arleen Carew, Royal Navy, loyal servant to New London’s Queen Annalise, rushed forward into the boat’s cockpit. She rested one hand on the pilot’s shoulder and peered out through the front viewscreen. To the right the view was filled by the planet Zariah, but she could make out several ships directly ahead. Most were clearly not Nightingale, as they had two, three, or even four masts, ship-rigged, or were simply too large to be her ship. HMS Nightingale was a revenue cutter, small and one-masted, fore-and-aft rigged to make her easier to handle with a small crew.

  “Can we see her? Where is she? Point her out, please!”

  The pilot turned to stare at her. Alexis removed her hand from his shoulder and straightened; she cleared her throat, smoothing her uniform jacket.

  “Can’t see her as yet, miss,” he said, “but they’re askin’.”

  Alexis stared out the cockpit’s window, still hoping she could identify the ship. Zariah orbital was busy and the station’s quay was so full that many ships were being forced to simply orbit the planet and transfer supplies to and from the station by boat. The pilot had notified Nightingale of their imminent arrival and they wanted to know who was aboard in order to arrange for the appropriate side-party at the entry lock.

  “Who should I say, miss?”

  Alexis took a deep breath and calmed her excitement. There were many firsts about to happen and she wanted to remember them all. So much so that she could even forgive the civilian pilot for calling her “miss” instead of the Navy’s preferred “sir” for all officers, regardless of gender. He was likely a former Navy man himself, older and having left the Service to make his way as a boatman, and should know better, but this event was too important to be bothered by something so trivial.

  “Nightingale,” she said.

  The pilot glanced at her with raised eyebrows and Alexis nodded to him, at least trying to portray a calm she didn’t feel. He grinned, nodded once, and turned back to his control board. He reached forward and keyed the boat’s radio to the cockpit’s speakers, instead of his earpiece, so that she could hear.

  “What boat?” sounded from the speakers. Probably the midshipman of the watch, Alexis presumed, and a bit irritated that he’d had to ask again.

  “Nightingale,” the pilot said.

  There was the briefest pause, then, “Aye, aye,” and the connection was cut off.

  Alexis shivered at the tingle of pleasure that went through her. A ship’s commander announced herself by the name of her ship. Right now that midshipman would be scrambling to assemble a side-party and all of Nightingale’s crew to gather at the lock in order to greet their new commander, sole master of a Queen’s ship after God.

  “First command, miss?” the pilot asked.

  Alexis nodded, ignoring his use of “miss” again. “First I’ve been appointed into.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth. “It’s different than taking command of a prize.”

  The pilot nodded, giving her an appraising glance. Alexis couldn’t really blame him; she didn’t much look the part of a Royal Navy officer, much less a ship’s commander. She was young, just eighteen, though she’d been in the Service a little over three years, and her height, or lack thereof as it was a bare meter and a half, made her look younger.

  “You’ve commanded a prize, then?” the pilot asked.

  Alexis nodded absently, still searching the space ahead of them for some sight of Nightingale.

  “Grapple, a pirate my first ship took,” she said, absently. She thought she might be able to make out the shape of a fore-and-aft rigged vessel ahead of them. “The pirates retook her during a storm, but we prevailed later and returned safely. Then my division took a Hanoverese ship, Sittich, from our ship’s boat. Our frigate had left the system already and we were forced to sail her back from Hanover ourselves.” She frowned. “Trau Wunsch, but she was just a scow of a merchant ship we took to escape imprisonment in the Berry March.” She paused and her throat tightened along with her chest. “And there was a ship at Giron, of course —” She swallowed hard as her throat tightened more. “I suppose I was appointed into her, at least temporarily, but she was never properly bought-in to the Service …”

  She trailed off. Speaking of that ship brought up too many memories of that last, desperate action with a Hanoverese frigate when so many, virtually all, of her crew had perished — to say nothing of the refugees she’d been carrying. Women and children
fleeing Giron and the reprisals of the Hanoverese. Women and children she’d brought aboard, promising them she’d keep them safe.

  She caught the pilot staring at her. She thought for a moment that she could see similar feelings in his eyes — too many actions, too many ships shot to lifeless hulks floating in the emptiness of darkspace, and too many mates floating just as lifeless aboard them. Then she shook herself, forcing those thoughts and memories aside as she found herself doing more and more often these days — and made herself look forward instead, to her new command.

  “But this is to be my first official command,” she said with a small smile. “It’s different.” She peered forward. “Do you suppose you could circle her once or twice? Before docking, I mean. So that I might get a good look before going aboard?”

  The pilot gave her another look before turning back to his console.

  “Aye, sir.”

  Alexis swallowed and licked her lips as she waited for the lock to cycle. The boat had made fast to Nightingale’s port side and the ship had extended its plastic boarding tube to the boat. As soon as the tube was aired she’d be able to board Nightingale. She spared a quick glance to Isom, the spacer who’d attached himself to her some time ago as a personal servant. He was ready behind her with their baggage. Not very much of it, just his spacer’s bag and her two chests and bag of belongings. Her personal stores, food, and wine to supplement the poor ship’s offerings of recycled water and vat-grown beef, could be sent for later.

  Perched atop her pallet of belongings, though, was a covered, vacuum-safe cage containing the damned, bloody creature given to her by the smuggler and former pirate Avrel Dansby. The irony of her current orders being to put a stop to smugglers after being partnered with one by the Foreign Office in her last posting wasn’t lost on her. Still, he hadn’t turned out to be a half-bad sort at the end, though the gift was a dig at her.

  When they’d first been introduced by Mister Eades of the Foreign Office, they’d taken an immediate, strong dislike for each other, even before she knew he was a former pirate. Eades had looked them over and commented that it was much like sitting down to sup with a mongoose and a cobra. Alexis had quickly named Dansby the serpent and he’d just as quickly replied that, of course, she was the “cute, cuddly one”. At the end of that mission, he’d sailed out of the system leaving Alexis saddled with his gift of a mongoose. She’d been entirely unsure what to do with it, not wanting to turn it loose to some horrible fate, but certainly not wanting to keep it. She hadn’t even named the thing yet and was unsure she ever would.

  Perhaps my grandfather will want it when we stop at Dalthus. Don’t they sometimes turn things like that loose on colonies to control the vermin?

  She reached down and touched her pocket to ensure her tablet was there, but resisted the urge to pull it out and see that her orders were still displayed. She probably wouldn’t need the tablet to read herself in — she’d fairly memorized the orders on her trip to Zariah system — but this was, as she’d told the boat’s pilot, very different from taking command of a prize.

  There was no ceremony involved in leading a prize crew, one simply went aboard with the assigned crew and started giving orders. Moreover, at least two of the ships she’d commanded she’d taken herself.

  Certainly no time for ceremony when you’re overpowering the crew and having to prepare to run for your life.

  It seemed to her that an undue amount of her time in the Navy had been spent doing exactly that.

  But taking command of a proper Royal Navy ship had a ceremony attached to it, one that Alexis had studied on the trip here just as diligently as she’d read and reread her orders. She’d run through it in her head over and over again, wanting to be sure she got it right and that she did things perfectly, for she’d have the eyes of her new crew upon her and they’d be judging her from the start — and she knew that she’d have to overcome their first impressions when they saw her, before she’d had even the chance to speak.

  More than that, though, she wanted it perfect for herself. She was proud, perhaps inordinately so, of what she’d accomplished in the Navy so far, and she believed Admiral Cammack when he said that her appointment into Nightingale, even when the ship was so far from the border and the war with Hanover, was a recognition of those accomplishments.

  There are few enough lieutenants given even so small a command at just eighteen.

  The lock seemed to be taking forever to pressurize, or perhaps it was just that her thoughts were racing. She ran through the steps once more in her head.

  Pause at the hatch and get a foot aboard carefully, so as not to stumble at the change from the boarding tube to the ship’s artificial gravity. The ensign will be on the aft wall and I’m boarding the port side, so turn to my right — don’t want to be looking about unsure of where to turn. Then doff my beret to the ensign and face the senior officer there to greet me — that’ll likely be Midshipman Villar.

  She’d read the copy of Nightingale’s muster book on the way, as well. At least the most current one in the records on Lesser Ichthorpe where Admiral Cammack had given her the commission. Nightingale was a small ship, just a revenue cutter, tasked with inspecting merchants in the sector for contraband or untaxed goods. Other than the lieutenant who commanded her, she rated only two other officers, both midshipmen.

  Wait for him to doff his beret, then mine in turn, and when he informs me that the crew is properly assembled I read my orders out. Simple, really.

  She touched her pocket again to see that the tablet was still there and wondered why the bloody lock was taking so long. The orders were simple and brief, leaving a great deal to Alexis’ interpretation — and responsibility.

  By the hand of Admiral Westley Johnathon Cammack, Lord Firdale, by and for the Commissioners for executing the Office of the Lord High Admiral of New London and New Edinburgh &c and of all Her Majesty's Colonies and Affiliated Worlds &c.

  To Lieutenant Alexis Arleen Carew hereby appointed Lieutenant, Master and Commander of Her Majesty's Ship the Nightingale.

  By Virtue of the Power and Authority to us given We do hereby constitute and appoint you Lieutenant, Master and Commander of Her Majesty's Ship the Nightingale willing and requiring you forthwith to go on board and take upon you the Charge and Command of Lieutenant, Master and Commander in her accordingly. Strictly Charging and Commanding all the Officers and Company belonging to the said ship subordinate to you to behave themselves jointly and severally in their respective Employments with all the Respect and Obedience unto you their said Lieutenant, Master and Commander; And you likewise to observe and execute as well the General printed Instructions as what Orders and Directions you shall from time to time receive from your Superiors or any other your superior Officers for Her Majesty's service.

  Hereof nor you nor any of you may fail as you will Answer the Contrary at your Peril.

  And for so doing this shall be your Warrant. Given under our hands and the Seal of the Office Admiralty this eighth day of October, 2968 in the fortieth Year of Her Majesty's Reign.

  By Command of their Lordships and by the Hand of Admiral Westley Johnathon Cammack, Lord Firdale.

  (his signature and devices)

  The light on the airlock turned green, indicating that there was a good seal between the boat and Nightingale, and Alexis reached to pull the hatch open. She took a deep breath, made an effort to keep her face from breaking out in a wide grin of joy, squared her shoulders, and launched herself out of the boat’s artificial gravity and down the boarding tube toward her new ship.

  My ship, my command, and earned on my own bottom.

  She caught the grab bar at the end of the boarding tube and swung her feet into Nightingale’s lock, then slid the exterior hatch shut — Isom would follow behind her after she’d boarded. She gave her jacket a tug, slid the interior hatch open and stepped aboard, turning sharply to her right and saluting the ensign hanging on the aft bulkhead.

  She turned her attention
to the waiting men, surprised to see that it didn’t appear the full ship’s company was present on the main deck, at least not near the lock. There were the two midshipmen she expected, but they were in common ship’s jumpsuits, not their dress uniforms as she’d expect them to be to meet Nightingale’s new commander. Nor was the full complement of Marines turned out, only the one who’d normally be left to guard the lock.

  The eldest and tallest of the officers stepped forward.

  That’ll be Villar, if I read the muster book properly. Twenty-four — a bit old to have not passed for lieutenant himself, but not unheard of.

  Then she noted that the man’s rank insignia was that of a lieutenant, not a midshipman. The man was tall, almost a full two meters so, and seemed to tower over her. His face twisted in a scowl as he stepped toward Alexis and looked down at her.

  “Who the bloody hell are you then?” he asked.

  Two

  7 September, aboard HMS Nightingale, Zariah System

  Alexis drew her head back, shocked by the lieutenant’s aggression. Her first thought was that someone had made a mistake and appointed another officer into Nightingale without knowing that Admiral Cammack had appointed her. Still it was no cause for such an attack. She glanced around and saw that everyone within earshot, which included most of the crew, had stopped working and were watching the drama.

  And certainly not cause to address a fellow officer that way in front of the crew.

  “I’m Lieutenant Carew,” she said. “Ordered aboard by Admiral Cammack. And you, lieutenant?”

  “Villar,” the man said. “Nightingale’s commander, and none too pleased at your little joke.”

  Alexis frowned. So this was Villar, but he was a lieutenant and not a midshipman? Her copy of the ship’s muster book could well be out of date, but surely Admiral Cammack would have been aware that Villar had received his commission.