Alexis followed Doakes into the chandlery’s rear, to a small office near the warehouse and store yard that backed up to the landing field. Once out of sight of the shoppers, at least his pronouncements seemed to be at an end.
“I’ve wine, if you like,” Doakes said once they were settled. “Bit early here in port for it, but your ship’s time may be different. Or Thomas can bring tea, if you like.”
“Tea, if it’s not too much trouble,” Alexis said. Doakes’ weasely, pointed nose was twitching and she wanted her wits about her. In fact, she noted, there was a remarkable resemblance between Doakes and the damned creature sharing her cabin aboard Nightingale.
Perhaps I could give him … no, that would be cruel to the creature.
Alexis and Villar settled into their chairs, accepted tea from the harried Thomas, who Doakes then sent scurrying back to wait on customers in the chandlery, and began reviewing a rather long list of complaints Doakes had compiled. Alexis glanced at Villar to gauge his reaction, it being her first time meeting with a colonial representative. Villar, for his part, seemed to find Doakes’ list quite ordinary.
“Four ships gone missing in this last year,” Doakes said. “Five with that Greenaway, and now we’ve reason to suspect piracy and not misfortune.”
Alexis blinked. For Doakes to know about Greenaway, he’d have to have read all of her dispatches in the few hours’ time it had taken Nightingale to reach orbit and send a boat down. As she pondered that, Doakes went on, briefing her on news of Dalthus and the surrounding darkspace in a surprisingly efficient manner. It was, admittedly, her first such briefing by a colonial representative, but what she found most astonishing was that Doakes managed without … well, being Doakes. It was as though he were an entirely different person in this capacity.
Perhaps he takes his duties as Crown representative more seriously than his personal stake in the chandlery.
“Is five an unusually high number?” Alexis asked, as Doakes seemed to be winding down his report.
“It may not be so many, sir,” Villar put in. “Other than Greenaway, the others are only missing or overdue.”
“Oh, true enough,” Doakes said. “A storm, poor winds — chance of a cargo off his normal route.”
“So it can’t be certain piracy was involved — or that they’re even truly missing at all,” Villar maintained. “Other than Greenaway, I mean, sir.”
“You listen to Miss Alexis when it comes to pirates,” Doakes said. “She’s seen her share and more, she has.”
Villar flushed. “I didn’t mean to —”
“It’s quite all right, Mister Villar,” Alexis said. “I do take your meaning. The only thing we know for certain is that Greenaway was attacked — these other ships might well have gone out of touch for other reasons. Still, we’ve had piracy in this area before.”
“Since the founding, off and on,” Doakes said, nodding. “Miss Alexis knows all about that — put paid to some of the bastards her very own self, she did.”
“Do you suppose it might be some of the same band, Mister Doakes?” Alexis asked, hoping to get the conversation back on track.
Doakes straightened and squared his shoulders, as though happy she’d sought his opinion. “Could be, could be indeed.” Then he paused. “Or some new blokes, of course.”
Alexis frowned. There was nothing, really, in all Doakes had said which they didn’t already know. Some indeterminate number of ships gone missing, and Greenaway had proven there was at least one pirate operating in the area.
If it were more of the same band, then there could be a further connection to families on Dalthus. The Coalsons and others had ties to such criminals, as she’d found before. Investigating this now might mean having to deal with them — something Alexis didn’t relish.
If I never breathe the same air as another Coalson, I shall be quite happy.
“You mentioned difficulties with the miners — something you thought Nightingale might assist with. What was that?”
“Well, now,” Doakes said, “most of those lads are all right, you see. They’re rowdy, sure, and not from Dalthus, but they have coin and they’re free with it — something there’s no shop or pub in Port Arthur you’ll find objecting to.
“Two, though, there’s been more than a spot of trouble with,” he went on. “They run claims in the belt together and cause no end of trouble here in Port Arthur.” He took a large gulp of tea. “The town’s told them they’re not welcome no more, but they turn up again. No place to lock them up for more than a few nights and no way to stop them at the field, what with it being so open.”
Alexis frowned. “So they’ve been told to leave the system and refused?”
“Ignored’s more like. They nod and take off back to their ship, then do their mining and return as though we’d said nothing. It’s only when there’s trouble that we — meanin’ the town — even know they’re back. Not the first we’ve had trouble with, neither, but they’re the worst.” He raised an eyebrow and nodded to Villar.
“I remember, Mister Doakes,” Villar said, then to Alexis, “The miners who’ve come are an independent lot and they know Dalthus has no ships of its own to patrol the system’s space. So there’s no way for the government here, what there is of it —” He cleared his throat. “Meaning no offense, sir, you being from here, but the, shall we say, casual structure of governance on Dalthus does make things a bit difficult.”
“No offense taken, Mister Villar,” Alexis assured him. “If these miners are something Nightingale must deal with, then I’ll find it useful to understand your frustrations.” She shrugged. “I am forced to admit my own understanding of our government here never got much past that there’d be a conclave of holders every five years.”
“Not much more to it than that, Miss Alexis,” Doakes said. “And there’s the problem. The holders run their lands, Port Arthur and the few other towns not on held lands have a bit of a council, but dealings with off system bits, visiting ships and such, it’s always been just the chandlery’s job.” He straightened. “Proud to say my family and I’ve done well at that since founding, but …” He shrugged and gestured in the direction of the landing field. “A visiting merchant or indenture ship at a time’s far different than that … that gaggle out there.”
Alexis nodded. Much as she might still not think too kindly of Doakes, she could see his point. “It’s just you then? To deal with all visiting ships?”
“Visiting, and the miners who take residence in the belt, and the construction crews for the stations who come down for leave, everything in and out of Port Arthur.” Doakes shook his head sadly. “There’s contraband come in and out, no doubt. Untaxed goods and more.”
“It almost sounds as though it’s time for a proper customs house, as other worlds have,” Alexis said.
“And haven’t I said that these two years past?” Doakes said. “But the holders, those with lands and not just us who had a few shares and made a life in Port Arthur, they only see the expense and, well, there’s some don’t like it on principle. ‘Start of a bloody bureaucracy,’ they call it.”
“I sent messages to these two miners when last Nightingale was in system, sir,” Villar put in. “They weren’t planetside, but out in the belt at their claim. Made it clear they were to tear down their ships and have them packed aboard the first available transport for some other system.”
“And they have not?” Alexis asked Doakes.
“Headed right in from the belt as soon as Nightingale cleared the Lagrangian point and left last time,” Doakes said. “Near burned poor Neil Grayson’s pub to the bloody ground, they did.”
Villar flushed.
“What consequences did you state they’d incur for staying?” Alexis asked.
Villar flushed more. “Consequences, sir?”
“Well, yes, you ordered them to leave, so what were they told would happen if they didn’t?”
“I —” Villar frowned. “Well, it was a Queen’s officer
telling them to clear out, I —” He broke off and looked away.
“If they’ve no regard for Mister Doakes and the leaders of Port Arthur telling them the same, it’s no wonder they ignored a Queen’s ship on her way out of the system. Especially if there’s nothing concrete for them to be afraid of.”
“There’s little we can do to them, sir,” Villar said. “Nightingale’s writ is smuggling and piracy, which they’ve not engaged in. I don’t know what consequences we could impose, come to that. The belt’s huge and if they turn off their transponders they could play hide-and-seek for months with Nightingale never sighting them. We’d have to resume our patrol some time. And, even caught, we can’t transport them ourselves.”
“Well, there must be something we can do. Perhaps we can come up with it before these troublemakers return and —”
“Oh, they’re here now, and if it’s a talking-to you’d like to give them, Miss Alexis, that can be arranged.”
“It can?”
“Oh, aye, tore up a broth … er, a ladies’ house, that is. Tore it up something fierce just two nights past.”
“And they’re still on planet, then?”
Doakes nodded.
“Right at the back of the chandlery here,” he said. “There’s a bonding cage I keep them as gives us trouble in if there’s no cargoes for it. Have to let ‘em out after no more than seventy-two hours, as that’s the most the Conclave’s voted a man may be boxed up for unless he’s slated for the transports — and I can’t send ‘em on those, as they’ve not signed the Charter, see?”
Seventeen
31 October, Port Arthur, Dalthus System
Doakes led them from his office deeper into the chandlery’s warehouse. Stacks of incoming and outgoing goods filled the space, along with a mélange of scents. Alexis spotted tall stacks of varrenwood boards awaiting export, most of which might well have come from her grandfather’s lands. Beyond those were piles of bulk grains from Dalthus’ fields, headed for far hungrier worlds.
Nearest the doors leading to the chandlery’s outdoor storage and then the landing field were a series of large wire cages used for bonded goods or those too valuable to leave loose in the warehouse while waiting to be picked up.
All during the walk, Alexis wracked her brain for what she’d do with the two miners. She’d spoken quickly enough to Villar about consequences, but in truth there was little she could do. They’d broken none of the Kingdom’s laws in the space around Dalthus, nor certainly in darkspace, where Nightingale’s true authority lie. It was up to the colonies themselves to make laws and enforce them on the surface, but only for citizens. The sudden influx of miners and construction workers for the stations, none of whom had signed the colonial charter and agreed to be bound by it, made for a difficult situation.
Many other worlds did impose their laws on visitors, but Dalthus had been founded by an independent-minded lot who felt the best thing they could do with those who didn’t wish their governance was to ask them to move along — with, apparently, little thought for those who might simply refuse to do so.
As they neared the cage the two miners were locked up in, she was no closer to a solution. She doubted any, as Doakes had put it, “talking to”, would at all move the men.
The cage the two were in was a mere three meters square with walls of wire mesh and a single locking door. It was in the middle of a row of similar cages, those stuffed full with valuable goods. Theirs, though, was empty save for a pair of cots, a jug of water, and a bucket.
“It not being a proper cell,” Doakes said as they drew near, “there was still a need for the necessaries, you understand?” He nodded to the bucket.
“Of course.”
The two men were lying on the cots. They eyed the approaching group — one with both eyes, though they were hooded with sleep and the after effects of drink, the other with the one good eye which wasn’t swollen shut by a livid, purple bruise — but didn’t rise.
Doakes led Alexis and Villar up to the cage’s door and gestured.
“Iveson and Spracklen, Miss Carew,” he said, pointing at each in turn. “For whatever good it might do you to have them named.”
Alexis stared at them for a moment, saying nothing.
The man with two good eyes rose and approached the cage’s door.
“Time for us to go already, Doakes? We was just settled in for a good rest, seems like.”
“Past time for you to go, Iveson,” Doakes said. “You’ve fines and damages to settle, as well.”
Iveson shrugged. “Send the reckoning. We’ve enough coin, what with our strike.” He grinned. “See you next load, eh, Doakes?”
“You’re not welcome here.”
“Our coin’s welcome enough.” Iveson turned his gaze to Villar and squinted. “You that bloke what squawked at us back a few weeks?”
Villar straightened and his eyes narrowed. “Midshipman Villar, then commander of Her Majesty’s Ship Nightingale — and you, sir, were instructed to leave the Dalthus system forthwith.”
Iveson’s drooping eyelids lowered further and he pursed his lips.
“For what?”
“Forthwith, sir!”
“With what?”
“Bloody —”
“A moment, Mister Villar,” Alexis said, laying a hand on Villar’s arm. She wasn’t certain, but believed Iveson was playing with Villar, winding him up a bit, and even if not, there was nothing useful to be gained in continuing down that path.
“Brought yer lil’ sister?” Iveson asked.
Villar made to answer, but Alexis squeezed his arm and he broke off.
“Mister Iveson, it’s been requested that you leave the Dalthus system,” Alexis said, “and yet you —”
“Who’re you again?”
“Lieutenant Alexis Carew, commander of Her Majesty’s Ship Nightingale, and senior Naval officer in-system. It’s been requested that you —”
“Thought he was captain o’ that glorified rowboat,” Iveson interrupted, looking at Villar. Then he looked at Alexis and back to Villar. His face broke in a wide grin. “Oh, that must gall, lad.”
Villar’s face flushed and Alexis took a deep breath.
“Mister Iveson, will you leave the Dalthus system?”
Iveson inhaled deeply through his nose then made a rattling noise in his throat before spitting on the floor near Alexis’ feet. He turned his back on them and threw himself down on his cot, fingers laced behind his head.
“We like it here, Spracklen and me. Don’t you worry, Doakes, nor you, neither, little girl. We’ll off to the belt soon as we’ve rested and not trouble you for a fortnight or more.”
Alexis felt her fingers twitch and forced her hand to remain at her side despite the sudden desire to pull her small flechette pistol from its hidden pocket at the back of her uniform jacket. She’d felt the urge to deal with things through violence more and more often of late and that disturbed her — despite its having been effective at times.
It’s not as though I can simply shoot everyone who annoys me and —
“You bugger off, too, Mister Midshipman Squawky Man,” Iveson said, “and let us sleep.” He frowned and raised his head, running his eyes over Alexis. “Leave your sister, if you like, we’ve a bit of coin left.”
It is not as though I can simply shoot everyone.
Alexis gripped Villar’s arm tighter as he started to speak and Doakes stared at the floor as though he’d like to sink into it.
“Sorry, Miss Alexis, they’re —”
“It’s all right, Mister Doakes,” she said quietly, not taking her eyes from Iveson, who’d laid back down and closed his own eyes. The other one, Spracklen, seemed to be seeking sleep as well. “Though I do see your difficulty.”
Doakes nodded. “The Charter never imagined these miners and such coming temporary-like.”
Alexis took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then gestured for Doakes and Villar to follow her a few steps away from the cage.
> “The further difficulty,” Alexis went on once out of earshot of the two miners, “is that I’m unsure of what use Nightingale might be to you in this regard.” She frowned. “I’ve no authority on the planet’s surface, save over my own crew, and little enough in the system’s space — if they were engaging in piracy or smuggling, perhaps.” She raised an eyebrow in query to Doakes.
“No, Miss Alexis, nothing like that. They work their own claim and bring their gallenium in to sell the lot all legal-like. It’s only in the pubs and houses where they cause trouble.”
Alexis sighed. “Then I’m not at all sure what use I can be, Mister Doakes, much as I might like to be. Their little mining rigs aren’t darkspace capable, so Nightingale can’t escort them to some other system — even had I cause. I suppose we could inspect their ships and hold them up a bit in being about their business, but even at that they’ve only to wait us out. Nightingale must continue her patrol and they’ll be free to do as they please again.”
Doakes sighed and hung his head. “I understand, Miss Alexis — it’s no more than Mister Villar and Lieutenant Bensley have said before.” He glanced back at the cage. “Folks in the pubs and houses are fed up, though. If they refuse service those two go on a tear, or get drunk and wreck the place anyways. Girls’re afraid to say yes or no to the bastards.”
Alexis grimaced. She wished there was something she could do, but it wasn’t as though she could simply pack the pair up and —
She paused, frowned, and caught her lower lip between her teeth.
“Mister Villar, would you be so kind as to summon Mister Ousley — and some few of the hands as he can spare from loading the boat. Sturdy, reliable hands, if you please.”
“Aye, sir.”
Alexis ignored his questioning looks while they waited for the bosun to make his way across the landing field from Nightingale’s boat. She spent the time waiting in thought about whether this was a wise course of action or not.
HMS Nightingale (Alexis Carew Book 4) Page 12
