“You snake!” Allie screamed, lunging for Dansby, but held back by Kaycie and her brother. “I’ll kill you!”
“Your ship’s lost,” Dansby said, “and might’ve killed us all if the fusion plant went!” He caught the gleam in Presgraves’ eye and hurried on to distract her. “But she might serve a purpose, yet, if we can keep her between us and Böhm!”
“I suppose the cart failed,” Presgraves said.
“What?” Dansby asked.
“The antigrav cart,” she explained. “The batteries must have run out by now.”
Dansby shook his head. “What, why? The things work all day.”
“Well, we had to take most of them out to fit the mining charge in, didn’t we?” Presgraves shrugged. “Probably why the charge didn’t go off, if the battery’s run out to the timer.”
“But —” Dansby kept looking from Presgraves to the plot. “Half a point to starboard, up five degrees, Rosson.”
“Aye, sir.”
That didn’t keep them on their best point of sail, but did keep the receding pinnace between Elizabeth’s stern and Kronprinz.
“Firing!” Smithey called.
“The mining charges have their own batteries for the timer,” Dansby said. “Why would —”
“It were a tight fit, sir,” Sween answered for Presgraves, who was staring at the images on the plot, eager to see if this broadside would breach the pinnace’s fusion plant. “Had to leave off some bits — the casing, shaping charges, …”
“The battery?” Dansby asked.
“Had the whole cart’s to go with instead, sir,” Sween said.
Dansby rubbed his forehead, cursing himself for not overseeing, or at least checking, the work himself, but he’d been off distracting Kaycie and the Blackbournes so they’d not think he was up to something — now he was going to die because of a bloody battery.
Shot struck the receding pinnace, carving bits off the bow and stern, and nearly splitting the little ship in half. The two largest pieces opened as though on a hinge to reveal a bit of the space behind.
Presgraves grunted in disappointment.
Kaycie grunted as she struggled with Rabbit, who was trying to launch herself over the navigation plot for Dansby’s throat.
“Still …” Kaycie said in between grunts. “That doesn’t explain … despite your idiocy … why they’ve started shooting at us.” She jerked Allie back and then shoved her into Blackbourne’s arms. “Here, keep hold of her before I decide it’s easier to shoot her.” Kaycie stepped back and drew her sidearm, which seemed to settle Rabbit somewhat. “I’d have thought,” she said to Dansby, “they’d have just moved the crate to another cart, or, at worst, had to spend some time picking up if the cart failure knocked the crate off. Charging the batteries would have come before opening it up and discovering a mining charge, wouldn’t it?”
Kaycie cocked her head as though having a thought, then she lowered her gaze to the deck, shut her eyes, and took a deep breath.
“What was in the crate, Jon?”
“What?” Dansby asked. “In the crate? Gallenium, of course.”
Kaycie raised her eyes and glared at him. “All of it?”
“Well —” All eyes on the quarterdeck seemed to turn toward him. “That was a great load of gallenium to just go and blow up, wasn’t it?” He pointed at Rabbit. “She said they never check aught but the weight, so —”
Kaycie sighed. “So they’re shoving this cart down to the hold, when its batteries go out and it crashes to the deck, spilling a ton of — what, Jon?”
“Gallenium … a bit,” Dansby said. “The top two layers of bars with a bit of scrap under —” He pointed at Presgraves. “Which would have been more than enough if —”
“Firing!” Smithey called.
All eyes turned back to the navigation plot, where it was obvious the pinnace, even were it still whole, was so far behind them that it would offer scant coverage past this next broadside.
Or none at all, Dansby mused as the shot struck and the little ship disappeared in blinding ball of plasma as its fusion plant was breached.
“Yes!” Presgraves shouted.
“Kill you!” Rabbit screamed, making it halfway across the plot before Kaycie and Blackbourne managed to latch on to a leg each and drag her back. Kaycie seemed to have given up on the threat of shooting her as not very effective. Legs got her dragged back far enough for the two to grasp handfuls of fabric at Allie’s waist and pull her off the plot completely.
Blackbourne sighed, then shrugged and gave Kaycie a grin. “Yer lucky day, lass, as it seems Young Blackbourne and his fiddle bow’ll be aboard for some time.”
Allie turned and slapped her brother. “Are you mad? They’ve destroyed our ship!”
“Weren’t a very good ship.” Blackbourne shrugged. “Smelled a might.”
Dansby had only half an ear for the twins, as he studied the plot. With the pinnace gone, the next broadside would be all for Elizabeth, but they’d gained some distance on Kronprinz and her guns.
“Bring us up to the winds, Rosson, close as she’ll bear.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Message to the gundeck, Grubbs, load with chain — we’ll fire for her sails and try to slow her!”
“Aye, sir.”
Both Elizabeth and Kronprinz put their bows as close as they could to the winds — Elizabeth had the edge there, so that the range steadily opened, but they had only minutes, perhaps two or three, before the frigate’s crew was able to reload her guns and the big ship would turn once more to bring those to bear.
Dansby gripped the edges of the navigation plot, watching for the first shiver of sail that indicated Captain Böhm had given that order — that’s when Elizabeth would have to move too, turning and rolling again to take the broadside on her keel, with no pinnace to block the shot, then roll back to send her own fire into the frigate and, hopefully, damage enough rigging to let them gain a bit more distance.
And there it was — a twitch, a shudder, barely visible. Dansby opened his mouth to give his own orders —
Kronprinz bucked, jerked in space as though she were a ragdoll in a dog’s jaws, then she split, blinding light spilling from cracks in her center. Her bow twisted, carried away by a bit of sail, then more cracks came, knocking great panels of thermoplastic away. The damage shook her stern to and fro.
“Must’ve plugged that cart in,” Sween said.
Blackbourne nodded. “First thing Young Blackbourne’d do, a cart drops. Plug her right in.”
Dansby stared at the broken frigate in awe as the two halves parted, then a crack appeared in her stern and a great light, greater than they’d just seen, greater even than when the pinnace’s fusion plant was breached, grew, consuming every bit of the ship as a new, brief-lived star appeared in darkspace.
“Old cart?” Blackbourne asked. “Takes a time to charge?”
“Aye,” Sween said. “Wouldn’t use a new one for that — knowing, you see.”
Blackbourne nodded, then gave Presgraves an odd look. “She all right?”
Presgraves was staring at the images on the navigation plot as Kronprinz’s star faded. Her knuckles were white where she gripped the table’s edge and her lips were parted, tongue running slowly over them. Her chest nearly heaved with deep, slow breaths.
“She’s, ah —” Sween began.
Presgraves released the plot’s edge and grasped a handful of Sween’s jumpsuit, dragging him toward the quarterdeck hatch, her face gleamed with a thin sheen of sweat. “Shut yer gob, Culloden Sween, an’ come along! Y’ve work to do!”
Silence laid heavy on Elizabeth’s quarterdeck.
“They, ah, will need some time, I expect,” Dansby told the Blackbournes after a moment.
Epilogue
Malcome Eades was, Dansby thought, quite the oddest looking man he’d ever met.
Not that he was odd-looking, but that he was, all at once, entirely nondescript and utterly terrifying.
> Rather the sort one imagined could stroll through a crowd, calmly slipping a knife between some ribs here and a bit of kidney there, and be gone with no better description from witnesses than, “I believe there was a hat.”
“Leave the bottle,” Eades told the pub’s server, who looked askance, then set the bottle down and moved on.
It had taken some time to find the foreign office man — first Elizabeth must sail from the Barbary to New London space, then Dansby have a word with a contact on Penduli, followed by several weeks waiting for a response, and finally word that the man himself had come and where to meet him.
Dansby might not have bothered, if he’d had any idea what else to do with the cargo of gallenium still aboard Elizabeth. Quite despite Allie Blackbourne’s assurances that she still “knew a man,” and quite aside from her comment that she’d rather appreciate Dansby’s not blowing this one up, he was reluctant to try the meeting. Gallenium was simply a thing he’d rather have no trade in — not that he was willing to forgo the value of what he currently had, but, in general, it seemed to be a distasteful business, likely to put one in undesirable circumstances.
There was also the matter of having the Naval master’s mate, Tart, still aboard — he’d recovered, somewhat, but kept spouting about reporting Dansby and bringing the bloody authorities down on him, refusing to believe the whole matter aboard Tyche had been a misunderstanding. And not quite so recovered in wits that he might realize telling one’s captors you’re planning their downfall might not be the best path to release.
Eades poured his glass full of the pub’s best cognac — quite a bit fuller than Dansby supposed was entirely proper — then drained it back to a more socially acceptable level.
“I find fortification necessary when faced with utter fiction,” Eades said, setting his glass down and raising his tablet, containing Dansby’s report.
“Mister Eades, I assure you —”
“Tut,” Eades said, waving a finger. “Don’t spoil it for me with further embellishment.”
Eades resumed reading, then set his tablet down and raised his glass to take an elegant sip. He took a deep breath, inhaling the cognac fumes.
“You wish me to believe,” Eades said, “that you were taken up by the Press and placed aboard HMS Tyche.”
“I was, sir.”
“After several months of entirely legitimate trading.”
Dansby nodded.
“And your ship being nowhere near Keldworth Heath at about the time a hundred-meter crater was formed.”
Dansby winced. Now how did Eades have the gall to connect him with that? He’d not mentioned Keldworth Heath at all in his report. “Was never there,” he offered.
“Indeed.” Eades took another sip. “Having boarded HMS Tyche, you became aware, in some manner, of an illicit trade in addle by the purser, and set about to run from impressment in order to report this trade anonymously to Tyche’s captain.”
Dansby nodded.
“By throwing yourself into darkspace in the middle of a dark energy storm.”
“It seemed right at the time.”
“Things so often do, don’t they?” Eades looked back to the tablet. “Along with an uninvolved master’s mate off Tyche, a Mister Tart.”
“There was a misunderstanding.”
“There so often is, isn’t there?” Eades mused. “And you have no idea the whereabouts of this purser’s, Mister Fell’s, illicit profits, of course?”
Dansby blinked, he’d made no mention of those, nor of his hacking Tyche’s purser’s records. “Profits?”
“Indeed,” Eades said. “When your message reached Captain Stansfield, he quickly investigated, discovered the addle, and took Fell up in chains. In an effort to either mitigate his sentence or bribe Captain Stansfield, the captain’s report being somewhat unclear on this point, Fell took him to the hold and showed him an empty crate, claiming there was to be many tens of thousands of pounds worth of valuable metals, including gallenium, therein.”
Dansby pursed his lips and spread his hands wide. “I’m sorry, Mister Eades, but I was far too interested in getting away from the Navy to pay any attention to such rumors — had I heard any, that is.”
“Indeed.” Eades picked up his tablet again, adjusting its distance as though he had trouble reading it. “Oh, look, you encounter a sum of raw gallenium next — how remarkable.”
“The universe is a wondrously coincidental place, Mister Eades,” Dansby said.
“So I find it.” Eades drained and filled his glass. “Are you certain you won’t drink, Mister Bartlett?”
Not around you, Dansby thought, biting down on an insistence the man not use his real name, which, he knew, would only result in Eades’ mocking him. “No, thank you.”
“Happening upon a gallenium smuggler,” Eades went on, “you ingratiated yourself —” Eades peered at Dansby over non-existent glasses. “One assumes there was a lady involved?”
“I wouldn’t call her that.”
Eades nodded. “And discovered her buyer, a Hanoverese naval vessel, which you —” Eades raised an eyebrow. “— destroyed through subterfuge. That’s an act of war, you know.”
“Just a merchantman defending himself,” Dansby said. “Can’t fault the kingdom for that. Besides, we’re nearly a week from the border here — who knows if we’re at war for some other reason by now.”
“There is that.” Eades shook his head. “The smugglers’ vessel was also destroyed in the action — the smugglers as well, one presumes?”
“Lost with all hands,” Dansby said, lowering his eyes. “Much as I’d like the creatures to meet the Queen’s justice.”
“And yet, the smuggled gallenium remained aboard your ship.”
Dansby spread his hands. “Property of the Crown and all — only right I should try to return it.”
“For a fee.”
Dansby shrugged. “A fair reward.”
Eades raised an eyebrow.
“There’ll be head and gun money on the frigate, I imagine,” Dansby added.
“We are not at war with Hanover,” Eades reminded him.
“Ah,” Dansby said, “but they were engaged in smuggling — an offense against the Crown, certainly.”
Eades folded his hands together. Dansby thought there might be the hint of a smile on the man’s face, but quickly averted his eyes so as not to see something so disturbing.
“Indeed,” Eades said, he took a deep breath and stood.
“Wait!” Dansby said. “What about —”
“I believe we’re done here,” Eades said.
“But —”
“My men will relieve you of Mister Tart. He will be compensated for his distress and sworn to silence at his unintentional involvement in a Foreign Office operation — that will be what we tell him of your actions, at least. You will speak no more of him. Nor of the gallenium, which will be retrieved by others than those who come for our Mister Tart.”
“Of course, but —” Dansby spread his hands. “I’ve bills to pay, you know.”
Eades reached into his jacket and pulled out several envelopes. He examined them, selected five, which he placed on the table, and returned two to his pocket.
“You’ve made your case, Mister Bartlett,” Eades said. “I’ll be in touch.”
Dansby opened one of the envelopes, then snapped it shut, looking around the pub. The thing was filled with banknotes — largely denominated banknotes — and his immediate thought was how much more might be in those two envelopes Eades had pocketed, what aspects of his case he’d failed to plead, and just how much he’d been cheated, despite those denominations being quite large.
He thought to call Eades back, then thought better of it.
Discretion — is not unobtainable.
Eades had left glass and bottle behind. Dansby pulled the latter to him and took a long pull from its neck, feeling a grateful burn work its way down his throat.
"Did you not think the rest of us might l
ike a bit of that?” Kaycie asked, arriving at the table from where she, Blackbourne, and Allie had been waiting.
Blackbourne pulled the bottle from Dansby’s grasp, sat, took a long, wet pull, and held it out to her. “There — Young Blackbourne’s cleaned it for you, lass.”
Kaycie grimaced, then signaled the server. “Another bottle?” She scanned the table. “And glasses, please.”
Blackbourne offered the bottle to his sister, who grimaced nearly as foully as Kaycie had. He shrugged and offered it to Dansby.
Dansby stopped his headshake, realizing the bottle was nearly three-quarters full, and Blackbourne was very likely laying claim to the whole thing. He nodded instead and took the bottle, swishing as he drank so as to coat the neck with alcohol.
“He bought it?” Rabbit asked.
Dansby nodded, regardless of whether she meant the gallenium or their story in general. He fingered the envelopes. “Indeed.”
Their table went silent as the server returned with another bottle and four fresh glasses.
“Well?” Allie asked, nodding to the envelopes.
Dansby looked around the pub. No one was really paying attention to them. He rifled through the five envelopes, counting quickly.
“Bloody magician,” he muttered when he was through.
“What?” Kaycie asked.
Dansby shook his head. How to explain to them that, of five envelopes placed there by Eades, one contained the very split they’d agreed on for Elizabeth and the crew, while the other four matched well enough with what they’d agreed for themselves? Would they believe the man was just that frightening? Or suspect he had Elizabeth’s cabins under some sort of surveillance. Dansby himself couldn’t credit either, and he’d had more dealings with the devil.
“Nothing,” he said. He hefted the larger envelope and slid that in a pocket. “For the ship and crew.” Then slid an envelope to each of the others.
Kaycie pocketed hers without looking, while Blackbourne held his to his nose and inhaled deeply. “Coin’s the best, but notes’ll do.”
Allie made to lift hers, but Dansby drove two fingers into it, trapping it to the table. She looked at him and her lips and eyes narrowed.
Spacer, Smuggler, Pirate, Spy Box Set Page 33
