“Have to open the valve first,” Nel pointed out to her. “Otherwise the gas can't get out. Not all the way, just a little.”
They were a week out from Cauldron and had sighted another vessel out in the miasma. Ships traditionally ran lights when the miasma was thick. Space was vast but there was always the chance of colliding with another ship, particularly along the more travelled lanes and nearer the busier systems. But it wasn't unusual to go for weeks or even months at a time without encountering another ship. The path Quill had planned out to Grange wasn't expected to carry heavy traffic so the crew had been slow to react to the sighting. The signaller hadn't even been put back into place since their repairs at Cauldron and had to be dug out from deep in the hold.
“The odds of meeting kindred souls in such vast blackness,” Piper mused.
“It's just another ship, Piper,” Violet said. “You needn't be so grand about it.”
“The little one does not appreciate the fortuitousness of such chance meetings,” Piper said, gazing out at the other ship. It was of a comparable size to the Tantamount, probably another independent trader. Since there weren't a lot of other systems out towards their heading, apart from Thatch, there was a good chance the other ship had been there. It was good sense to exchange news and tidings when meetings like this occurred.
“You looking to find your soul mate on her, Piper?” Nel grinned at the third mate. It was rare to see him without Bandit. She didn't know where the rodent had got to but at least it was away from her. With any luck he would get caught trying to pilfer stores and get himself skewered by Gabbi. Likely he'd end up pitched over the side or served up as Quill's dinner after such an encounter.
“Destiny brings what it may, Skipper,” Piper said, his words coming just as the pilot light caught, dividing the forecastle into red and green coloured halves. The white face of the tri-coloured signaller was pointed out towards the other vessel.
“They already hailed us,” Nel said to Violet. “Invited us aboard. Signal them that we accept and start prepping a bubble.”
Violet worked the signaller, Piper prompting her when she hesitated for too long. She was still struggling to remember the colour coded signal language used between ships. To graduate from cabin girl to a fully-fledged crew member she had to become fluent in that language. And that was only one of the things she had to master. Nel restrained herself from laughing at all the work Violet still had ahead of her.
“Was that right?” the girl turned to her and asked.
“Close enough,” Nel said. “Quicker on the short flashes next time.”
Violet nodded intently. She grinned at Piper. “Skipper says I got it right.”
“The skipper said you were close,” Piper corrected.
“Close enough,” Violet countered.
“Am I missing something?” Nel asked.
“Piper said if I got it right he'd tell me what his tattoo means.”
“Which one?” Nel chuckled.
“The one with the bare-chested fish woman,” Violet said.
“Fish woman?” Nel repeated, looking at Piper. She knew the one Violet was talking about and knew it to be found on Piper's left calf, normally hidden out of sight. She also knew the story behind the tattoo—it was not one Piper would be comfortable relating to the cabin girl.
“Keep it clean,” she told them both. “I don't want to hear otherwise when I get back.”
Nel made her way to where other crew members were prepping one of the bubbles for use, leaving Piper to talk his way out of the hole he'd dug himself. The Tantamount carried three of the glass constructs, one for each side mounted crane and one spare. It was only in emergency or extreme situations, like coming across another wrecked ship, that all three were deployed at once. Only one was going to be used to take Nel, and whoever else she chose, across to the other ship.
Sharpe leaned over the rail, studying the other ship. He stood a short distance away from the crew readying the bubble. “What do you think?” he asked her without turning. “If it came to a fight, could we take her?”
“And why would we need to do that?” Nel asked, her hand unconsciously straying to her wand. She'd been wearing it since they left Cauldron, an old habit that had been finding familiarity with her again.
“There is such a thing as pirates, Skipper,” Sharpe reminded her.
“That is not a pirate ship,” Nel said, drumming her fingers along the haft of her wand.
“Because they're not flying the colours? What self respecting pirate would?”
“She's laden—look at the way she's moving. Pirate ships run fast and light. They don't shift like they've got golems dancing in their hold,” Nel explained.
“Yes.” Sharpe grinned. “I noticed that too. But there's always the exception. Or a rogue that's already carrying a prize cargo.”
“If they're carrying a prize they're hardly likely to start a fight with us,” Nel said. “Pointless to take a risk like that if you can't fit the gains away.”
“Maybe they're looking to pick up another ship. That'd be a prize in itself.”
“Unlikely. Sharpe, do you honestly think that's a rogue out there?”
He shrugged. “No. But you didn't answer my question. Could we take her?”
“Ship to ship, we're both loaded to the gunnels, packing light cannon. We could take pieces off of one another all day without doing serious damage. We're both slow, it would be a tug race before someone got away.”
“And up close and personal?”
“We have a golem on board.” Nel shrugged. “They'd be hard done to beat that.”
Sharpe's gaze focused on a point above and behind Nel. When she turned, she saw Scarlett on a higher deck. Like Nel she carried her weapons in full display. Like Sharpe she was engrossed in studying the new arrival. And it was hard not to notice how the rest of the crew avoided her, the hustle and bustle flowing around some invisible envelope centred on her. The veneer of appreciation hadn't taken long to wear off their passenger. Scarlett had been aloof from the crew and made it plain she had no interest or intention of cultivating friendships. The Tantamount was a means of transportation, her only concerns rested within its hold.
“Scarlett's got twice as many wands as you and a golem,” Sharpe commented in that same musing tone. “Could you take her?”
“She's on my ship,” Nel growled.
Sharpe chuckled. “Alliance teaches their marines to treat everyone as a potential opponent. That sort of training never goes away.”
Nel glared at him. She didn't care for what Sharpe was implying. “And what sort of training might you have, Mister Sharpe?”
“Castor.”
“I prefer Sharpe,” Nel replied. “It's less personal.”
He grinned. “But you're asking me personal questions. You should at least use my first name.”
“I'll use your first name when I know the first thing about you, Sharpe.”
“Well, then.” Sharpe straightened up.
“Skipper!” Cyrus called from down the ship, near the crane. He'd be operating the bubble. “We're ready for you. Anyone else coming?”
Nel glanced at Sharpe. Tempting as it was to put him in his place by dragging him along, she didn't fancy being in a confined space with him. She thought briefly about taking Violet as part of her continued education, but decided against it.
“Jack,” she replied to Cyrus's query. “Someone go find him and tell him to get himself down here.
“Aye, Skipper,” the answer came. Swift footfalls on the deck told her someone was double timing it to find Jack.
Jack made his appearance shortly, not looking too happy about it either. She remembered then that he wasn't too keen on bubbles. Not a phobia, something more manageable. Which Jack wasn't when it came to him doing things he didn't enjoy. If looks could kill, Jack's would have cracked the bubble.
“I don't want to.” His voice was morose and petulant.
“Too bad,” Nel said firmly. Jack
was hired muscle. There were plenty of people she would have happily sailed without, but Jack was the only one of her crew who gave her chills. Maybe it was his prison markings or his cold and unusually small eyes. Maybe it was just that he was almost undeniably psychotic. He liked Gabbi, so he worked with her, mostly did what Nel said. Beyond that . . .
What was it that Sharpe had said about sizing everyone up as a potential opponent? Nel had been doing that to Korrigan Jack since he first stepped foot on her deck. The fact that Jack did what Nel told him was likely because he assumed Nel would come out on top in a fight. Nel had a feeling that if she ever backed down in front of Jack, ever let him get his own way or push her around, she would stop being the biggest, toughest dog around in his eyes. All assumptions went out the window at that point.
“Get in the bubble, Jack.” She slapped his shoulder in passing, moving ahead and climbing into the bubble first. It was a deliberate challenge. If she'd waited for Jack to go first she'd effectively put him in charge. Go first and he had to follow or admit he was afraid. More afraid than his skipper. That wasn't allowed in Jack's world. And so he followed her into the bubble. Cyrus joined them inside and closed the hatch behind him.
Compared to the last time Nel had ventured out in a bubble, the trip was almost pleasant. At least there were no floating corpses and debris to worry about this time. Nothing more than banks of miasma that seemed to wrap themselves around the bubble. Cyrus steered them towards the other ship, getting close enough to make out the name.
“Jeopardy,” Nel read aloud. “That mean anything? Anyone recognise it?”
Cyrus shrugged. “Can't say as I do, Skipper.”
“Jack?” Nel asked.
“Naw, just another fancy name to me,” Jack grumbled. He held tight to a wheel, trying to keep his feet planted on the floor of the bubble.
Nel nodded, tracing the intricate letters through the glass with one finger. There was no reason the name should have stood out, she would have been more concerned if it had. There were thousands of ships out there. Infamy was not something one often desired.
“Bringing us into formation, Skipper,” Cyrus informed her.
Bringing a bubble aboard another ship was slightly more complicated than docking with its own mothership. It essentially meant linking the two vessels with the cable attached to the bubble. While it was possible to detach the bubble from the cable and hose, it was hardly desirable. The Jeopardy would winch them in with their crane, Nel and Jack would disembark, and Cyrus would stay with the bubble, trailing alongside the Jeopardy a short distance away to prevent their trailing lines from getting snagged. An awkward system, but it worked, and that was what counted.
Nel shuddered as they were pulled into the Jeopardy's envelope. She made herself stand still as gravity returned and the crew worked to equalise the different pressures. Her ears started to hurt and a moment later she felt them pop. Finally, the hatch opened, and she and Jack climbed out.
The ship's captain met them immediately. A middle-aged man with dark hair down to his shoulders, or it would have been if it hadn't been tied back in a seaman's ponytail. His face was weathered, suggesting he'd spent a fair bit of time in harsher climates.
“Captain Demetri of the Jeopardy,” he introduced himself. “We've just come from Leopard, on our way to Eden.”
“Nel.” Nel shook the offered hand, finding it firm and solid. “First mate of the Tantamount. This is my crewman Jack. We're on a course for Grange, most recently out of Cauldron.”
“Cauldron?” Demetri's demeanour changed. “Odd choice of port for an honest trader.”
“Not so odd as necessary,” Nel reassured him. “Our ship hit some debris a few weeks ago. Cauldron was the only port we could safely make for repairs. It wasn't a scheduled stopover on my captain's part.”
“Captain . . . ?” Demetri probed.
“Horatio Phelps,” Nel supplied. Demetri acknowledged this but without recognition. No alarm bells from her ship or captain's name. It was a pleasant change.
“I'm surprised at your last port of call,” Nel said. “Leopard to Eden is hardly a common route. Not on the line you're on.”
“Yes,” Captain Demetri said. “I was about to tell you, since you're headed to Grange. You're aware there's a war going on?”
“I am,” Nel said. “We were contracted to deliver medical supplies there in fact.”
“Noble,” Demetri said approvingly. “The trouble is there's an Alliance blockade around both Thatch and Grange. We were carrying food stores for Thatch and they turned us around.”
“Why both? Grange and Thatch?” Nel asked. “I thought Grange was the one at war.”
“At war with Thatch,” Demetri said. “Odd that you didn't know that, being contracted into a war, as you are.”
“It was a last minute arrangement,” Nel muttered. “What else can you tell me?”
“Not much,” Demetri admitted. “We tried to negotiate with the Alliance but they wouldn't budge. No one gets in or out until the conflict is resolved.”
“I didn't know either of those two had Alliance connections,” Nel admitted.
“They don't,” Demetri said distastefully. “The Alliance is looking to expand.”
Nel chewed on her lip. It sounded like they were walking into a complicated situation. While personally she wouldn't have cared if they were turned back at the border by the Alliance she doubted Ebon would consider that acceptable. And he had his inside woman on Nel's ship, Scarlett and her pet golem. That might not go down so well either. She'd have to talk to Horatio about it when she got back. They had some thinking to do.
“What else can you tell me?” she asked the captain of the Jeopardy.
“The war's been going on for a few months.” Nel gestured at a map showing the disputed territories. It didn't make a lot of sense. There was Thatch, a backwater planet if ever there was one. Rural, pastoral, the type of place that would drive Nel to drink just to pass the time. She couldn't imagine the planet having anything else to offer.
Grange wasn't much better. In fact it was a smaller version of Thatch, a satellite colony orbiting the planet, probably survived on mining or some other primary industry, exporting compressed impossible-to-find-elsewhere bits and pieces.
It would be some rare or exotic substance found only on that particular planet, or perhaps more depressingly, some more common but still essential product. Ether came to mind—there was always a market. It was needed for ships and centres like Cauldron, for weaponry like wands and cannons. If there was a profit or even a potential for profit there would be some ragtag, frontier group willing to try for it. How many times had Horatio hired out the Tantamount to haul cargo for groups like that? Nel had lost count.
“What started it?” Horatio looked up from the map. “The war?”
“No idea,” Nel said. “Probably something minor, some local issue that flared up. Important to them, no doubt, pointless to the rest of us.”
“It must have been something.” Horatio frowned. “There aren't a lot of people out this way, not according to these charts, anyway. Thatch, Tribute, and Pale. A few thousand people between them. There's Marching and a few other settlements not worth the names planet-side on Thatch and out in the Rim. And Grange. Everybody out there is probably somebody's cousin.”
“Inbreeding doesn't generally lead to great thinkers, Captain,” Nel said.
Horatio grimaced. “Family squabbling doesn't usually lead to war, either.”
“Doesn't it? I can think of any number of times that historically it has,” Nel said pointedly.
“All right, fine,” Horatio huffed. “But not out back in parts like this. Grange and Thatch probably can't even survive without each other, Grange for a certainty. There's no way a settlement like that is self-sustaining. Have you talked to Castor about this? He was on his way to Thatch when we found him.”
“Aboard an Alliance ship, who we now find are blockading the system. You don't find that at all odd?” N
el asked.
“Should I?” The captain folded his arms. “What are you getting at, Nel?”
“I don't like this,” Nel stated. “It all feels wrong to me.”
“You're just being silly, Nel,” Horatio dismissed her concerns, fussing with his hat. “We'll arrive in a few days, make our delivery, and be on our way back to Cauldron to pick up where we left off. A few weeks late but there's no help for it.”
“And the blockade?” Nel asked. “Suppose they won't let us through?”
Horatio's forehead wrinkled, the captain's confusion causing the pit of Nel's stomach to drop. It was happening again. Horatio traced constellations on the maps spread out between them with his finger. “Blockade?” he said. “No, that shouldn't be a problem, shouldn't be a problem at all.”
“Captain?”
“You'll see.” Horatio smiled brightly. “It'll all work out, Nel. All work out. You'll see. Just be patient, have a little faith.”
Nel sighed. “Aye, Captain.” She started rolling up the maps. “I'll take these back to Quill before he comes looking for them.”
“Yes, yes, of course. You do that, Nel. I should get to work. Paperwork, always some to do, isn't there?”
“Aye, Captain.” Nel sighed again. “Always some.”
She took the charts and left the captain's cabin, closing the door behind her. She took a moment to steady herself, leaning back against the outer wall with her eyes closed.
“Not a good day, Skipper?”
Nel opened her eyes, saw Gabbi. The stout woman inclined her head towards the captain's cabin.
“No, not a good one,” Nel admitted.
“Yours or his?” the cook asked.
Nel didn't answer.
“Ah,” Gabbi exclaimed. “One of those.”
“I need to get these to Quill,” Nel said, holding up the charts. “He'll have a fit if anything happens to them.”
Tantamount Page 18
