“And not a one of those voted for this at the time, I’ll tell you,” Mylin muttered.
“I have said this often and at length,” Coalson went on, ignoring the sounds from the audience. He paused, frowned, then continued, “What I will say here and now may anger some of you, but I feel I must say it.”
He stepped forward, closer to the stage’s edge.
“In these more recent times, I have come to know Miss Carew … Lieutenant Carew, for I came to know her through her command of the ship which sits idle above us even now. In preparation for those meetings with Lieutenant Carew I researched her Naval career … quite thoroughly, and through sources more directly involved than what’s reported in the Naval Gazette.”
Alexis flushed, wondering what Coalson was about with this line. Beside her, Denholm frowned.
“Bastard,” he muttered.
“What?”
“If he thinks he’ll lose the message, he’ll attack the messenger.”
“What, me?” Alexis flushed further, wondering if her own actions might be the doom of this endeavor. There was certainly enough in her Naval records for Coalson to use if he chose — the charges of mutiny, though found blameless and the records sealed, would be damning enough by themselves.
“Quite thoroughly,” Coalson repeated. “And as I said, my words here may anger some, but I feel compelled to speak.”
“I’ll challenge the little bastard if he does it,” Denholm muttered. “Run him straight through.”
“With me as your second,” Mylin said.
“Grandfather! You’ll do no such thing!” Alexis said, not so much because she wished to keep her grandfather safe as that if Edmon Coalson did step a word out of line with the absolute truth, she had every intention of issuing the challenge herself. And I’ll make damned sure I’ve killed this Coalson properly the first time.
“Upon review of these records I’ve obtained, I can reach but one conclusion.” Coalson paused, bowed his head for a moment, then looked up, seeming to stare directly at Alexis.
She caught her breath, hand going unconsciously to her waist where her sword would be in dress uniform, and waited to see if the man’s next words would doom him.
Coalson’s eyes narrowed.
“If such attention to duty, such loyalty, such skill as I have been informed of —” His lips twitched. “— may reside in so slight a package as Lieutenant Alexis Carew, well, then fellow holders, we have done ourselves and our entire world a greater disservice with this law than we shall ever comprehend.”
There was silence in the hall for a moment, then muttering rose.
“What?” Denholm asked.
Alexis wasn’t entirely certain she’d heard correctly herself, she was still trying to parse what Coalson said when he continued.
“Fellow holders, the Coalson shares will be voted in the affirmative on this measure and I urge you to do the same, moreover —” The muttering rose, joined by applause from those in favor and shouts of outrage from those opposed, forcing Coalson to all but shout his next words. “Moreover, I will propose the amendment which Lieutenant Carew alluded to but did not voice! That the phrase ‘first-born’ be struck from the Charter, as well as ‘son’, and that a family’s shares may be inherited, in their entirety, by the child, regardless of gender or primacy, each holder deems best suited!”
“Seconded!” Mylin bellowed, not bothering with his tablet.
Five
“Well,” Denholm said into the resulting furor. “That was unexpected.”
Alexis looked around the hall, trying to take it all in. Several holders had rushed the stage, yelling and waving their arms at Wilber, but the moderator appeared to be shrugging off their concerns. All around them, groups of holders were forming and reforming as the impact of Coalson’s declaration and amendment took effect.
“What just happened?” Alexis asked, thoroughly bewildered at the turn of events.
“You’re my heir,” Denholm said, “as it’s all over but the counting now.”
“And that young lad’s just ruined his political career for it,” Mylin added.
“Ruined?” Denholm shook his head and nodded to the stage where Coalson still stood, calm, face impassive in the midst of the hall’s chaos. “Do you not realize what he’s just done?”
“Betrayed his coalition,” Mylin said. “They’ll never trust him again.”
Denholm snorted. “Those hardliners there,” he said, pointing to the group around the stage, “will never trust him. But the lad’s cleverer than that — it was the Coalson shares that made them a force in the first place. They needed him, not the other way around.” He surveyed the hall. “He has his shares and the brothers’ and uncles’ who married into other families. That’s a solid block, and now he has the reformers, too. No, what the lad’s done is seen which way the world was marching, then got himself out in front and waved them on in the direction they were going anyway. Took them clear across their finish line and on to the next one — made himself the leader.”
“He’s that clever, do you think?”
Another snort. “Either that or he’s had a true-blue change of heart on the matter — which will you believe of a Coalson?”
“Clever bugger,” Mylin muttered.
Alexis wasn’t certain of their evaluation. For all the history between the Carews and the Coalsons, she’d judged him to be sincere in their own meetings. The crowd was settling now, Wilber calling for order and waving those who’d approached the stage back to their seats. Coalson still held the stage, but appeared to be done speaking, which led her to wonder if her grandfather and Sewall Mylin might be just a bit too optimistic in their pronouncements that the measure would pass.
“With Edmon changing sides as he has, won’t there be a new speaker in opposition?” she asked. “Someone who might convince the vote against us?”
“Oh, it’s Edmon now, is it?” Mylin asked with a grin. “Now he’s won the day and all?”
Alexis flushed, unsure why she’d used his given name at all and not liking that she had.
“Not unless Coalson yields his time,” her grandfather said, with what Alexis thought was an entirely unnecessary emphasis on the name, “which I doubt he’ll do. The speakers are set in the agenda and we’ll hear from no one else unless the speaker yields — we chose you and the opposition chose Coalson, so that ends it.”
“They chose poorly,” Mylin said with a chuckle.
Their prediction proved true in just a few moments, as Coalson finally spoke again.
“Mister Wilber,” he called out, “I relinquish my remaining time and ask you to call for the vote on this measure.”
That raised more shouts from those opposed to the measure, but Wilber merely shrugged and showed open palms to those still at the foot of the stage, as if to indicate his helplessness. He called for the vote, which went much as Denholm and Mylin had predicted, with both the measure and amendment passing — and by a margin which surprised both men.
Wilber called for an adjournment for the day immediately thereafter, and the hall slowly emptied, most of the holders in groups, heads together and whispering about the day’s events.
“I believe I’ll avoid the parties tonight,” Denholm said. “The talk will be all about Coalson, and they’ll not want to hear a word against the lad. I’m still suspicious enough of that family to say the wrong thing, I fear.”
Mylin nodded. “A quiet dinner and an early night’s what I wish after today’s excitement.”
The two men turned to Alexis. She felt confused and torn by the day’s events, for more than one reason, and certainly didn’t want to attend any parties or formal dinners — neither did she wish to join the two men in a private dinner, though. A bit of time alone, to gather her thoughts and bring some clarity to the day might be in order.
“I think that I’ll take Nightingale’s boat back home for the night, if you don’t object, grandfather.”
She said her goodbyes and made her
way to the landing field. The Conclave had lasted until after dark, and the area around the field was in full, raucous swing as she passed. Shouts, laughter, and music poured from the pubs and music halls, spacers and miners hurried from place to place, desperate for one last bit of entertainment before heading back to weeks or months in the belt or darkspace.
Alexis’ boat crew was full of smiles and congratulations when she reached the boat. They’d known what the stakes of the day were for her and news of the result had apparently traveled fast. She tried to accept their words with a smile and look the part of a happy winner, but inside she was wondering at what would come next.
She took her place in the cockpit with the pilot, instead of the passenger compartment, and the boat lifted. It crossed her mind to wonder how many more times she’d have a full ship’s boat to command, much less a ship. If all her time was to be spent in managing the family lands, she’d have to resign her commission, and that meant even the tenuous claim she had to Nightingale’s boat would be lost.
The Carew farmstead did have its own antigrav hauler now — small, not like the massive ones owned by the colony. She could use that to get about on the holding’s business, but it wasn’t the same at all.
Perhaps she might convince the colony to purchase Nightingale out of ordinary and use her for security around the system. They’d need a crew and captain in that case, and she might get some time in darkspace. It would mostly be patrols to the belt and back, but she thought there was a case to make it worthwhile — and such an endeavor, if it were kept to only part of the time, wouldn’t interfere with her duties to the holding too very much.
She’d suggest that — perhaps to her grandfather, but perhaps also to Edmon Coalson. He was quite forward thinking and might see the value in Dalthus having a darkspace-capable ship of its own, even one so small as Nightingale. In fact, she should probably speak to Edmon in the morning, before the Conclave came to order, and thank him for his support. He’d be busy tonight, but she might also send him a note of thanks — and of congratulations for what was surely a great victory for the young man.
At least a bit of a plan, she thought, settling back into her seat and gazing out at the night sky. Not at the stars themselves, but at the blackness between them.
“There’s a boat on the pad,” Gutis, the pilot, said, pulling Alexis from her reverie.
At first what he’d said didn’t properly register, but then she looked toward the ground as they circled the farmstead and she saw it. Another ship’s boat on the farmstead landing pad, which wasn’t unusual in itself, merchants frequently landed to deal directly with her grandfather for goods, trading the time and fuel for an extra stop for the savings of cutting out the middlemen in Port Arthur — what was unusual, though, was for a boat to be present after dark. Most merchants would land in daylight, load, and be off — it was only a rare old friend who might be invited to stay the night and dine with the family. Something which would not be the case now, as her grandfather was still in Port Arthur and the Conclave’s timing was well known.
Her first, worst, thought was of the tales she’d heard as a girl, of pirate attacks on the remote farmsteads. The holding looked peaceful and ordinary, though, and Dalthus had far more traffic than a pirate might wish to risk — still, they were not the wisest of men, pirates.
“Put us down quickly, Gutis. There’s space enough.” She rose and slid open the hatch to the main compartment. “Nabb! Arm the lads and be ready! There’s no call for a visitor at home and I’d not wish us taken unawares.”
“Aye, sir!” Nabb called back, already moving toward the boat’s arms locker.
Gutis brought the boat down and Alexis was first off the ramp, the tiny yet effective flechette pistol she typically wore at the small of her back in hand, and Nabb along with the rest of the crew behind her, armed and ready. Spacers they might be, but the Carew farmstead had become their home as well, and she could see the steely determination in their eyes to defend it as they would their ship.
She took note of the strange boat in passing. Smaller than Nightingale’s and well-kept. The bow bore the name Elizabeth, which was not a ship Alexis recognized as captained by one of her grandfather’s friends — though having spent the last few years in space, she couldn’t know them all. She spared a quick, appraising glance for the farmstead as a whole.
All did seem peaceful and ordinary.
It was early enough that there was still music and voices coming from the indenture barracks — no sounds of fighting or conflict.
As they drew closer to the family house, Alexis noted the lights were on and all seemed well. Then voices from the kitchen as they drew even closer — Julia’s and Marie’s she recognized, then a man’s voice which she didn’t and the sound of Marie and Julia laughing.
She relaxed a bit — but only a bit, for there’d been no message to her or her grandfather that there was a visitor, and she could think of no reason for that.
“Stay close, lads,” she whispered. “It sounds well, but be wary.”
“Aye, sir,” Nabb answered. “I’ll go through first, shall I?”
Alexis held up a hand. “No, I will, but stay close.”
They closed with the house. Alexis dashed the last few steps, heart beating faster and feeling Nabb and the others right at her heels. She took the door in one motion, open, through, and several steps into the room so that there’d be room for the lads.
Julia and Marie sat at the kitchen table, smiles turning to looks of confusion, teacups frozen in place at the surprise of Alexis’ sudden entrance. Their eyes took in the flechette gun in Alexis’ hand, as well as the laser pistol in Nabb’s, and their confusion deepened.
A man sat at the table, back to the door. Slowly and deliberately, as though he knew the newcomers were armed even though he couldn’t see them, he turned.
Dark hair growing a bit grey, neatly trimmed goatee, and features one might consider dashing if one hadn’t actually met the man and been aware of what chaos and trouble he could bring.
“No,” Alexis said, resisting the urge to raise the flechette pistol and fire. “No. Absolutely not.”
The man grinned widely and nodded to the pistol in her hand.
“Ah, Ricki,” Avrel Dansby said, “is that any way to greet an old friend?”
Six
“Alexis?” Julia asked, concern in her voice. “Is it all right?”
Alexis kept her eyes on Dansby, the one-time pirate, sometime smuggler, and always rogue, who’d shepherded her into Hanover space. The man’s grin widened and he seemed on the verge of outright laughter.
“He said he knew you,” Julia said, casting a now suspicious eye on Dansby. “That you were old friends and he’d dropped in to visit.” The housekeeper’s eyes narrowed and her hand reached out to grasp the teapot as though it were the closest weapon to hand. “Boots seemed to know him, as well.”
Alexis’ gaze dropped to the floor where Boots, the ill-named mongoose Dansby himself had saddled her with, was curled around one of the man’s legs, and casting her, as nearly as Alexis could tell, a rather accusatory glare from its little brown eyes.
“No,” Alexis said again. “Whatever it is, the answer’s no.” She began pointing. “So you may take the creature —” A point at the mongoose. “— yourself —” A point at Dansby. “— back to your bloody boat —” A point toward the doorway, which caused Nabb and the lads to duck, as she realized she was doing all this pointing with the hand holding the flechette pistol. “— and be about your mischief someplace else!”
“Now, Ricki, I’m merely the messenger in all this — no cause for the fuss.”
“There’s a rather traditional thing done with messengers, Mister Dansby. Shall I enlighten you to it?”
Dansby shrugged. “You’ll hear it from me or from the principal, one,” he said. “Your choice.”
“No,” Alexis said again, knowing who Dansby must be referring to. “I want nothing more to do with him. The man’s ma
d — his last scheme had me setting fire to a Hanoverese agent in order to get loose and I’m done with him.”
“Alexis?” Julia asked, eyes wide.
Oh, bugger it, she thought. Julia and her grandfather weren’t supposed to know about that. Weren’t supposed to know most of the things she’d seen and done in the Service, come to that. It would worry them needlessly to know she’d gone into Hanover undercover, been all but captured by one of the enemy’s agents, and made a neck-or-nothing run for escape aboard Dansby’s ship.
Julia squared her shoulders.
“Have you presented yourself under false pretenses at my door, Mister Dansby?” she asked. “You claimed to be a friend to Alexis, yet she doesn’t seem to find you so. I’d not like to think you came to my kitchen, sat at my table, and drank my tea without being honest with me.”
Dansby turned to her, opened his mouth to speak, then flushed. If anything, he seemed more cowed by the housekeeper’s ire than by Alexis’ pistol or the armed spacers still in the doorway.
“Who is this ‘principal’ you claim to represent and what does he want with my Alexis?” Julia demanded.
Alexis sighed, her initial anger fading along with the adrenaline of having thought there might be trouble. She signaled to Nabb that he and the lads wouldn’t be needed, though Nabb stayed behind after ushering the lads out and closing the kitchen door, his gaze on Dansby and his fingers still near the stunstick at his belt. He’d holstered the laser pistol, at least, and Alexis did the same with her flechette.
“I’m afraid I can’t say,” Dansby said at last.
“Malcome Bloody Eades,” Alexis supplied, “of the ever-conspiring Foreign Office.”
Dansby winced. “He really doesn’t care to have his name bandied about, you know.”
“Then he oughtn’t hand it out to those who’d not give a bugger’s sheath for what he wants!”
Privateer (Alexis Carew Book 5) Page 4
