Privateer (Alexis Carew Book 5)

by J. A. Sutherland

  She ground her teeth, face fixed as pleasant as she could make it, and laid her palm on the window’s ledge — hoping he wouldn’t note her slow placement there as the forceful slap she wished it was.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t clear,” she said as he went on to list others who might be interested in her charms. She began to wonder if she should be more irritated by him thinking her a doxy or that she might need such earnest assistance in finding clientele.

  “Just come back Thursday, then, right?

  I mean, it’s not as though I couldn’t make a living at it if I chose to, is it? I might even be quite good at —

  “I’m captain of Mongoose!”

  The guard’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

  “Yes,” Alexis said, thankful they’d settled that and she could stop thinking —

  “Look, what make-pretend a man wants for his coin, I’ll not judge — known many a spacer who’d like to bend his captain over and … well, that don’t change that this ain’t Thursday, now do it?”

  Twenty-Six

  It took bringing up Nabb and the rest of the crew with her to convince the guard that Alexis was, in fact, captain of a ship, had, in fact, been specifically requested to retrieve her crew, and would not, in fact, be offering any services of an intimate nature within the Enclave constabulary’s holding area.

  When the guard, still obviously dubious of Alexis’ status and intent, finally opened the doorway for them to enter, Alexis was fuming.

  Bad enough to be mistaken for a doxy, but even after Nabb had confirmed she was Mongoose’s captain, the guard had blithely continued to question Nabb and not her before finally allowing them entry. Never mind that Nabb was younger than she and not even a ship’s officer.

  “If Mongoose were a Navy ship …” she muttered, striding down the hallway toward the holding cells, Nabb at her side. But Mongoose wasn’t and Alexis had only what authority she could muster on her own, without the backing of Admiralty, which had just been shown to be very little off her own ship. She supposed this must be how merchant captains and ship’s officers felt all the time, at the mercy of the petty bureaucrats in whatever systems they visited.

  She flung open the last set of doors and entered the cell area itself.

  If Enclave as a whole, outside of the Casino, was a bit dingy, then this could only be described as filthy.

  The stench hit her first — stale beer and what her old Nightingales might have referred to as afters. There was more than one way a spacer might not be able to hold onto his drink, and all of them seemed to be represented here — years of it, layered into an almost physical presence.

  The lighting was dim, with nearly two in three of the overhead panels dark — why that might be the case, she couldn’t guess, as the panels themselves were cheap and should last for years, while their power use was negligible. Alexis wasn’t certain if Enclave had its own fusion plant or if they relied on the planet’s geothermal, but either should have made power plentiful.

  The noise, though, was enough to give even a seasoned spacer, used to the shouts and cries of a crowded berthing deck, pause.

  “Sweet Dark,” Alexis murmured, “how many do they have crowded in here?”

  It was difficult to tell, for they’d entered a sort of alcove before a long corridor lined with bars on both sides. There were doors in the bars every four meters or so, and the corridor stretched a long way into the distance.

  “Give ‘er up, you poaching rodents! Or we’ll do fer y’again!”

  “It’s not us yer’ll do, y’bluddy doxies! Here’s a pence’n show us yer knickers!”

  Alexis frowned, wondering if the enclave officials had locked up a bunch of negotiating ladies and what for — there weren’t many worlds that frowned on such things to that extent, and Enclave certainly didn’t seem like one of them.

  She edged farther in and peered into the gloom, trying to catch sight of where her crewmen might be. Her eyes hadn’t quite adjusted to the gloom.

  “Bend over for the next gent what wants a piece!”

  That voice Alexis recognized, just as Nabb murmured, “It appears we’ve found our bosun, sir.”

  At that, Alexis’ jaw clenched and she strode forward, blood hot. She’d not have any of her crew speak so to a woman, no matter her profession, and was shocked to hear Mongoose’s bosun do so.

  “Mister Dockett!” Alexis’ voice cut through the din and there was sudden silence. Spacers, no matter their ship and no matter their state of intoxication, could recognize an officer’s voice and tone, and Alexis’ tone made it clear that someone was in for no good.

  She made her way down the corridor to where Dockett’s voice had come from, past cells occupied by one, two, or more spacers. The bulk of the noise seemed to have come from midway down the corridor where two facing cells were packed to bursting.

  She noted the patches on the ships’ jumpsuits the occupants of the cells she passed wore and that the authorities seemed to have segregated the arrestees by ship. Something that gave her pause when she grew close enough to note that one of the crowded cells, with Dockett and some few others at the bars, held nothing but the crew of Mongoose.

  It could well be the entire watch — what could they have possibly done all together?

  That question became clear when she noted that the opposite cell also held all crew from a single ship, not one she recognized, but they held the same positions has her lads — and lasses, she noted, as there were more than a few of her women crewmembers in the cell as well.

  So where’re the doxies they’re berating?

  She strode to the midpoint between the two cells, gave the other ship’s crew a cold glance to let them know she wasn’t there for them but would brook no disruption there either, and turned to face hers.

  “Mister Dockett,” she said, “and whichever of you it was offering pence for a knickers show, I’ll not have such behavior from anyone aboard Mongoose. Negotiating ladies offer ease and comfort after weeks a’space, and you should bloody well know better! Now point the lasses out and apologize for your behavior, this instant!”

  There was silence for a moment, then every one of Mongoose’s crew, and no few of the other spacers paying attention, burst into laughter — save those in the crowded cell behind her, which echoed with cries of outrage.

  Alexis’ jaw clenched tighter, as she’d clearly misunderstood something — which made no never mind to the situation at hand. She caught Dockett’s eye and he sobered instantly, cutting off his own laughter and elbowing those to either side of him. In a moment, her crew, at least, had quieted.

  “Weren’t no ladies involved, sir,” Dockett said, having the grace to at least cast his eyes down at his boots as he must have realized how things looked.

  It was up to him to keep order and set an example, after all, but here he was in lockup with the rest of the crew — and, Alexis noted, now that her eyes had adjusted to the dim light and she could make out faces farther back in the cell, at least two of his mates, which meant fully half the ship’s petty officers were in lockup with the rest of the starboard watch.

  Dockett nodded toward the other cell. “It were them we was telling off, sir.”

  “Bloody bugger-catchers!” someone at the rear of the cell shouted.

  “Poachin’, theivin’, rats!” came from behind her.

  “Boots ain’t no rat, y’molly!”

  Alexis drew breath, but both Nabb and Dockett were there before her, bellowing, “Quiet!” in unison.

  “Mister Dockett,” Alexis said calmly, though not easing her glare, “will you be so kind as to explain why half of Mongoose’s crew is behind bars with you, then?”

  “Aye, sir,” Dockett nodded. “We’d all just got down, see, and stayed together for a pint or two, as to celebrate the prize money comin’ in so quick and all.”

  “Poached coin what be our’n!”

  Alexis whirled on the other cell. “Whatever ship you lot are from, is your captain so lax that he’
ll tolerate you interrupting another, for I’ll surely have words for him if a one of you does so again!”

  That cowed most of the lot, who shrugged and backed off from the bars, looking down and away. Some few stayed where they were, though, meeting Alexis’ gaze with anger and defiance. Likely she would have to have words with their captain, if only to sort out what had happened between the two crews and where the blame was to be laid. She took note of the faces of those who remained at the bars, so that she could name them to that captain when the time came — regardless of the strife between the crews, the men should show some respect to another ship’s officers.

  She stepped closer to Dockett at the cell’s door, hoping they could speak softer and quell any further outbursts from the other crew.

  “Go on, Mister Dockett, and quietly if you will.”

  “Aye, sir.” Dockett sighed and scratched at his neck. “Well, sir, we were more’n a few pints in, what with all the toasts an’ all.”

  “Toasts?”

  “Aye, sir. We was all feelin’ our good fortune, y’see? What with signin’ aboard a ship with so many still sittin’ idle aboard stations, and with so lucky a captain … not to blow smoke up yer … well, not to seem like I’m flatterin’, sir, but y’do have a reputation an’ all.”

  Alexis nodded, hoping the heat she felt in her face wasn’t showing. What reputation she should have, she didn’t know, but with so many dead marked to her account she didn’t agree it was something to toast to.

  “Go on.”

  “Well, and lucky to take prize on her way here, and so easily done, sir,” Dockett said. “Then the share out o’ the prize money so quick, when no one were expecting t’see a pence fer months from those pinchin’ buggers.”

  And they wouldn’t have if she hadn’t gone outside the normal prize courts to deal with Wheeley, but the crew didn’t know the details of that so might bless their luck that a court had moved at more than a snail’s pace for once in their lives.

  “So there was toasts, sir. Toasts to Mongoose, a fine ship, and toasts to you, sir, a fine captain. Then there was toasts to the prize’s captain fer givin’ in so easy, and to the pirates what took the loot, and to the merchantman what shipped the lot first, and to you again, sir, fer pickin’ the route and takin’ her so easy-like, and —”

  “Yes, I see.”

  “— and to Boots, of course, sir.”

  Alexis sighed. “Of course.”

  “More’n one to the wee devil an’ the luck he brung us.”

  “Of course, yes, and then?”

  “Well, sir, we was just toastin’ that — Boots, you see, and the luck he brung us — when that lot come in.” Dockett nodded to the other cell.

  “And then?”

  “Well, they was all friendly and smiles at first, sir, for we — all us from Mongoose, you see — was feeling right generous and when that lot says they’re of a private ship as well, well, we might’ve toasted them, too, and offered a pint to give ‘em a bit of our luck an’ all.”

  Alexis raised an eyebrow at that. She’d have expected a bit of rivalry between the crews of private ships, not that hers would buy a round for what appeared to be several dozen off another ship.

  Dockett must have seen her skepticism, for he hastened on, “It were full toasts, sir, not no raise a glass an’ sip a bit, you see? The lads were in, well, a generous state, as it were.”

  “Of course, and then?”

  “Well, sir, after that it were all oy-mate-and-glad-ter-meet-ya for a pint or two, but then theys starts with their questions, sir.”

  “Questions?”

  “Aye, sir, friendly at first, and all, but then soon’s they ask where we took that ship, and Creasy, he outs with it like it’s nothing before I could shush him, not wanting to give away a good hunting ground, if you see, sir?”

  Alexis nodded. She wasn’t entirely certain how this private ship thing must work, but it made sense to not tell others where a favorite hunting ground might be — aside from the competition itself, word might get around to the merchants shipping pirated goods and they’d start to avoid the place.

  “Creasy, of course,” she said. Creasy and his Dutchmen and spirits of the Dark. At least he hadn’t gone and told the other crew about his beliefs that the vile creature was —

  “An’ then Creasy, sir, well, he says we took that ship without a shot in return, and it being —” Dockett’s eyes fell to the cell’s floor again and his hand worked at the back of his head, scratching. “— Boots’ blessing, an’ all like he does, sir.”

  Alexis scanned the crew, who were now crowding the front of the cell. She couldn’t spot Creasy, though anyone whose gaze she met looked away quickly and shuffled back into the crowd.

  “And then?”

  Dockett sighed and then went on in a rush. “Some o’ them lot’re lookin’ angry, sir, an’ I’m wondering why and what’s up, you see? But others o’ them, they ask, ‘What’s a boots, then?’ and Creasy, he says to them, he says, ‘Well, he’s our mongoose, isn’t he?’ and then one o’ thems says, ‘What’s a bloody mongoose?’ and another o’ thems says, ‘It’s a giant rat, I thinks,’ an’ then, Creasy, he stands up and cries, ‘Boots ain’t no rat! He’s our’n mongoose and we love him!’ an’ why he sees fit to say that last, I’ll not fathom, but then, one o’ them, he stands up and yells, ‘They’s rat-buggers an’ poachers!’ pointin’ right at Creasy, you see, so there’s no doubt it was us he was calling that, an’ no cause to, for Boots ain’t and we never and what’s all this about poachin’ anyways, I’m thinking, do you see, sir?”

  Alexis paused for a moment to take it all in.

  “And then the fight started?” she asked.

  Dockett shrugged. “Well, sir, there were some hemmin’ and hawin’ back and forth a bit, an’ I tried to settle it some, I did, sir! I says to thems, I says, ‘Look, lads, sit back an’ we’ll buy you another pint and talk on what’s bothered you, see?’ but one o’ them —” Dockett narrowed his eyes, looking past her at the other cell. “— that big feller grinnin’ at the bars, there — no, don’t look, sir, as that’s what he’s after — well, he stands up an’ pours his beer out, real slow like, with that big, shite-eatin’ grin like he’s got now, sir, an’ he says to us, ‘I’ll not drink with any rat-worshipin’ poachers!’ an’ then Creasy, well, he stands up an’ pours out his beer an yells back, ‘I’ll not drink with any as don’t believe in Boots!’”

  Dockett paused, frowned, and then, even more quietly, as if he hoped the rest of the crew wouldn’t hear, “Which was not so well of Creasy, sir, for there’s half the crew as don’t believe the whole of what Creasy says — only that Boots is, well, lucky, sir.”

  Alexis took a deep breath, held it, and let it out ever so slowly. She’d found that was best done before speaking whenever Creasy and his followers in the crew were involved, else she’d say something that put a wounded look on the men’s faces.

  Speak ill of the creature, or even the bloody truth, and they look as though you’d kicked a puppy down a well already full of kittens.

  She shook off the implications of Dockett’s words, that half the crew didn’t take to Creasy’s words couldn’t possibly mean that half did, now could it? The Dark did breed a certain credulousness, but the bloody creature couldn’t even be trained to stay out of her dining cabin during dinner.

  “And then the fight started?” she asked.

  “Aye, sir,” Dockett nodded. “Oncet beer’s on the ground, there’s no comin’ back from that, sir.”

  “I see. And these allegations of ‘poaching’ you said they made?”

  “Near as I can tell, sir, they thinks Kayseri’s their own private hunting ground.”

  That did make sense, and she could see why they might take exception, whether such were the case or not. “No such designations were made clear to me in our letter of marque, so I suppose I’ll have to speak to their captain about that.”

  Perhaps she could clear things up with
the other captain and leave with no real ill-will between the crews. They’d likely be encountering the other crew in some systems more than once before this cruise was over, and she didn’t want to be paying the magistrate for a full-on brawl every time.

  “Oy! Bouncy-bits!” came a voice from the other cell, and a coin, a single pence, clinked to the jail floor beside her foot. “Give over that lot and I’ll have a go, me!”

  Twenty-Seven

  Dockett scowled and there were angry murmurs from within the cell. Nabb let out a low, guttural growl and made to move toward the other cell, but Alexis laid a hand on his arm. She glanced down at the coin, then back to Dockett.

  “What was that bit about doxies the lads were yelling when I arrived, Mister Dockett? It seemed to goad that lot to no end.”

  Dockett had the grace to flush red and look away. “Weren’t no slur on any real lady who negotiates proper, sir, but it were that lot’s ship name, you see? Bachelor’s Delight, it is.”

  “I see.” Well, that did evoke certain images, didn’t it? And an odd name for a private ship, she thought.

  A second coin, another pence clinked to a stop next to the first.

  “Best offer, lass! A bony little chit like you’ll do no better!”

  Alexis sighed. She really couldn’t fathom how spacers would visit the ladies every time in port, treat them well and appreciate their services, then use the label as an insult to other women. Marie, her dear friend back on Dalthus, had made some arrangements with captured midshipmen back on her homeworld of Giron — though Alexis was never sure if it was for coin in hand or merely favors, it had certainly gone far enough to get her a child out of the bargain — and Marie was the sweetest, most level-headed girl she could think of.