Privateer (Alexis Carew Book 5)

by J. A. Sutherland

  “Lay a laser on Delight, will you, Creasy?” Alexis asked.

  “Aye, sir.”

  There was a delay, as the planet was a large, gas giant and its Trojan points quite distant from each other. Distant and cluttered, as, in addition to the other ships, there were a number of large asteroids captured at each. One would soon move between Mongoose and Delight, and Alexis wanted contact established so both ships would know to move and maintain the laser link.

  “Y’ made it, lass!” Malcomson’s voice was happy. “Found our own wee huntin’ ground, tay, dae you see?”

  Alexis had to smile at that. She felt a bit of a qualm at targeting these merchants who’d only been seeking shelter from a storm, but if they were carrying pirated goods, then they were not so honest and it was their own bad luck to have chosen the same shelter as Mongoose and Delight.

  “Only those we’re sure of piracy,” she responded, settling back to wait for Malcomson’s reply and a report from Dockett on what repairs would have to be made.

  It was odd to watch the bearded giant on her plot going about the business of setting his own ship to rights while he waited to hear the words she’d already spoken. Odder still to see his attention turn back to her as the message arrived and watch his lips purse and flutter as he harrumphed at her words. Malcomson’s level of proof for a merchant’s having conspired with pirates, she’d found, was not nearly so strenuous as her own, and he seemed to be wondering now if Mongoose’s appearance might not be a boon.

  With obvious reluctance, though, he agreed, as he’d already discovered that Alexis was inflexible on the point.

  They took their time about it.

  The storm would still be raging in darkspace and few of these ships would risk returning there.

  So, Mongoose and Delight both put themselves to rights, then laid communications lasers on those ships nearest and informed them they were to be inspected for pirated goods.

  It was when Mongoose had a crew aboard the second for inspection that Malcomson messaged her again.

  “Lass, why is thaur this Barbary savage at my port askin’ if Ah eat snakes — and while I’m guilty ay enjoying a braw haggis come Burns Nicht … I dae hae a bluddy line.”

  It took many, maddening minutes for Alexis’ response, asking for the name and ship of the captain asking, to make its way to Delight and for Malcomson’s response to return to Mongoose. Minutes in which Alexis cursed Delight’s captain for not providing that information in the first place. It was as though he took a deliberate joy in holding it back and drawing out the conversation — which was more deviousness than she could credit the bluff Malcomson with, but anything was possible.

  The answer, when it came, was that one of the ships near Malcomson was the Bisharet and Captain Katirci, whose ship she’d not taken on their arrival in the Barbary.

  More minutes passed as Alexis’ response of, “Well, what does he want of me — no, never mind that, if he’s at your boarding hatch then bring him to your quarterdeck, please, that I might speak to him myself?”

  Additional minutes while Malcomson did that, and all the time she couldn’t help but think he was grinning at her behind his beard.

  When Katirci did arrive, his errand aboard Delight came out all in a rush, with the ship’s translator barely able to keep up with him and the mishmash of dialects and language the patois of the Barbary systems became.

  “Oh, good Captain Cahroo and the devourer of serpents. I, Katirci, humble master of the Bisharet, and your grateful servant for the kindness you have shown me, bring you tidings. When you so kindly allowed Bisharet to keep her cargo of beep untranslatable local produce, little did you know how the gods guided your hand. With fear and beep poor translation trembling awe I steered Bisharet from those systems, though it meant a loss of many marks on the beep untranslatable produce we carried.

  “Instead, we sailed to Erzurum in search of some answer to your question. There we found such an answer — at great expense and no little danger, which we hold prayer you will take to your heart and speak for us to this —” Katirci nodded to Malcomson. “— great bear and captain of the Catamite —”

  Malcomson frowned. “What?”

  “— for I fear my poor Bisharet’s cargo does not, at this time, carry the innocence of beep untranslatable produce, as I once promised you. Instead we carry, as we must, goods from Erzurum — and the markets of Erzurum have become the marvel of the poor Barbary, with goods from a thousand worlds, such as we seldom see.”

  “He's a bluddy hauld full ay modern farm equipment,” Malcomson growled. “All more’n a Barbary world’d take on.”

  “The market of Erzurum teems with such now,” Katirci went on. “I assure you, great bear of the Catamite, no ship sailing from there will come away with less, for they have had nothing of interest for export since the world was founded and it sits behind a wall of shoals the likes of which are rarely seen.”

  Malcomson’s eyes narrowed and he looked from Katirci to his own translation system, as though unsure which to pound with his clenched fist.

  “Now, though,” Katirci went on to Alexis, “the market teems with goods. It is said, and I swear to you, devourer of serpents —”

  “’Ere now,” Malcomson said, “why’s she gie that an’ my Delight gets — what’s that mean, anyway?”

  “— that I believe this to be true, ships without number swept past Erzurum in a great battle, leaving wreckage in their wake. The people of Erzurum stirred themselves to plunder the wrecks of both goods and men, for that cursed system has always had a hunger for slaves. Though nearly all those ships were beyond hope and broke themselves upon the system’s shoals, one was repaired. A ship of many guns which, now in the hands of the men of Erzurum, takes as it will from the wealthy worlds who ply our space and leave us their crumbs.”

  “What kind o’ ship?” Malcomson asked.

  “Firkateyn.”

  Neither Alexis nor Malcomson needed the translator to work on that, for the meanings was clear.

  “A frigate,” Malcomson muttered. “A bluddy pirating frigate loose in the Barbary.”

  Forty-Two

  “A bluddy frigate, lass!”

  News of the fleets — and the possibility of captives from those fleets — drove all else from Alexis’ mind and she ordered Mongoose to close with the Delight and Bisharet so as to end the delays in communication.

  Once aboard Delight, she heard from Katirci little more about this Erzurum system. Only that he had not, personally, seen the frigate, but how else would such a small, unimportant system suddenly become the hub of pirated commerce in the Barbary? They, Erzurum, had always engaged in some piracy — and more wrecking, as their system shoals were the bane of any ship caught in a storm nearby — but more along the lines of a ship or two a year, with the goods being kept in the system itself.

  Now there were more goods in-system than they could reasonably use and a thriving market for the surrounding systems and merchant ships willing to brave the space.

  Unlike the frigate, though, Katirci had some personal knowledge of the captives, having been able to recognize English, German, and French being spoken amongst the marketplace slaves.

  That latter piqued Alexis’ the interest the most, for if there were crewmen from the Berry March worlds’ fleet speaking their French on Erzurum, then there might be word of Delaine — or he might be there himself, which was something she barely dared think, for fear the thought might make it untrue.

  “It might not be,” Alexis said. “I mean we’ve only the tale of a tale that they have a frigate, yes?”

  They’d sent Katirci back to his ship, with strict instructions not to make way just yet, and gathered in Malcomson’s cabin.

  The Delight’s master’s cabin was larger than Mongoose’s, possibly to accommodate its occupant, who still seemed to fill the space to overflowing — not least because he was clearly angry.

  The storm had passed and Alexis’ rendezvous with his ship had
allowed all but the two ships he’d taken in prize to escape — and then she wouldn’t allow him to take the Bisharet, because of Katirci’s service.

  “Oh, aye,” Malcomson said. “These savages micht mistake a frigate — coods be a sloop.” He snorted. “Or a bluddy first rate, come tae that. But a frigate’re better’s whit explains all these ships we’ve seen took.”

  “Well, whatever she is, she wouldn’t be at Erzurum, in any case, would she? The pirates would be off working at taking more merchantmen, not hanging around their home system.”

  “Hae tae gie th' lads a rest same as us.”

  “Which would be better done in a system not described in the sailing notes as ‘a fortnight’s sail past the sphincter of the arse-end of nowhere,’ now wouldn’t it? A pirate crew’d want better entertainments than they’d find in such a place, no matter it’s their home.”

  Malcomson scowled and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “A frigate'll make cuttie work ay Delight an' Mongoose baith. I'll nae risk it an’ my crew'd hang me frae th' mast by my bawbag if I asked it ay them. We’re nae the bluddy Navy, lass.”

  Alexis knew he was right in that — neither Mongoose nor Delight was a match for a frigate. Even together they were outmatched. She’d fought a frigate from a smaller ship herself and, while she’d “won”, it had been at a cost no privateer captain or crew would wish to pay.

  Still, she had to go and investigate — if there was a chance to find any of the fleets’ crew still alive, she had a duty to do so. And if there was a chance there might be word of Delaine, she had no real choice.

  The captured frigate was likely not there — that much of what she’d argued to Malcomson was almost certainly true — but if it was, then she’d need more than Delight with to help. She’d need a larger ship, much larger, and more guns might be in order, as well.

  Forty-Three

  The Hind seemed little moved or changed since Alexis’ last visit. To all appearances, the ship had rested in the same orbit for all the time Mongoose had been chasing prizes with Delight, and Commodore Skanes hadn’t stirred from her place behind her desk.

  “We’ve seen nothing of you since your first visit, Carew, and now you return with no prizes in tow? An unsuccessful cruise, was it?”

  Alexis flushed. She’d scoffed at Skanes, derided her, even, in conversation with Malcomson, and ignored the woman’s orders — not that she had any authority to give them — but she was now in need of Skanes’ help. That was both embarrassing and galling.

  With Malcomson’s refusal to go up against a pirate Frigate, Alexis had left him to his merchant-hunting and sailed for the one source she thought might assist.

  “We, ah, found an outlet for prizes closer in … commodore,” Alexis said.

  Skanes nodded. “So I’ve heard. Wheeley, on Enclave. Little better than a pirate himself when one gets down to it. The Marchant Company, you know, has better things to do with a ship so prominent as Hind than leave her sitting here as nothing more than a stores ship for your group — without those prizes, I might as well go back to carrying profitable cargoes and leave you to resupply from your Mister Wheeley and his sort.”

  “It is a better use of your ship, your fine ship, Commodore Skanes, that I’ve come about,” Alexis said, wincing at the need to satisfy Skanes’ ego.

  It’s for Delaine — if I have to piss down her back and tell her it’s raining, then so be it.

  Skanes raised an eyebrow. “Really? And now you know better what I should do with my ship than I? Such a clever girl you are.”

  “No, sir — ma’am — commodore —” Damn me. “No, that’s not what I meant, I’m sorry. It’s only that I’ve come across some information — which we’ve not had before, and which might, if you think it’s wise, give some greater … no, different use for Hind.”

  Damn me twice, but I’m bad at this. She’s not one for an appeal to duty or grand deeds and the Dark knows it’s the ship itself I need and not her.

  “What sort of information?” Skanes asked.

  Alexis marshalled her arguments as though they were ships to be taken into an action.

  She laid out the existence of Erzurum and how it was now a sort of central hub for the disposal of pirated goods throughout this section of the Barbary. The pirate frigate, and how it must have come from the missing fleets. She even went so far as to tell Skanes how she – Alexis – had come to be here in the Barbary; not about her search for Delaine, as that would be too personal a thing to share and unlikely to sway the ostensible commodore, but about the Foreign Office’s interest, without naming Eades.

  “The Foreign Office?” Skanes asked, and Alexis could fairly see her ears twitch with interest.

  “Indeed,” Alexis said.

  “And they enlisted you?”

  “Among others, I’m sure,” Alexis said, trying to keep a scowl off her face.

  “A frigate, though,” Skanes muttered.

  “Likely off hunting,” Alexis said.

  “True,” Skanes agreed, “and if not, then manned with pirate rabble and not a proper crew.”

  It bothered Alexis a bit that Skanes was coming around to her own arguments, and she wondered if, perhaps, that was because she herself was trying to talk her way around to making the endeavor seem less than it was. Malcomson had not been swayed, after all.

  “Hind does carry nearly the same weight of guns as a frigate,” Skanes was saying, “with a crew to man them.” The commodore paused for a moment, thinking.

  “Yes,” she said, finally. “I think this is just the thing the Marchant Company should look into.”

  Forty-Four

  Erzurum was remote, even for the Barbary, with no systems, even those with no habitable planets, within a fortnight’s sail.

  It was also a shallow system, with numerous gas giants creating darkspace shoals that were actually visible in the images brought inboard by the ship’s optics. Multiple crescents and swirls of obsidian, pulled along by those planets in normal-space, obscured the view of the roiling dark energy clouds behind the system. Like deeper shadows upon the already black void of darkspace.

  Villar stared down at the plot for a moment, shaking his head.

  “I’ve never seen the like before,” he muttered.

  Alexis nodded agreement, as did Dockett, who’d joined them at the plot. Hacking and Parrill remained silent, but stared as well. Alexis could imagine what they were thinking — the ship-handling alone to enter such a system, at least with a ship of any size, would be a formidable feat. The visible shoals were only the worst of them, there was no telling how many smaller shoals had broken off the main ones and cluttered the system — nor where they might be.

  “Any signs at all of a pilot boat or beacon?” she asked.

  “No, sir,” Creasy answered from the signals console. “Nary a glimmer.”

  “Well, we can’t have expected them to lay on a welcome for us, I suppose.”

  “Oh, I’m certain they will once they know we’re here … sir,” Hacking muttered.

  He was still not taken with the plan. None of them were, truth to tell, and Alexis was no different. Especially on seeing Erzurum now for herself, she’d rather have Malcomson and his Delight along, or nearly any of the other private ships, than the Hind.

  “That lolling cow’ll never make it through,” Dockett said. “Her arse’s so heavy it’s a wonder she’s not bottomed out here already.”

  “Commodore Skanes has assured me that her sailing master is quite experienced with taking the Hind into even the shallowest system of the Barbary,” Alexis said, still finding herself stressing the woman’s self-appointed rank with a bit of irony she couldn’t help. “Though I believe Erzurum may force her to admit some inability at last.”

  “Signal from Hind, sir,” Creasy called.

  “Speak of the devil,” Dockett muttered.

  “Yes, Creasy?”

  “Captain to repair on board, sir.”

  Alexis sighed. “
Of course she is.”

  Hind was a flurry of activity when Alexis arrived, with crew rushing about to strike everything unnecessary for an action down into the hold. A bit more of a task in Hind, what with every nook and cranny crammed with supplies for the private ships. As Alexis watched, waiting again on the quarterdeck for Skanes to admit her to the master’s cabin — and she wondered, yet again, if the woman had some sort of plan for how long she made a person a wait or if she simply was so disorganized that she couldn’t see one upon arrival — she noted that some spaces were cleared only to be filled up again by some other group of crew.

  She began to wonder if the Hind had ever truly cleared for action before — leave aside why they were doing so now, when the ship was still hours away from the outermost reaches of Erzurum and with no enemy in sight at all. Before leaving Mongoose she’d set her own crew to a hearty supper.

  Finally, Tabron, the steward, opened Skanes’ hatch and invited her in. He pressed a glass into her hand as she neared Skanes’ desk and Alexis was pleased to find it held her preferred whiskey — at least her preference from what Skanes had available. The man was nothing if not efficient and Alexis wondered at his service to such a disorganized mistress as Skanes appeared to be.

  Skanes’ cabin, though as cluttered as before, was an oasis from the chaos of the rest of Hind, with no sign of being cleared. In fact, it appeared that her table was being set for a full supper of her own, as Tabron returned to that task after Alexis was seated.

  “Ah, Carew, a moment, if you please,” Skanes muttered without looking up from her tablet.

  Alexis sat, idly, and sipped at her whiskey.

  Finally, Skanes set her tablet aside and looked up.

  “The burdens of command,” she said with a small smile.