“Ah note ye make nae mention ay me,” Malcomson said.
Alexis regarded him for a moment, then grinned. “You’ll be where you think you can find the best fight, won’t you?”
Malcomson shrugged. “Transparent as all ‘at, am Ah?”
Alexis laid a hand on his arm. “Reliable, I’d say.”
Malcomson laughed.
“What they don’t understand,” Alexis continued, “as they’ve never worked as a fleet before, is what we’re facing here. Those gunboats coordinate their attacks. The newly arrived ships as well. Other than Lawson and Kingston who’ve worked together a bit, and Malcomson and I, the other captains have worked singly always. They’re thinking of their odds to escape, which might be good — for one. Most of the others, though, will be overwhelmed and outnumbered. Each of these captains, Spensley especially, thinks they’ll be the one and cares not a whit for the others.”
Villar frowned. “I wouldn’t think we have that great a chance together, either.”
Alexis shrugged. “We don’t, I agree. We’re outnumbered and outgunned, facing a superior force who’s used to working together. But we have a better chance for more of us if we stay together.”
“So you’re doing this to keep the force together?”
“And because the smirking bastard named me betrayer.” Alexis shrugged. “There’s a good chance Mongoose will be taken by this lot within the next few days — I’ll not go to my fate hearing that and not responding.”
Malcomson laughed again. “That’s a proper Sheehy lass!”
“I see,” Villar said, then, “Sir, if this should go poorly —”
“You have Mongoose,” Alexis said. She’d thought of that, and what she should order Villar to do, but if this did go poorly then her cares would be over — Villar would have his own, not least of which would be ensuring that he returned to see Marie again. Whatever her desires in getting to Erzurum and finding out Delaine’s fate, Villar would have to make his own choices. “I trust your judgment Whitley, and the ship will be yours. Do as you think best in the circumstances you face.”
“Aye, sir.”
Fifty-Seven
There were more hoots from the watching crew as Alexis stripped her tight stays off, but she put a stop to that with pointed look. No sense letting the lads think they could go quite too far with their fun. Spensley had chosen blades, possibly thinking that Alexis’ slight form would make her more skilled with firearms. The stays themselves did offer some protection against his blade, but it was also rather form-fitting. Without it, the loose blouse offered fewer hints at the target beneath.
She kept the boots. They were well-made and a bit of scuffing against the deck proved to her they’d grip well enough to serve.
The hat was a different story and she made to remove that too, but hesitated. It sat firmly, without obstructing her vision, and might prove a distraction to Spensley, what with its wide brim and dancing feather. She kept it on, reasoning that she could always doff it if necessary.
Let Spensley think her a bit foppish and underestimate her more.
Villar and Wakeling were conferring at the center of the open space. Spensley was swishing his blade through the air in preparation. He’d sent back to his ship for it, as he had only a boarding cutlass at his hip through the action. That alone gave Alexis a bit of a pause about this fight, for the blade he bore now was clearly for duels, not an action.
It was longer, lighter, and thinner than would be useful in an action with no gravity and the need to hack through thick vacsuits. It was the blade of a man skilled in its use for other purposes than battle.
Alexis’ blade worked well for her in both battle and against a single opponent, but it was less-suited for both than others. Longer and lighter than a cutlass, but shorter and heavier than a blade like Spensley’s — it suited her frame and build, but offered her little else in advantage.
Across the open space, Spensley rolled his shoulders, then swished his blade through the air again. Alexis did the same, ensuring she could move freely and nothing would bind. Her lads, by accident or design, had chosen well in her costume, at least. Spensley kept his waistcoat on, which seemed odd, as it had the same effect as her stays would — to outline his form and restrict his movement somewhat.
Their seconds, Villar and Wakeling, had agreed on the Mongoose as the site of the duel in the interest of time, though it was anything but neutral, and on Pennywell as the master of the field, in the absence of any truly neutral party.
Pennywell made his way to the open space between them and cleared his throat, gesturing for Villar and Wakeling to join him.
“Captains,” he said, “are you intent upon your course?”
There was more to it that should have been said and asked to follow the proper code, but no one wanted to waste any more time than was needed, not with a fleet of pirate ships bearing down on them.
“Is an apology to my principal in the offing?” Villar asked, answering for Alexis so she might concentrate on preparing.
Wakeling shook his head. Alexis thought he looked a little sad to do so. “There is not.”
Villar shrugged, turned, and walked back to Alexis. “Then Captain Spensley may apologize to God in a moment for the false witness.”
Alexis raised an eyebrow.
“‘Apologize to God?’” she asked. Villar’s face went sheepish and Alexis clapped a hand on his shoulder. “It did have a certain something.”
Villar smiled and made to speak, but then gave a short nod to Alexis’ other side where Dockett had elbowed his way through the crowd and looked to get her attention. She couldn’t think what the bosun might have to say at such a time.
“Yes, Mister Dockett?”
“Ah, sir, but I wanted to let you know the lads are behind you and certain you’ll take the bugger down.”
Alexis smiled. “Thank you, Mister Dockett. Do tell the lads I appreciate their confidence.”
“Aye, sir.” Dockett glanced over at Spensley and licked his lips. “It’s only, sir, that if you were to take the bugger down … slowly, as it were, then it would properly thank the lads, I think.”
Alexis frowned. “What do you mean?”
Dockett’s face turned red. “Well, I hate to mention it, sir — to bother you at a time like this — but it’s that there’s five other ships and, well, coordinating things takes time.”
“‘Things,’ Mister Dockett?”
“The signals, sir.”
“What signals?”
“To broadcast the fight, sir.” He smiled. “It’s Creasy what worked it out. He’s set a code, see, with numbers for you and Captain Spensley there, and then all the different parts — where a body might be cut and poked, you understand. I seen him send a test and it’ll be a right proper description, it will. The other crews’ll think it’s good as being here.”
“I see.” Alexis sighed. Well, she shouldn’t have expected that the crews of the other ships would be less interested in the duel than her own. If they were in normal-space it would have been broadcast as video, and planetside the field would have been crowded with them all to observe first hand. She couldn’t fault Creasy for his efforts, much as she might like to.
Then she frowned, wondering at Dockett’s other words.
“What does that have to do with my being slow about it?”
Dockett cleared his throat. “Ah, sir, but it’s only that, what with how quick the thing’s been set up and then the signals between ships taking so long and Creasy’s descriptions, fine as they may be, needing to be sent … well, it takes a bit for a man to process it all and make his predictions, you see?”
Alexis thought she did. “‘Predictions’, Mister Dockett?”
“Aye, sir.” Dockett nodded. “And there’s some won’t make a prediction until after the fight’s started, so, see, there’s time for them to see how it goes and time for it to be made clear to a man with a … different sort of prediction, you see?”
“
There’s a bloody book on this duel?” Alexis asked. “And being run through our signals?”
Dockett shook his head. “Oh, no, sir.” He shrugged. “There’s six. Each ship has its own book, of course. It’s the laying-off to the other ships that takes the time, see?”
Alexis closed her eyes and hung her head, but Dockett went on.
“Then there’s the side bets — those over the winner, you understand?” He began ticking on his fingers. “First blood — our lads have you drawing it, sir, so we have to lay-off to Oriana or there’d be no coin on the other bugger at all. Then there’s how many bloodings before it’s over.” He frowned and looked away, thinking. “There’s disarming and where you’re each blooded, of course.”
Dockett stopped and leaned close, whispering, “If you were to do that flying, spinny, round-the-neck thing, as you did to Askins when you was showin’ him those things, then our lads’ll clean the others out — odds on that’re bloody staggering, sir.”
“Mister Dockett, are you suggesting this duel be fixed?”
“Oh, no, sir!” Dockett said, his face full of outrage. “Never that.” He glanced around then leaned close and whispered again. “Only that you might, you know, poke the bugger a time or two first.”
Alexis and Spensley met Pennywell at the center of the open space.
Pennywell looked between the two of them, silent for a moment, and Alexis could tell what he was thinking.
Spensley was nearly half a meter taller than she was, as well as being heavier. He had several centimeters’ reach on her, even without the longer blade.
Pennywell shrugged. “I’m sorry, Carew. I’ll see it’s as fair as I may, at least.”
Alexis nodded while Spensley snorted.
“Can we get on with this, so that I might depart this bloody system?” Spensley asked.
“Captains,” Pennywell said, then stepped back, “begin.”
Fifty-Eight
Alexis’ hand went numb for a moment at the first blow, as Spensley batted her blade aside with more force than she expected. Apparently the man had no intention of feeling out her speed and strength as most opponents might, but was going for an immediate win. That spoke of an assumption that she was somehow unworthy of his concern.
She stepped back, half-hopping to avoid Spensley’s backswing, and returned her blade to guard her. Spensley pressed forward, driving her back again and again.
Alexis allowed him to bat her blade aside each time, though controlling the force better than the first exchange, and when her hand recovered, she twisted her wrist just enough so that Spensley’s blow missed.
She darted her own blade at him, but her reach was short and he was able to dance back before the tip could bloody his forearm.
Spensley backed two steps farther, swishing his blade and narrowing his eyes.
Alexis pursued him and this time he was less aggressive, feeling out her skill and strength.
She met his new tentativeness with her own for a few blows, then made her own attacks, but each blow was met with Spensley’s blade, either blocked or turned aside, until, as though by some agreement, they both stepped back a bit and eyed the other.
Three more exchanges had as little effect, and then came first blood.
Alexis twisted her sword around a blow from Spensley’s and darted forward, but the man was even quicker than she’d thought him and the tip of his blade found her thigh even as her own found his forearm. They both stepped back even before Pennywell could call “Hold!” and thrust his arm up.
“Captain Carew, is honor satisfied?”
“I’ve heard no apology,” she said.
“And will not!” Spensley called back.
Alexis hoped her own voice was as steady as his, for the man didn’t seem to be breathing as heavily as she was trying not to. She began to wonder if she’d misjudged things — no, she was certain she’d misjudged Spensley, as he was a far better fighter than she expected, but a quick glance at the other captains firmed her resolve. She had to keep them with her, at least, even at the loss of Spensley, for he and his ship were already lost. If the others broke off their force as well, then many of them were doomed.
Far more than just herself.
If she were to fall, Villar would serve to give Mongoose and her crew a chance to escape, but the chance was better if their force was stronger and working together, rather than scattered.
“There is no satisfaction,” Alexis said.
Pennywell shrugged. “Very well. Continue then.”
Alexis had taken the brief interlude of Pennywell’s questioning to test her leg. It hurt, but the wound didn’t seem deep. It was on the outside, away from the big arteries, and the tight leggings of her outfit, though cut, still pressed firmly against her, keeping the wound closed. She realized that her crew must have thought of that, as well as the style, in selecting it, and she smiled.
“Smile while you can, Carew,” Spensley muttered, advancing on her.
He’d wiped his forearm clean, but fresh blood was oozing from the shallow cut.
The next series of blows almost ended things.
Spensley made much the same move as he had in their last, and Alexis made to pink his arm again, but without so much of a lunge as before. Spensley, though, was expecting that and his own return was at her belly.
Alexis twisted and Spensley’s blade went through her loose blouse like paper, missing her flesh by so little that she could swear she felt it touch her side.
Pennywell looked to stop the fight again, thinking her struck, but there was no blood and Alexis spun away and back.
The sweat on Spensley’s face mirrored what she felt on her own, and the ship’s cold air chilled her. It crept through the rent in her blouse and hit her side like the steel she’d just avoided.
Another ringing exchange, this time with Alexis meeting and turning Spensley’s blows with more force than she had before. She wanted him to suspect he’d misjudged her strength and speed as much as she’d misjudged him, and then, when she saw the realization on his face and the moment’s concern of what else he might have misjudged and by how much, she made her own real attack.
Her blade suddenly didn’t meet his. Instead she twisted to avoid it and lunged forward, not for his arm or body, but for his face.
Time seemed to slow. Her lunge was quick, but overextended. Spensley’s eyes widened as the tip of her blade came straight for them. He jerked his head back, and Alexis saw his expression turn to fear as he realized that he, himself, was just as overextended, with too much weight on his foreleg to avoid the thrust.
Or would be, save for his opponent’s shorter sword.
The tip of Alexis’ blade snicked past his face. She knew that she’d have had him if she’d committed just a bit more, but she hadn’t. She’d held back just enough to recover from her lunge and back outside the sweeping arc of the return of Spensley’s blade.
She was torn between disappointment at not reaching him and the knowledge that doing so would have doomed her as well. That thought was on Spensley’s face, she saw, as he came to the same conclusion and she set her own face in determination. Let him see that she might not make that choice a second time — that she was set on his destruction, no matter the cost.
It was the same message one sent an enemy captain when the time for clever maneuvering was done and she set her ship alongside.
She saw that Spensley understood, and he moved, driving forward even as she made to meet him.
This time the blows were furious and with more than swords. Their blades met with a clang and bound together between bodies pressed tight.
Spensley’s off-hand struck her head a glancing blow, even as her knee came up. He twisted to avoid the knee to his groin, which sent her to bring her boot heel down on his foot as Spensley used his weight to shove her off balance. Shoves, kicks, knees, elbows, all flew between them, as though the blades were forgotten for a time. Alexis used every bit of what she’d learned from the Marines to
avoid being overpowered by Spensley’s weight, and every bit of nastiness they’d ever shown her to get a gouge or poke in at the right spot.
In the end, her size gave her away.
Spensley took it all, though not without his own grunts of pain, and finally forced her off balance.
Alexis stumbled backward, her sword flung from her grasp by a last, clever twist of Spensley’s blade, and she fell to the deck. Her training helped her absorb most of the impact, so it was the sound of her sword clattering against the port bulkhead that drove the air from her lungs in a gasp of despair.
Time seemed to slow as she scrambled to her feet, with everything appearing to move far more slowly than she knew it was.
Spensley was closing the distance between them. Her sword was too far away for her to reach it in time, and doing so would expose her side to his coming strike.
He drew his sword back to thrust and without thought Alexis moved toward him. If she could get inside the tip of the blade, then she might take a cut, but could still grapple with him — that might give her a chance.
Before she could think why, her hand went to her head and grasped the brim of her hat. The silly thing, wide-brimmed with the ridiculous feather, was no weapon, but it might serve to distract him. She waved it toward him in a sweeping arc and, remarkably, Spensley stopped his rush. He leaned back, body tilted awkwardly and grimaced in anticipated pain as the very tip of the feather fluttered across his face.
Why he’d reacted so — whether he thought the feather was more than it was or simply feared that Alexis had some other trick in mind — she didn’t know, but neither did she ponder it too long. She flung the full hat at Spensley’s face even as she leapt for her sword, thoughts of grappling forgotten in the instant’s chance to re-arm herself.
Sword in hand, breath knocked out of her as her roll to retrieve it was stopped short by the bulkhead, she clambered to her feet with her back to it.
Spensley spared only a moment to blink and realize his face was unmarked, then leapt for her again, blade outstretched.
Privateer (Alexis Carew Book 5) Page 33
