Alexis Carew: Books 1, 2, and 3

by J. A. Sutherland

  “Oy, Mister Carew, sir!” one of the spacers called. “Have we time for a bit of a wet?”

  “Quiet you!” Acker yelled.

  Alexis looked around. It was one of the new hands signed aboard at Dalthus who had asked. Even though the day was mild, his hair was plastered to his head with sweat from the exertion of unloading and reloading the trucks. They’d all worked hard at the task and were missing out on the excitement aboard Merlin, with the ship out of discipline.

  She checked the time on her tablet and saw that they were well ahead of schedule and would have plenty of time to load the boat and return to Merlin, even with a short stop. Moreover, her ship’s account had been credited with her first month’s pay and even after replenishing some of her personal supplies, she still had almost three pounds to her name. She looked around and noted a small pub nearby that had only a few patrons.

  “In here, lads,” she said. “I’ll grant you half a pint each and no more, then it’s straight to the field and back to work, hear?”

  The men cheered and streamed toward the pub.

  “Not sure this’s wise, sir,” Acker said, a worried look on his face.

  “I’m sure it will be fine, Acker,” she said with a smile. “We’ve plenty of time and the men deserve a treat after that. They’ve still to load the boat and unload it again aboard Merlin, after all.”

  “Aye sir.” Acker nodded and moved to the side of the group.

  Alexis started for the bar to pay for the beers when Alan came up to her.

  “Beggin’ yer pardon, sir,” he began, but she cut him off quickly.

  “You’ll get a wet, as well, Alan,” she said, not wanting to have anything to do with the man. Partly because she was still very uncomfortable around him after what had happened, and partly, quite oddly, because she felt a certain guilt about the flogging. It made no sense at all, really, but it made her uncomfortable. “Go and wait with the others.”

  Alan paused as though about to say something more, but he simply added, “Aye sir,” and walked away.

  Alexis paid for the beer, gave the men time enough to drink, then called out, “All right, lads! Form up! We’ve work to get back to.”

  The men filed out of the pub and formed into lines outside, but Alexis saw immediately that they weren’t all there.

  “Acker?”

  Acker ran his eyes over the group. “Alan and two of the new lads, sir.”

  “Damn him. Plant,” she called to one of the marines, “you and Acker search the pub! The rest of you stay where you are.”

  It took only minutes for Acker and the marine to return with the news that the three missing men were nowhere inside, but they had found a window open to the alley on the pub’s second floor.

  “I should have listened to you, Acker.”

  He shrugged. “It were just two landsmen and Alan.” His voice, though trying to reassure her, remained doubtful. “No terrible great loss.”

  Damn you, Alan, she thought, certain that he’d been the driving force. And now he’s run, along with two others, and I’m to blame. Foolish, Alexis, after all you’ve heard about deserters. Now the men’s records would be marked as deserted and they’d be liable for a heavy flogging or worse if they were ever caught.

  “Form the men up, Acker.” She sighed. “It’s time we got back aboard and I told the captain what I’ve done.”

  They marched back to the landing field, the marines watchfully bringing up the rear, and found the chandlery’s trucks waiting patiently near the ship’s boat, but the rear doors of one were swung wide open and she could see that fully half its load was missing. In a panic, Alexis rushed ahead of the men to the truck and climbed aboard, staring in horror at the empty space.

  Three men and half a truckload of supplies lost — how will I ever explain this to the captain?

  Just then, two spacers climbed into the back of the truck with her and moved to pick up boxes, eyes downcast and avoiding her gaze.

  “What …” she began, recognizing them as the two who’d disappeared from their group at the pub.

  “Found yer lost lambs, Mister Carew.” Alexis spun around and saw Alan at the truck’s gate. He looked away and scratched at his neck. “Weren’t sure where you’d be, so’s I brought ‘em back here.”

  “I …” She stared at him dumbfounded for a moment as the two spacers, now heavily loaded down with boxes, shuffled past her. Had he run and changed his mind, she wondered, or gone after the other two? “Thank you, Alan,” she said finally. She saw Acker and the rest of the crew arrive. “Ah … Acker — Alan and these others seem to have gotten the jump on unloading. Best get the rest of the men to it.”

  “Aye sir.” He paused by Alan and the two men stared at each other for a moment before Acker nodded and Alan nodded back. “All right, lads! You’ve had a wet and a rest — time to get back to work!”

  Alexis moved to the side to allow the men to file past her, then climbed out of the truck. I am not at all certain what’s just happened. Her tablet pinged urgently and she pulled it from her jumpsuit pocket.

  “Belay that!” she called. “We’re to cease loading supplies and return to the ship instanter!” The men looked at her in surprise. “Get aboard the boat, lads, whatever’s still in the trucks we’ll return for later.”

  Seventeen

  “Tubb! Milner!” Alexis called to two of the marines. “Stay here with the trucks! The rest of you aboard the boat! Now, lads!” She followed the men into the boat and flung the cockpit hatch open. “Get us back to the ship, Vaux!”

  “Aye sir!” The pilot had the boat lifting off the pad before the rear hatches were fully closed and sent it rocketing skyward at full speed as soon as they were. “What’s happening, sir?”

  “I don’t know,” Alexis said, watching the sky darken as they left atmosphere. “The message was ‘Leaving orbit. Return instanter or be left behind’.”

  Merlin came into view and Alexis saw Vaux increase the boat’s speed to the maximum. Ahead of them, the half dozen bum boats that had come up to meet the ship were streaming back toward the planet.

  "Watch the boats, Vaux,” Alexis said.

  “Aye sir,” he replied, “but if we have to turn for one of them, we’ll miss the ship. She’s already underway.”

  Alexis looked ahead and saw that he was right. Merlin’s conventional drive was lit and the ship was beginning to accelerate.

  “Will we make it?” she asked.

  “Might be close.” The pilot slid his fingers over the console.

  They’d been closing rapidly with the ship, but that was changing as Merlin accelerated. Finally they drew close enough that Alexis sighed with relief when it was clear they’d make it. Vaux slid the boat underneath Merlin and matched her speed, easing up toward the ship’s keel lock. Alexis saw that he was thin-lipped and sweating a little. She longed to ask him if she should do something to help but didn’t want to distract him.

  There was a heavy thunk transmitted through the boat’s hull and Vaux grimaced, but then sighed and sat back.

  “Docked, sir,” he said.

  Alexis was already out of her seat and rushed back into the passenger compartment. Two spacers had already opened the upper hatch and lowered the ladder that gave access to Merlin’s keel lock. She clambered up the ladder and then rushed up the companionway to the gundeck, but found the gundeck hatch closed and locked. The gundeck was already in vacuum, cleared for action with gunports open and the crew in their vacsuits.

  She hurried up to the next level and through the gunroom to her berth to retrieve her own vacsuit. She pulled it on and tucked her helmet under an arm before running to the forward companionway and down a level to the quarterdeck hatch. She paused there and squared her shoulders before sliding the hatch open, knowing that Captain Grantham would not want her to rush all pell-mell onto his quarterdeck.

  Caruthers looked up from the navigation plot where he and Captain Grantham were standing as she slid the hatch open.


  “Mister Easely to the gundeck and take over there,” Caruthers said. “My compliments to Mister Roland and he should join the gunner in the bowchasers. Mister Carew, take the signals station if you please.”

  Alexis passed Philip as he left the signals console and hurried out. She took her seat there, more bewildered than ever at what was happening.

  Caruthers crossed to her side. “We are in receipt of a distress call, Mister Carew. A merchant hauling ore in the asteroid belt has been taken by pirates. Watch your console carefully, please, for any further word from them.”

  “Aye sir.” Alexis sat and scanned her console. She saw the call for help from the merchantmen and set her console to notify her if anything further was received.

  Merlin rushed to the nearest Lagrange point under her conventional drive and transitioned to darkspace with her masts already raised and her sails set and ready. Captain Grantham ordered the sails charged in almost the same breath as he called for the ship to transition.

  They caught sight of the pirate and the merchantman prize as the two transitioned into darkspace from one of the outer system’s gas giants. The pirates clearly hadn’t been expecting a warship to be in-system, for they’d made no effort to hide themselves or outright run until it was clear Merlin was pursuing them. It was soon clear that Merlin had the better point of sail and would be able to catch them up, and the pirates shortly abandoned their prize, briefly heaving to and transferring their prize crew from the merchantman back to their main ship.

  Merlin bore on, closing the gap and passing the merchantman where it sat, sails dark and dead. Alexis watched her console for any sign of communication from the pirate but there was none. The quarterdeck was tense and silent as they closed, all eyes on the navigation plot and the closing range. Captain Grantham looked at her and seemed to be weighing some decision.

  “Mister Carew,” he said.

  “Sir?”

  “I’d like you in the sail locker with the bosun,” Grantham said, “and out with him to the sails when it’s time. He’ll need someone to relay messages and will want all the hands for the sails.”

  “Aye sir,” Alexis said. She grasped her helmet and walked to the sail locker, torn between nervousness that she’d be outside the hull during an action and disappointment that best use she could be was relaying messages.

  Merlin shuddered violently and the bosun suddenly waved his arm, signaling the men in the sail locker to open the forward hatch and pour out onto the bow. Alexis followed them out and saw that the main topgallant mast had separated from the rest, its sail dragging it forward but still held to the ship by its stays. Spacers rushed to the mainmast and began climbing while others spread out to where the topgallant’s stays attached it to the ship’s hull. Above the sail locker’s hatch on the bow, she saw that the forward gunports were open, save for the fine mesh of gallenium that gave them some protection from the effects of darkspace, and that the spacers stayed well away from both as they crossed the hull.

  A moment later, the clear crystal barrel of a gun poked from the starboard gunport and fired, the bright flash of the bolt searing its imprint on Alexis’ vision. She craned her neck to look ahead and saw the bolt flowing off into the distance. Far, far ahead, she saw the glow of a ship’s sails, but the gunner’s aim had been off and the shot flowed to starboard of the fleeing ship.

  The bosun paused beside her and touched his helmet to hers. “Pinnace’ll be a small target fer the gunners at this range. Third our size or less.”

  “Which makes us the larger target,” she replied, swiveling her head inside her helmet to watch a return bolt from the fleeing ship fly wide to port. She looked away as Merlin’s own port chaser fired, turning back to watch as this, too, missed the target.

  “And the larger guns.” She could hear the bosun’s wolfish grin in his voice. “They’ve nothing can penetrate Merlin’s full hull, but a shot or two from us’ll put ‘em paid.”

  The pinnace fired again and there was a flare from the mizzenmast and in an instant the bosun was moving, signaling to the spacers. The mizzen’s topsail yard, shot through on the port side, was dragged forward by the pull of the sail. A handful of spacers left off their work on the mainmast and hurried to the mizzen, climbing it quickly and working to repair the yard. Perhaps not the hull, but then, we’re not inside it, are we?

  The bosun grunted. “Their gunnery’s better than I’d expect. Keep them at their work on the mizzen,” he told her. “I’ve to see to raising a new t’gallant.” He was gone before she could acknowledge, gliding easily over the hull to where a group of spacers was preparing to raise a new mast section up the main.

  Alexis moved carefully to the base of the mizzenmast, taking only a moment to watch the fall of the shot as the starboard chaser fired again. This time, she thought they’d hit the other ship, though it was difficult to tell at such a distance.

  Another shot from the fleeing ship, this one a wide line of chain shot, sliced through the mizzen topsail and yard where the men were working. Cables parted, cut through cleanly by the shot and both sides of the yard buckled forward, pulled by the forces acting on the sail. Men were pulled with it, dragged by their safety lines, but she saw two falling aft, their lines cut through, hands grasping frantically for the mast or stays as they drifted free of the ship, unnoticed by the others who were fighting to control the wildly bucking sail.

  Alexis watched in horror as the men drifted closer and closer to the edge of the charged field that protected the ship. She scrambled around the mast, heading for the ship’s keel, but the guideline she’d used to reach the mast ended there. Without thinking, she unclipped the line from her belt and dropped to all fours on the hull, grasping guidelines and pulling herself around the mast and down the bow to the keel. She glanced towards the drifting men and saw that they had reached the edge of the field, almost ten meters aft of her, and were passing through to where their momentum would slow and the ship would rapidly pull away from them.

  She clipped her spare safety line to a guide that ran the full length of the keel and began pulling herself aft, hand over hand. Though the two men were well outside the ship’s field and falling further aft with every moment, she managed to gain on them somewhat before her arms could no longer pull on the guide quickly enough. She looked ahead and saw that she’d already traversed half of Merlin’s length and was rapidly approaching the stern, and the end of the guidewire.

  With one final pull on the guidewire to gain speed, she rolled her back to Merlin’s keel and pulled the rescue launcher from her belt. The two men were enough in line that she thought if she could get the launcher’s weighted bag to the further man, the closer should cross the line as well and be able to grab hold. Aiming instinctively, she pulled the trigger, bending her arms to absorb the recoil of the launcher’s compressed gas charge.

  The weighted bag soared toward the two men, who were flailing their arms and legs desperately in a frantic attempt to regain the ship. For a moment, Alexis thought her aim had been true, but then the heavy bag struck the first man in the helmet, deflecting off away from them. The man she’d struck managed to grasp the trailing cable as it went by, wrapping it first in his hands and then his arms, clutching it to his chest, but Alexis could only watch helplessly as the further spacer continued to drift, the bag and line far out of his reach.

  With a start, she realized that she was soaring past the aft end of the ship with no time to anchor the rescue line to the hull. Quickly, she grasped the launcher with both hands, clamping her fingers tightly on the handle. Her own safety line jerked her to a halt two meters past the stern and a moment later, the rescue line tightened, jerking her back as she strained to keep her hold on the launcher and wrenching the breath from her as the suit’s belt dug into her midsection.

  The strain grew and her breath became ragged with effort as she struggled to hold on. The pull of the spacer’s mass seemed to grow with every second, increasing the strain on her arms and hands as the ship surge
d forward with him stuck in the morass of darkspace. Alexis stared at him, arms and even legs, now, wrapped desperately around the line as he was dragged heavily behind the ship. Behind him, the other spacer had dropped far away, barely visible in the distance.

  “I’ll not let you go,” she promised through gritted teeth, knowing he couldn’t hear her, couldn’t even see her face behind the shield of the helmet. “I’ll not.” The suit’s belt cutting into her midsection made it hard to breathe and she felt a sudden, blinding pain in her left shoulder.

  Alexis felt her right hand losing its grip, fingers slipping on the launcher’s handle, and she struggled to inch them back into place. She failed and her hand slipped off, the force on the cable pulling on her left arm, extending it straight out from her shoulder as the pain intensified. But the new angle forced the belt of her suit harder against her midsection, and she cried out as something inside her there seemed to rip as well. Both pains intensified as she realized she couldn’t feel her fingers anymore and she screamed, a hoarse, guttural cry of pain and defiance. Suddenly, the pull on her left arm lessened and for a split second, the pain as well, then it came back worse than before.

  “Let go, sir!”

  “I’ll not!” she screamed back, eyes squeezed shut against the pain and willing herself to hang on. The pressure on her midsection eased as well, but not the hurt. Every movement seemed to jostle something and send new spikes of agony radiating through her.

  “We’ve got you, sir! Let go the launcher so’s we can reel ‘im in!”

  Alexis realized that the voice was real, that some of the crew had reached them and had pulled her back over the ship’s stern and were, even now, pulling hard on the cable to drag the spacer back aboard. She tried to let go of the launcher, but couldn’t be sure if her fingers moved or not, her arm seemed to end at the blinding pain in her shoulder. She opened her eyes and saw the hull of the ship flowing past, realized one of the spacers must be carrying her forward, but the sight of the hull swinging back and forth in her vision, combined with the pain, made her stomach rebel. Without warning, she vomited, viscous, foul-smelling liquid filling her helmet. Don’t shake your head, she thought oddly. The stench hit her nostrils, triggering another bout, and then something struck her shoulder and she gratefully passed out.