Alexis Carew: Books 1, 2, and 3

by J. A. Sutherland

  Nicer than they had aboard ship, come to that — but what are they so pleased about?

  “All right, lads,” Alexis said, smiling. “What’s the joke, then?”

  The men parted and what yesterday had been a bare wall at the end of the lane now had a new doorway.

  “Open ‘er up, Mister Carew, and ‘ave a look!”

  Alexis walked to the door, still smiling but eyeing them warily. They were up to something, and a spacers’ joke could be quite crude. They’d not normally play jokes on an officer, but the close quarters and laxer discipline of the prison might have made them forget that.

  She pulled the new door open, stepped through, and froze, mouth agape.

  Somehow, without her noticing, they’d enclosed one end of the newly built head and installed a single toilet and sink. They’d even acquired some thick rugs to lay on the tile floor. And, most amazing, there at the far wall.

  “A bath,” she breathed, hardly believing it. “A proper bath.”

  She spun around to thank them, but found that someone had quietly closed the door behind her.

  “I’ll not be disturbed for an hour, Isom!” she yelled, wiping her eyes.

  “What is it, Delaine?” His face was quite serious and she felt her stomach drop. Whatever the news was, it could not be good.

  “I am sorry this did not come to you sooner,” he said, “but it has only just been told to my commodore.” He pulled out his tablet. “On your ship, the Hermione, yes? Our men did the investigation. In the système de communication, for the messages? They found … the word … a thing through which things pass? But only some of the things?”

  “A filter?”

  “Oui, I think it is this word. A filter of the messages.” He held his tablet out to her. “My commodore, she says this was an evil thing.”

  Alexis took the tablet and her heart fell.

  “No,” she whispered.

  It was a list of messages. All addressed to her, with timestamps ranging from the day she’d boarded Hermione to when they were last on Penduli Station. Messages from her grandfather, from Philip, even from Roland, Captain Grantham, and others. All marked as received, so that they’d be removed from the messaging systems and she’d not get them from other sources, not even when on a station. “No,” she breathed, seeing that her own messages were there as well. Dozens of them — every message she had sent while on Hermione.

  “None of them were sent?” she asked.

  “Non. Alexis, I am sorry.”

  She scrolled quickly to the last message from her grandfather. He started, as he always did, by letting her know that everyone was well, so there was that, she supposed. But then she could fairly hear his worry that he hadn’t heard from her in so long. And longer now — it’s been nearly a year since I boarded Hermione. She clenched her eyes shut tight. He must be frantic.

  It was the last message from Philip, though, that broke her heart.

  Alexis,

  Not at all sure what I did wrong — thought we were mates and all. I know my messages have made it to Penduli and Hermione’s been through there three or more times — gotten receipts that you’ve received them, even — but I’ve heard nothing from you. I guess you don’t want to hear from me, so I’ll not bother you more. I’m truly sorry — whatever it was. You can hit me, if that’ll fix it?

  Philip

  “Delaine, you must let me send a message. Just one, please?”

  “Alexis, I cannot. Until my Navy is certain that your ship’s loss is known.”

  The tears finally overwhelmed her. “Please, Delaine … my family, my friends, my … please?”

  He shook his head slowly.

  Alexis sank onto the cot and covered her face with her hands. Delaine sat beside her and gently placed an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him, burying her face in his chest and sobbing. “Please?”

  “I cannot, Alexis,” he said, voice rough. “The very moment we have word that your Navy is aware, I will come to you. I swear this to you, my honneur upon it.”

  She sat up, sniffing and wiping at her eyes. “I should like to speak to Commodore Balestra.”

  “My commodore has foreseen this request, Alexis.” He shook his head again.

  Alexis closed her eyes and swallowed hard. If she couldn’t fix one thing, then she’d deal with another. “Who?” She opened her eyes, breathing deeply. “Who did this, Delaine?”

  “Alexis—”

  “There’s no filter that didn’t have the name of who set it up, Delaine. Tell me.”

  “It is best, perhaps, if you did not —”

  “And there’s no commissioned officer would waste his time on this. Only one of the midshipmen would be this petty and cruel. I’ll have the name from you.”

  Delaine sighed. “Oui. This I can do for you, but—” He looked at her for a moment, then sighed again and shrugged. “You will do what you will do. Aspirant Timpson.”

  Timpson. Her berthmate. Probably the midshipman she should have been closest to, if Hermione had been a proper ship with decent officers. She clenched her teeth and stood. She was dimly aware of Delaine following her. She saw the guard at the door hold up a hand as she approached, but behind her Delaine called out and he stepped aside, eyes wide as she drew near.

  She burst through the door and across the lot to the road down to the town. Delaine had arrived by ship’s boat, as usual, but there’d be no where to land it in the town, so she’d have to walk the kilometer. Timpson would be near the town square, probably in a pub or whatever they called it here.

  Delaine said something to her, but she ignored him and started walking. If anything her rage grew during the walk. How could they? For so long? She could see it as a joke for a time, perhaps through the first return to Penduli Station, then allow all the messages through and have a laugh about it. Would they have ever ended it?

  As they got further into town the traffic on the road increased and Alexis moved to the side of the road, then on to the sidewalks when they began. With only a short distance left before the town square she stopped and turned to Delaine.

  “Where do they drink? I’m certain you know.”

  “The cafe, across the square by the market. This is where they spend their days.”

  “Thank you.” She started walking again.

  “Only, please, do not kill the boy, mon loup,” Delaine said. “There would be many questions for such a thing.”

  Alexis wasn’t sure what she intended, only that she knew she had to confront Timpson. She strode across the square and through the market to the cafe. The sight of Hermione’s midshipmen there enraged her further.

  The four of them were sharing a table littered with bottles and plates. All but Ledyard had a girl seated in his lap and they appeared quite friendly. So, this is what they do all day instead of taking care of the men? Alexis’ frustration with the conditions the crew had been living in before she’d spoken to Commodore Balestra flared again and added to her rage. She stopped short of their table and stared at them. It took a moment for them to notice her.

  “Carew?” Bushby asked. “Didn’t expect to ever see you again.”

  Canion laughed. “Did you finally give parole and come to join us?”

  “Ledyard’s lap is free, if you have,” Timpson said. “You’re just his size.”

  Ledyard flushed, but laughed along with the others.

  As Alexis struggled to find the words to express what she was feeling, Delaine stepped past her and held a hand out to the girl in Timpson’s lap. “Mademoiselle, s'il vous plaît, vous voulez aucune partie de ce.”

  The girl looked puzzled, but she stood and Delaine drew her aside. Timpson glared at him.

  “My messages,” Alexis finally managed to say, staring at Timpson.

  “What?”

  “My messages. All of them? How could you?”

  Timpson looked confused, then he threw his head back and laughed. “I’d forgotten about that! What? Did the Frogs tell you, I su
ppose?”

  Alexis stepped closer to him.

  “Have you still been writing to them, Carew? It’ll make a nice bit of reading for them, if they ever go through. Especially that Philip fellow.”

  Ledyard piped up, making his shrill voice even higher. “‘Oh, Philip, I miss you so much. You are my only friend and the boys here are ever so mean to me.’”

  The four laughed again.

  Alexis struck out, her open palm connected with Timpson’s cheek in a resounding crack that echoed through the cafe. Timpson’s head rocked to the side and the laughter stopped.

  “Damn you!” he yelled. “You can’t—”

  Crack.

  “You are filth,” she said coldly into the silent cafe. Everything the four had done overcoming her. Her isolation, their snide remarks, stealing her stores, their cruelty to the men, it all overwhelmed her. “Thieves and bullies, the lot of you!”

  Timpson stood and glared at her. “Damn you, Carew! If you were a man—”

  Alexis shoved him in the chest with both hands. “What would you do? Call me out?” She shoved him again and he staggered back, toppling his chair. “Do it!”

  “Can’t and you well know it!”

  “Why? Because we’re officers?” Rage filled her and, though she hadn’t known what she wanted when she started into town, she was certain now that she wanted to kill Timpson. She wanted him to challenge her, despite the Navy’s ban on dueling, and she wanted to see him fall.

  Not for what he’d done to her, that had been cruel, but at least she’d known she wasn’t receiving her messages. No, what burned in her was the knowledge of her grandfather’s worry and what Philip and the others must have thought. Still thought. Receiving no answer at all, though they’d known she must have received theirs.

  “Look around you, Timpson,” she said. “We’re not aboard ship — we’re captured. Do you think the Hanoverse will care? Us dueling would be great sport for them!” She shoved him again. If he wouldn’t call her out, then at least he could fight back. “Fight me, damn your eyes!”

  “The Navy—”

  “Will give not a fig that one less midshipman comes back after the war!”

  She stepped back from him and looked around the cafe. The town residents had all stood and moved away from the table of midshipmen, staring on in fascination. All but the girls who’d been sitting with them. The two with Bushby and Canion were still on their laps, frozen and staring at Alexis along with everyone else. Delaine was whispering into the third girl’s ear and she was staring at Timpson, her eyes narrowed and her mouth set in a firm line.

  Alexis looked back to Timpson. “I name you a thief and a coward, Penn Timpson. What will you do about it?” She waited as Timpson straightened his jacket and looked away from her, jaw clenched but saying nothing. “I thought as much.” She spat at his feet, turned, and left the cafe.

  She was a hundred meters from the cafe when Delaine caught up with her. She gripped her hands together to stop them shaking, shocked at how viscerally disappointed she was that Timpson had not, in fact, called her out.

  The rage she’d been feeling in the cafe was very like what she’d felt when she’d shot Horsfall. Then, and after, she’d told herself that it was necessary, that it was the only way to ensure the cooperation of the other pirates. Now, though, she had to admit that a part of her had looked at the harm he’d done to her crew and was glad for the excuse to kill him. The same part that had just tried to goad Timpson into challenging her. She clutched her suddenly roiling stomach and stretched her hand out to the wall of a nearby shop to steady herself. What am I? To do these things?

  “Alexis,” Delaine said, grasping her arm. “Are you unwell?”

  “I’m sorry —”

  “Non, do not.” He turned her to look back at the cafe. “But look, there.”

  Hermione’s midshipmen were in a heated conversation with the three girls. As Alexis watched the three girls spun and strode from the cafe, heads up and hair flipping behind them. Canion called something after them, but the girl Delaine had spoken to threw her hand up in a universal gesture of contempt.

  “What did you say to her?” Alexis asked.

  “I gave her no words but your own — and my oath that they were true.” Delaine smiled. “These aspirants, they will be quite lonely in Courboin now, I think.”

  Alexis smiled. That was probably a much more fitting punishment for them than what she’d attempted. What would she have done if Timpson had challenged her?

  “You frightened me, Alexis.”

  Alexis’ heart froze. Had Delaine seen that darkness rising up in her and been put off? Would she lose him too?

  “If he had challenged you … I could not bear to see you harmed.”

  Alexis laughed, the sound a little shrill to her ears. Was that what he was frightened of? She’d trained with the marines aboard Merlin and Hermione for almost a year. Though she was nowhere near as skilled as they, the other midshipman barely bothered themselves to practice the minimum required.

  “No fear there, Delaine,” she said. “If ever I step onto the field with the likes of Penn Timpson, it won’t be me left lying on the grass.”

  He took her hand and placed it on his arm to escort her back to the prison. “There is steel in you, ma chatte.”

  There’s something in me … I only wish I knew what.

  Alexis closed her eyes and settled back against Delaine. They were sitting beneath a tree on a hillside some distance outside of town. In the far distance, she could hear the massive harvesters working the export fields. Nearer, the voices of those from the farms and town working their own fields by hand. The sun was very warm, but the shade of the tree and the occasional breeze made a pleasant contrast, and that breeze brought the scent of cut grain along with the workers’ voices. For a moment, she could almost believe that she was home on Dalthus, the sounds and smells of harvest time were so familiar.

  She reached for the remainders of the picnic lunch Delaine had brought for them and found the grapes, taking one and holding it over her shoulder for him. The feel of his lips on her fingertips made her shiver and flush. She giggled suddenly and covered her mouth with her hand.

  “What amuses you so, mon lapin?”

  She smiled and put her head back to rest against his chest. “Only that this is not at all what I should have imagined a foreign prison to be like.”

  She’d expected him to laugh, but felt him tense instead and she opened her eyes. The sky was blue and half full of soft, white clouds. The fields were full and prosperous. It was an idyllic sight and a perfect day, but she was suddenly worried. “What is it, Delaine?”

  “I had thought to speak of it much later, but …” He took a deep breath. “I would ask that you make the parole to my commodore, Alexis.”

  Alexis felt a chill run through her. If Delaine was calling her by name instead of his duck or his hen or — What was that last one? His rabbit? No, if her name was all he could come up with then it was a serious thing indeed. “Why? After all this time?”

  “I will be leaving soon. My commodore, she has received orders to meet a fleet of le Hanovre.”

  Alexis’ heart fell. She’d known it would happen someday. He had a ship and the ship would have to sail somewhere at some time. She’d miss him terribly, though. She raised her hand to his cheek. “I’ll be all right with the lads, Delaine. Better there than in town with the others, I suspect.”

  “Non, you do not understand. This fleet will come and le Hanovre will … the officers with the parole, Alexis, they will be allowed to stay, but your men will go. It has happened before elsewhere. Not always, but … I would not take this chance with you.”

  She sat up and turned to face him. “Go? Where will they be taken?”

  “Deeper into Hanovre. The war is hard and there are few to do the work. I have heard it is … difficult in these places.”

  A chill went through her. “You mean some kind of work camp? They can’t do that!” I
t was expressly against the laws of war to force captured spacers to work for the enemy.

  “Le Hanovre, I do not think they care.”

  “You have to stop them!”

  “Alexis, I will not be here. My commodore will not be here. We are to sail — all of our ships, all of our men — to meet this fleet and le Hanovre amiral, the admiral. Where he will send us, I do not know.” He lowered one hand to the grass and caressed it, seemingly unaware of the gesture. “Le Hanovre, with the war, I think they no longer trust us beneath stars that were once Français.”

  “Sail to meet them? All of you?” she asked, not understanding. “Even the guards?”

  Delaine nodded. “I do not think this admiral knows of your men yet, or he would not have ordered it so.” He shrugged. “But the orders are clear and my commodore, she must obey. All ships of the fleet, all men of the fleet, will sail and meet this admiral. Men from the town will guard you from tonight, until the admiral arrives.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Oui.” He looked down. “I am sorry. The orders, they only came this morning. As it is, I take time from my own ship, my Bélier, to see you once more.”

  Alexis raised her hands to her mouth, trying to take in these changes. He was leaving so soon and what would this new admiral really do with her and her lads?

  “You see, Alexis, yes? You must give the parole now, before —”

  She pressed her fingers to his lips, silencing him. “No, Delaine. Non.” She smiled. “You must go with your ship and I must stay with my lads. We can do no other.” She leaned forward to kiss him, sorrow at being parted from him warring with excitement at an idea that was just forming.

  Nineteen

  “Remember what I told you,” Alexis whispered to Lain and Moberly.

  “Aye, sir,” Moberly said. “We’ll take care.”

  “See that you do. They’re simply men from the town, set to a task they never asked for. I don’t want them injured if it can be avoided.”