Courtemanche shook his head. “Non, this is Amiral d'Honneur Reinier’s home.”
Alexis looked from the building, amazed that such a thing belonged to one man, to the tube which led to its front steps. “He has his own tube station?”
Courtemanche shrugged. “Amiral d'Honneur Reinier is much admired.”
Eades leaned forward in his seat. “Admiral Reinier’s fleet took a great many prizes in the last war.”
They were met at the door by the same woman who’d attended Admiral Reinier at the reception. Alexis realized that she and the admiral must have left the reception before them.
“Ah, Marguerite!” Courtemanche called, rushing to embrace her.
Alexis winced in sympathy. Courtemanche’s odor had not improved since they’d left Shrewsbury and it was only a bit less unbearable in the more open spaces to be found planetside, but the woman gave no sign that she noticed.
“Monsieur Courtemanche! Il a été trop longtemps,” the woman said in return. She turned to Alexis and Eades as Courtemanche stepped back to introduce them. “Yes, the guests mon grand-père he has said will come.” She smiled at them. “Come, I will speak to you within the English, yes? I have the needs of practice.”
Eades stepped forward and took her hand, raising it to his lips. “Your English is exquisite, Mademoiselle Reinier.”
Is he flirting with her? He’s twice her age if a day.
“Non … no, you are kind, monsieur, but I be … am to be, ah, the diplomat one day. I must learn the languages.” She gestured them inside. “Come, please, mon grand-père is awaiting you.”
She led them down a long hallway to a wing of the house that overlooked the lake and into a large room with floor-to-ceiling windows. The view of the lake and mountains beyond was spectacular, but the room was cold and Alexis shivered as they entered.
“Pardon, Mademoiselle Carew,” Marguerite said. “Mon grand-père, he wishes it always to be as Autumn and to sit by the fire.”
Indeed, at the far end of the room there was a large fireplace with a roaring fire and a number of deep, leather chairs arranged around it.
“Marguerite, something to drink for our guests, s'il vous plaît,” Admiral Reinier said once they were all settled into seats by the fire.
Alexis did have to admit that the contrast between the cold room and the warmth of the fire was pleasant. She supposed that if one liked these conditions and was of a certain age, it might not be wise to wait until they occurred naturally. She took another look at Reinier. If the last fleur de lys had been awarded over seventy years ago, then Reinier must be over a hundred years old, even if he were the last recipient, which she didn’t know he was.
“So!” Reinier said when they’d all been served a glass of wine. Marguerite stationed herself beside his chair instead of sitting, as though readying herself for his next request. “You have been to La Baie Marche, Lieutenant Carew? How does it go with those who have been so long apart from us?”
Alexis licked her lips, suddenly nervous. She hadn’t expected to be the first one asked to speak. Surely Eades or Courtemanche should take the lead in this. But she saw that everyone was looking at her expectantly.
“I spent some two months on Giron, sir,” she said finally, “and that only in one village, but what I saw of it has convinced me that the people do not think well of Hanover.”
She paused as she saw why Marguerite had remained near him. His hands were too gnarled to grasp a wine glass, so instead she set a small straw in it and raised it to his lips. Alexis flushed as he met her gaze and she realized she’d been rudely staring.
“I think that you were well to have been taken by a fleet of La Baie Marche, Lieutenant Carew,” Reinier said. He held up his hands. “I have le Hanovre to thank for these — a gift from my own time with them long ago. The damage was not so much in my youth, but has become worse with age.” He barked laughter and smiled. “Like so much does, oui? The doctors, they say to replace them, but —” He shrugged. “— I am an old man and soon I will go to my rest. I would like it to be as whole as I may be.”
“Shush, pépère,” Marguerite said, patting his shoulder.
“She thinks I will live forever.” He gestured for Alexis to continue.
“The fleet there, Commodore Balestra’s fleet, is made up almost exclusively of men from the Berry worlds — I didn’t hear a word of German spoken by them the entire time I was there, only French.”
She went on for some time, telling Reinier everything she could remember and answering his questions. She had the most trouble talking about Delaine and what she’d learned from him — she found it difficult to keep her feelings for him out of her voice, especially when she told of him giving her the lieutenant’s insignia she wore, but thought she managed it fairly well. Finally Reinier sat back and frowned.
“And so,” he said, this time to Eades and Courtemanche, “you wish la République to join in this war, to convince this Balestra and her fleet to join in this war, for La Baie Marche to make la révolution?”
“My thoughts are known,” Courtemanche said. “Le Hanovre has held our people too long.”
“New London stands ready to assist,” Eades said. “A fleet is being gathered as we speak. We have troops and transports made ready, as well.”
Reinier nodded. “To do this thing, it would be good to have Deutschsterne act with us. To force le Hanovre into guarding another border.”
“The Deutschsterne are worthless, grand-père,” Marguerite said. “They have not fought le Hanovre for three wars now. They simply move a ship or two about at most.”
“There are few worlds of Deutschsterne that do not bear craters, Marguerite,” Reinier said. “They have cause to fear. And each ship or two must be matched, oui? A ship watching Deutschsterne is a ship not in La Baie Marche.”
He frowned and eased himself in his chair.
“La République has known peace for too long,” he said. “The senate is large and there are worlds far from le Hanovre who will not wish to fight. They have no dog to the hunt, as you say, oui?” He gestured and Marguerite held the glass for him to sip again. “For them it must be made a personal affair, one of honor, you understand? Else we must deal with them as lâches dégénérés … degenerate cowards.”
The three men — Eades, Courtemanche, and Reinier — spoke for a time about whom to approach. Reinier seemed to think little of most of the names Courtemanche mentioned, punctuating his opinions with, to Alexis, shocking commentaries on the individual’s honor or personal habits.
“Non,” Reinier said at last. “If these are the sort you have approached, it is no wonder.”
He pursed his lips and thought for a long time, then looked at Alexis.
“This Theibaud —” He raised a hand to his own collar where his rank insignia was. “The one who gives you le Fleur. Your young man, oui?”
Reinier grinned and Alexis flushed as she realized she obviously hadn’t kept her feelings for Delaine out of her voice.
“I did want to thank you, sir,” she said. She raised her own hand to her insignia. “For coming to my aid over these.”
The admiral waved a hand. “No family with those would give them lightly. Or where undeserved.”
Alexis flushed again.
“There are Theibauds in La République still who are known to many and we will speak with them,” Reinier went on. “Balestra … hmm … I knew a Balestra in … un moment s’il vous plaît.” He frowned. “Oui. Ah, Marguerite, will you bring my journals — ah, Lieutenant quatre, peut-être cinq. Capitaine neuf.”
Marguerite nodded and started to leave.
“Mademoiselle Carew?” she asked. “Would you assist me in this?”
“Lieutenant, Marguerite,” Reinier chided her.
Marguerite ducked her head in apology to Alexis, who followed her from the room.
Eighteen
“Pardon,” Marguerite said as she closed the door and led Alexis down the hallway.
“I
t’s quite all right.”
“Non, mon grand-père, he is correct. Just as I must learn to speech … speak your English, I must pay more care to … ah, le rang, rank and position?”
Alexis nodded.
“Merci.” Marguerite smiled. “These things will be important to me.”
“So you intend to become a diplomat?” Alexis asked.
“Oui. My father is the consul on Cannich, a New London world near the border. I grew up with maman here, but think I will follow his path, yes?” She glanced back the way they’d come. “But that is for tomorrows. For todays I work with mon grand-père on his … the book of memories?”
“Memoirs?”
Marguerite frowned. “This is our word mémoir, but in the English?”
“The same.”
Marguerite grinned. “Hmph. You steal our word?”
“A great many of them, if I’m not mistaken. We’re rather good at that.”
Alexis followed Marguerite to another room and stopped in the doorway, staring.
“Oui,” Marguerite said, smiling. “Such is the reaction of many.”
The room was not large, perhaps four meters on a side, but its walls were lined with shelves and those shelves were filled with books. Real, physical books.
“Mon grand-père’s writings,” Marguerite said. “His … journals?”
Alexis nodded that she understood. “What are those?” she asked, noting several bare shelves.
“Ah, those are the times his ship is lost. At times I ask him for stories of those days and record what he says to me.” Marguerite looked around the room. “There is so much of his life here.” She perused the shelves. “Grand-père’s memory, mademoiselle.” She shrugged. “He does not think in our years, only in his rank. And so I must find his journals from four and five years of a lieutenant and his nine year … non, ninth, oui? His ninth year of a capitaine.”
Alexis stared at the shelves in awe, both at the dedication it must have taken to write so many words by hand, and the devotion the old man must feel to his service to mark time in such a way.
“As,” she said, taking Marguerite at her word. “‘As a captain’, not ‘of’.”
Marguerite smiled. “Merci.”
She pulled an antigrav tray from a corner of the room and began loading volumes on it.
“Those, there,” Marguerite said, pointing to the far side of the room where the journals were behind clear, locking fronts. “From his time of … as —” She smiled. “— amiral and amiral de la flotte, they are secret. But I think better they should make secret those of him as the aspirant et lieutenant, before he learned to watch his words, oui?” She gestured to the other side of the room. “As amiral one must, even in his journal … um, to see the hidden words?”
Alexis grinned. “Read between the lines, do you mean?”
Marguerite grinned back. “Oui. ‘Atween the lines’, I like this. For his amiral journals one must read ‘atween the lines to see his thoughts. As lieutenant he simply write, ‘this man is the connard’.”
“His discretion improved with age, then? You’ll pardon me, but he seemed outspoken enough just now.”
Marguerite nodded. “Oui, with rank, more discretion … until now.” She grinned. “Now he is retired, he simply tell the man to his face.”
Alexis laughed.
They made their way back to the others and Alexis found herself with little to do.
Reinier asked Marguerite to review the journals for mention of the Balestra he remembered serving with, and then to search the Republic’s naval records to determine if that family might be related to a commodore in the Berry Worlds. Eades and Courtemanche continued to speak with Reinier about how to proceed. Who to speak to and in what order, whether they should attempt to bring Deutschsterne into the plan, and what preparations New London was making already.
Alexis thought to help Marguerite with the journals, but they were not only in French, but in an unsteady hand. She wondered why, with the damage to his hands, Reinier had insisted on handwriting them.
With little to do and no questions directed at her, Alexis settled back in her chair and perused her tablet. She’d set herself a course of study after her meetings with Eades aboard Shrewsbury, determined to learn as much of New London’s history as she could, and not be caught out by him again. To that she’d added naval tactics and strategies, especially around attacking and defending fortified systems from darkspace. The sight of the French fortifications and the massive ships in-system had piqued her curiosity.
The talk, and her studying, went on until late into the night. As their journey via the tube had raced from night into daylight, Alexis found herself nodding off over her tablet. Eventually Eades was shaking her awake for their trip back to the city, something Alexis would have much rather slept through the trip in its entirety.
It seemed as though she’d only just returned to her rooms and laid her head down before Isom was at her side to tell her that Eades and Courtemanche were waiting for her.
If her first eight weeks on Nouvelle Paris had been frustrating, the days that followed were equally exhausting. It seemed as though every bureaucrat in the city could simply not hear enough of their plans and excitedly led them to some superior who simply must, of course, hear the whole thing from the beginning — including all Alexis could remember of her time on Giron in the Berry March.
She thought things were going well. At least they seemed to be meeting with those who had more interest and more power to make decisions, though she still had no real idea of what those decisions were. Once she’d told her story and answered any questions to their satisfaction, she was usually sent off to her rooms while Eades and Courtemanche continued the discussion — only to be trotted out again for the next meeting.
It came as quite a surprise, then, when Eades announced that they’d be returning to Shrewsbury the next morning.
“Has anything been settled then?” Alexis asked.
“Of course. We’ve just been working out the details.”
“So they’ll really do it? The French will join us in the war?”
“A fleet is assembling as we speak to harass the Hanoverese along the border,” Eades said, “and there are transports full of uniforms and weapons, along with a French admiral and field marshal, preparing to sail for Alchiba and join with our troops there.”
“Uniforms and weapons?”
“To equip those of the Berry March who rise up and join us.”
“So it’s done then.” Alexis took a deep breath and closed her eyes in relief. “It shall be very refreshing to return to Shrewsbury as nothing more than an ordinary lieutenant, Mister Eades, I must tell you.” She offered him a small smile. Frustrating as it had been, she supposed it was worth it now that it was over. “I cannot say I envy you this business of yours.”
“You’ll not miss our dinners together, Miss Carew?”
“I will certainly not miss those French dishes. Though I will say that your influence has set me to studying history more than I ever thought I would.” She supposed she could allow him that victory at least.
“I suppose you’ll have a bit of time for that on the way to Wellice.”
“Wellice?”
“Our next stop,” Eades said. “I’ll have to notify Captain Euell that we’ll be stopping there on our way to Alchiba to drop you off.”
Alexis felt a chill. “Drop me off?”
Eades gave her an odd look. “For your transport into Hanover to communicate with Commodore Balestra. Surely you haven’t forgotten that?”
The chill intensified. “Into Hanover? Me?”
“The third leg of our strike against Hanover, Carew.” Eades’ eyes were intense. “The Berry Worlds revolting with a New London army on the ground, the French coming in alongside us in the war with their fleet harrying the Hanoverese border, and Commodore Balestra’s fleet — a Hanoverese fleet — in revolt as well and joining us in the Berry March. The Hanoverese will not know where to t
urn next — other worlds they’ve taken may rise up as well. It will be the beginning of the end for them.”
“But —” Alexis paused. Eades seemed so certain, so sure of himself and his plan, but she couldn’t share his certainty. Hanover controlled hundreds of systems. Surely their control over them wasn’t so fragile that these few worlds would spell doom. Or, perhaps, the Hanoverese control over those systems was more fragile than Alexis suspected. Eades, after all, did seem quite certain.
The full import of Eades’ words struck her.
“Mister Eades,” she began carefully, “when you say I’m to go into Hanover and that Shrewsbury is to ‘drop me off’ … how then am I to go about it?”
It would be one thing to sail into Hanover as part of an invading New London fleet, or even on Shrewsbury alone, with the might of 74 guns to back her up, but Eades seemed to be saying that Shrewsbury would not be making that trip.
Eades waved his hand dismissively.
“I’ve just the man for getting you in to speak to Balestra, never fear. You’ll sail with him, find Balestra, and pass along our messages.” Eades smiled and patted her on the shoulder. “Nothing to it, and your Shrewsbury will be waiting for you at Alchiba when you return.”
Nineteen
Alexis unhooked her vacsuit from the air and water lines in the sail locker, then checked Lieutenant Hollingshed’s suit valves before turning her back to him so that he could check hers in turn. The two of them, along with the twelve or so spacers in the locker, were the last of the crew to replenish their vacsuits before heading back Outside.
Once all of the crew’s vacsuits were checked, Hollingshed slid open the hatchway and they made their way onto the ship’s hull. Alexis ran an eye over the set of the sails.
Shrewsbury was on the starboard tack, possibly for the last time before reaching the more variable winds outside the influence of the Nouvelle Paris system. The sails were aligned well, full and bright with the azure glow of the particle charge that allowed them to harness the darkspace winds, but she thought she could detect the first bits of a shudder that indicated the winds were not so steadily blowing toward the system’s center as they had been.
Alexis Carew: Books 1, 2, and 3 Page 68
