Ma Digger—Amelia thought it was sweet to see a family business like this—read the cargo manifest and compared it to her own sheet. After a moment she handed the manifest to her son and instructed him to begin counting the crates that Swift was efficiently off-loading.
“Are you looking for cash payment, Captain, or a trade for new cargo?”
“I’ll have a look at what you have to offer,” Blackwood replied. “We’re heading back to Farmer’s Paradise.”
The week-long sail had been quiet, but Amelia knew that the pirates who had hit Lightning Louise were still in the area and that the captain and XO were counting on their return voyage to Windfall being considerably more eventful.
“When are you planning to depart?” Digger had opened the wheeled box and was already selecting certain cargo lists.
“As soon as possible, Ms. Digger.”
“Henry, help this crew unload.”
Blackwood nodded to Amelia to go as well. Amelia smiled at the young man again and walked with him back toward the crates.
“Do you do a lot of trade these days?” she asked.
“It depends on the days,” Henry said with a shrug. “The last three shipments we was expecting never made it.”
Swift arrived with the loader and lowered the crates to the deck. Amelia grabbed one side of the first crate and Henry took the other. Together they heaved it over to the pile already on the jetty.
“I hear there are pirates in this region of space,” she said as she and Henry grabbed the next crate.
“Either that,” he said, “or nobody wants to come to little ol’ Silica 7.”
“Why wouldn’t they?”
“They says there are spies on this station. For the Emperor, and for the other races.” He lifted the next crate by himself, scoffing at his own words. “But I ain’t never seen anybody I don’t know since I was a boy.”
“Are there Theropods living here?”
“Sure, a bunch of families, but they don’t cause no trouble.”
“Any Sectoids?”
He paused at that, staring at her.
“We’re a clean, honest station, ma’am,” he said slowly. His young face displayed a mix of pride and challenge. The sincerity of his expression warmed her.
“I hear there’s a bug ship in the region, but it don’t ever come here,” he added. “Folks say that those bugs ain’t even really alive—they just keep coming no matter how many pieces of ’em you hack off. Word is they kill anybody they find and feed ’em to their larvas.”
“We’ve sure steered clear of it,” she said with a smile, noting that the rumors of Sectoid incursions had clearly reached the civilian population.
“But if they came here, they’d have to deal with the Diggers!” He struck a muscular pose, but his absurd expression and goofy smile robbed the gesture of any seriousness. She couldn’t help but laugh.
“Amelia!” Blackwood suddenly called. “Come here, please.”
She nodded good-bye to her new friend and jogged over. “Yes, milord?”
“Have a look at these.” He thrust the cargo papers at her. “What do you think would be suitable for our return to Windfall? I’d like to do a fair exchange for our off-loaded cargo.”
She started reading the files, scanning the various cargoes on offer. She knew they’d spent just over six thousand crowns on Long’s shipment, but knew also that it was worth quite a bit more. In trade she reckoned they could acquire at least ten-thousand-worth of new cargo, and she scanned the lists to assess which of Digger’s offerings were good value.
As she did, Swift pushed the last of the crates out of Daring and then guided the lifter back into the cargo hold. Moments later the cargo doors began to rumble shut. Swift darted through the gap and started unlocking the crates for Henry’s inspection. In a very few minutes the lad strode back and nodded to his mother.
“Everything accounted for and in good condition.”
“Of course it is,” Blackwood said haughtily, playing up his role as the fallen nobleman. “I am an honorable businessman.”
“No doubt, Captain,” Ma Digger replied. “But with the increasing pirate attacks we never know what condition a cargo may arrive in.”
“I’d like to see those blaggards try and catch my ship.”
The Diggers exchanged a glance but made no reply.
“I think, milord,” Amelia said as she arranged the sheets of paper, “that these three cargoes would be a fair exchange for what we’ve delivered.”
Blackwood examined her choices. She estimated their combined value at fifteen thousand crowns, but figured there was room for negotiation. At his nod, she indicated her choices to Digger. The merchant shook her head.
“I might give you two of them for your cargo, and even then I’d need a small cash payment to balance the exchange.”
Blackwood looked at her expectantly. Amelia suppressed her grin, eager for the thrill of negotiation.
“Perhaps you don’t understand the value of what we’ve delivered,” she said cheerfully. “These fine silks can be very hard to secure anywhere in the Halo these days, and their market price has risen considerably. And I challenge you to find another merchant with pottery this durable. Such things carry great value.”
“Not so much as to be worth three of my cargoes.”
Amelia made a show of looking over the cargo lists again. Then she launched into a rapid-fire explanation of the relative merit of several cargoes, using her years of experience as a Navy storesman to bombard them with a flurry of prices, disasters on this planet or that, the fortunes of different companies, and, of course, the pirate threat. Ma Digger listened and interjected a few times, her face severe and her expression focused. But Amelia had a basket of ready answers, never letting her pleasant expression falter.
“Ms. Digger,” Blackwood suddenly interjected, sidling past Amelia and placing a hand on Ma Digger’s arm. “You’re clearly as intelligent as you are beautiful, and we would like to deal fairly. But surely you realize how much I risk, taking my fine vessel through this pirate-infested sector to keep your livelihood going.”
Ma Digger’s gaze shifted to Blackwood, and Amelia saw a distinct softening in her posture. He gazed down at her with an open, earnest expression.
“Captain,” she replied, “your efforts are much appreciated, by all of us. But I have to make a living as well.”
“Of course. I want us all to do well out of this. And hopefully”—his rugged features split into a winning smile—“this is just the beginning of our relationship.”
She considered, scanning the cargo lists again.
“Perhaps these two cargoes,” she said finally, “plus fifteen hundred crowns.”
“Would your son be able to show Amelia these cargoes for inspection?”
“Of course.”
At her gesture, Henry started toward one of the lockups, motioning for Amelia to follow him.
She hurried to catch up to him, leaving Blackwood to work his charms.
Liam held Ms. Digger’s gaze as he lifted her hand to his lips.
“An excellent deal, madam. I look forward to a long and prosperous relationship with you.”
The woman was seasoned and hard, he could tell, but obviously hadn’t been flattered in a long time. Kind words and a few compliments could disarm even the most jaded professional, if delivered correctly. And a courtly kiss of her hand . . . That had caught her pleasantly by surprise.
“I look forward to that as well, Captain Stonebridge,” she replied. “When next you return to this station, do try and schedule a longer visit.”
“With certainty, madam.”
He released her hand and motioned for Virtue to join him as he started walking back toward the ship. The quartermaster’s eyes sparkled with good humor as she jogged up to him.
“Did you invite her to a grand ball, milord?”
“No, but perhaps I made her feel like a lady for a few moments.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “Negoti
ations are best when everyone leaves happy.”
He handed her the manifest sheets for the cargoes they’d purchased and outlined the deal.
“I’ll remain here on the jetty,” she offered, “until we’ve sorted a time for loading.”
“Very good.” He paused, and Virtue stuttered to a halt next to him. He looked down at her, appreciating anew how her brown eyes glowed from under their fringe of dark lashes. She stared back, her good humor shifting slowly to curiosity.
“Yes, sir?” she finally asked.
“Fine work, Amelia. It was no doubt your avalanche of information that convinced Digger she was getting a good deal. I just gave her the final nudge she needed.”
“It’s why I’m here,” she said with a modest shrug. But a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips all the same. She gave him a nod and left him at the door to the extended gangway.
Liam stepped through and back into Daring, nodding to Able Rating Hedge, who stood guard inside and out of view.
With his eyes diverted he nearly bumped into Commander Riverton as she strode toward the airlock. She was in civilian clothes, her hair tied back in a neat braid.
“Ma’am.” He pulled himself to a halt.
She paused, then politely indicated for him to get out of the way.
“We have civilians on the dock, ma’am,” he said. “This might not be the best time to step ashore.”
“I’m heading onto the station. I won’t be more than an hour.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied automatically, then he processed her words. “What?”
“Do I really need to repeat myself?” Her expression hardened.
“No, ma’am, but . . . I thought we had an agreement that only my ashore team would be visible to outsiders.”
“I have Chief Sky with me,” she said, indicating where Sky was standing a pace behind, staring off with apparent disinterest.
Liam’s mind raced. This was not what they’d agreed to. But she was the captain of this vessel. If she wanted to leave the ship, he could hardly stop her. “Shall I accompany you as well, ma’am?”
“No, thank you. You need to ensure our merchant activities are conducted properly—”
“Virtue can do that.”
“And, I require at least one command-qualified officer on board at all times.” Her eyes narrowed in sudden anger. “Get out of my way, Subcommander Blackwood, and don’t interrupt me again.”
Liam shuffled to the side in the cramped airlock, bumping against Hedge, who was doing her best to be both silent and invisible amid the clash of senior-officer wills.
“May I inquire as to the captain’s business ashore?” Liam persisted.
She stepped past him without another word. Sky avoided eye contact as she slipped by and joined Riverton on the dock. Liam watched as they strolled without apparent concern past the pile of crates and past where Virtue was still discussing details with the Diggers. Swift made no movement as he tracked the captain, and Virtue thankfully didn’t notice with her head buried in the paperwork.
Riverton and Sky walked all the way to the end of the dock, where they disappeared into Silica 7 station.
Realizing he hadn’t moved from his perch in the airlock, Liam stepped back into Daring’s interior. “No one goes ashore,” he snapped at Hedge.
“Yes, sir,” she whispered.
It was unfair, he knew, taking out his frustration on a sailor. But he also knew that young Hedge was going to report this juicy incident to her messmates as soon as she could. Nothing fueled gossip on board a warship more than a perceived rift between captain and executive officer.
He wandered up a deck and found himself pushing open the door to the senior mess. The smell of fresh-brewed coffee lifted his mood immediately and he motioned for the steward to bring him a cup.
Ava Templegrey and James Highcastle were both lounging at the table, uniform coats draped over their chairs and empty cups in front of them. The bags under Highcastle’s eyes were heavy and he leaned forward on his elbows. She, on the other hand, glanced up at Liam with an easy warmth.
“Sir, how nice to see you,” she said. “With the watch rotation while under sail I find I can go days without seeing another officer for more than a bridge turnover.”
“Well, you look none the worse for wear, Doctor,” Liam said as he sat down at the head of the table. “It seems shipboard life suits you.”
The steward presented a coffee to Liam and refilled the other officers’ cups before retreating.
“Oh, it’s a fine enough life,” she said, stretching lazily. “And our noble duty, this service to the Emperor.”
“But . . . ?”
She laughed, spreading her hands in a courtly gesture of innocence.
“You always think there’s a ‘but’—can a lady not just state a simple truth?”
Various tidbits of inconsequential noble gossip occupied their casual conversation for a few minutes as Liam sipped at his coffee and felt his mood lighten further. Highcastle roused himself from his stupor and joined in, a surprisingly biting wit peppering his remarks. The lad was many things, Liam thought, but stupid was not one of them. Maybe there was hope yet to turn him into something more effective than his peacock of a cousin.
The door opened and Virtue stepped in. Her face lit up as she spotted Liam and she began talking even as she helped herself to a coffee on the side table. “Sir, everything’s arranged. My new friend Henry will have our cargo ready for loading in fifteen minutes.”
“A new friend?” Templegrey asked interestedly. “Tell us about this Henry.”
Virtue launched into a highly entertaining recounting of their encounter, her accent shifting beautifully as she quoted young Henry’s defense of his station’s honor. Her enthusiasm was infectious. Liam found himself laughing and Templegrey had turned fully in her seat to face Virtue by the end.
“So what happened?” she asked. “Does he want to marry you now?”
“I think the talk is going to be whether Lord Blackwood is marrying his mother.”
Templegrey spun in her seat. “Oho? Do tell, sir?”
“My good quartermaster exaggerates.” He gave a dismissive wave of the hand. “I simply followed Amelia’s lead in being lovely.”
“You being lovely?” Templegrey said in mock astonishment, turning to Virtue and wrapping an affectionate arm around her. “I can’t see that at all.”
“So we made a good trade,” Highcastle muttered. “We’re well on our way to becoming common merchants. Huzzah.”
“It’s all part of our cover,” Virtue replied.
“We should be taking those pirates down,” Highcastle retorted. “And getting some prize money instead of haggling over pennies.”
“And we will, Mr. Highcastle,” Liam said, irritated at the sudden dampening of the mood. “When the time is right.”
“We had a fix on them,” Highcastle said with sudden frustration. “We knew where they were headed, but instead we came to this pathetic little station to sell our trinkets.”
“We still know where they are—and more importantly we know where they’re going.”
Highcastle frowned uncertainly.
“A ship that size can’t stay out in deep space for long,” Liam added. “They need to replenish, and we know the trajectory of the only natural source of water in this corner of the sector.”
“Is that the comet nucleus you were all talking about?” Virtue asked. “What you found on that small-objects chart?”
“Exactly,” Liam replied. “Space is full of random bodies like that which wander between systems. There are too many variables to track them long term, so we make new charts to record and report them every so often. Another few months and this chunk might not even be in Silica anymore. Or it might loop around for another orbit—we just don’t know.”
“But how do you know the pirates will go there?”
“We tracked the pirate ship for more than a week after the attack on Lightning Louise,�
�� he said. “We knew she was heading in this general direction, but that there were no inhabited worlds or stations on her path. As I said, a ship that size needs to replenish, and the only nearby small object with enough useful water is the comet you mentioned—so that gave us an area to search more closely. Three days ago, we intercepted a series of badly coded transmissions which gave us a lock on the pirate ship.”
“They’re definitely headed for that comet,” Templegrey added, “and they’ll be there within two days.”
“So we had time,” Liam concluded, “to complete our scheduled run and start building our reputation as an honest, completely ordinary merchant vessel.”
“Just don’t be too adorable to the locals,” Templegrey said to Virtue with a wink, “or else we’ll have them all lining up to vie for your custom whenever we pull into port.”
“I’ll try and restrain myself,” Virtue said dryly.
“It’s all well and good to charm the common folk,” Highcastle said with a sudden predatory gleam. “Let’s see how adorable you are when we’re hand to hand with pirates.”
Virtue blinked, clearly uncertain how he meant the remark to be taken. “I will do my duty,” she said carefully, “when the time comes.”
“Just make sure to keep your pistol in your own hand, not theirs, next time.”
Liam was on his feet, vaguely hearing the clatter of his chair falling backward as he glared down at the cadet.
“James,” Templegrey said with a slight edge to her voice, “that was uncalled for.”
Silence hung around the table. For a moment it seemed Highcastle would simply remain silent, but finally he offered Virtue a nod. “My apologies.”
Templegrey reached out and stroked his hand. “You’re tired, James,” she said. “Standing the middle watch as regularly as you have can be exhausting to anyone.”
“I’m fine.” He sighed.
She leaned forward, resting her chin on her free hand as she stared earnestly at him.
“You’re not, darling. I’m a doctor, remember? I can see the detrimental signs of fatigue. We’re going to be alongside for at least a few hours. Go and get some rest.”
After a painfully long moment, he squeezed her hand and rose. He nodded to Liam, ignored Virtue, and walked heavily from the room.
Winds of Marque Page 12
