She nearly spit out her wine as she fought down the laugh that burst from her lips.
“What?” he asked.
“Sorry,” she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, “that just sounds like something Highcastle would say.” She put on her best imitation of a royal accent. “By Lord Grandview’s balls, that’s a capital idea, eh, Blackwood?”
He failed to swallow down his own guffaw, covering his mouth as he shook. He glanced toward the guards then back at her, eyes alight. She’d never seen a nobleman giggle before, and she grinned as he tried to get himself under control.
“Well played, Amelia,” he finally gasped. “I shall have to tell my father that one.”
She toasted him and took another sip of the wine. He took the decanter and refilled her glass.
“Is your father in the Navy as well?” she asked suddenly.
“No. I think he wished he’d been, but he inherited our family estate quite young and had to take up his lordly duties even before he married.”
“He must have been quite a catch . . . Young, handsome, and already a seated lord.”
Blackwood shrugged. “He apparently wasn’t in a hurry; he was in his thirtieth year before he finally wed my mother.”
“Too many hearts to break, so little time?”
“Perhaps,” he admitted, eyebrow arching, “but in fact a lord’s marriage is as much about politics as anything. No doubt he was busy maneuvering to secure the most advantageous match.”
“He didn’t carry your mother’s favor at the jousts? Win a tournament to win her love?”
“You really don’t know how the nobility live, do you?”
She laughed, tapping her fingers on the hand he rested on the table. “It all just sounds so glamorous to us common folk—we can’t keep all the fairy tales straight.”
“I assure you, my father never jousted.” He pondered for a moment. “I’m not even sure he can ride—I’ve never seen him take anything other than a carriage. But then, I’ve really only known him as an older man.”
He’d said that it was strange for his father to have married as late as thirty, but surely the XO himself was already beyond that age. Must his own wedding bells ring soon?
“And in these noble schemes of marriage,” she asked carefully, “does the family make the decision or the individual?”
A cloud passed over his features, so quick she would have missed it were she not watching him so closely. He shifted in his seat.
“For the firstborn, dynasty is everything. My brother has been paraded around since he could walk as my parents lobbied other noble families. A match that seems to have pleased everyone was made a few years ago, and the happy couple have obligingly produced an heir and a spare to the Blackwood line.”
“And for the secondborn?”
“I have considerably more latitude,” he said with a breezy wave of the hand, “and far less pressure.”
He rose from his chair suddenly, stepping briskly away from the table. Her gaze followed and she saw Mr. Long shuffling over with an elaborate box in his hands. The two men exchanged quiet words, and she watched as Blackwood lifted a gold pendant for inspection. Even from this distance Amelia could see its exquisite workmanship, but she kept her seat and awaited Captain Stonebridge’s command. Blackwood replaced the pendant and looked through a few papers, then nodded decisively to Long. The merchant bowed and retreated.
“A collection of gold and jewelry,” Blackwood said quietly, retaking his seat across from her. “Very rare to see that sort of quality this far out in the Halo, and Mr. Long has an established relationship with a jewelry merchant in the Iron Swarm. It’s a bit out of our way but the perfect sort of high-profile cargo to draw attention.”
“I hope he doesn’t expect us to carry that back to the ship,” she said, scanning the promenade below.
“No, no, he’ll arrange for delivery. I think after that last little scuffle, we’ve established an understanding with dear Mr. Long . . . What?”
Amelia’s gaze had wandered across the crowds and shops below, but now she was staring at a strangely familiar figure.
“Or,” she said slowly, blinking to ensure she was seeing clearly, “we could always ask Chief Sky to escort us.”
“The chief is with the captain,” he said, confused.
“No.” Amelia nodded down to where a powerful female figure stood at the edge of an alleyway. “She’s right there.”
Blackwood turned slowly in his seat, his eyes scanning. Far below, Sky was watching the street but hadn’t yet looked up. She suddenly turned to glance down the alley, then was joined by a tall, willowy figure in a shawl. Together the two started back toward the docks.
“Was that the captain?” Amelia asked.
“It was,” Blackwood murmured, his face furrowed in thought. “How very interesting.”
“What does she do when ashore?”
“Say nothing of this to anyone,” he said sharply. “Not a soul. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
His expression was melting into one of careful unconcern, but he couldn’t quite hide his puzzlement, or his worry.
Chapter 13
The quiet transit back to Windfall had been a welcome relief for the crew, but the lack of activity was starting to wear on them now. As Liam conducted his daily rounds of the ship, he noticed the first signs of carelessness. A piece of equipment not properly secured for storms; a section of cleaning not completed; a pair of sailors caught up in fisticuffs on their mess deck. Nothing to cause concern on its own, but Liam had led ship’s companies for long enough to see the first signs of a slackening of discipline.
The fact that no one had been allowed ashore during their latest, brief stop in Windfall was a source of resentment, he knew. Often an XO would authorize extra rum rations and reduced working hours for those confined to ship during a port visit, but Daring’s stop in Windfall had only been a few hours. There had been no downtime to offer the crew, and extra rum rations would have been a bad idea with the ship putting out into space again so quickly.
Any thoughts of lingering at Windfall had been quashed by Commander Riverton. After her mysterious trip ashore, she’d reported that a squadron of Navy ships was expected at the station within a day. Daring was to clear out and disappear before she was accidentally identified.
And now, four days out, Liam had heard the first of the grumblings. Or, more accurately, he’d heard from the senior sailors about the grumbling. No one would dare cross the executive officer, a fact that most lordly officers appreciated, but one that Liam recognized as a limitation on his ability to do his job.
Cadet Highcastle, however, for all his foppery, seemed to have developed a common touch. Liam often saw the young lordling chatting and laughing with the crew. Highcastle’s own grousing at the senior mess dinner table every evening was Liam’s best glimpse into the minds of his sailors. And while the cadet tended to dress every issue with puffed-up importance, Liam recognized the mood as one primarily soured by boredom. Although the lack of prize money so far was potentially a more serious issue, as common sailors loved to dream about wealth, and so far they’d seen very little of it.
But that was about to change.
Liam descended the ladder to Four Deck and strode down the main passageway, getting used to the weight of his armor again. Usually the quietest deck, this lower level of the ship was currently abuzz with activity. Three sailors wheeled trolleys of ammunition past him, the sweat on their brows revealing that they’d already been loading cannon for some time. They were followed by another trio of sailors carrying powder bags and spare plungers. He saw that one of the internal cargo-bay doors was open and he stopped to poke his head inside.
Virtue was inside, eyes up at the rows of shelving as she counted. Liam watched her for a moment, admiring her lithe form and the way her dark hair framed her face. He couldn’t put his finger on what, precisely, about Virtue fascinated him so, but it was a feeling he could no lo
nger ignore.
She turned suddenly, seeming to feel his gaze. When she saw it was him, she smiled.
“Everything secure?” he asked automatically, embarrassed at being caught staring.
“Our high-value cargo is,” she said, pointing back at the locked safes lining the deck. “Enough gold to outfit a princess, and still give earrings to the entire crew. I just figured I’d check our emergency rations while I was here.”
Liam followed her gaze back to the shelves, where crates of freeze-dried food waited in case the regular stores ever ran out. Liam had eaten enough emergency rations over the years to know how important it was to restock fresh food in each port visit—even one as brief as their last stop in Windfall.
“Don’t take too long,” he said. “I expect you’ll be needing to get your armor on soon.”
“Yes, sir.”
Turning away, he trekked down the side passage that led to the brig. Two armed sailors stood guard as usual, and he briefed them on the importance of maintaining their post no matter what happened in the next few hours.
“I realize it may be frustrating,” he concluded, “having to stand down here and do nothing while there’s action elsewhere. But you are what’s keeping our prisoners where we need them—locked up. The last thing we need is six angry pirates loose inside our ship.”
Having reassured himself that the guards would do their duty, Liam began the climb back up to the bridge. Three Deck was crowded with propulsors as they brought packets of spare sails to propulsion control, ready to hurry up the masts when required. One Deck was rich with the smell of powder as the cannon crews readied their weapons. Daring’s crew was only big enough to man one side at a time, but both port and starboard cannon batteries were loaded and primed.
Liam climbed the last ladder to the bridge. Starlight flooded through the canopy from starboard, illuminating a full crew at their stations. Two sailors manned the propulsion controls, overseen by the coxn. Another two manned the tactical station with Chief Sky looming over them in her deep green armor. Sublieutenant Brown had the watch and Cadet Highcastle stood at her side, looking far less useless for his recent two weeks of having charge. Both were facing aft, telescopes out. One entire side of the sky was lit up by the thousands of stars in the Hub, but even in the glare Liam could easily see the reflecting surfaces of a dozen or more vessels in this shipping lane.
Liam nodded to Brown and approached the command chair. He read Riverton’s displays and then turned to look upon their pursuer.
The ship was similar to the pirate sloop they’d captured, but larger, with a sleek bullet form unencumbered by external cargo pods. All four masts were at full sail on a port tack, their taut sheets glimmering in the light of the Hub. At this range the patterns on the sails were visible, a mishmash of colors and designs obviously cobbled together from a wide variety of sources. Most honest merchants either flew custom-marked sails provided by their wealthy owners or chose a single color and stayed with it. This patchwork of sails alone was enough to mark this approaching vessel as suspicious.
“Still no hails,” Riverton said suddenly. “They’ve just been closing us at full speed for over a day.”
“Is it time to end the charade, ma’am?” Liam asked.
Riverton turned forward in her chair and gestured for Liam to examine her tactical screen.
“I wanted to engage them at a far enough distance from other ships to hide our actions,” she said, “but in lanes this busy that’s proven impossible. By staying on this tack, we’ve opened the distance to the big merchants trundling along, but these two ships”—she indicated a pair of vessels that looked like fast cutters silhouetted against the Hub—“are still within easy visible range.”
Liam nodded. Maintaining their identity as a civilian merchant was of utmost importance. “There will be nothing unusual about cannon fire,” he offered. “We’re just a merchant defending ourselves. When it comes time to board we can maneuver Daring to block the insertion, just in case anyone’s watching.”
“I suppose it’s a risk we have to take,” she said. She shielded her eyes and looked toward the glare of the Hub.
Daring had spotted the Sectoid vessel again on the second day out, but it was at the very edge of detectable range. Its purpose for loitering in this sector for so long remained a mystery, but Liam had his suspicions. The original pirate attack they’d seen on Lightning Louise had used Sectoid acid. His interrogations had revealed that the pirate base wasn’t in a solar system, and despite the protests of that prisoner, Liam had his own suspicions. Was the pirate base in fact the Sectoid ship itself? Was it the dark star?
“If only we still had tracking on the Sectoids,” he muttered. “We could finish this.”
Riverton stiffened, and slowly turned her head to stare at him.
“We will do nothing rash, XO. Is that clear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, surprised at her sudden intensity. She was readying herself for battle, he figured, and wanted no distractions.
“Shots fired from our pursuer!” cried Brown.
Liam spun to look, surprised to see the pirate ship still at full sail, bow aimed at Daring. Whatever they’d fired was no broadside. A second later, movement caught his eye and he glanced upward, watching with surprise as two of the top mast’s sails split. The pirates had lobbed the first salvo now, and he could feel the familiar, prebattle rush of adrenaline course through his veins. Two more sails tore a moment later, and he just caught sight of the chain shot tearing through them.
“They’re trying to slow us,” he said to Riverton.
“Furl all sheets,” she ordered. “Stow the masts!”
At the coxn’s direction the pair of sailors at propulsion control began issuing instructions to Swift and his team below. But it took time to respond, and even as Liam saw the first of the mainsails begin to retract, more chain shot punched holes through the membranes.
“Is the hostile within cannon range?” Riverton barked.
“Not yet,” Brown replied. “But we’re losing speed and she’s gaining fast.”
Liam grabbed a spare telescope from Brown’s station. Tufts of flame every fifteen seconds indicated more shots from the pirate ship’s trio of bow guns. As the sails began to disappear into the lanyards Liam heard the first distant clang of the chain striking one of the masts. Cunning bastards, but they had no idea what was in store for them.
“Recommend we turn to open our starboard cannon,” he said to Riverton. “It’ll also shield the port and bottom masts.”
“Do it,” Riverton said to Brown.
“Coxn,” Liam barked, “prioritize mast stowage as top, starboard, bottom, port.”
“Yes, sir,” Butcher replied.
Liam scanned visually. The last of the sails were still being furled on starboard mast, but a heavy creak through the ship indicated that top mast was unlocked and beginning to lower against the hull. He watched as the thick metal column loomed closer in his view, even as Brown ordered the bridge canopy shielding deployed. The visual world disappeared behind the armor plating, but the thump of the top mast settling against the canopy gave hint to the progress outside.
On the screens of the officer-of-the-watch station, Liam watched the pirate ship come into view as Daring turned with her thrusters. Her main direction of motion through space was now “sideways,” but with no sails to propel her she was free to turn as required for battle.
The huge sails of the pirate ship now came into full effect and she closed the remaining distance swiftly. Too swiftly, in fact. With full sheeting it was going to take several minutes to withdraw her sails and stow her masts, but Daring had no intention of waiting.
“The bastard’s in range!” Highcastle crowed.
“Starboard broadside,” Riverton roared, “fire!”
The deck shook as sixteen cannons unleashed their opening shots as one. On the screens Liam saw the pirate bow shatter with the impact, splinters of hull careening off into space. The
bullet nose held, but the chain guns didn’t fire again.
“Fire at will!” Riverton ordered.
Liam felt the rumble as each cannon on One Deck fired, reloaded, and fired again, as fast as their operators could move. Tufts of dust riddled the pirate ship, hull plates flying off and the last of the sails flapping madly as cannonballs punched through them and their rigging. The pirate ship began to turn, her port mast slowly retracting to free her own guns.
“Full thrusters forward,” Riverton said. “Concentrate fire on their bow.”
Daring surged ahead, trying to stay aligned with the pirate’s bow and avoid her arcs of cannon fire. The bullet hull was already riddled with craters and dents, but Liam could see that most of the damage was superficial. It was going to take a lucky shot or, as Riverton was doing, a continued concentration on one part of the hull to eventually score a breakthrough.
The ships continued their slow dance for some minutes, Daring’s guns blasting away as the pirate vessel desperately tried to turn. Turning a ship was faster than maneuvering one, however, and slowly the pirate ship was able to bring Daring into the arcs of fire of its lead cannon. Gouts of flame burst from the pirate hull and Liam felt the first thuds of impact against the starboard quarter. Another minute and fully half the pirate guns were in line.
“Shift target,” Riverton said. “Hit their gunports.”
The orders were relayed down by the weapons controllers, and within moments the tufts of impact moved from the shattered pirate bow toward the single line of flashing cannons. This was where pitched battles got dangerous. One lucky shot straight through an open gunport could wreak havoc on a ship’s interior.
Liam checked the damage-control console. Daring was at full airtight status, meaning every gun was isolated in its own compartment and the ship itself was honeycombed to minimize air loss. Every spaceship had some degree of airtight capability, but he doubted the converted racer these pirates were driving could match the structural integrity of a Navy warship.
Winds of Marque Page 17
