Winds of Marque

by Bennett R. Coles

  “XO, sir, Assault,” came the voice through the wood.

  Wrong cabinmate—he sighed to himself—climbing off his bunk and throwing on his white uniform shirt. He flicked on the desk lantern and sat back down on his bunk.

  “Come in.”

  Light from the passageway silhouetted Sky’s broad figure as she slipped in and shut the door. She eyed his bedraggled state impassively.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you, sir.”

  “No, not at all,” he said, indicating for her to sit at the desk chair. “I have no doubt this is something important and timely.”

  “Yes, sir.” Sky sat, folding her hands in her lap. Her gaze darted aimlessly around the room for a long moment.

  Liam watched her curiously. He’d never seen his assaulter like this.

  “Chief?”

  “Sir.” She took a deep breath. “You know how you’ve asked me in the past about my shore excursions with the captain. I’ve not betrayed the captain’s confidence by answering you, but I feel that there are some things you should know.”

  “You’ve been very loyal to her,” he said carefully, “and I respect that.”

  “But ultimately I’m loyal to the Emperor, to the Navy, to the ship, and to our mission. And at the moment I find my loyalty to the captain in conflict with that.” Her eyes beseeched him, revealing her internal struggle.

  “You’ve committed no disloyalty, Chief. Right now you and I are just talking. There are no consequences for a chat.”

  “It started three days ago, when I went to sign out our confidential book on Sectoid ships and their capabilities. With that bug ship gaining on us, I wanted to know what we were up against.”

  “I had the same thought yesterday,” he mused. “I guess the captain had too because the book was signed out to her.”

  “Yesterday, and the day before, and the day I first wanted it.” Sky stared at him with new intensity. “And it’s still signed out to her today. I checked and it’s been signed out for ten days.”

  “Since the command brief.”

  “Yes. Two days ago, I sent a request to have the book, but she’s ignored it.”

  And all this time, Liam knew, the Sectoid ship had been on an intercept course. It was close enough to see with the naked eye now, and through a telescope its massive petals of sails were clearly visible, grabbing every gust of solar wind.

  But Liam refused to leap to conclusions.

  “Perhaps she’s forgotten that she has the book,” he offered. “She is very busy, and tired.”

  “That’s just the first thing,” Sky pressed on. “And it got me thinking. You remember that Sectoid-encrypted signal sent from Windfall Station that Brown sniped? I talked to her, and she said it was sent from the station’s upper levels.”

  “That’s right.” Liam nodded, remembering how that fact had lodged in his brain for some reason.

  “The captain and I were in the upper levels.” Sky glanced down for a moment, then met his gaze again. “And at her meeting, the subject of discussion was Sectoids.”

  “Who did she meet with?”

  “I don’t know him, but I gathered from their greetings that they knew each other from the diplomatic corps. He was an older gentleman, quite handsome, very well dressed—I remember he had more lace on his wrists than our dining table.”

  Liam sniffed a laugh, but a sudden memory triggered.

  “Did this gentleman have a gold sash?”

  “There was one laid out across his surcoat,” Sky said after a moment’s recollection. “I noticed them on the dressing table.”

  “Did it have a symbol on it?”

  Sky described the seal of the Imperial diplomatic corps.

  “I think this man was Lord Redfort,” Liam concluded. “One of our senior diplomats.”

  “The captain never introduced me to him. They kept their speech formal in front of me, but they seemed quite familiar with each other.”

  “So, naturally you assumed it was a dalliance with an old lover?”

  “That’s what I assumed, sir. As I did with our first visit on Silica 7. After initial pleasantries at that meeting, the captain started asking about Sectoid movements in the sector. It seemed to me like friendly shoptalk, and when they disappeared into the other room I purposefully tuned out.”

  “Understandable discretion, Chief.”

  Sky bit her lip. “But has it now cost us, sir?”

  Highcastle was openly pacing the bridge now. Flatrock and Hedge both stood to the side of the officer-of-the-watch station; he was stoic, staring straight ahead, but she kept glancing around, unable to keep her hands still. She looked to Amelia often, but Amelia had nothing to offer. This situation was spiraling out of control and she saw no good ending to it. She wanted nothing more than to disappear—but professional duty held her in place. One way or another, she needed to know what was going on. She bumped against one of the rear weapons consoles, unaware that she’d been slowly stepping away from the action.

  After a seeming eternity of silent, tense waiting, Amelia heard the soft thump of the door at the after end of the bridge. It was with a mixture of relief and fear that she spotted Commander Riverton striding forward. The captain stood tall, her uniform impeccable as always, and her face was set in stone. Her eyes flicked over once to where Amelia stood—freezing her in place—and then to Flatrock and Hedge, before she settled her attention on her officer of the watch.

  “Report, if you please, Mr. Highcastle,” she commanded.

  “We received a signal from the Sectoid ship, ma’am,” he said, before playing the recording once again.

  Riverton listened without reaction.

  “What are we going to do, ma’am?” Highcastle asked, a dangerous edge creeping into his voice.

  Riverton climbed smoothly into her command chair.

  “Shorten sails, Mr. Highcastle, and prepare to receive the Sectoid ship.”

  “What?” Highcastle gasped. He glanced back at his sailors. The faces of Flatrock and Hedge reflected his shock—and his growing anger.

  Amelia stepped silently around the console, searching desperately for a comms button.

  “I think, Lady Riverton,” Highcastle boomed, “you have some explaining to do.”

  The captain’s entire frame tensed, but she kept her voice low.

  “Every moment you are on this ship, Cadet, you will address me by my military rank and demonstrate the proper respect.”

  “And I would be happy to do so, were I not questioning your loyalty to the Emperor.”

  Riverton’s eyes swept the bridge. Her gaze lingered on Flatrock and Hedge, and then moved to Amelia.

  “Why are these extra people on the bridge, Mr. Highcastle?”

  “Because they, like me, and like the entire crew, wish to know the truth.” He stabbed his finger at the console where the recording had played. “Explain yourself, Lady Riverton. Explain why a Sectoid ship known to be in collusion with pirates has hailed us by our real name, and asked for you personally.”

  Liam rubbed his chin, struggling to tie these disparate thoughts together. The captain had twice gone ashore, and twice met with people to discuss Sectoids.

  “Maybe she didn’t send the signal,” he suggested. “Maybe Lord Redfort did after you’d left.”

  “I checked the timings,” Sky replied glumly. “It was sent while we were in those apartments.”

  “But we don’t know if it was sent from those apartments . . .”

  “Why did the captain order the destruction of Bluebird?” Sky suddenly asked. “Especially right after you reported the presence of Sectoid weapons on board.”

  “She wanted to stop the pirates from signaling their base.” It sounded like a weak defense even as he said it, but after days of thought, he hadn’t come up with a better reason.

  “They were too far out to signal anyone! And we could have done it after a second boarding for more intel.”

  Images of the vicious fighting aboard Bluebird flashe
d through Liam’s mind.

  “Did you really want to try another boarding, Chief? With no boats?”

  “No, but . . .” She sighed. “Fair enough. But what about that signal sent to the Sectoids from Daring?”

  “We don’t know if it was from Daring or Bluebird.”

  “Have you ever fought the bugs, sir?”

  “No.”

  “If you thought Bluebird was tough,” she said, fists clenching, “you haven’t seen anything.”

  The sheer size of the Sectoid ship was enough to fill Liam with dread. If the bugs decided to make trouble, Daring’s only option would be to run.

  “And why didn’t the captain ask the Navy for help?” Sky asked suddenly. “I’m sure we could have made a few discreet inquiries without alerting the civilians on Windfall.”

  These questions were suddenly starting to make her sound suspiciously like Highcastle.

  “Are there others on board talking like this?” Liam asked.

  “There are mutterings,” she admitted. “No one says them to me directly, but I have ears.”

  Liam considered this. He knew the reason why Riverton was keeping clear of the Navy—any sign of failure might see the entire mission canceled, with her shouldering the blame—but he doubted any common sailor would sympathize with that. Better to see a few nobles disgraced than an entire crew killed in action, they’d say.

  “I’m sensing a spark of discontent,” Sky added, “and it’s being fed by someone.”

  He nodded. But his thoughts were interrupted by the ring of a tiny bell at the head of his bunk. It was a call from the bridge. He leaned over and activated the link.

  “XO.”

  “Sir, it’s Amelia,” came a whispered voice. “Come to the bridge, now.”

  Liam’s shirt was barely tucked in and his coat was undone as he stepped up onto the bridge, Sky right behind him. He buttoned his coat as he stepped forward, realizing that in his haste he’d left his belt behind.

  Nothing appeared out of order at first glance. Highcastle stood at his officer-of-the-watch station and the crew was seated at their consoles. Commander Riverton was in her chair—a bit unusual, considering the hour—but there were no alerts sounding, no visible threats through the canopy. Liam’s pace slowed as he struggled to uncover the reason for his summons. Then he saw Amelia by one of the rear consoles, and two other sailors standing several paces from Highcastle.

  Surprise flashed across Riverton’s face, followed for an instant by what looked like relief, before her usual icy demeanor solidified again.

  “XO,” she said, “what good timing. Please take the watch from Cadet Highcastle.”

  The cadet, Liam saw at this close range, was flushed and tight-faced. He glared at the captain, then turned pleading eyes to Liam.

  “Don’t listen to her,” he said. “She means to doom us all.”

  “Stand aside, Cadet,” Liam ordered automatically. Still, something in the young man’s face kept him from moving forward.

  “Listen to me!” Highcastle stabbed at his console, and Liam heard a crackly signal of a translator over the distinctive clicking of Sectoid speech.

  “Human warship Daring, this is the Sectoid warship Two-Seven-One. We will connect. I am here for Sophia Riverton.”

  “They’ve been signaling that for the past hour,” Highcastle exclaimed, pointing at Riverton. “She’s working with them.”

  Liam’s eyes shot to Riverton. Her expression was as unreadable as ever.

  “As I have already explained,” she said slowly, “Sectoid speech is very limited. What he is really saying is that he wants to talk to me.”

  “They know her,” Highcastle accused. “She’s working with them. How else could they know our ship’s real name?”

  “I am tired of arguing with you, Cadet,” Riverton stated. “You are relieved of duty.”

  “I am not,” Highcastle said, placing his hands defiantly on his hips, “going to let you hand His Majesty’s sailing ship over to the bugs.”

  “Executive officer,” Riverton said loudly, “you have the watch. Shorten our sails and prepare for the Sectoid ship to come alongside.”

  Liam caught Sky’s glance. The assaulter’s face was twisted with uncertainty, and the faintest touch of fear. Beyond Highcastle, Flatrock had stepped forward, eyes intent on Commander Riverton. Hedge was frozen in place. Amelia was still behind her console several paces distant. For an awful moment the bridge was frozen in tableau.

  Then Liam stepped into the officer-of-the-watch space.

  Highcastle retreated a step, but his expression hardened. “Don’t listen to her,” he warned.

  “Sailing control,” Liam called out, “shorten all sails and maintain maneuverability. Inform propulsion that we will be retracting the port mast.”

  “Belay that order!” Highcastle drew his officer-of-the-watch pistol and pressed it against Liam’s head.

  Liam stilled, cursing himself for forgetting his belt and the sword that hung on it. Sky too was unarmed. On all the bridge there was only one weapon, and it was in the hands of a self-righteous lordling.

  “Lower that weapon immediately,” Riverton ordered, in a voice that could have cut glass. Liam couldn’t see her, but he heard the creak as she stepped down out of her chair.

  Highcastle stepped back again, shifting to aim the pistol at the captain.

  “Lady Sophia Riverton,” he declared, “I hereby relieve you of command. As the ranking lord on this ship, I assume authority to deliver us to safety.”

  “Don’t do this,” Liam warned.

  The pistol swung back to him. Riverton appeared at his side. And then she stepped in front of him.

  “Don’t make yourself a murderer,” she said, slowly closing in on Highcastle.

  His scoff was laced with fear, but the pistol didn’t waver.

  “Chief Sky,” Highcastle ordered, “seize Lady Riverton.”

  Sky moved to where Highcastle and Riverton faced each other, barely a pace apart. Liam watched his assaulter as she tensed, her eyes flicking back and forth between the two officers. She placed a hand on Riverton’s arm.

  Liam doubted he could actually take down Sky in hand-to-hand combat, but he tensed, ready to move.

  Sky suddenly flung Riverton backward, launching herself against Highcastle. The towering youth stumbled back. A shot thundered in the close air. Sky and Highcastle toppled to the deck. Liam leaped over the staggering Riverton and grabbed the pistol as it clattered free. He swept it in a covering arc around the bridge. The crew was frozen in their seats. Flatrock had stumbled backward against the bulkhead with Hedge, hands up. Sky had pinned Highcastle on his stomach, arms bent back, and Amelia was down next to her wrapping his wrists in her own belt.

  Riverton was struggling to her feet by the officer-of-the-watch station. Blood smeared the deck, and dripped down to splash at her boots. Liam spotted the growing stain of dark red liquid seeping through her coat.

  “Medical team to the bridge,” he shouted. Moments later the order was repeated over the general broadcast. Nodding his gratitude, he held the pistol out to Sky, and she pressed it to Highcastle’s temple.

  Liam moved to Riverton, who was leaning heavily against the console, pressing her hand against the wound at her side. He hooked her arm over his shoulder and helped her back to her command chair just as Amelia appeared with a medical kit. He tore aside her coat and blouse, pulled out a thick bandage and pressed it against the pulsing wounds. Entry and exit holes, he saw. The bullet had glanced her, but blood was pouring out.

  She panted, dark eyes afire with pain, her face pale. But she was still lucid, gaze darting from the pinned Highcastle and back.

  “Thank you,” she gasped.

  She might pass out at any moment, Liam knew. That meant he’d be in acting command, and there was a looming Sectoid ship to deal with.

  “You have my loyalty, Captain,” he said. “But I need you to tell me everything.”

  She pressed her hand
over his against the wound, nodding as her eyelids drooped.

  “That Sectoid-encrypted signal,” she whispered through painful breaths, “was from us. It was from me. I know who commands that Sectoid ship and I needed to get a message to him. And this is why.”

  Liam leaned in, and listened.

  Chapter 20

  It took the Sectoid ship six more hours to close Daring, its massive gray form filling half the sky as it retracted several of its masts and drifted into position alongside. Liam stayed on the bridge during the approach, but as soon as he received word that the two ships were aligned for boarding, he made his way down to One Deck. He’d chosen the airlock closest to the bridge for this—no need to reveal Daring’s interior any more than necessary. At every junction he’d placed armed sailors, with more providing defense in depth down every passageway. He was in his armor, which had been polished to try to hide the acid burns spattered across the breastplate.

  Swift and Sky waited at the airlock. Neither looked happy, and each had added a second pistol to their belts. Before he could speak, the sound of rapid footsteps caught his ears. He turned and saw Amelia jogging up.

  “Brig is secure,” she reported. “Our . . . new guest isn’t happy, but behind all those doors no one can hear him.”

  Having Highcastle under lock and key removed one variable from play. Liam acknowledged her report with a nod.

  “All security teams are in place,” he said to Swift and Sky. “Are we on full ventilation lock-down?”

  “Yes,” Swift replied. Sectoids were known to use ventilation trunking to swarm a ship.

  Liam gave all three of them a long look.

  “Are you ready?”

  Sky actually shuddered, but she nodded. Swift frowned and placed his hands on the controls. Amelia took a deep breath and smiled with a touch of excitement.

  At Swift’s command, Daring’s airlock door hissed open. Liam stepped into the gangway tube, hearing Amelia and Sky fall in behind him. The tube was fastened to the Sectoid ship not ten paces away.

  The hull of the Sectoid ship was a dull gray, with a rough, unfinished texture almost like coarse sand. There was no obvious control panel, or even an outline of a door. As Liam stepped up to its cold surface he wondered if they’d placed their gangway in the right place.