Alexis nodded. “Commodore Balestra’s fleet left Dietraching at the same time Marilyn did, sir. They should arrive here soon.”
Euell nodded. “Good work then. We’ll be thankful for the extra hulls if this comes to a fight with a Hannie fleet. Finish your tea and then get yourself into a proper uniform. I imagine you’ll be called aboard Impregnable as soon as Eades is awake and knows you’ve returned.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Alexis finished her tea quickly and made her way to her cabin. Isom had already laid out one of her dress uniforms in anticipation of her being called aboard the flagship. She changed into it, the heavy jacket and beret feeling more than a bit odd after so much time spent in civilian dress, but still somehow comforting, then went out into the wardroom.
Nesbit and Hollingshed were sharing a bottle at the wardroom table.
“Is that someone just come out of our spare cabin, Hollingshed?” Nesbit asked.
Hollingshed cocked his head and raised his eyebrows at Alexis. “I do believe you’re correct, Nesbit,” he said. “Did Captain Euell take aboard a passenger when we weren’t looking?”
“Must have. We’d recognize every proper lieutenant who’s been aboard with us all these weeks.”
“Certainly would,” Hollingshed agreed. “Weeks stuck aboard ship together makes a face familiar to you after all.”
Alexis sat, looking from one to the other with amusement.
“Indeed,” Nesbit went on. “Stuck aboard ship in orbit around this Alchiba place, not allowed down to the planet for fear we’ll let loose some secret.”
Hollingshed scowled. “With, all the while, thousands of troops being landed on the planet and left at loose ends. As though they could keep a secret, themselves.”
“While the Fleet’s up here with no liberty at all. Waiting.”
Isom appeared at Alexis’ elbow with a glass and two bottles of wine from her stores. She cast him a grateful glance, even as Nesbit and Hollingshed went on with their whinging.
“Yet waiting for what?” Nesbit narrowed his eyes at Alexis. “Or whom?”
“Yes, whom,” Hollingshed murmured, rubbing his chin. “Could it possibly be that lieutenant we once had? You remember the one?”
“What? You mean the one who was always here again, off again? That one?”
“Yes!” Hollingshed pointed excitedly at Nesbit. “The one who broke your foot with her dancing.”
“I never broke a foot!” Alexis exclaimed.
“Shush, you!” Nesbit said, waving a finger at her. “Ship’s officers talking here — passengers aren’t in it.” He turned back to Hollingshed. “Could be that one. Had a sly look about her — just the thing for secret doings.”
“Look, you two,” Alexis said, opening one of her bottles and pouring herself a cup of wine. “Keep it up and I’ll drink these myself without sharing a drop.”
“Carew!” Hollingshed cried, spreading his arms wide, but not before sliding his own glass across the table to her. “Welcome back! Didn’t recognize you there for a moment.”
Nesbit slid his chair around the table and draped an arm over her shoulders, cup at the ready.
“Missed you terribly,” he said. “Foot’s all healed, no worries. Now, tell us, will we finally be leaving this bloody system?”
Chapter 40
Alexis stayed near the back of the group as they entered the room, uncertain whether she’d been included as a courtesy or an oversight, but certain she knew nothing about planetary invasions. Once inside, she spotted Delaine amongst the French officers and moved to be near him where he stood against the room’s wall. The more senior officers crowded around the circular navigation plot at the room’s center.
“You’ve a new uniform,” she whispered. Delaine, Balestra, and the rest of the officers she recognized from the Berry March fleet were now all in light blue and white of the Republic’s navy and not the black and grey of Hanover.
“Oui.” He straightened the front of his jacket. “We are now of the Republic’s fleet. It is a little thing, but means much to us.”
Alexis laid a hand on his arm. She started to speak, but the group around the navigation plot had begun their introductions.
“Admiral Leneave,” Eades said, “may I present General Malicoat who will lead the New London ground forces and Admiral Chipley, commander of our fleet here at Alchiba. Gentlemen, Admiral Leneave of the Republic fleet, Field Marshal Bonnin, and, of course, Commodore Balestra, late of the Hanoverese Berry March fleet and now, happily, reunited with La Grande République de France Parmi les Étoiles.” He gestured and servants began circulating with glasses of champagne. “Before your efforts begin, may I propose a toast?” He waited until everyone had a glass then raised his. “To the liberation of the Berry March worlds, their long overdue reunion with the Republic, and confusion to Hanover!”
“Confusion to Hanover!” the group chorused.
* * *
Alexis stifled a yawn and put just a bit more pressure on her arm where it touched Delaine’s. The talks had been dragging on for hours and the initial toast had been the most exciting bit of it. She’d never imagined that planning an invasion could be so utterly boring. Everything from the least little item of supply to the order of embarkation and debarkation from the troop ships had to be endlessly debated. Of particular contention were the supplies for those forces they hoped would flock to their cause from within the worlds of the Berry March, for those men would be commanded by the Republic and every ton of supplies, from uniforms to weapons, brought for them meant one less ton of shipping available to the New London forces. The French transports which had brought the supplies to Alchiba had offloaded and returned to the Republic weeks before.
She felt Delaine lean into her arm where they touched in response to her increasing the pressure. It was a sort of game they’d come to silently play while they waited for whatever purpose they’d been included in the talks. Leaning into each other, a bit more pressure than necessary where they touched, a subtle brush of a finger — all unnoticed by those around them. Alexis caught one of the other French officers cast a glance their way with a raised eyebrow and a grin. She straightened, flushing. Perhaps it wasn’t entirely unnoticed by those around them. She dragged her attention back to the talks at the central table.
“Those men will be untrained, Marshal Bonnin,” General Malicoat was saying, “and it will take some time for them to be useful in any sort of battle.” He raised a hand to forestall the other man’s objection. “Training takes time, you must admit, sir. Should Hanover counter-attack before yours are prepared to face it, my troops will bear the brunt of the fighting and I’ll see them well-supplied for that.”
Bonnin nodded. “As you say, général, but these men, they are proud and will fight for their homes. We must see that it is their victory, not a conquest by your New London, oui? This means uniforms so that they see themselves as one, weapons so that they may face their foe.”
“I agree, sir, but I see no reason for them to be so fully equipped at the start. It will take time for them to come to us, time to organize them, and during that time the transports may return here for your material.”
“All the while the men of that land will march in what boots, monsieur? With weapons they bring from their homes? They will do this while your army stands by with shiny rifles and new boots?”
“Marshal Bonnin, I have a scant twelve regiments of foot here, four of heavy cavalry, another six of light, and only three of air. With transport for barely half of that, I’m told.” He gestured to Admiral Chipley, who nodded confirmation. “The Hanoverese are closer, more numerous, and have more shipping available. Should they come before our transports may return with the rest of my men, will your new recruits in fresh boots and with weapons they’ve never held before be at the forefront?”
Bonnin’s face flushed. “If they are true French, they shall —”
“No one is questioning their courage,” Chipley interrupted. “I’
m certain they’d acquit themselves well. The point at issue is whether its best to equip them first or have a larger force of already trained men.”
“Perhaps we should first consider which system from which to base our endeavors,” Eades suggested. “That might shed some light on the best course of action. Commodore Balestra? Do you have some thoughts on that?”
“Here at Giron,” Balestra said immediately, pointing to the system on the plot.
“Are you certain?” Malicoat asked. “It’s rather farther from the border than I’d prefer.”
“The border worlds have less peoples,” Balestra said. “Those here —” She ran a finger along the systems on the far side of the Berry March where it bordered traditional Hanoverese space. “— have had … the word, the immigration from le Hanovre. Giron is still most Français.”
“Hm.” Malicoat looked thoughtful for a moment. “What size force do you suppose will be raised there?”
“On Giron?” It was Balestra’s turn to ponder. “Perhaps twenty or thirty thousands from Giron itself will rise to fight. From these worlds —” She indicated those most central to the Berry March. “— ten each. More from those worlds nearest le Hanovre, once they see our numbers.”
Malicoat nodded. “I see, yes. They won’t rise if we start there, but if we arrive already in possession of a strong, French force from the central worlds, those bordering on Hanover-proper will join us you’re saying?”
“Oui,” Balestra agreed. “They are … the word, fearful now, but will still wish to be free.”
“Is that lieutenant who’s been there about?” Chipley asked. He scanned the room and focused on Alexis. “What’s your opinion? Carew, isn’t it?”
Alexis jumped, face heating. She’d fallen back into concentrating on the heat of Delaine’s arm against hers and not really paying attention to the discussion. In fact, she’d been paying far more attention to wherever Delaine’s body was touching hers than to anything being said.
“Sir?”
“The people of the Berry March, Carew, your opinion of them? Your personal observations, having been there for some time.”
Alexis thought for a moment. She was no expert, but an admiral had asked her opinion. She thought of the marketplace in Courboin and the people there.
“I saw only a little of Giron, sir, but the people were universally kind to us. I found it odd that they would be so, given the war, but came to understand that their relation to Hanover was … complicated.”
“Will they rise in the numbers Commodore Balestra suggests?”
Alexis considered for a moment. “In the time I was there, sir, I think it is significant that after three generations under Hanover I heard not a word of German spoken. For myself, I’m certain they will rise, given the opportunity to win their freedom. As to numbers …” She nodded. “I found Giron much like my home of Dalthus, sir. We’re an independent lot. Were we conquered, well, there’d be no end of volunteers to gain our freedom back.”
Chipley nodded and turned away, apparently satisfied.
The talks continued for some time, but in the end General Malicoat gave in. He certainly wasn’t happy about it, but it became clear that the Republican leaders, Bonnin and Leneave, were adamant that there must be equipment from the start for those recruits they hoped to raise on Giron.
“I’ll leave the air regiments for later, as they take the most transport,” Malicoat said. “The heavy cavalry and half the light, as well. We’ll have need of all the foot to spread out and make a show for your recruitment, in any case. That should free up space on the transports to outfit your twenty thousand, Bonnin, but more than that will have to wait for the next trip. Will that be acceptable?”
Bonnin nodded. “Oui, Général Malicoat.”
Chapter 41
Shrewsbury was at the tail end of the convoy and fleet, and so had no knowledge of the fleet’s arrival at Giron until well after the system had been taken and the landing of troops was well underway. Once they arrived, Alexis learned that there’d been but a single ship in-system, a Hanoverese barque, which had quickly surrendered at the appearance of Impregnable and the rest of the fleet’s van.
By the time Shrewsbury transitioned and took her place in orbit, a goodly number of transports had already taken their own orbits and begun sending boats to the surface with load after load of troops. The remaining transports took higher orbits and awaited their turn in the unloading.
For such a large operation, it took surprisingly little time to offload all of the transports. Less time, in fact, than it had taken to load them in the first place. Perhaps because the soldiers were anxious to leave their cramped quarters aboard ship for the planet’s surface and were, thus, far more cooperative than during the loading.
As for the people of Giron, they greeted the New London troops as though they were returning heroes. Alexis found herself in the main port city of Atterrissage more than once as Shrewsbury’s boats were drafted into assisting with the unloading.
Atterrissage was much changed since the last time Alexis had seen it. Then she’d been fleeing imprisonment and there’d been a single merchantman’s boat on the field — a lucky chance for her, that there’d been any boat to steal at all. Now her own boat was one of dozens on the field, and the rest of the field was crowded with the tents and collapsible domes of the army forces.
There seemed to be a permanent parade route through the city, lined with cheering throngs smiling and waving to the newly arrived troops, and there were long lines forming at the recruitment tables set up on the edges of the army’s camp.
Word spread over the planet and there were soon young men and women from all over Giron were pouring into Atterrissage to see the French Field Marshal and join in the revolt against Hanover.
All of the transports were quickly unloaded without incident. The people of Atterrissage were so thrilled at the prospect of rejoining La République, that they mostly overlooked the slights and liberties commonly taken when large groups of soldiers are encamped around a town. To their credit, the New London forces took to heart their officers warnings, reinforced by sergeants, that the people of Giron should be treated as valued allies.
The transports, along with an escort of frigates, were sent back to Alchiba to return with the rest of the forces and the fleet settled into a routine of patrolling darkspace around Giron.
All in all, things seemed to be going even better than planned.
Until, at least, the first New London frigate limped back into the system with reports that their patrol farther into Hanoverese space had encountered an enemy fleet. A large Hanoverese fleet, which had made short work of the patrolling frigate’s consorts, but one which, by the surviving frigate’s accounts, was still smaller than the combined might of the New London and former Berry March fleets.
Admiral Chipley sent out additional patrols to attempt to locate the Hanoverese fleet and determine its true strength, but most returned without having sighted them, while others failed to return at all.
Finally, Chipley felt he had no choice but to sortie the entire fleet and attempt to find the Hanoverese. It was either that or cede control of darkspace around Giron to the enemy, and he was unwilling to do that with the next convoy of loaded transports expected at any time.
* * *
The marine sentry announced Alexis and slid the hatch to Captain Euell’s cabin open. Euell looked up from where he was running his fingers over both his tablet and the images that covered the large surface which served as both his dining table and a duplicate of the quarterdeck’s navigation plot.
“Come in, Carew. Do hurry, please.”
Alexis did so and stopped near the plot.
“You’ll have to excuse me, as we’ve little time,” Euell said. “Admiral Chipley has ordered the fleet to sail instanter. We’re off after the Hanoverese as quick as can be.”
Alexis felt a quick thrill of excitement at the thought. “Are they so close, then, sir?”
Euell
frowned. “I wish I knew … and so does Chipley, come to that. No, with the transports expected to return soon, we simply can’t sit here and wait for them. If the Hanoverese fleet slips around Giron and encounters those transports … No, better for us to find them first.” Euell grinned suddenly. “Besides, Chipley’s not one to sit and wait, regardless. Our best estimate is that we outnumber them and Chipley’s hot to take them all as prizes.”
The captain grinned again and Alexis had to suppress a laugh. For just a moment, with his excitement and exuberance showing through, she could picture Euell as a much younger man, a frigate captain anxious to dash off and capture prize after prize, instead of the respected, staid captain of a Third Rate like Shrewsbury, limited to standing in the line of battle at some admiral’s command.
Euell’s grin fell. “Which brings us to you and a bit of a problem, I’m afraid.”
“Sir?”
“We must leave someone here to act as the Fleet’s liaison with General Malicoat. As well, you’re the closest we have in our fleet to an expert on Giron and the French. Chipley still feels you’d be of some value as an adviser to Malicoat.”
Alexis felt a chill. She could well see where this was going and didn’t like it one bit.
“Sir, I’ve been little use in that regard so far. General Malicoat has never once asked for my advice or presence — moreover, I know no one on Giron to ‘liaise’ with.” Other than her time with Delaine, she’d had little interaction with the people of Giron, and that not so very memorable, she thought. “A few merchants in the Courboin markets might remember me, or a prostitute or two.”
Euell raised an eyebrow and Alexis flushed.
The Little Ships (Alexis Carew Book 3) Page 24
