The Queen's Pardon (Alexis Carew Book 6)

by J. A. Sutherland

  “She’ll shoot you in yer peppito,” Blackbourne whispered, “if you don’t do as she says.”

  “Shut up, you traitorous bastard. It’s your fault I let them aboard.”

  Alexis motioned for Dockett to move Blackbourne away. The man wasn’t doing them any good. “You’re no captain aboard my ship, Tinkham, and I can make this work without you.” She wasn’t quite sure of that. “You, however, cannot avoid the noose without helping me.”

  Tinkham snorted. “I think it’s you needs me more. You’ve this one ship, undermanned, while we’ve three in orbit, gunboats blocking the Lagrange points in darkspace, and a fair, fine force below on the surface. You’ll not escape and if you want to live, you’ll turn my ship back to me, I think.”

  Alexis stepped closer to him and looked up into his face.

  “I have no intention of escaping, Mister Tinkham, I intend to take Erzurum all entire.” She ignored Tinkham’s second snort of derision. “Now, I may fail in that, but whether you’re alive or dead at the time depends entirely on this decision.”

  “Guard yerself, Tinkham!” Blackbourne yelled, cupping his hands before him. “Old Blackbourne’s seen that glint in her eye before!”

  “Stop yer gob,” Dockett said with a shove.

  Tinkham bent down to Alexis’ ear and whispered, “You don’t scare me, little girl.”

  “I see. Mister Dockett? Would you be so kind as to send someone to the hold and bring up Mister Tinkham’s former first mate?” She paused, then, “No, first and second, if you please.”

  “Aye, sir. Aiden, you go and get them, lad, but tell them down on the gundeck to send two stout fellows back with you.”

  “Aye, aye.”

  The youngster hurried off and Alexis took a step back from Tinkham.

  “My men are loyal,” Tinkham said, “you’ll get no joy from Armfield or Hallows, neither.”

  Alexis ignored him and turned to the signals console.

  “What’s your name again, lad?” she asked of the Hanoverese there. She wracked her brain for the German before keying her tablet to translate. “Name?”

  “Name,” the tablet said, prompting Alexis to sigh.

  The man smiled and nodded. “Reginhard Schwalheimer, hauptgefreiter.”

  Her tablet told her the man’s rank was likely the equivalent of able spacer, but Alexis despaired of having to pronounce his name. Fighting Mongoose with this mixed crew was going to be a chore, but she had no choice. Her thirty-odd men wouldn’t be able to do so alone. In fact, the sixty she had now wouldn’t truly be enough — she’d like another boatload before they went into action and couldn’t bring them up until they’d established some reason with the other pirate ships in orbit to do so.

  Even then, half the men aboard would speak no, or little, English and her lads had no German past what would tell them the reckoning for a pint, poke, or fight in some Hanoverese port — neither of which would do them much good in dealing with the Hannie spacers. What conversation New London and Hanoverese spacers did engage in when in the same ports during peacetime didn’t exactly lend itself to cooperative actions.

  Knowing the German for “I buggered your mother, you fatherless bastard,” is unlikely to be helpful.

  The signals console pinged again, indicating an incoming message and Schwalheimer held a finger over the controls, glancing the question at her.

  “Yes,” she nodded, “ignore it again.”

  Schwalheimer tapped the key.

  Alexis moved back to the navigation plot and brought up views of Mongoose’s hull. Warth’s suited figure was visible, making his way aft from the airlock along with another spacer. They’d know soon enough if the poacher’s plan would work — the failing would, at least, mean she didn’t have to find a way to convince Tinkham or one of his officers to play along in her ruse with the other pirate ships. She’d use one of her own lads to respond to the other ship, but it seemed likely these crews would know each other and become wary of a stranger. Moreover, a known officer would be better.

  Blackbourne might work as a last resort, but he was known for being on Erzurum’s surface, so why would he be speaking for Mongoose?

  No, Tinkham or one of his officers was required for this, and the pirate captain showed little sign of being persuadable. She could threaten him, even shoot him in the … whatever Blackbourne’s next euphemism might be … but would that convince him to do as she bid? The only real inducement she could offer would be to not hang him for his piracy, and that would work only if he became convinced Alexis could win this fight in the first place.

  The quarterdeck hatch slid open and Aiden returned, followed by two pirates, hands bound behind them, and then two burly spacers — one of Alexis’ lads and one a large Hanoverese.

  “Neither of you help this bitch,” Tinkham said. “Our lads on those other ships’ll have us loose in a —”

  She had a lunatic at the fusion plant, an enemy ship off her port quarter, and less than half the crew she’d like to fight with. Though she might hate the coldness of it, she had no time for bravado and reticence from a pirate and slaver liable to be hung for his crimes in any case. Whether she herself had that authority at the moment as a privateer might be in some question, but she was authorized to take what action she felt necessary in an action against pirates herself — if Mongoose, and those other ships out there, were not fully taken, then any of the pirates in opposition to her were still part of that action.

  “Mister Tinkham!” Alexis called.

  Tinkham turned to face her. “What, you —”

  Alexis raised her pistol and sent a flight of flechettes into the pirate’s left eye.

  The quarterdeck became a silent, still tableau, save for the fall and thump of Tinkham’s body. It remained so for several seconds, until Blackbourne nodded and muttered, “Warned him not to trifle with the bitch-woman, Old Blackbourne did.”

  Alexis turned to the newcomers, who were staring at Tinkham’s crumpled form with open mouths.

  “Now, which of you gentlemen would like to assist me with a thing?”

  Thirty-Five

  “Cap’n Tinkham’s busy —”

  “Very busy —”

  “— down in the hold —”

  “— lookin’ at what Blackbourne told —”

  “— seein’ to the split of some —”

  “— us was hid there. All the lads, really —”

  “— juicy bits, and we’d like to get —”

  “— as you know we want to see a fair —”

  “— back ourselves, so as to be —”

  “— split and no doubts —”

  “— certain of our share —”

  In retrospect, Alexis considered it might have been a mistake to allow both of Tinkham’s officers near the signals console at the same time. She’d thought two of them might add some believability to the story that Tinkham was busy in the hold looking at whatever secret trove Blackbourne had supposedly brought word of, but the two men were speaking over themselves in an effort to convince the other pirate ship and Alexis couldn’t follow it even knowing what the story was supposed to be.

  She could only hope that those on the other ship thought the two men’s nervousness and constant glancing in her direction could be attributed to their desire to get back below and see that some treasure was properly accounted for and divided.

  “Mister Blackbourne,” Alexis whispered, not quite believing her sudden conviction that the man might do a better job. She nodded to the signals console. “Do you suppose you might …”

  “Aye, bitch-woman, no need to threaten Old Blackbourne’s quivering member with more and worse.”

  Blackbourne stepped around the console to stand behind the two men and clap a hand on each of their shoulders, cutting them off. None of the three’s hands were bound now, but the console’s camera couldn’t see the armed spacers aiming weapons at the pirates, nor Alexis herself keeping her little pistol trained on them.

  “
You two lads go on back to Captain Tinkham, will you?” Blackbourne said with a nod to the console. “Old Blackbourne has a thing or two to discuss with Captain Hampson there.”

  The two stopped talking over themselves and glanced at Tinkham’s corpse before cutting their eyes to Alexis, who nodded and jerked her head at the quarterdeck hatch.

  “Ah, right,” one of the pirate officers said. Alexis hadn’t bothered to find out which was Armfield and which Hallows.

  “We’re going to go help Captain Tinkham now,” the other said, with nary a glance at his captain’s corpse.

  “Down in the hold, where he’s at,” added the other.

  “With Dansby’s hidden treasure.”

  They stepped away from the console.

  “And the crew.”

  “In the hold.”

  Once out of sight of the camera, both turned and offered their hands to Aiden and Dockett to be bound again without so much as a gesture of command.

  “So, talk to Blackbourne!” one called to the console.

  “He’s got the right of it!” the other added.

  Alexis motioned with her pistol, causing both men to flinch, and the two were taken back to the hold.

  “So, Dansby weren’t aboard?” the other ship’s captain, Hampson, asked as Blackbourne settled himself before the console.

  Blackbourne shook his head. “Don’t appear so.”

  Hampson grunted. “Never knew the man, but don’t see how he could be the bogey Ness and you oldsters make him out to be.”

  Blackbourne shrugged. “Think as y’will, but your Fang’s one Dansby near gutted way back when.”

  Hampson grunted. “Not with me in command, and not with that tube of junk you’re in. So, there was treasure aboard that shoddy hulk, there?”

  Alexis shot Dockett a glare as the bosun growled to hear his ship described so.

  “Some,” Blackbourne said. “Operating funds, as Dansby was always wont to store.”

  “Tinkham’s good luck to be put in command, then. That’ll not be shared with the rest of us.”

  “Oh, aye,” Blackbourne said with a glance at where the body lay. “Tinkham has his luck — of a sort.”

  “And you for bringing the word, I suppose.”

  Blackbourne smiled, showing teeth, but placing a hand protectively in his lap. “Aye, Old Blackbourne got a piece, sure.” Alexis jerked her head at him, prompting him to get on with it. “There’s more’n the treasure, Captain Hampson, though not so fine — if you’ve a mind, that is.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Turns out the farm those folks from the crashed boat was caught at had more to hide than them privateering lads. Had a fine still, an’ kept it to themselves, all unwilling to sell to our lads for the fair prices we offered.”

  Hampson laughed at that.

  “And more,” Blackbourne went on. “Had a fair parcel of girls the old man hid from us.”

  “Oh?”

  “Brought two to the lads here.” Blackbourne grinned widely and Alexis thought it was an honest look that showed the man’s true nature. “Their shares o’ the treasure’ll not sit in their purses long.”

  “Always after a profit, eh, Blackbourne?”

  “Old Blackbourne gets nervous w’out the clink o’ coins — little enough chance, him stayin’ behind on that mudball so much.”

  “Shouldn’t have pissed down Ness’ back and told him it were raining, then,” Hampson said.

  Blackbourne shrugged. “Always bloody raining on Erzurum these days, who’d a’thought he’d notice?”

  Alexis filed that bit of information away. If Blackbourne and this Ness, who seemed to be the pirates’ leader, were on the outs, then all the more reason for Blackbourne to cooperate — and she might be able to get even more from the man.

  “So, these girls?” Hampson asked.

  “Oh, aye,” Blackbourne said. “Three more, and half the old man’s stock from his still, back there with my other boat. Just waitin’ for the best offer.”

  “And you’re thinking what? That my lads’ll make it?”

  Blackbourne shrugged. “Fresh an’ brought up to ‘em, or take some other crew’s leavings when they finally get down to the surface. Either way, Old Blackbourne’ll get their coin, eh?”

  “Greedy bastard.”

  Blackbourne grinned at him.

  “All right,” Hampson said. “The lads did well in that dustup with the privateers, and it’s been an age since they saw fresh mutton — they’re fresh, you say?”

  “Old Blackbourne’s word on it. Your lads’ll nary see the like again.”

  Blackbourne and Hampson haggled a bit over the price his ship would pay for the ostensible girls and liquor, then settled it and Blackbourne promised his boat would lift from the farm instanter.

  It would, indeed, Alexis thought, but not with farmgirls and spirits — instead, pirate Captain Hampson’s … Alexis checked the navigation plot for that ship’s name … Fang, would receive a boat full of Captain Kannstadt and the rest of the Hanoverese. Captain Ellender was none too pleased to be left behind again, but Kannstadt had enough men left to him to man and fight a ship, while Ellender’s were fewer in number and a haphazard mix of New Londoners, Hanoverese, and French from the Berry March.

  “Oh,” Blackbourne said, “and there’s a new man at the boat’s helm — Gutis, is his name.”

  “New?” Hampson asked.

  “New to the boat. Held back that he could pilot so’s to be in the thick of an action, but when he got stuck on Erzurum he let it loose he could fly the things.”

  Hampson nodded.

  Alexis had left Gutis back on the farm to pilot the second boat, so as to have a reliable hand, and a New Londoner’s voice, at the helm when they tried to take a second ship.

  The two pirates finished up their business and ended the call.

  “Old Blackbourne’ll expect fair dealings from you,” Blackbourne said, looking away from the console. “Turnin’ on his mates like this.”

  “You’re a pirate and a slaver, Blackbourne,” Alexis said, “but cooperate and I’ll not hang you when this is through.”

  Blackbourne stood and nudged Tinkham’s body with a toe, eyes cutting to the flechettes protruding from the other pirate’s eye. “That’s terrifical specific o’you in regard to times an’ methods. Old Blackbourne’s not comforted, bitch-woman. Not nearly.”

  Matters with the other pirate ships settled for the moment, Alexis turned her attention to the navigation plot and its images of Warth out on Mongoose’s hull.

  There was little she could do to monitor or assist, as it was all in Warth’s hands — and his assistant’s, for the poacher had another man with him, carrying a pair of laser rifles Warth had selected from those aboard.

  The pair made their way aft, then down Mongoose’s stern and between the massive plane and rudder the ship needed to maneuver in darkspace. Those were folded tight against the stern, as they weren’t needed in normal-space, but there were gaps and hollows the men could fit through without her having to extend the devices.

  They found the shoddy, hastily-applied patch the pirates had placed over the shot-hole there, and Alexis heard Dockett grunt at his first sight of the state of the work.

  It wasn’t even a proper hull patch, just a bit of thermoplastic laid over the hole and sealed. A ridge of more material surrounded the patch, a ragged, raised weld that hadn’t been smoothed at all.

  “Buggerin’, slip-shod, cunny-thumbed, cack-handed —”

  “It’s all right, Mister Dockett,” Alexis said, despite her own feelings being much the same. Mongoose was a fine ship and deserved better in the way of care than she’d received from the pirates. “You’ll have time to see her set to proper rights.”

  “But look, sir,” Dockett said, as Warth and his assistant cut away the patch and pulled it from its place. “They’ve not even plugged the bloody hull — just slapped the patches on either side.”

  “That is what we ho
ped for, you know,” Alexis said. Their glimpse of the repairs in the engineering space had led to Warth’s idea. It appeared the pirates had simply slapped the emergency, usually temporary, patches in place and left them, without properly plugging the full hole in the hull’s stern that lay between.

  The patches were intended to close a hull breach until full repairs could be made. The thin, no more than a few millimeters, patches would do next to nothing to stop an incoming shot — in fact, they were worse than useless, for they’d not diminish the shot to any appreciable extent, while adding a bit of molten thermoplastic to be sprayed about.

  It was Warth’s belief, proved out by a test in the hold with a similar patch from the carpenter’s space, that the one patch on the inner hull would do nothing to diminish or deflect even his rifle’s beam.

  “Ain’t a proper way to treat a ship,” Dockett insisted.

  Warth took one of the rifles from his assistant and extended the barrel into the hole in the hull, putting the muzzle almost against the inner patch. He rested it against the outer edge to steady himself and seemed to sit still for quite a long moment, though Alexis suspected he was minutely aligning the rifle with some mental picture he kept of the engineering space and the pirate, Pullink, next to the fusion plant.

  Pullink was sitting cross-legged on the deck, facing forward, with one arm extended to place his own laser pistol’s barrel against the weakened armor of the fusion plant.

  “There’s still time to shut the plant down, sir,” Dockett said. “Shut her down, rush Pullink, then start her back up again.”

  “Hours to restart,” Alexis said. She’d considered that. It would be safer in the sense that Pullink could still do damage shooting a plant that was already shut down, but it would be short of destroying the ship. The time to repair what damage he did and restart the plant would leave them vulnerable, though. “Hours of being here helpless with no power — and explaining to the other pirates in orbit why we’d not like them to come alongside and run a cable aboard to turn those hours into minutes.”

  “I don’t entirely disagree, sir, but Warth … well, let’s say he didn’t leave home and go a’spacing for his talent at judging risks.”