The Little Ships (Alexis Carew Book 3) (2 page)

“
W
ine
, sir?”

“Thank you, Littler.” Alexis nodded her thanks as Captain Euell’s steward filled her glass. Hers was the last, she being the junior officer at the captain’s table. The men at the table quieted as Littler stepped back with the wine bottle and looked expectantly at Captain Euell.

“Gentlemen,” he said, raising his glass. “Fine work and a successful action.”

“Fine work and a successful action!” they all chorused, Alexis included. She raised her glass and took a sip.

The captain’s day cabin seemed almost spacious with just the seven of them. Captain Euell, his steward, Alexis, and four of
Shrewsbury’s
other lieutenants were the only occupants.

Lieutenant Slawson, the second lieutenant, was off with the prize crew getting the Hanoverese frigate in hand. The others, Lieutenants Barr, Brookhouse, Hollingshead, and Nesbit, in order of their seniority, had been invited to dine with Captain Euell in celebration of taking the Hanoverese frigate.

“A shame about young Blackmer, Carew,” Euell said. “He had the makings of a fine officer.”

Alexis nodded. “He did, sir,” she said, her throat a bit tight.

“Bad luck, that,” Lieutenant Barr, the first lieutenant, added. “Not another man lost but him.”

The others murmured agreement and Alexis raised her glass as she knew was expected.

“Absent friends,” she said.

The others raised their glasses in turn and there was a moment’s silence.

“A fine lad and he’ll be missed,” Captain Euell said.

And that will be the last said of him
, Alexis thought, a bit bitterly.

She understood the need; with the war on so many men fell in bloody actions that it was best not to think on them too long. Not from callousness, but because there were still the living to care for.

The other midshipmen in the berth would have their own toasts to Blackmer tonight. The best of his friends in the berth would go through his things and select a memento or two before his kit was sealed and struck down into the hold to be sent back to his family. His body would be reduced to ash in the fusion plant and those ashes packed away in his kit as well. It was a sad package to think of sending home.

“We’ll cover a bit of business before dinner, I think,” Euell said, “as Carew will be dining elsewhere again.”

“Thank you, sir,” Alexis said. “I’m sorry about that.”

Euell waved her apology aside, but Alexis could tell he didn’t find the situation aboard
Shrewsbury
at all to his liking.

No more than I do
, she thought.

“What do you suppose your dinner will be tonight, Carew?” Lieutenant Brookhouse asked, grinning.

“Yes,” Lieutenant Nesbit said. “I can’t wait to hear your description of the next dish that Eades fellow feeds you.”

“I shudder at the very thought, sirs,” Alexis told them. “He’s not told me what’s next and I daren’t ask. But after that last one … well, I suppose that’s the reason we call the French ‘Frogs’, after all.”

Brookhouse laughed and gestured at her glass. “Fortify yourself well, is my suggestion.”

Alexis took a healthy swallow. “There are some things that shouldn’t be faced sober,” she agreed.

The others laughed and Alexis took another drink of wine to hide a sudden emotion. How different the laughter aboard
Shrewsbury
was from that on her previous ship, the ill-fated
Hermione,
with her tyrannical Captain Neals and a midshipmen’s berth full of toadying bullies.

“I’ll have Littler send a plate to the wardroom for you,” Euell said. “In case you can still stomach good, planet-raised beef after whatever Mister Eades places in front of you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Alexis said. “That will be welcome, no matter what Mister Eades’ cook has prepared for us. It seems the French are incapable of serving a simple bit of any meat without they cover it in some sort of … goop.”

The others laughed again, but the laughter turned to amused looks at Alexis as her tablet pinged. She grasped it through her jumpsuit, frowning because she was certain she’d turned it off before coming into the captain’s cabin. No officer wanted a meeting with the captain interrupted by a midshipman asking questions.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Alexis said, pulling her tablet out. “I’m sure I turned it —” She broke off and clenched her jaw at the sight of the message. “Mister Eades requests my presence, sir. I’m certain I turned the tablet’s alerts off, though. I’ve no idea how he manages it, but he seems to regard our communications systems as his personal playground.”

Euell pursed his lips. “And
Shrewsbury
as his personal transport, come to that.” He sighed. “I can’t fault you for not controlling the man when that’s beyond me as well. Tell him you’ll be along shortly.”

“Aye, sir.”

“If I didn’t have orders to offer him and that Courtemanche fellow ‘every accommodation’, I’d have his accommodations in the bloody brig.”

“And no one would be more glad of it than I, sir,” Alexis agreed as she sent the requested message and turned off the tablet’s speaker again.

Captain Euell took a sip of wine and set his glass down.

“To business, then,” he said. “Now that we’ve done away with that frigate that’s been dogging us, I believe there are no other Hanoverese ships in a position to threaten the convoy. If there were, they’d certainly have come in with the frigate to attack during the storm, or to its aid at the end there. So we should have a clear, two days’ sail to the border. Unless we run across some other ship by happenstance, of course.

“Once in French Republican space, the convoy will begin to disperse, and we ourselves shall sail directly for
Nouvelle Paris
with our charges, Mister Eades and
Monsieur
Courtemanche.”

“And may we soon be shut of them,” Lieutenant Barr said, giving a mock toast.

“At least until the return trip,” Captain Euell reminded them. “We are to remain at Mister Eades’ … disposal —” He curled his lip on the last word. “— until such time as he has finished with whatever it is he does there.”

Alexis looked down at the table as all eyes turned to her. All of the other officers were curious about their mission, but Eades had instructed her — threatened, really — not to speak a word of it. She could only be grateful that
Shrewsbury’s
other officers, and captain, were being so understanding that their most junior lieutenant knew more about their purpose than they themselves did.

“Regardless,” Euell continued, “we’ll likely have some weeks idle in orbit around
Nouvelle Paris.
” He waited for the grins and excited murmurs to subside. “Yes, I’m rather looking forward to weeks of leave on a Core World myself. And they’ve a proper, naval station to grant the crew leave, as well, without the worry of them running.”

With the war had come the return of the Impressment Service grabbing merchant spacers and even some civilians up in the Press for service in the fleet, not to mention those crewmen who’d come from the assizes with the choice of either Naval service or prison before them.

Given the harsh conditions of sailing the Dark, the poor food, consisting mostly of a daily half kilo of “beef” grown in the purser’s nutrient vats, and miserly pay, often paid months in arrears, it was a wonder men didn’t jump ship in the midst of
darkspace
itself.

The French naval station at
Nouvelle
Paris
would have the pubs, shops, and other, more prurient, establishments the crew would be looking forward to, but in a sealed environment with guards at the planet-bound boats and around any merchant shipping. The added difficulty, and the certainty of losing what portion of their pay was in arrears, would make most of the men think twice about attempting to run.

“Will the ships of the convoy not be running a risk when they disperse, sir?” Lieutenant Brookhouse asked. “Some of their destinations are quite near the Republic’s border with Hanover.”

“To date,” Euell said, “the Hanoverese have limited their aggression to us. It’s an odd, disturbing turn of events, given their past propensity for attacking everyone in sight all at once. For the moment, though, New London appears to be their only target. We’ve heard nothing of conflict with the Republic,
Deutschsterne,
or
Hso-Hsi
.” He frowned. “Though why those others haven’t come to our assistance yet is beyond me, as well. Our shared history of conflict with Hanover, after all …” He shrugged. “It is beyond me.”

“Perhaps, with such a long peace as we’ve had,” Brookhouse suggested, “they’re hoping New London will settle Hanover before the Hannies set their sights on other targets.”

“Perhaps,” Euell allowed, “though even a cursory review of history should put paid to such hopes. In any case, we have a last bit of ship’s business before we bid our Lieutenant Carew good luck in her evening’s trials.” He raised a glass to her and the others followed suit.

“With Mister Blackmer’s death, we are a midshipman short and, since we’ll be some time in Republican space, will have to look to other means of replacing him. Please give it some thought, gentlemen, and put forth the names of any of our master’s mates you think might have the makings of an officer. Lieutenant Carew?”

“Sir?”

“I should like to place Mister Artley with you on the upper gundeck. Do, please, see what you can make of him.”

“Aye, sir,” Alexis said automatically, but inwardly wincing.

Artley was the youngest midshipman aboard
Shrewsbury
at just twelve years old. It was his first time aboard ship and most of the officers were already despairing at his future.

The boy was timid, almost mouse-like, with both the other midshipmen and the crew. She wasn’t sure what Captain Euell might expect her to “make of him”, given that she was the most junior lieutenant aboard herself.

And with every waking moment I’m not on watch spent closeted with Eades and Courtemanche
.

“Better you than me, Carew,” Lieutenant Hollingshed said with a grin and a raised glass. “I wish you luck.”

“
C
hoose
, Miss Carew! Quickly!”

Alexis looked at the array of items on the table before her with a wary eye. Mister Eades, of the Foreign Office, was seated across the table from her with a similar array and she could detect just the tiniest indication of impatience in his expression and voice.

“This one?” she asked, tentatively picking up a four-pronged fork.

Eades sighed and shook his head. “No, Miss Carew, we’ve been over this. That is a salad fork.” He picked up an instrument with two long prongs. “
This
is for
escargot.
”

Alexis set the fork down on the table with the others and eyed her plate with distaste. How Eades’ cook had managed it, with the limited space aboard ship to cook in as well as store provisions, she didn’t know, but he’d managed to produce yet another meal that she was certain even
Shrewsbury’s
hardest man would turn his nose up at.

“If I must stab a giant snail, Mister Eades, I shall want something a bit more formidable, I think.”

“One does not
stab
at a fine Court dinner,” Eades said. “One uses the tines to gently tease the meat from the shell.”

Alexis grimaced. “Could we not, perhaps, leave the snails in their shells? Safe in the garden?” Alexis felt her stomach roll a bit at the thought. “And simply have the butter and garlic over toast?”

“We may not, Miss Carew,” Eades said.

Alexis sighed. After the morning’s battle and Blackmer’s death, then a long day of herding the convoy’s merchantmen back into a semblance of order, she longed for nothing more than a bit of rest. Perhaps even a small amount of time in the wardroom to speak to the ship’s other officers, men she had to work with, but had been given little opportunity to come to know.

Instead she was once again in Malcom Eades’ cabin, being asked to learn what she considered utter silliness.

“Should I wake Courtemanche, Carew? For another dancing lesson?”

“No!” Alexis said quickly. “No, that won’t be at all necessary. It’s the two-tined fork for snails, you say?”

Vachel Courtemanche, representative to Her Majesty’s Court from
La Grande République de France Parmi les Étoiles,
The Grand Republic of France Among the Stars, shared the cabin with Eades. It was his task to teach her some particularly French things, such as the dances currently popular at the French Court, and he was, so far as Alexis’ limited encounters could discern, a prototypical Frenchman — an outrageous flirt and certain that he was the universe’s greatest gift to women.

This Alexis would have been able to accept with a tolerant smile, were he not also some four times her seventeen years of age and … well, the man had an odor about him. An unpleasant, almost unbearable, odor. That Alexis thought this after spending more than two years aboard ships —
Shrewsbury
herself having a complement of over eight hundred men, all limited to no more than a quart of water per day for washing — said much.

How Eades could stand to spend his days in such close proximity to the Frenchman was something Alexis couldn’t fathom.
Shrewsbury
had been built as a fleet flagship and boasted a spacious admiral’s cabin, in addition to her captain’s, which Eades and Courtemanche had taken for their use. They’d divided the sleeping cabin between them and used the absent admiral’s day cabin for their teaching of Alexis.

Torment, rather.

Eades smiled the infuriating little smile that always had Alexis’ teeth clenching. The man loved to get his own way and was intolerably smug about it when he did so.

“Good, Miss Carew.”

“As I’ve said before, the proper form of address, Mister Eades, would be ‘lieutenant’ or ‘mister’, if you please. The Navy makes no distinction for my gender.”

Eades shrugged. “I am not a part of your Navy, Miss Carew, nor, I assure you, are the French. Perhaps you should respect their customs, as you’ll be with me there for some time.”

Alexis fought down a flash of anger, but not before snapping. “Perhaps you should respect the customs of the Service that’s providing you transport, sir.”

“I much prefer that
you
learn the customs of our soon-to-be hosts,” Eades said. “The French are an odd lot, and easily offended.”

Alexis took a deep breath and calmed herself. Sniping with Eades did no good at all.

“I fear I’ll never remember these things. At home on Dalthus, we only ever used a single fork at any meal.” She stared at the glittering array of utensils laid out before her. It would have been unthinkable to send that much silverware back to the kitchen and expect their cook, Julia, to wash it after every meal.

“Yes, well, the French Republican Court is not a colonial pig-farm, now is it?”

Alexis raised her gaze to stare at Eades. Dalthus might be a colony and her grandfather proud to name himself a farmer, but he, along with the three thousand other First Settlers owned the entire star system of Dalthus.

“If those at this Court are as ill-mannered as yourself, Mister Eades, I believe I shall prefer the pigs.”

“And I would happily send you back to them,” Eades said, “but if this plan is to succeed, your presence is required at the Court. Not only your presence, but that you
impress
the Court.”

“I almost wish you would send me back, Mister Eades, or at least allow me my Naval career in peace.” Alexis gestured at the table setting. “I do not find
this
impressive.”

Eades glared at her, his normally impassive face actually showing disapproval. “You know Commodore Balestra of the Berry March fleet; you’ve met her, spoken to her. The French will listen to you and your opinion of her, and of those worlds,
only
if you are able to seem, yourself, of some note. Something more than a young girl from a barely civilized colony world.”

“For a diplomat, Mister Eades, you are far from diplomatic.”

Alexis sighed again. Her time spent with Eades was always trying, perhaps because he was always demanding she learn the most absurd things without ever explaining the whole reason. Why was it so important that she impress the French? Why did they need to impress the French at all? She understood so little of his reasons, or even the reasons for the war New London found itself in, that she found it difficult to care about more than her ship, the crew, and distant friends.

Yes, she’d met Commodore Balestra, commander of a Hanoverese fleet in the worlds known as
La Baie Marche
, the Berry March. Though the worlds were part of Hanover, with whom her own nation of New London was at war, the worlds themselves had once been part of the French Republic, and the people there still thought of themselves as French.

Alexis had spent some time on one of those worlds as a prisoner of the Hanoverese and had grown to know the commodore. Something Eades hoped to take advantage of in his plans to convince the French Republic to declare war on Hanover and attempt to regain their former possessions.

“I am no diplomat at all, Carew,” Eades said. For the first time since she’d met him, Alexis noticed something distinctive about Malcom Eades — his eyes suddenly became the most frightening thing she’d ever seen. “I am, in fact, the very opposite of a diplomat. No, Carew, I make things happen for my Queen — and in this case, what I shall make happen is that the Republic of France shall join the war against Hanover, Commodore Balestra and the worlds of the Berry March shall revolt against Hanover, and the Republic of Hanover shall find itself … no more.”

Alexis licked suddenly dry lips. She’d never heard such utter, certain hatred expressed in so calm a tone.

“I don’t understand,” she said, almost whispering. “I don’t even understand why we’re at war with Hanover to begin with.”

Eades’ brow furrowed. He cocked his head to one side and opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. He sat back and regarded her as though seeing her for the first time.

“That is a shocking degree of ignorance.”

Alexis clenched her teeth to keep from snapping at him.
God help us if he
were
a diplomat … the kingdom would be doomed.

“Mister Eades,” she said instead, “I was raised roughly on a colony planet, as you know. There was quite enough for me to learn on Dalthus about running my grandfather’s lands, so you must forgive me for not following whatever events led to this war. My time in the Navy has consisted of some months tracking pirates aboard
Merlin
and some time more aboard
Hermione
. My encounters with the Hanoverese have consisted of Commodore Balestra and her staff, who were quite kind to me and, as it turns out, are French and not Hanoverese at all, and a Hanoverese lieutenant whose ship I took with a ruse — he, though a bit lecherous, was more a buffoon than the evil you seem to see in them.

“Moreover, I have a bare three years in Naval service. It’s been all I could do to learn the
Navy’s
ways, much less anything about the wider universe. And, in case you had not noticed, sir, the Navy itself is not at all prone to
explaining
.”

Eades was silent. “No,” he said finally. “No, I suppose it is not.” He poured himself a glass of wine and took a sip. “Do you know a thing about New London’s history at all?”

Alexis flushed, feeling a bit foolish, for she would have to admit that she did know only a very little.

“The price of
varrenwood
, the shipping rates for grain … the times to plant and harvest, even the assay process for a new mine, Mister Eades,” she admitted finally. “These were always far more important than some dry history that would never …” She closed her eyes, realizing how silly it sounded. “Would never have an impact on my life.”

“If you wish a career in the Navy, Carew,” Eades said, “rather than simply a position, I suggest you begin paying history more heed.” He ran a hand over his chin. “Very well, then, I will explain. At least as much as one can in a short time.

“I’m sure you know, at least, that the systems we call the Core Worlds — the longest settled and most developed — were once colonies themselves?”

Alexis nodded.

“Good. Well, the entire history of mankind in the stars is likely too much to cover this evening, but … do you at least know your ship’s history? Perhaps that will give you the correct perspective.”

“
Shrewsbury’s?
”

“Yes.” He shook his head. “No, I can see from your eyes that you don’t, and that surprises me. There is a reason this particular ship was selected for this particular mission. That bronze plaque near the airlock, where they do all the folderol of coming aboard, do you know what it means?”

Alexis was reasonably certain that no one aboard
Shrewsbury
would care for the ceremony of piping officers aboard and saluting the ensign at the airlock being referred to as ‘folderol’, but she had to admit she didn’t know the plaque’s purpose. There were so many Naval traditions and their meanings that she didn’t yet know. She’d seen the plaque in question — it bore the ship’s name,
HMS. Shrewsbury
, and the names of several hundred men, along with the odd inscription
We Who Stood
. She’d assumed it might be the ship’s first crew, but now felt she’d been very mistaken. She was certain, however, that she’d have had a chance to learn it if Eades had not been so jealous of her time.

“
Shrewsbury
is a Named Ship, Carew,” Eades said, “I chose her for this visit to the French Republic as carefully as I chose you. Perhaps more so.” Eades cleared his throat.

“At the end of the Second Colonial Independence War, when we — that is to say the major Core Worlds, New London, the French,
Ho-Hsi
, and
Deutschsterne
— were able to knock the forces of Earth, Terra Nova, and
Nueva Oportunidad
back and retain our independence, a large portion of the
Deutschsterne
fleet and dozens of systems rebelled.” He met her eyes steadily. “This was hundreds of years ago, of course, but the ramifications are felt today. The rebellion was led from the Hanover system. Hanover was a political colony, with all that it implies, you understand?”

Alexis nodded.

After
darkspace
was discovered and travel to other star systems became possible, the first attempts at colonization had been disasters. The first colony worlds, Terra Nova and
Nueva Oportunidad
, had been an odd attempt to mix all of the cultures of Earth into some sort of utopian ideal. The result had been years of factional battles and bloody civil wars as different groups tried to gain superiority on the new planets.

In the interim, exploration went on and it was discovered that habitable planets were not so rare as originally believed.

The second wave of colonization, much, much larger than the first, had consisted of homogeneous groups. Religious and political groups fleeing to set up their own versions of utopia were among them, along with groups that simply wanted a bit of room between them and their neighbors.

The result on most of the cultural colonies, as the political and religious settlements were referred to, had been years of factional battles and bloody civil wars as those supposedly homogeneous groups fragmented points of doctrine and philosophy.

Humanity, it seemed, very much enjoyed killing each other.

“Settling new lands has always been a safety valve to get rid of those with extreme or unpopular beliefs,” Eades continued, “and it generally works well to this day — at least from the perspective of those of us in the Core who don’t have to deal with them anymore. If a group can pay the survey and transport costs to claim a system, good riddance to them and let them run their world as they see fit. They often fall to quarreling amongst themselves over some obscure point of dogma and leave their neighbors well alone until they come to their senses and want services only the Core can provide.”

Eades sighed.

“Hanover was an exception,” he said. “That particular group settled several systems close together and managed to spread their ideas to their neighbors. It was
Deutschsterne’s
bad luck that those systems comprised quite a large part of their industrial worlds. When Hanover rebelled it was a complete surprise to
Deutschsterne
— and it was coordinated in such a way that …” He paused.