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

“The goal of those systems, Miss Carew, was not simply their own independence from
Deutschsterne.
That might have been understandable, but they wanted more. They intended to not only rebel, but to conquer.” He raised his eyebrows. “Conquer
everything,
it seems. They believe, truly
believe
, that they’re meant to rule all of humanity. A horribly ambitious goal, but they were well on their way to succeeding, and by the most … dishonorable means.”

Eades poured her a glass of wine and set it in front of her. Alexis raised it and took a small sip.

“You’re aware of the Abbentheren Accords?”

Alexis shook her head.

“No, of course not,” Eades muttered. “Why should I expect you know a thing other than —” Eades shook his head in disgust. “A bit of study would do you no harm, Miss Carew.

“In any case, the Abbenthern Accords go into great detail about how warfare may be waged and the actions of Hanover in that war were the catalyst for Abbentheren,” Eades said. “It is unthinkable today to bombard a planet from orbit in any way. That is because we’ve already seen what such warfare can do. Hanover struck the
Deutschsterne
capital world first … their entire political leadership wiped out, along with seven million people in the capital city … all with no more effort than nudging a rock out of its orbit and dropping it into the planet’s gravity well.”

Alexis gasped at the thought of the destruction such a thing would cause.

Eades nodded. “Hanover took a very … pragmatic view toward conquest after that success. The ancient Romans had a policy in their own warfare …
Murum Aries Attigit,
they called it,
the ram has touched the wall. If an enemy city capitulated before the battering ram touched their walls, they’d be spared. After? No. Hanover would demand capitulation and accept surrender, but —” Eades shrugged. “— once the rocks were in motion, well,
murum aries attigit
.”

Alexis stared at Eades, unable to believe such an act would ever be committed.

“Abbentheren was a beautiful world, if the preserved images are to be believed,” Eades said, taking another sip of wine. “But the ram touched the wall there, Carew.” He snorted. “Many, many rams.

“All of this, of course, was against
Deutschsterne
— a civil war, of no concern to New London or the French King.” He smiled at her look of shock. “Yes, Carew, a monarch. The Grand
Republic
of France Among the Stars was once the Grand
Kingdom,
you see.

“Perhaps Hanover couldn’t find a suitable rock, I don’t know, but they changed tactics and chose assassination when they decided to expand their list of enemies. Virtually the entire royal family of the Grand Kingdom was assassinated overnight.”

Eades drained his glass and filled it again.

“As was New London’s,” he said. He gave her a bitter smile. “It was not the Foreign Office’s finest hour to have missed that bit coming. Nor the Palace Guards’ for allowing it to happen. To fail your Monarch in such a way, Carew … it is a thing that burns through generations.” Eades took a deep breath. “It sounds a bit like a fairy tale, I suppose, but both kingdoms had clear claimants — the
last
clear claimants, mind you — to their thrones safely where they could not be reached by assassins … aboard ship, in
darkspace
, serving in their respective navies.

“Both kingdoms were in utter disarray, of course, with no clear chain of command or leadership. The Hanoverese began rolling over systems one after the other. Once word spread of what happened to those systems that resisted … well, one cannot blame people for wanting to live, I suppose.

“You’re wondering, of course, what all this has to do with
Shrewsbury?
Well, I’m getting to that.” He filled her glass, though Alexis did not recall having drunk the wine. “Someone, it’s unclear who, felt that it was necessary to get the two crown princes together so that they could discuss an alliance against Hanover — princes, still, you see, for there’d been no way to stage a coronation for either. I suppose someone might have thought to just have a ship’s captain do it, things being what they were at the time.” He shrugged. “As I said, all was in disarray.

“In any case, both fleets were in such a state that when the ships the princes were on came together, the rest of both fleets were nowhere to be found. Either not yet arrived or not having received the message to gather. And so it was just the French ship,
Belle Nuit
, and New London’s …
HMS Shrewsbury.
” He drank again. “I told you I’d get to it.

“The New London and French fleets may not have been able to find the meeting place at the appropriate time, but the same cannot be said for the Hanoverese. No sooner had meetings begun between the two princes, than seven Hanoverese ships arrived in-system. At the time, our Prince Henry was aboard
Belle Nuit
chatting with the French fellow, I forget his name.

“So, then, there was
Shrewsbury’s
captain, Merewode Shetley —
his
name I remember, you see — with his Crown Prince aboard a
French
ship, seven Hanoverese ships bearing down on them. A good mix the Hanoverese sent, at least according to those who’d know about such things — enough fast ships so that they couldn’t escape and enough guns so that they couldn’t fight. A bad business all around.

“Captain Shetley sent one signal to
Belle Nuit
, Miss Carew —
We Shall Stand
.

“Then he put
Shrewsbury
about, sailed into the Hanoverese, and damned if he didn’t stop them … or at least damage and delay them long enough for
Belle Nuit
to get well away. The French logs show
Shrewsbury
still firing hours later when
Belle
Nuit
finally sailed out of sight.” He took a sip of his wine. “And that is the last record of
Shrewsbury,
Captain Shetley, or any of his crew. So
Shrewsbury
became a Named Ship. One of seventeen in New London’s history. If this particular incarnation were to be destroyed today, the very next ship launched would be so christened, for there is
always
a
Shrewsbury
in Service to Her Majesty.”

Eades raised his glass and nodded to her. “I may not respect all of your Navy’s customs, Miss Carew, but I do, never doubt, respect its deeds.”

Alexis stared at him, unsure of what to say or if he was done speaking.

Eades sighed. “We got Henry back, of course, our Queen’s many-times great-grandfather. The French had the poor judgment to misplace their prince some few years later in a battle, and he’d had the even poorer judgment to not spend that time rantipoling with every girl he could lay hands on and generating an heir or six — so they had no clear heir to the throne. Had the unexpected good sense, though, not to start a dynastic struggle in the middle of a war, and somehow managed to make themselves a republic in rather short time.

“We — New London, the French, and what was left of
Deutschsterne
— managed to stop Hanover and force them to the treaty table. Word of Abbentheren and other systems had spread and they were faced with nearly the entire bloody universe coming in against them, so they agreed to stop the war, give back what systems they’d taken, save those of
Deutschsterne
, and sign the Abbentheren Accords. That was … oh, I don’t know exactly, seventeen or so wars with them ago?” He shrugged. “My family has served the Monarchy since that time, Miss Carew. Since my own many-times-great grandfather failed to recognize the danger Hanover represented to them.”

Eades picked up the wine bottle and appeared puzzled when he found it empty.

“I will see Hanover ended, Miss Carew.”

He met Alexis’ eyes and she shivered at his look.

“That’s enough history for today, I suppose,” he said. “I believe I hear
Monsieur
Courtemanche stirring and lord knows you require more practice at dance.”

A
lexis left Eades
, Courtemanche, and the flag cabin sometime later with much to think about. Eades’ tale — and the emotion he’d shown, far different from his usual smugness and disdain — had shed new light on this mission. She wondered, though, if the man wasn’t placing too much importance on her and her ability to convince the French to join with New London against Hanover.

She’d explained to him more than once that she did not know Commodore Balestra well. She’d only met the woman a handful of times while she was a prisoner on Giron, one of the worlds Hanover had taken from the French Republic a century before.

That the people of those worlds, and Commodore Balestra who commanded the fleet drawn from there, still thought of themselves as French was indisputable. But Alexis doubted whether the leaders of the Republic would take her word for it.

And if they do
, she thought,
how will Balestra even know?

The last reports Eades had said the fleet from the Berry March,
La Baie Marche
as the French called those worlds, had been ordered deep into Hanover space and replaced with ships from Hanover proper.

At least that places Delaine far from the fighting.

Delaine Theibaud was the Frenchman Alexis knew far better than the commodore, and Alexis smiled at the memory. The flamboyant lieutenant could make the most outrageous statements and then beg her forgiveness with a grin and, “You must forgive me … I am French.”

Odd as it sounded even to her, her time as a prisoner on Giron had been the happiest she’d known since leaving her home on Dalthus, solely because it was time spent so much with Delaine.

So, we must convince the French, then find the Berry March fleet, then somehow get a message to Commodore Balestra which convinces her of the Republic’s intent … and even then we must still convince the various worlds of the Berry March of all this.

Alexis shook her head. It all seemed quite complicated and more than they could hope to accomplish with just the one ship, Named or no.

She slid the hatch to the wardroom open and entered. Lieutenants Hollingshed and Nesbit were there at the wardroom’s table, sharing a bottle of wine with Major Howey, who led
Shrewsbury’s
marines.

Isom, a spacer who’d attached himself to her as a sort of personal servant during her captivity on Giron, stood by the wardroom cupboards with Bonsall, the wardroom’s regular steward. He raised his eyebrows in enquiry and she nodded slightly.

Alexis seated herself at the table with the others and Isom brought her a cup, which Hollingshed filled for her, drawing a glare from Nesbit who usually assigned himself that task. The bottle ran out, though, leaving her with less than half a glass.

Isom returned in a moment with a warm plate of beef. Real beef, as the captain had been as good as his word and sent a plate from his own table for her.

“Bring us one of the reds we brought aboard at Hartleigh, will you Isom?” she asked. Lord knew after an evening with Eades she’d need more than a glass.

“Aye, sir.”

Strictly speaking, lieutenants did not bring their own servants aboard ship. Oh, they could, but usually only if their name ended with a peerage. One or more of
Shrewsbury’s
regular crew typically performed stewards’ duties in the wardroom and gunroom, receiving a small remittance from the officers. Isom, though, had apparently found some way to follow Alexis aboard
Shrewsbury
and then made some arrangement with Bonsall. She supposed that so long as he performed other duties aboard ship and his remittance for the extra work came from Alexis herself, there was no cause for anyone to complain.

Isom returned with the bottle and Nesbit took it from him with a wink before filling Alexis’ glass. It mixed the two wines, but none of the wardroom residents had bottles so fine left aboard that mixing would do them harm.

Alexis took a sip of her wine.

“Does it meet m’lady’s approval?” Nesbit asked.

“Anything that dulls my senses and sears my nostrils would meet with my approval after the last few hours work.”

“Then my day is complete. I live but to serve your whim, you do know.”

Alexis chuckled. Nesbit was a match for her own age of seventeen and
Shrewsbury’s
fifth lieutenant. Since she’d first come aboard, he’d treated her with outrageous courtesy and flirted extensively. At first she’d been concerned. Not only was any fraternization aboard ship forbidden by the regulations, but her experiences aboard her last ship,
HMS
Hermione
, had left her leery of her peers. She’d been a midshipman aboard that ship, not a lieutenant, and the other midshipmen had been both lecherous and cruel toward her.

She’d quickly determined, though, that Nesbit was in no way serious about his attentions. He seemed to be doing it mostly to relieve his boredom and entertain himself; at worst he thought of her as a foil to hone his wits for runs ashore.

“If you’ve a mind to serve,” she said, “taking a scrub brush and cake of soap to
Monsieur
Courtemanche wouldn’t go amiss. Barring that, waylay him some evening and dunk him in a tank of rum until it’s killed whatever it is must be growing somewhere on the man?”

She’d caught Hollingshed in mid-drink and had to grin at the coughing and choking that came from behind his suddenly raised hand.

“More of his dancing lessons?” Major Howey asked, face showing his amusement.

Alexis gave a mock shudder. “Interminably more. I fear I’ll never have the way of it.”

“Nonsense!” Nesbit said. “Surely you must move across the floor with the grace of a swan.”

Alexis raised an eyebrow. Harmless as Nesbit was to her, she did wonder if he ever achieved his ends with the ladies on-station.

“Do swans dance, then?” she asked. “I was quite unaware.”

“I have faith you will stun the gentlemen of
Nouvelle Paris,
as you have laid waste to
Shrewsbury’s
wardroom.”

Alexis eyed him for a moment. “Laying it on a bit, aren’t you?”

Nesbit frowned. “Do you think so?”

“I’ve been flirted with by the French before, you know,” Alexis said. “I fear you’ll have your work cut out for you on
Nouvelle Paris
.”

Nesbit gave her a hurt expression. “Are you saying I don’t measure up?”

“Well —” Alexis smiled at the memory of her time on Giron, possibly the most pleasant prisoner of war experience one could have. “They do have a certain way about them.”

Nesbit narrowed his eyes, drawing his brow down. “Then I shall be the brooding New Londoner and the girls will find me all exotic.”

Alexis laughed. “A plan for all contingencies?”

“Of course,” Nesbit said. “One must go into action prepared for any eventuality.”

“Still,” Hollingshed said, “I’ve heard these dances the French hold go all night a’times. Do you truly find it so distasteful?”

“For those dances with set movements, I’ll allow myself adequate.” Alexis shook her head. “But these partnered dances where … where I must follow another’s whim, it seems, I find I have no ability.”

Alexis realized even as she spoke the words what she’d just let herself in for, but she was too fatigued to stop her mouth. Nesbit was on his feet before she’d finished speaking, hand extended.

“Utter nonsense. Come, show me this lack. I believe you not.” He gestured at Hollingshed. “Music, please.”

“Of course, yes,” Hollingshed said immediately with an evil grin for Alexis. “Certainly if such a lack exists, it is our duty to assist a fellow officer in her deficiency.”

Alexis sighed. She was horribly tired after such a long day, but now the idea was in their heads, especially Nesbit’s, there’d be no getting it out. She could only hope that if she played along now and let them have their fun they’d forget about it — better just the two lieutenants and Major Howey to witness her embarrassment than if they brought it up again before the entire wardroom. Likely then she’d wind up with all five of the other lieutenants vying to show her how it was done.

It wasn’t as though they singled her out for the teasing, of course. Nesbit was a constant target for his schemes to meet ladies while on leave, Barr took more than his share for being the wealthiest of those in the wardroom, and Slawson’s ears … well, Alexis would much rather be singled out as the prettiest of the wardroom, rather than for those ears. It was almost affectionate.

No, this teasing is how they show affection for one another, rather than simply say it.

“I think I want no part of this,” Howey said with a smile and a nod. “I’m off to my bed.”

With another sigh Alexis took Nesbit’s hand and rose, while Hollingshed played appropriate music on his tablet. At least Nesbit didn’t stink, though he was taller than Courtemanche and that was awkward as well — he towered over Alexis’ bare meter and a half by a full thirty centimeters or more and Alexis found herself staring at his chest. The reach to place her hand on his shoulder was uncomfortable, and Nesbit flushed as his own natural placement of his hand found something quite a bit higher than her waist.

Didn’t think of that, did you? I’m simply not built for this sort of thing.

Nesbit cleared his throat and slid his hand down to where it belonged.

“So, then, now —” he said, nodding in time to the music and starting to move her through some steps. “It’s not so — ow, bloody! No, no, it’s quite all right, just let’s try again. Simply move with — damn! Not that way,
with
me. Stop trying to — ow! Are you bloody
stomping
on me? Just turn to the right — no, my right, damn your eyes!
Ow!
You don’t bloody weigh enough for it to hurt that mu —
ow!
”

Nesbit stopped, released her, and held up his hands. He gave Hollingshed a wounded look at his barely contained laughter and shook his head.

“You’re a bloody menace!”

“I did warn you,” Alexis said, resuming her seat.

Nesbit limped back to the table. “It’s dance, Carew, not bloody wrestling!”

Alexis poured him a fresh glass of wine and slid it across the table to him. “I’m not at all certain why I have such trouble with it.”

Nesbit drained his glass. “If a simple dance is such a struggle, I shudder at the thought of what an effort bedding you would be …”

He froze, glass halfway to the table, and blanched. Hollingshed was equally silent, staring from Nesbit to Alexis.

“Oh, hell, Carew, I’m sorry for that.” He set his glass down and spread his hands. “I wasn’t thinking —”

Alexis cut him off hurriedly. “I’m not one to take offense at what’s clearly a jest, Nesbit,” she said, “even a crude one.” She laid her hand on his arm. “I know the sorts of jests young men make amongst themselves, at least those of an age.”

She nodded at Hollingshed who was only a year older than she and Nesbit. She didn’t include Lieutenants Barr and Slawson, the first and second lieutenants in that. They were both much older more properly restrained. But Nesbit and Hollingshed, even Brookhouse to a certain extent, were only a little ways from midshipmen themselves, and no matter their upbringing they had little more couth than the village youths when their elders weren’t around.

“And I’d rather you made them,” she continued, “rather than being forever on your guard to avoid offending me.” She squeezed his arm. “I’ll draw my own lines, if you please, and that was nowhere near one. In fact, I think that may be the first time you’ve given up playing the gallant and simply spoken as yourself and, dare I say, a friend?”

“In my tongue-tied colleague’s defense,” Hollingshed said, holding the wine bottle to the light before pouring, “we’ve only seen a little of you off-watch. Difficult to know someone that way.”

Alexis nodded.

Damn Eades for that as well,
she thought. She’d been aboard
Shrewsbury
for nearly two months, but he’d taken so much of her time that she’d truly not had the chance to know the other officers, and that was good for neither herself nor the ship.
They’ve seen me on watch and may trust my skills, but they don’t truly know me.

“Well now you know, and I’m quite able to tell you if you cross a line, without it becoming some sort of dire event.”

“That’s good to hear,” Hollingshed said. “We were a bit unsure what to think when you came aboard.
Shrewsbury’d
just come from the Core, you know, and we’d had several women aboard there, but we’d heard the Fringe was, well, different, I suppose.”

“The Fringe or Fringe women?” Alexis asked with a smile.

“Both, to be honest,” Nesbit said, finally speaking again. “I’d expected all the girls out here to be locked away in cloisters.”

“Skirts never above the ankle,” Hollingshed added.

Nesbit nodded. “Veils.”

“Virtue guarded every moment.”

“And none too bright, truth to tell.”

“Vaporish,” Hollingshed said with a gleam in his eye.

“Prone to hysteria.”

“Not to be bothered with such things as voting or finance or property matters, of course.”

“Horrid dancers.”

Alexis had been looking from one to the other as they’d laid out their expectations, sad that, much as they were teasing her, there were plenty, if not most, of the Fringe Worlds that were exactly like they described. Perhaps not all of them, nor all the same, but of all the prejudices on the Fringe Worlds, women tended to be the most universal target.

Part of that was due to the natural divisions of work in a developing colony, she knew, and part to a certain over-protectiveness when a new colony’s limited medical care made childbirth a surprisingly dangerous proposition for those raised in the Core, but there was also something else to it that bewildered her.

She’d encountered it in her former captain, Neals, aboard
Hermione
, and couldn’t entirely dismiss the man’s attitudes as coming solely from what she was certain was insanity. Still, she’d seen not a bit of that in the officers or crew of
Shrewsbury
.

Nesbit’s final comment registered and she shoved his shoulder, laughing. “Beast!”