The Little Ships (Alexis Carew Book 3) (8 page)

S
hrewsbury
crossed
into French Republic space without incident. They met a pair of French frigates escorting a convoy of their own shortly past the border and received word that Hanover had still made no move to include the Republic in their latest war, though the French had made it clear they were not entirely neutral and no Hanoverese warships would be permitted in French space.

Though they still kept a vigilant watch, the news lessened the anxiety Alexis and
Shrewsbury’s
other officers felt. The convoy itself began splitting up, with one or two merchant vessels leaving for their destinations each day. By the time they neared the French capital system there was only
Shrewsbury,
the two French frigates,
two merchantmen, and the captured Hanoverese frigate left in the group.

Alexis was with Eades when they arrived at
Nouvelle Paris.
He looked up as the ship’s speakers rang with the call for
all hands
to prepare to take in sail as they approached the Lagrangian point that would allow them to transition from
darkspace
into the system.

“Have you ever been to a Core world, Miss Carew?”

Alexis stifled a sigh. He well knew she hadn’t, as he’d pointed it out to her often enough in chastising her lack of proper knowledge and behavior. “I have not.”

“Well, let’s to the quarterdeck, then. That great circle thing in the middle will have the best views from outside the ship and you’ll want to see our approach, I’m sure.”

“The navigation plot, you mean?” Surely he didn’t mean to push his way onto the quarterdeck and stand around the plot? Captain Euell would surely have the deck for their entry into the system and he wouldn’t want his passengers cluttering the place up. “I’m not sure if that’s wise —”

Courtemanche slid the hatch to his sleeping quarters open and peered out.

“This sound, does it mean we are arrived?”

“It does,” Eades said, rising. “Come, Carew.”

“Ah!” Courtemanche said. “I have been too long from home. I must see.”

“Mister Eades,” Alexis tried to protest, but the other two were already at the hatch and she had no choice but to obey Eades’ come-along gesture. “Mister Eades,
Monsieur
Courtemanche, it is not customary for passengers to enter the quarterdeck, especially during transitions. The captain —”

Eades made a dismissive sound and waved her objections away. “Captain Euell has been tasked with providing this mission every assistance and accommodation. Surely a bit of space around his precious table is not too much to ask.”

“It’s a navigation plot, not a bloody table,” Alexis muttered, but followed along behind the two.

They made their way to
Shrewsbury’s
quarterdeck. The marine stationed there looked uncertain as they approached and Alexis hung back. Perhaps he’d stop them and she didn’t want her presence to make him assume they had permission to enter. But Eades and Courtemanche had so often taken advantage of
Shrewsbury’s
hospitality that even the marine was unsure of whether they could come and go as they pleased. He took the middle road of sliding the hatch open and announcing them before they’d fully arrived.

“Misters Eades an’ Cortmunch, sir,” he called through the hatch.

Alexis heard a muttered oath followed by Euell’s resigned, “Oh, very well, let them by.”

She followed the other two onto the quarterdeck and gave Euell as apologetic a look as she could muster.

Eades and Courtemanche went immediately to the navigation plot, but Alexis held back. Eades motioned to her.

“Come, Carew, you’ll want to see this.”

Alexis looked to Euell, who nodded.

At first, Alexis was unsure of what she was seeing. The navigation plot was displaying images from all around the ship, but the space ahead of them was full of lights, not just the swirling black of
darkspace
. Alexis frowned. There were so many of them. She’d known a Core World would be larger than any she’d seen, but she hadn’t expected there to be this much shipping visible in
darkspace
. Then she frowned further as the scale struck her. Some of the lights were so small that they couldn’t possibly be ships — unless they were, but then what would the larger be?

“
Les Étoiles de Paris
,” Courtemanche said proudly.

“‘The Stars of Paris’?”

“Twelve planets, seventeen moons,” Courtemanche said with a smile. “One hundreds and forty-five points of transition. Each protected by the guns of
les Étoiles de Paris.
The most massive installation in
darkspace
.”

“You’ve built forts in
darkspace
at every Lagrangian point?” Alexis couldn’t even begin to ponder the cost. Each of the forts appeared to be three or even four times larger than a ship of the line and it wasn’t even just one of them at each Lagrangian point. Some points had three or even four of the installations around them, with guns pointing in all directions.

“New London’s fortifications have more guns,” Nesbit whispered in Alexis’ ear.

“The guns of
les Étoiles
may be less numerous, but they are larger,” Courtemanche said, having heard.

“Compensating,” Nesbit whispered.

Alexis covered her mouth with her hand as Courtemanche flushed.

“Lieutenant Nesbit,” Euell warned, but Alexis thought his face held a suppressed smile of his own.

T
he rest
of their arrival stunned Alexis as much as the
darkspace
forts of the system had. She, along with Eades and Courtemanche, stayed on the quarterdeck, despite the hours-long approach under conventional drive. The space around
Nouvelle Paris
teemed with ships. A steady stream of them sailed to the planet’s L4 point for transition to normal space, streamed under conventional drive to the planet, and then from there to the L5 point and back to
darkspace
. To Alexis, used to much less traveled systems, it appeared as though space itself was crisscrossed with busy thoroughfares.

Normal space at the Lagrangian point contained several permanent structures as well. More fortifications surrounded the transition point, so that any ship that made it past the
darkspace
forts would face additional guns immediately after it transitioned. Alexis marveled at the extent of the fortifications.

So many
.
The expense of that much gallenium for the
darkspace
forts alone … and then the crews to man them.

For Alexis, coming from Dalthus where the population was still less than a million, worlds like Zariah and Penduli, where there were single cities with that many people, had been a shock. Her first glimpse of
Nouvelle Paris
left her speechless.

As
Shrewsbury’s
course took her outside the planet’s orbit to turn and close with the traffic patterns, the night side of the planet came into view.

“It’s like a jewel.”

It was only when she noticed Courtemanche beaming at her that she realized she’d spoken aloud, but even the realization that she’d likely just given Eades more ammunition for his colonial pig farmer taunts couldn’t dampen her wonder.

Without the system’s sun to dampen it, the planet glowed like another star. Lights covered its surface in a delicate, lovely lattice, like luminescent lace.

More than that, though, she now noticed the size of some of the ships, far larger than any she’d seen before and larger than she thought was possible. She edged over to the tactical console and looked over the shoulder of the spacer manning it.

“What is that ship there, Carpenter?” she whispered.

The spacer ran fingers over the console to magnify the ship and display information about its class. “Intrasystem cruiser,” he said.

Alexis read the ship’s stats with wide eyes. Larger by far than any ship she’d ever seen, too large to ever transition and travel in
darkspace
, for the sail area to move that much mass would be impossible to manage. But its size and armaments would make it quite useful for its purpose — defending the system against invasion by the smaller ships that
could
travel the Dark.

So many guns … and directly powered, rather than having to load shot protected from
darkspace
.
She read on.
And missiles … yes, I suppose that would be no problem at all with a developed star system to resupply in whenever you like, instead of having to worry about space in the hold for months on end.

And it wasn’t just the one, she saw. There were several of the cruisers around the system, and some ships even larger.

How would one ever be able to attack a system defended like this?

“If you’re quite through gawking, Miss Carew,” Eades called from the quarterdeck hatch, “I suggest we prepare to debark.”

Alexis noted the reactions of
Shrewsbury’s
officers and crew on the quarterdeck. All of them, from the helmsman to Captain Euell himself, had stiffened at Eades’ words — whether at the affront to her personally or the disrespect he showed her rank and, therefore, the Navy at large. She wondered if the man sought to antagonize others intentionally — much as she disliked him, she had to admit he seemed far too perceptive to be blind to the effect of his words. Regardless, the entire ship was at his disposal and Euell’s orders were to provide Eades with “the utmost in assistance and accommodation”. Those orders applied to her as well.

“As you wish, Mister Eades. I’ll have my man gather my things — it should take me no more than a bell.”

Alexis suppressed a grin at the look on Eades’ face. He seemed to have not mastered the ship’s system of keeping time by the number of bells in a watch, and she could see him struggle with the desire to ask her just how long that might be. Finally Eades nodded and turned to Euell.

“Captain, thank you for such a fast passage. I’m sure your crew will enjoy leave at the French naval stations, but I do request that you remain prepared to sail on the very shortest notice.”

“Of course.
Shrewsbury
is … at your disposal, Mister Eades.”

“Thank you, captain. I expect we’ll be here no more than a week, perhaps a fortnight at most.”

“
E
ight
bloody
weeks
!”

Alexis threw her beret across the room and shrugged out of her uniform jacket.

Isom retrieved the beret from where it had landed. “More of the same then, sir?”

Alexis swung her jacket onto the bed with a resounding
thump
.

“Meeting after meeting. Meetings with this ministry and that official. All just to arrange yet more meetings. I suspect we’ll meet with the Directorate for Bloody Thumb-twiddling on the morrow!” She paused and rubbed her forehead. “‘No more than a fortnight’, my arse.”

“Well, least it’s evening now and you can enjoy yourself at those parties they have.”

Alexis inhaled deeply and rounded on him, ready to let loose more of her frustrations, but forced herself to stop. None of this was Isom’s fault and he’d been patient to a fault with her expressing it.

Be honest, he’s put up with my bloody tantrums for weeks now.

She watched as he smoothed the fabric of her beret and set it carefully on the dresser.

And repaired the damage
.

She knew it wasn’t fair to him, but there was no one else she could complain to. Eades merely smiled tolerantly and told her to remain patient, not even acknowledging that he, himself, had said they should be in-system no more than a fortnight, or that Courtemanche had assured them the French were primed to join the fight, primed to free their brethren in the Berry March.

If that were truly the case, Alexis had yet to see signs of it in the daily meetings. Meetings where she sat at the back of the room waiting to be asked to speak to her experiences on Giron and with Commodore Balestra. Things Eades had assured her the French would want to hear, but of which, to date, she’d spoken not a word. Instead, Eades, Courtemanche, and whichever officials they were meeting with discussed everything from trade to the state of the succession in
Hso-Hsi
, far on the other side of
Deutschsterne
space.

In some ways the evenings were worse, though.

The French might not have been a monarchy for several hundred years, but they seemed to have made up for it with an elaborate, bureaucratic Court. The Ministries and Directorates of the government had replaced the aristocracy and there were nightly gatherings around the capital city, some with thousands of attendees and all the pomp and ceremony one would expect of a royal palace, complete with a majordomo announcing each new arrival’s place and distinction within the government.

Eades swore that it was at these that the real business of government was conducted, but she’d been asked nothing about the worlds of the Berry March or Commodore Balestra at these either. She’d only either been asked to dance or had to smile politely at comments which were nothing more than thinly veiled expressions of contempt for New London.

Even her delight with the wonders of a Core World was palling in the face of her frustration.

With a sigh, Alexis retrieved her uniform coat from the bed and handed it to Isom. She went to the window and looked out, head swimming a bit as she looked down, barely able to see the ground far below. She and Eades had been given a suite of rooms in Courtemanche’s residence which had impressed even Eades. Apparently height in the towers was some sort of sign of status and Courtemanche’s rooms were very high indeed.

Aircars streamed by outside and Alexis shook her head in wonder. It seemed everyone on this world either flew from place to place or took one of the ubiquitous capsules that ran through tubes crisscrossing the city. Both moved at speeds which made Alexis uneasy, though moreso the tubes, which Alexis found horrifying. No one seemed willing to walk so much as half a kilometer for themselves, and Alexis hadn’t seen a single horse since she’d arrived.

I miss horses
.

She turned from the window and found Isom readying a change of clothes for her. He’d laid everything out on the bed and was brushing her jacket. Fresh trousers and tunic, the dress sword that went along with a lieutenant’s uniform, even clean underthings — that last still gave Alexis pause, but Isom seemed to be not the least bothered by it. He treated her like any other officer. Alexis couldn’t help but smile — she’d never have suspected it of herself, but she found his assistance immeasurably helpful.

“Thank you, Isom. I’ll just wash up and then off to more parties. Perhaps tonight someone will give me cause to speak about what I came here to say in the first place.”

Isom left and Alexis proceeded to the one thing on
Nouvelle Paris
that still managed to delight her even after eight weeks. Her room’s bath, with unlimited hot water and a tub she could fairly swim in, was the one bright spot to the time she’d been on the planet.

I may never adjust to shipboard life again after this,
she thought as the hot water cascaded over her.

Alexis dressed and then called Isom in to give her uniform his approval. She shrugged her shoulders to settle her uniform jacket in place. Isom moved from behind her to tug on the jacket’s hem and eye it critically. He brushed a few imaginary pieces of lint away and nodded in satisfaction.

“Masts square and rigging tight, sir,” he said.

She laughed. “You’re too long a’space, Isom. You’re starting to sound like a seasoned tar.”

Isom shrugged. “Have to make the best of what we can’t change, sir.”

Alexis nodded, smile fading. “Indeed.”

She knew Isom was referring to the fact that he was in the Navy only because he’d been falsely gathered up by the Impressment Service, their officers even going so far as to mark him with a spacer’s tattoo while he was still unconscious from their stun rods. He’d been a legal clerk with no connection at all to space or ships, but there was little he could do about it now. Perhaps if he’d managed to stay with a ship near Penduli where there was a solicitor working on the issue for him he might have had a chance, but he’d chosen to follow Alexis. He seemed to have accepted what he couldn’t change and determined to make the best of things with her.

So should she make the best of what she couldn’t change. The days and now weeks of sitting idle while the French talked and pondered and … well, generally drank themselves into oblivion before starting afresh the next day. She was so bloody tired of the wait. She’d rehearsed and rehearsed what she’d say until the words were rote, but she wanted her chance to be perfect — if the Republic might really join the war for the chance to free the worlds of the Berry March, she owed Delaine and Commodore Balestra her best efforts to convince them.

But after the talking, and lasting far longer each night, were the parties, and these were what the French seemed to prefer. Hours and hours each evening, full of drinking, dancing, and dining … and the endless “
Mais non, mademoiselle,
no talk of war … tonight we dance,
oui?
”

Alexis was sick to death of it and ready to scream — not least because the damned French would not allow her to decline when asked to dance. They pressed the issue with an insistence that bordered on rude, then gave her quite wounded looks when the dance was done.

It’s not as though I don’t warn them. It’s their own fault if they have to limp away.

She had never in her life felt so utterly useless as she did here. While other officers were leading their men in the war, she was reduced to smiling prettily at the most foppish courtiers she could ever imagine. She clenched her jaw and raised a hand to adjust her rank insignia, squaring it properly with her collar as regulations required.

They’re complacent. Need something to spur them to action … short of a flechette to the arse, perhaps, but not far off.

She regarded herself in the mirror, though Isom would have ensured she was presentable. The French were even more concerned about a proper uniform than the Royal Navy’s regulations — anything out of place would be noticed and remarked on, probably as further proof that the New Londoners were vulgar and uncivilized. She suspected the common folk of the Republic were more serious and less judgmental than those at Court —
Probably much like the people of Giron, and Delaine himself —
but the attendants at Court were … a chore.

She eyed her uniform again, eyes falling on her rank insignia, and her lips curled upward.

Perhaps a flechette to the arse is what they need after all.
Her eyes strayed to her baggage.
Something to spark a conversation, at least.