Privateer (Alexis Carew Book 5) Page 3

  “You could try — you’ve a historic opportunity today, you know? There’ve been few speakers in Conclave who weren’t shareholders or heirs themselves. And you’ve influence, what with your Naval doings.”

  “I’m aware.” In truth, she wasn’t at all comfortable that her “Naval doings” might grant her such influence. It somehow didn’t seem right that she should reap that benefit when so much of it had been because of the men serving with her and not any of her doing. “I do plan to mention — mention, mind you, and not actually suggest — that ‘first-born’ may not be the best mode of inheritance, male or female or either. There’s some thought that might make a change more palatable to those like the Scudders.”

  The Scudders’ first-born, Lilian, was quite vocally appalled by the proposed changes, stating repeatedly that a household was quite enough for her to run and she had no interest at all in any aspect of mining, farming, lumber, or, usually with a perfumed handkerchief held dramatically near her nose, good lord can you imagine having to oversee the fisheries?

  For Alexis’ part, she thought it just as wrong to force someone into a role they had no desire for as it was to deny the thing to one who did.

  All of which had little to do with the thrust of Lauryn’s argument, which was to have everyone, first settler, indenture, and freemen alike, each have a single, equal vote in how the colony was run.

  “While universal suffrage may be a fine thing on other worlds, back in the Core, perhaps, where they’ve been settled for centuries, I still don’t see it right for us here. The families who settled here gave up everything to purchase the system and run things as they will — and everyone who came after, indenture and freeman alike, knew how the Charter said things were to be run. They didn’t have to come — could’ve moved on to another system more to their liking.”

  “Could they? Perhaps, but what of those born here after the settlement?” Lauryn waved a hand at the assembled crowd. “Oh, you and I and all those related to this lot are quite well off enough — a say or not in how things are run — but what of those born to the indentures and freemen since coming here? They had no say in what they might be born into, now did they?”

  There was some sense to that, though Alexis couldn’t completely agree.

  “All of our parents and forebears made choices which affect us, Lauryn. I’m sure some of the first generation born here, or on any colony world, might well have wished their parents had stayed behind on some Core world. And it’s certainly not as though Dalthus is all so bad in that regard — there are two worlds fringeward of here that I’d certainly not wish to have been born into.”

  “That there are worse is no reason not to make our own better. Will you not just —”

  A chime sounded, announcing the imminent start of the Conclave and that those who weren’t shareholders, heirs, or speakers should leave the auditorium while those who were should take their seats. The sound came as a relief, for Alexis didn’t care to continue these same old arguments with Lauryn, much as she liked the girl in general.

  “I’ll think on it, and listen to you,” Alexis promised, “but I won’t propose it — not today. Change takes time, remember. When our ancestors settled here, their stop at Zariah was in a walled enclave to keep them from ‘corrupting’ the average Zariahn — now they’ve a Crown magistrate there and the world is open.”

  “Five years until the next Conclave, Alexis,” Lauryn said. “Long years for some.”

  “Change comes in steps, not leaps, I think, cousin. Remember, I’ve just come from a Service where everyone must call me ‘sir’ so as not to grow confused at the novelty of my presence.”

  The chime sounded again.

  “I must go, I suppose.” Lauryn sighed. “Will you have dinner with us here in town after the Conclave?”

  “I will, but no politics, please? After I get through speaking today I could wish a month or two talking nothing but lace doilies and the proper calligraphy for place settings with Lilian Scudder, I think.”

  Lauryn shuddered, but smiled before leaving.

  Alexis made her way back to her seat.

  “You look pensive,” her grandfather noted.

  “My cousin and her friends wish more than is achievable, I think.” She settled herself into her seat as the lights dimmed and the crowd set their tablets to register their votes on the upcoming agenda. “Perhaps more than is wise.”

  “Hmph.” Denholm’s mouth twisted. “I’ve heard. If people want a world like that, that’s what they should pick, not try to change what others have chosen.”

  Alexis wasn’t entirely sure it was that simple, despite her words to that effect with Lauryn. She was saved from further thought on it by the arrival on the stage of Jerel Wilber, who’d got the task of chairing the Conclave. Wilber called the session to order.

  The Conclave began with the less contentious issues. Matters of trade, duties, and capital expenditures for the colony as a whole, as well as reports on the status of mining and the two orbital stations being built — one at the planet and one at the primary moon for ore transshipments.

  The latter was almost complete and the former well on its way to being so — already in use for some things.

  “That should relieve some of the pressure on the ports, don’t you think?” Denholm asked her. “If the spacers and miners can take their leave aboard the station, rather than here in town?”

  “For the Naval spacers, yes,” Alexis agreed, “as their captains won’t want the men to run and the marines will keep the them in the Naval ring aboard station.” She leaned closer so as to be heard over the current speaker, who was going on about the number of tonnes of gallenium ore transshipped at the lunar station versus in planetary orbit. Why the data had to be read aloud, instead of just provided on everyone’s tablet she couldn’t fathom. “But the miners and merchant crews prefer to come planetside — they like the novelty of open air after so much time a’space.”

  “Do they?” Denholm sighed. “Then I suppose we’ll have to give Doakes his constabulary —” He smiled. “— so as to allow you to concentrate on the holdings.”

  “You seem quite certain our measure will carry.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve done all the politicking I can, I think.”

  “As have we,” Mylin whispered from behind her, clapping a hand on Alexis’ shoulder. Alexis reached up and squeezed it gratefully before he withdrew it.

  “And I’ve confidence in your speaking to it,” Denholm said.

  “I wish I had the same.”

  The first of the more contentious issues was up on the agenda now, with Doakes speaking in the affirmative for the levying of increased port fees, the purpose of which would be to establish an official constabulary in the freetowns.

  The chandler appeared nervous to be speaking, though he was one of the shareholders himself — just a few shares which had bought the concession on the chandlery and a bit of land in Port Arthur, but a shareholder nonetheless.

  “Fees’ll be passed on to those receiving the goods,” Denholm muttered, “and that strikes at everyone, even those who’ll receive little benefit.” He turned to Alexis. “You say it’s the miners causing the trouble, not the merchant crews?”

  Alexis nodded. “For the most part — merchant crews will get their blood up from time to time, but they generally keep in good order. The merchant captains wish to keep the goodwill of the ports they visit, so keep the lads in line. The miners are a rougher lot.”

  Denholm pursed his lips, then touched his tablet.

  “A move to amend, Holder Doakes,” Wilber said as Doakes paused for breath. “Will you yield a moment to Holder Carew?”

  Doakes wiped his brow and took a sip of water. “Aye, yes, I will.”

  “Do you desire the stage, Holder Carew?” Wilber asked.

  Denholm raised his tablet to his mouth and spoke, voice coming from the hall’s speakers.

  “No need, I think, merely a proposal for a small amendment.” He clea
red his throat. “Upon passage of the measure, an additional vote to amend, in that the general port duties be struck in favor of a specific duty on gallenium transshipments.” There were some mutters starting in the surrounding crowd. “Not to exceed the expected amount of the general port duties laid out in the original proposal, but to be levied solely on gallenium ore.”

  The mutters grew louder, but Alexis saw more than one head in the hall nodding in approval.

  Denholm raised his voice, or Wilber raised the volume of the speakers, in order to be heard. “It’s the belt miners who cause the trouble, is it not, Holder Doakes?”

  Doakes nodded, eyes darting about the hall. “It is, sir, for the greater part — we have little trouble with the merchant crews, and their ships’ officers are always at the ready to deal with what there is.”

  “All right, then,” Denholm said. “Yes, it’ll mean fewer of us paying for this new constabulary, but it’s our gallenium that’s caused the troubles. Not fair for some freeman running a bakery in Port Arthur to pay his three percent on a new tablet when it’s our profits caused the trouble he’s paying for, now is it?”

  There were more murmurs at that and Alexis heard movement from behind her.

  “Yes, Holder Mylin?”

  “Seconded,” Alexis heard from the row behind her and over the speakers. Mylin leaned forward and clapped Denholm on the shoulder. “Good thinking.”

  “Moved and seconded,” Wilber announced, “the amendment will be added to the agenda for a vote immediately after the primary item.”

  Denholm leaned back in his seat, a satisfied look on his face.

  “Both will pass now, certain.”

  Alexis frowned. “How can you be so sure?”

  “The smaller holders might have voted against it to avoid the cost,” Denholm said. “Now they know Sewall and I’ll be voting for that amendment, they’ll see the value in it and know it’ll cost them nothing. With both our shares, plus theirs, the others with gallenium deposits haven’t the votes to oppose it.”

  When the votes came, Alexis saw it was much as he’d predicted, with the opposing votes to both the measure and amendment being from those holders profiting most from the gallenium ore, but even the whole of them having too few shares to prevail against those in favor.

  Alexis had mixed feelings about the outcome — happy for Doakes, Port Arthur, and the other freetowns, but disappointed that she and her lads wouldn’t be called on for a bit of excitement now and again. Perhaps she could still volunteer to assist as some sort of adjunct to the official constabulary?

  Further measures were heard and either passed or voted down, until finally it was time for her to speak.

  Four

  For that, she took to the stage when she was called and found it not nearly so terrifying as she thought she would. True, there were several thousand people watching her, but she could barely see them beyond the lights which illuminated the platform.

  Terrifying or not, though, the experience did end in a blur, where she couldn’t quite remember if she’d gotten in all the words she’d prepared to. The most she could remember at the end, was what she’d finished with.

  “In short, holders, this measure is not so much a change as it is a return to what Dalthus’ original settlers, some of you still with us today, planned for the colony from the start. The original Charter laid out that the first-born, regardless of gender, should inherit each holder’s shares, and through them the lands. It was only after the shock and truly grievous deaths of so many in those hard, early years — my own grandmother among them — that the Charter was changed to what it is today.

  “That change may have been wise at the time, and we are not here today to sit in judgment of it. Today we are merely here to answer whether times have again changed, and should this law change with them?

  “Those days, with limited transport and the colony’s only doctor a day’s ride or more away, when the limited air transport meant help might or might not arrive in time — those days are done here. We’ve modern medical care in nearly every town of any size now, and the most modern in orbit aboard our new station. We’ve more antigrav transports than ever, and there’s no outpost so remote that it’s more than an hour’s time from care — most are far less than that, and many of our regions have dedicated transport for medical care.

  “The reasons given for this law’s enactment have changed, holders, and it’s time to give your daughters back their birthrights.

  “True, there are some who have neither the interest nor skill to hold your lands — just as there are some first-born sons who lack the one or the other.” She paused. Should she risk a bit of a joke? It was hard to tell the audience’s reaction. “Or both,” she hazarded and felt a flush of relief as she heard some chuckles in return.

  “That’s a thing to consider whether it’s first-born son or daughter, either, but not our decision today.” That was as much as she felt she could say about some further change — it was enough to plant the seed, seeing as how the change she was asking for primarily benefited herself.

  “If the original terms of the charter were truly the best thinking of Dalthus’ original settlers, then surely returning to them cannot be so very controversial.” She thought it best to end there, reminding them once more of that fact. “Thank you, holders.”

  She resisted the urge to hurry as she left the stage and made her way back to her seat. There was some applause — not much, which didn’t surprise her. The shareholders of Dalthus were generally a reserved lot and none of the other measures heard that day, no matter how popular, had been greeted by much more enthusiasm than her speech had been.

  “In opposition,” Wilber was announcing as she reached her row and took her seat again. “Holder Coalson.”

  Alexis sat, watching Edmon Coalson take the stage.

  “Prat,” her grandfather muttered.

  “Buggering prat,” Mylin commented from behind them.

  Alexis found herself in the odd, and not entirely comfortable, position of defending the scion of the Coalson family.

  “I met with him and his fellows quite often when I was in command of Nightingale,” she said. “He’s not nearly as bad as his father and grandfather, I think.”

  That those worthies had been either directly or indirectly responsible for the deaths of not only her grandmother but also her parents, and that she’d killed the father, Daviel Coalson, herself when she learned of it, did make “not nearly as bad as” faint praise, she supposed. But the two men, especially her grandfather, knew nothing of that. They only knew the petty feuding that had gone on between Rashae Coalson and Denholm Carew during the colony’s early days — that and the general unpleasantness the elder Coalsons had engaged in — such as illicit gallenium mining and outright piracy.

  “Faint praise,” Denholm said, echoing her thoughts.

  “He did seem to have the colony’s best interest to heart,” she said, “and not only his own during those meetings.”

  “And he’s opposed this measure every step of the way,” Denholm reminded her.

  She nodded, knowing that. The Coalsons had opposed this change at every turn — some suspected because there were so very many sons in the household and marrying into families who had no son to inherit increased their power and influence. There was no doubt they’d done so, but Edmon, at least — despite the fact that he’d been a youth so callow Alexis had once dumped a full teapot over his head during a courting session — struck her as more mindful of the larger picture.

  In aspects other than inheritance, at least.

  Denholm sighed. “Well, let’s hear what the boy has to say.”

  “Did you think to bring any produce?” Mylin asked.

  “What?”

  “Isn’t that what they used to do when a fellow on stage was disliked? Have at him with the spoiled crops?”

  “Hhm, no, none with me.” Denholm took his bottle of tea from the holder in the seat’s arm. “Do have some tea, thou
gh.” He held the bottle out to Alexis. “Care to do the honors, Lexi-girl? You’ve a decent arm for it, if I remember truly.”

  “I was fifteen,” Alexis said, flushing. “And the boy, who you invited to court me, I might add, had just suggested a good thrashing might do me no harm.”

  Both Denholm and the Mylins laughed. Alexis shook her head.

  “Shush and listen.”

  On the stage, Coalson was ready to begin. He walked to the center of the stage — quite confidently, and Alexis wondered if she’d shown nearly that same confidence. She hadn’t felt it, far more used to giving orders from a ship’s quarterdeck than trying to convince others of something. Coalson did look the part of the first settler, though — trim, youthful. One could quite imagine him riding about his lands, alighting here and there to ensure all was in order.

  If only the man didn’t have such outrageous taste in clothing. She wasn’t at all certain what one would even call the color of his waistcoat — something between red and purple with a name she couldn’t remember — and his jacket was likely called umber, or some such, instead of the orange she’d simply name it.

  Regardless of what Alexis thought of it, many of the younger set found it quite the thing and looked to Coalson as some sort of fashion trendsetter. She hoped that wouldn’t carry over to his opinions on the matter before them.

  “Fellow holders,” Coalson said, reminding the listeners right from the start that he was their peer, the holder of his family’s shares in his own right, unlike Alexis. “I am called upon to speak in opposition to this measure — a call made, I imagine, due to my frequent and unflagging words to that effect since it was first proposed.

  “I have felt, and said, since that first proposal, that there is no cause to change that which has served us well. No cause to return, as Miss Carew put it, to the original Charter’s language, if the change made was for good reason by wise men — and women, I will remind you, who were among those original shareholders, some of whom are still with us here today.”

  A number of boos and catcalls sounded at this — sparse, as there were few of the original settlers left who were women without husbands and their shares in their own names, but some were present nonetheless.