Into the Dark (Alexis Carew Book 1) Page 4

  The shuttle’s hatch opened and a set of steps lowered to the ground, followed by a group of men. First two officers, resplendent in dark-blue dress uniforms, brass buttons shining, and blue berets perched atop their heads — one with the gold trim of command rank. Six common spacers emerged, dressed simply in shipboard jumpsuits, and finally two marines, red and white uniforms standing out from the darker dress of the spacers and officers.

  “Welcome to Carew Holding, gentlemen,” Denholm said when they were near enough. “We don’t see the Navy much outside of Port Arthur.”

  The elder man smiled and held out his hand. “I imagine not, sir. Captain William Grantham of Her Majesty’s Sloop Merlin. And my First Lieutenant, Caruthers. Mister Carew, then, is it?”

  “It is.”

  The two men shook hands.

  “We’ve just arrived in-system, Mister Carew, and thought to make courtesy calls at some of the larger holdings.” Captain Grantham glanced over at the crowd of onlookers, seeming to size up the number of able-bodied men.

  Denholm smiled in understanding. “Short of crew, captain?”

  Grantham looked uncomfortable for a moment, then cleared his throat. “I… yes, Mister Carew. And having little luck with your neighbors, to be honest. It seems every fit man is off at some distant camp, the coordinates of which are always slightly misremembered.”

  Denholm laughed. “That’s what I’d expect of them, Captain.” He waved a hand at the crowd. “You’re welcome to ask here, though, and my nearest camp’s five kilometers from here, in the foothills. If you fly due south, you’ll see the camp’s clearing well enough.”

  Captain Grantham nodded. “Thank you, sir. This is quite a different reception than we’ve received elsewhere.”

  “I’m not sure you’ll have better luck, mind you, Captain Grantham. If any of my hands want to try spacing, I’ll not hinder them; but I do like to think I treat my people well enough that they’ve no cause to leave. The Navy’s no easy life, I know.”

  “It’s not,” Grantham agreed and turned to the lieutenant beside him. “Set up the table and give the speech, Mister Caruthers. We’ll see if there are any takers here.”

  “Aye sir.” The lieutenant nodded to Denholm and Alexis before walking toward the waiting spacers, calling out orders.

  “May I offer you some refreshment, Captain?” Denholm asked. “Some tea perhaps?”

  “That would be quite welcome, sir. Another thing we found lacking in your neighbors.”

  “No doubt.” Denholm scanned the crowd for some sign of Julia, but Alexis spoke up.

  “I’ll fix the tea, grandfather,” she offered, touching him lightly on the arm. “Julia’s busy watching the excitement.”

  Indeed, both the cook and housemaid were now part of the crowd watching as the spacers made a great show of unloading and setting up a table for enlistment while the lieutenant exhorted the crowd with descriptions of the excitement to be had sailing between the stars.

  “Thank you, Alexis. My granddaughter, Captain.”

  “My pleasure, Miss Carew.” Grantham took her offered hand. “Lovely dress.”

  “Lexi,” Denholm whispered, seeing her begin to scowl.

  The three of them walked back to the house and entered the kitchen, Denholm and Grantham sitting at the kitchen table.

  Alexis began heating water for tea. “Is it truly such a hard life, Captain?”

  “It’s not easy, Miss Carew. Sailing the Dark’s hard work and dangerous, both.”

  Alexis took a tray of pastries from the cooler and set it on the table for the two men. “Then why do you do it, Captain Grantham?”

  “Lexi!”

  “It’s a fair question, Mister Carew, I don’t mind. And one every spacer’s asked himself a time or two, I’m sure.” Grantham laughed, choosing one of the small cakes. He took a bite, swallowing before he continued. “For me it’s duty, I suppose. New London has enemies, though we’re not at war just now — so far as we know out here, at least. But even here on the Fringe, there are those who take it into their heads to try their hand at pirating or even taking over a whole star system.” He paused. “The kingdom thrives on trade, you see, Miss. The colony worlds depend on it. The Navy keeps the trade flowing.”

  Alexis smiled. “I do understand the economics of the kingdom, Captain. No world is entirely self-sufficient — or, if it could be, there are still others that can produce certain products more efficiently or less expensively. Certainly we here on Dalthus would suffer horribly if we were cut off from the Core Worlds.” She bit her lower lip. “What I don’t understand, Captain, is why it’s your duty to do this.”

  “I’m sorry, Captain Grantham,” Denholm interrupted, glaring at her. “My granddaughter is, perhaps, a bit too inquisitive.”

  “Not at all,” Grantham assured him. “I could wish more folk cared about such things. I suppose, Miss Carew, that it’s my duty because I can do it. And do it well, I think. I have no delusion that the Navy would all fall apart without me. But I do believe I’m as good a captain as most and better than some.” He selected another cake. “For myself… well, I find that a life in the Service makes me feel quite useful. A man does like to feel useful, you know.”

  “Thank you, Captain.” The tea kettle began whistling. Alexis took it from the stovetop to add the tea, then placed it gently on the table to steep. She bent down and kissed her grandfather’s cheek, surprising him. “I’ll leave you two to your tea, gentlemen. I believe I’d like to change out of this horrid dress.”

  The two men waited until she’d left the kitchen.

  “She doesn’t like the dress?” Captain Grantham asked.

  Denholm let out a bark of laughter. “Hates it! She’s more comfortable in trousers, running a logging crew.”

  Grantham raised an eyebrow.

  “That’s what she was about this morning, Captain. Rode out early to see that my foreman properly worked a parcel she had a particular interest in. Girl’s a dab hand at anything she puts her mind to. I am sorry for her questions, though. She isn’t shy. Too much of me went into her raising, I suppose.”

  “Quite all right,” Grantham assured him, hesitating for a moment before continuing. “Her father’s no longer living, I take it?”

  Denholm nodded. “I’ve no living male heir.”

  “Ah.” Grantham nodded with understanding. “And no support to change the laws here either?”

  “No. Some would support a change, but not nearly enough.” He sighed. “Surprised you know about such things, though.”

  “I try to learn the local laws in my patrol area,” Grantham said. “At least the ones that are very different than those of the kingdom at large.”

  “Don’t suppose you have a Crown Magistrate tucked away in that boat of yours?” Denholm asked, smiling.

  “I’m afraid not. Nor seen one in some time.”

  “Well, then it’ll be on to the next suitor while I try to change the law. That was what the dress was about, you see. Had a lad in to meet her.” Denholm grimaced. “Went poorly.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Grantham coughed awkwardly. “I don’t suppose you’d see your way clear to pointing me toward some of those hidden camps your neighbors make use of, would you, Mister Carew?”

  Denholm shook his. He’d like to help the him – and lord knew the men might be better off as Navy hands than indentured to some of his neighbors – but he’d enough trouble as it was. “I’m afraid not, Captain. I do have to live with those men after you’ve gone.”

  Grantham accepted the answer. “Perhaps we could discuss the purchase of supplies then, if you’ve any extra? Merlin’s been sailing several months now, and I’m sure my gunroom’s pantry is as bare as my own. And cutting out the Port Arthur chandler can’t help but benefit us both, I think.”

  “That I can help you with, Captain,” Denholm said, brightening. “I’ve some fine hams and cured sausages that will last you a good, long time in space.”

  “Excell
ent. I trust a Navy Draft will be acceptable?”

  Denholm smiled and rubbed his hands together. “I’ve dealt with your chandler in Port Arthur before, Captain. I’m thinking a direct transfer from your ship’s accounts would be best — and let your purser handle the drafts.”

  As the two men were finishing their tea, Alexis returned to the kitchen, dressed again in the denim trousers and loose linen shirt that she’d started the day with. Denholm had to admit that it suited her far better than the dress he’d bought her. And that’s three pounds six I’ll never see again.

  The three walked from the house toward the shuttle, where it appeared the recruitment efforts had ended. The spacers mingled with the holding’s residents, exchanging gossip and news under the watchful eye of two marines, standing out from the spacers by their bright red uniforms. Lieutenant Caruthers moved to join them.

  “I’m sorry, sir, no one was interested in signing on.”

  “I can’t say that I blame them, Mister Caruthers. Of the holdings we’ve visited so far, this does seem the finest. You’ve reason to be proud, Mister Carew.”

  “I am, Captain,” Denholm said. “Thank you.”

  “Excuse me, lieutenant,” Alexis interrupted quietly, “but I do believe I know where you could find at least one willing recruit.”

  Denholm looked at her sharply. She was speaking quietly, but there was something about her tone that chilled him.

  “And where would that be, miss?” Caruthers asked.

  “Why, right here, sir.”

  “Alexis …” Denholm said in sudden understanding.

  “Are there others on the farm, then, miss?” Caruthers asked.

  “No, lieutenant, but I would like to do so.”

  Denholm watched Caruthers look to his captain, but Grantham ignored him. Instead, he was staring impassively at Denholm. Meanwhile, Alexis simply cocked her head at Caruthers, as though in anticipation of an answer. It wasn’t often that Denholm was at a loss for what to do, but this was the last thing he’d expected to hear today.

  Enough of the crowd of spacers and farmhands had heard the exchange for them to pass it on in whispers to those who hadn’t heard. One of the spacers said something that Denholm couldn’t hear, but one of the farmhands responded heatedly.

  “Here now, you!” he cried, shoving the spacer. “Miss Alexis’d set your bloody ship to rights, she would!”

  The spacer snarled and shoved the man back.

  “Belay that, Alan!” one of the others yelled, stalking toward the scuffle. “We’re guests here and you’ll remember it!” He grabbed the spacer’s collar and dragged him back, the farmhand backing away with a dark look.

  “I apologize for the man’s remark,” Grantham said. “Our bosun will set him straight on the matter, I assure you.”

  Denholm nodded, unable to speak as he waited for the lieutenant’s response to Alexis.

  “I…” Caruthers began, “I don’t think that’s possible, miss.”

  “I understand women are allowed to join the Navy, lieutenant, are they not? I’ve just looked it up, you see.”

  Knew the girl was up to something with her questions and rushing off like that with a visitor in the house, but this … Denholm kept his eyes on Captain Grantham. While the lieutenant was flustered, Grantham met Denholm’s eyes with a steady, thoughtful gaze.

  “Well, yes, miss. But… in the Core Worlds, perhaps, or on a capital ship, but out here?” He looked to Grantham again, but found no help there. His face suddenly brightened. “How old are you, miss?”

  “Fifteen standard-years.”

  “Ah.” Caruthers smiled. “I’m sorry, miss, but you have to be sixteen to sign the Articles.”

  Denholm looked away from Grantham in time to see Alexis’s face fall. “I see, lieutenant,” she said, “thank you. I’m sorry to have bothered you with it, then.”

  Denholm felt a pang of disappointment at the look on her face, tempered with relief. He didn’t know much of life in the Navy, other than that it was hard, but it wasn’t a life he’d wish for Alexis. On the other hand, he knew how much she hated to be told she couldn’t do something.

  Caruthers touched his beret, nodding. “No trouble at all, miss.”

  Grantham finally spoke. “Mister Carew and I have agreed on the purchase of some stores, Mister Caruthers. Would you be so good as to have the crew ready the barge’s hold to receive them?”

  “Aye sir.” Caruthers nodded to Denholm, touched his beret to Alexis again and strode off, calling for the bosun.

  “I apologize to you as well, Captain,” Alexis said.

  “Quite all right, Miss Carew,” Grantham assured her, still looking at Denholm. “But may I ask why did you bring this up with my lieutenant rather than myself?”

  “You’d given him the task of recruiting, Captain Grantham,” she replied steadily. “If I’d left a foreman to handle something, I wouldn’t care to have the hands all running to me.”

  Grantham turned to look at her. “I see. And what made you ask such a thing at all?”

  Alexis’s eyes were clearly filled with tears now, but she held his gaze and her voice remained firm. “I suppose a woman likes to feel useful as well, sir.” She swallowed and lowered her head. “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen.”

  Grantham watched her walk to the house.

  “I apologize as well, Captain Grantham,” Denholm said. “My granddaughter sometimes acts quickly on things.” He couldn’t imagine what had gotten into her. It had been a trying day, but of all things the Navy?

  “Rash, then?”

  Denholm shook his head. “No. Spontaneous, perhaps, but not rash.”

  “And if her … spontaneity leads her to a decision she regrets?”

  Denholm snorted. “The girl’s no whinger, Captain. She’ll try to correct a mistake, sure enough, but she knows there’s consequences.” He looked toward the house, but Alexis had already disappeared inside. He had a sudden realization. “I apologize for her again, Captain. I suspect it was your comment about being useful that set her along these lines. As I said, things went poorly today and she’d just earlier wished for something useful she could do away from Dalthus.” He smiled. “Never imagined she’d consider the Navy though.”

  Grantham was silent for a moment. “My lieutenant was quite correct, Mister Carew. One does have to be sixteen standard-years old in order to sign the Ship’s Articles as a common spacer.”

  “I understand, Captain. And it’s likely for the—“

  “Captains, however, have somewhat more leeway in the appointment of midshipmen.”

  Denholm narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “And what sort of leeway would that be, Captain?”

  “I’ve seen midshipmen as young as nine come aboard. My own Mister Easely is but thirteen. Midshipmen, you see, are expected to finish their educations aboard in training to become ship’s officers.”

  “And would any of these midshipmen you’ve seen be of the female persuasion, Captain?”

  Grantham grimaced uncomfortably. “As Mister Caruthers indicated, that is, indeed, quite rare in the Fringe, sir.”

  “How rare?”

  “I am … unaware of any female officer serving in the Fringe Fleet.”

  Denholm laughed. “Well, that’ll do for rare, I expect.”

  “It’s not the Navy, you understand,” Grantham went on. “Well, not entirely, but the difficulties in dealing with some of the colony worlds. Merchant spacers can pick and choose where they’ll sail and female crew members can simply stay aboard in the more … provincial ports.” He shrugged. “A warship’s a bit different.”

  Denholm looked from Grantham to the men who were reloading the ship. It sounded almost as though he was making an offer, but was it one Denholm should pursue? He thought about the look on Alexis’s face when Caruthers had told her of the age requirement. The odds of changing the inheritance laws were slim, too many first sons that had an interest. Perhaps it was time for Alexis to see something other than Dalth
us, and he could certainly see her as a naval officer more than a student somewhere.

  “And your ship, Captain Grantham?”

  “I’ve a man or two who’d balk, as you saw, but nothing the bosun couldn’t put to rights, I’m sure.” He pursed his lips. “It would not be easy, by any means, but if she’s as capable and steady as you say …”

  “I’ve been feeling my years quite heavily of late, Captain. There’s nothing for the girl on Dalthus unless I can get that bloody law changed, but I fear that might not be possible.”

  Grantham nodded. He started to speak, then hesitated. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “It is somewhat traditional for a captain to receive some small token when he appoints a midshipman,” he said carefully.

  Denholm’s eyes hardened. “We put most of our profits back into the colony here, Captain. I’ve little in the way of free coin.”

  “No,” Grantham allowed. “I understand. Perhaps, though, some numbers of a different kind? Such as the coordinates of a camp or two where I might find other crew?”

  “Is it to get those, you’re proposing this, Captain?” Denholm asked. He narrowed his eyes, angry now. “Are you thinking you’ll take Alexis as a loss to get you to those men? I’ll tell you true, Captain Grantham, though you’ve no cause to know it, that girl’s a better bargain than any ten others you’ll get to sign your Articles!” Damn the man if he thought so little of her.

  Grantham held up his hand to stop him. “My apologies, sir.” He sighed. “Merlin does need crewman. Desperately, even. But she also needs officers and I’ve no room for any I don’t think would be of value.” He offered Carew his hand. “I’ll take Alexis as a midshipman if she’ll sign the Articles, and we’ll say no more of the other.”

  Denholm met the other man’s eye for a moment, then took his hand.

  “Mister Caruthers!” Grantham called.

  “Sir?”

  “Prepare a copy of Merlin’s Articles for Midshipman Alexis Carew, if you please.”

  “Sir? I mean … Aye sir!”