Winds of Marque Read online

  Templegrey turned to Virtue again. “I’m sorry about that. He’s young, and exhausted.”

  “It’s okay,” Virtue replied, her previous good humor vanished. She downed her coffee and rose from her seat. “I’m going to go and check on the loading details.”

  Hedge was watching both the gangway and the open door between brow and cargo hold when Amelia returned to the brow.

  “Hey, Hedgie,” she greeted, forcing a smile to her face.

  “Hey, PO. Everything seems to be going smoothly.”

  “Good.”

  “How’s life in the senior mess?” Hedge asked suddenly.

  “Oh, nothing special,” Amelia replied automatically, suppressing a frown. That little snotter Highcastle could do with a smack, she thought, still reeling from his caustic comments. As she looked at Hedge she really wanted to just vent her frustrations, but overall the officers had made her welcome and she didn’t want to spread gossip because of one rude young man.

  “Same food,” she said finally, “but less flatulence at the table.”

  Hedge laughed.

  “Although some of the noble talk might be considered a different kind of it,” she couldn’t help but add.

  Hedge guffawed, covering her mouth to suppress the sound as she glanced out toward the cargo bay. “Don’t blow my cover, PO,” she whispered in mock admonishment, fighting down her mirth.

  Amelia smiled, knowing that there was little truth in her words. Most of the senior staff were actually commoners, and she could find little fault in Ava Templegrey’s exquisite demeanor. And Lord Blackwood . . . he was certainly an example of what every young woman believed a lord should be.

  Even Highcastle’s recent comment had been cruel, but not unjustified. She had lost her pistol to an attacker in the middle of a battle, and it had almost been used against her. She knew better than that, and it had been gnawing at her for the entire transit. She still couldn’t believe how forgiving Subcommander Blackwood had been about the whole mess. She wasn’t sure how the mission would be faring without him—Commander Riverton was so distant and difficult to read that the entire ship would feel like a different and colder place if not for Lord Blackwood.

  On an impulse, she reached back to ensure that the sign indicating no access was still hanging on the door. Daring’s true military identity was most at risk at moments like these, with civilians in or near the cargo bay, and the last thing she needed was a uniformed crewmember to wander out into full view. It was part of her responsibility, as a member of the ashore team, to maintain their façade as Sophia’s Fancy and it never hurt to take that extra step. There was another door on the far side of the cargo bay and she decided to double-check it as well, then wandered over to where Swift was checking an open-topped crate of sacks. Henry’s heavy loader was rumbling off down the jetty for the next load.

  “Looks like we’ll be completed within the hour, Amelia,” the propulsion officer commented. “But I’d appreciate if we could train up one of your storesmen to act as part of our civilian crew.”

  “You don’t like counting bags of seed?” she asked with a bit of a smirk.

  “I just have more important things to do,” he replied tartly. “Like ensuring our thrusters are ready for battle.”

  Fair point, she realized. She was about to offer to take over when she heard Hedge’s laughter again from the brow. Frowning curiously, she excused herself from Swift and walked back to the open door. Stepping through, she saw Hedge leaning against the wall, smiling at Highcastle, who smirked down at her. He was still in uniform, and Amelia immediately grabbed the door behind her and swung it shut.

  “Sir, you shouldn’t be out here dressed so.” She bit down a few other choice words, reminding herself that she wasn’t the senior rank here.

  “I did wonder why you were in civilians,” he mused, eyeing her up and down with none of his previous contempt. But his gaze quickly returned to Hedge. “I think we should adopt this sort of dress policy all the time—you look so much prettier.”

  Hedge dropped her gaze, only to lift her eyelashes at him.

  “I can only imagine how beautiful you’d be at a gala ball,” he continued softly.

  “I’m sure you cut quite a dashing figure yourself at a ball,” Hedge replied.

  Amelia considered her options. She couldn’t order an officer—even a cadet—but she had to get him out of here, and fast. Her first, military instinct was to sharply remind him of the rules and send him packing. But she knew from watching his earlier interactions with Brown how poorly he responded to her no-nonsense style.

  He seemed to listen to whatever Ava Templegrey said, though, and it was no secret to Amelia how the good doctor manipulated conversations. She sized up the situation. If she could charm young Henry Digger, she could probably charm young James Highcastle. Swallowing down the revulsion in her gut, she turned on the charm.

  “It is possible to have two companions at a ball,” she said with a sudden smile, wrapping her arm around Hedge’s. “You do have two arms, my lord.”

  Highcastle’s face twisted slightly in a cross between a smirk and a frown, but his eyes flicked between the two women. Hedge, as Amelia hoped she would, innocently joined in the banter. She snuggled against Amelia’s shoulder.

  “Oh, yes, two companions would be much better than one.”

  The young cadet laughed slightly, clearly sizing up the possibilities in his mind.

  “We’ve been friends for a long time,” Amelia added, leaning her head toward Hedge’s.

  “Perhaps I misjudged you, Amelia,” Highcastle said.

  She reached out and touched his arm.

  “You have lots to learn, my lord,” she said, disengaging from Hedge. “And we’ll have lots of time to teach you, but not right now. Lord Blackwood is on his way back down and I wouldn’t want him to see a uniform this close to the jetty.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t want that,” Hedge said sincerely. “The XO could jam your next shore leave.”

  “Perhaps you’re right,” Highcastle said, adopting a look of indulgent resignation. “I wouldn’t want to risk it.”

  With a wink and a grin he disappeared back into the ship. Amelia immediately turned to Hedge and rolled her eyes.

  “He’s sweet,” Hedge protested softly.

  “He’s a lordling,” Amelia replied. “Mind yourself around his type, Hedgie.”

  She shrugged, glancing back through the door that Highcastle had failed to close properly behind him.

  “I think we’re both entitled to a bit of noble attention.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Hedge’s lips were curling into a smirk. She nodded toward the open door behind Amelia.

  Liam passed Highcastle on his way to the brow. The cadet offered him a friendly nod, apparently in better spirits. But Liam’s attention was drawn ahead to the door to the brow—it was hanging wide open. He stepped through, shutting it firmly behind him.

  Hedge was still on brow duty, and before he could speak she shot a meaningful glance to Virtue next to her. For some reason, Virtue blushed.

  “Keep this door shut at all times,” he said to both of them.

  “Yes, sir,” Virtue replied.

  “How are the loading procedures going?”

  “Smoothly. But I need to supervise young Digger and his loader.”

  She opened the door to the cargo bay abruptly and hurried off.

  “Captain’s returning,” Hedge said suddenly, looking out through the gangway to the jetty.

  Liam felt his pulse quicken. His immediate reaction was to greet them on the dock, but he had to maintain his public image as the ship’s noble master and he forced himself to stay hidden inside, scanning them for any signs of recent trouble. Both women appeared as when they’d left, Riverton strolling up the dock with willowy grace and Sky stalking along beside her.

  As soon as they entered the gangway, however, he stepped into view. Riverton regarded him with her usual cool expression.<
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  “Welcome back, ma’am,” he said. He wanted to ask more, but held his tongue in the presence of Sky and Hedge.

  “Thank you,” she replied without expression. “It appears our merchant activities are proceeding well?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I anticipate being ready to sail within the hour.”

  “Good. Have the sailing crews start preparations for departure. We’ll slip as soon as you give the word.”

  “May I have Chief Sky to help in checking manifests?” he asked quickly, suddenly spotting an opportunity. “Lieutenant Swift needs to get below to supervise and Virtue is directing the loading.”

  “Of course.” Riverton nodded to Sky. “Thank you, Chief.”

  Liam led Sky back into the cargo bay, where a relieved Swift was only too happy to turn over the manifest duties. Sky silently picked up the task, shifting her gaze casually between her stores and the heavy loader.

  She also noticed that Liam was hovering.

  “May I be of additional service, sir?” she asked, not pausing in her duties.

  Liam hesitated. Sky had been one of Commander Riverton’s three personal selections for this crew, just as Swift, Brown, and Virtue had been his. He had already grown to respect his assaulter, but he didn’t yet know how much that feeling was reciprocated.

  “How was your jaunt ashore?”

  “Without incident, sir.”

  “Did you see much of the station?”

  “There isn’t much to see. The central hub is no bigger than a country amphitheater and the two spokes we saw looked exactly like what they are—former government offices and barracks converted into private living quarters.”

  “Are there many people about?”

  “We saw a few civilians conducting their daily business, but no crowds like on Windfall. No one appeared threatening, or even interested in us—other than a few glances, no doubt because we’re strangers.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “To an apartment which the captain seemed familiar with.”

  Liam waited for more. Sky continued her inspection.

  “Did you go inside?” he asked finally.

  “I waited in the main room while the captain had a private conversation in the bedroom with her associate.”

  “Who was the associate?”

  “I don’t know, sir,” Sky said, with a hint of frustration finally showing through. “He was a somewhat older gentleman, with an accent similar to Her Ladyship’s.”

  Liam knew he’d pushed his assaulter far enough. Thanking her, he retreated to watch the last of the cargo loading from the edge of the bay. He almost wanted to laugh. That was hardly what he’d expected from the aloof Commander Riverton, but if the captain wanted to go ashore for a private dalliance, who was he to begrudge her?

  Chapter 10

  The starlight reflecting down off a full sheeting of sails was enough to bathe the bridge in an ethereal glow. As Liam stepped forward into the space, armor clanking, he clearly saw the expressions of the watch as curious gazes turned toward him. High above, the sails of the top mast pressed against a strong and steady stern wind.

  The ship was at battle stations and Liam wasted no time as he strode up to the command chair.

  “Captain, XO,” he said. “I’ve completed my rounds and all stations are manned. Both boats are ready for launch. All batteries are loaded and charged. Propulsion and medical both report ready.”

  Riverton slowly turned her gaze toward him. In the ghostly light even her dark skin looked pallid, but her expression was set in a neutral mask.

  “Very good.”

  He waited for more, but she simply turned back to her screens. On one, he noticed, was a navigation display indicating Daring’s vector toward their target. On the other was a weapons control board. Daring had six beam turrets for close defense and a missile launcher for a big punch, but today the brunt of the battle would be fought with cannon broadsides. It was going to be close and ugly.

  Liam turned away from Riverton, pausing in case she called him back. In the silence that followed he decided that she was done with him, and he strode over to the officer-of-the-watch station.

  Chief Sky was already there, silently observing as Sublieutenant Brown manipulated her screens, with Highcastle standing idly next to her. Sky was in armor, as expected, but Liam immediately noticed that hers was not a standard-issue set of protective padding. Sky’s armor was shaped to her powerful body, smooth surfaces curved to better deflect blows. The plates were a dull green—a subtle color, but Liam knew enough about armor to know that such an affectation didn’t come cheap. His assaulter clearly took her own protection seriously.

  His own armor was black, polished to a reflective shine and accented with gold filigree. It was expected for a noble officer to display a bit of finery even in combat, but Liam had always understood the very practical purpose of identifying himself, if a battle went badly, as someone worth capturing and ransoming—rather than simply executing.

  “Time to intercept?” he asked.

  “Twenty minutes,” Highcastle replied. His face was alight with excitement.

  “We’re closing the comet at full sail for another five before we batten down,” Brown added.

  She looked through her telescope and then pointed out through the canopy toward a brilliant object growing larger ahead of them. This far from the closest star it lacked any halo, but the power of the reflected starlight off its surface was impressive.

  “Any sign of hostile activity?”

  “The pirate ship is currently on the far side, so we can’t observe directly,” she said, “but over the last few hours we didn’t pick up any unusual activity when it was visible.”

  The icy comet nucleus was slowly rotating as it tumbled through space. The pirate ship was connected to it, replenishing water, and had been carried out of sight as it moved with its host. It meant both ships were blind to the other, but surprise was exactly what Daring needed.

  “Do you recommend we proceed?” he prompted.

  “Yes, sir.” She nervously scanned her displays one last time. “Bridge is ready for battle.”

  “Let’s smash ’em,” Highcastle growled.

  Liam motioned for Sky to follow him back to the command chair.

  Riverton looked down at him again. Her face remained set in an expression of courtly indifference, but he could see the depth of emotions in her eyes. Was it excitement or fear? Having witnessed enough nobles lead their ships into combat, he hoped it was a healthy dose of both.

  “Captain, XO. The ship is in all respects ready for battle. Permission to board the boats and proceed with the plan.”

  “Make sure you board from below,” she said. “I’ll keep my arcs of fire high, but cannons are a blunt instrument.”

  “Yes, ma’am. We’ll approach perpendicular to your line of fire and latch on to their far side.”

  “My initial broadsides will be aft and center, but as soon as you latch on I’ll shift targeting forward.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” It was exactly as they’d discussed for days. Did she think he’d never done this before?

  Or, he suddenly realized, perhaps she’d never done this before. Her neutral expression was unmoving, as if she’d purposely locked her features. Except for her eyes, and Liam now assessed there was a lot more fear in them than excitement. He glanced back to where Highcastle was now pacing restlessly, and looked back at his stoic, almost frozen, captain. He leaned in.

  “It’s going to get messy, ma’am,” he said quietly. “But trust the crew to do our job. We’re ready for this.”

  “Tell me again,” she said, “why you’re not wearing space suits.”

  “Too bulky for close-in fighting, and they don’t offer any real protection against weapons. Plus, they’d get slashed to pieces during close-in fighting—making them useless in the vacuum. We’re far better off in armor.”

  Riverton regarded him for a long moment. If she had more to say she swallowed the words d
own.

  “Proceed with the plan, XO. Good luck.”

  “And to you, ma’am.”

  Liam strode aft to the ladder and descended, Sky close behind him.

  Daring was locked down for battle. As Amelia stood in the crowded passageway, shifting in her padded armor, she felt uncomfortable in the lack of background noise. There was no air rushing through ventilation, no steady patter of footsteps on the decks, no casual chatter between sailors. All airtight openings were dogged down and everyone was at their battle station. Around her the twelve other members of the assault team stood in grim, anticipatory silence. Some looked like old hands at this sort of thing, while others were clearly putting on a brave face.

  They were gathered in the main transverse passageway on Three Deck, which ended in a pair of airlock hatches that were both currently open. Through the flexible connector tubes Amelia could see the crews of each boat waiting for their passengers to climb aboard.

  Amelia had seen her fair share of fights growing up, but nothing like the brutality she’d witnessed in Lightning Louise. These pirates were vicious killers, and she had no intention of letting them get a shot at her. She fingered the hilt of her cutlass, reminding herself of its reassuring weight. And her pistol on the other hip—she was very aware of it.

  Two figures appeared at the end of the passageway—Blackwood and Sky. The assaulter gave the signal to start boarding and Amelia stepped aside to let the first sailors past. She greeted her superiors.

  “Teams ready,” she said.

  “Thanks, PO,” Blackwood replied before turning to Sky. “Any last questions, Chief?”

  “No, sir,” Sky replied. “The plan is clear.”

  Sky had a job to do, and she was ready to do it. Amelia wished she could project such cool confidence.

  “See you on the inside, then.”

  Sky swung into the airlock tube and floated out of sight. Blackwood gestured for Amelia to precede him into their tube. She swung herself in feetfirst and glided along until she felt hands reach out to grab her legs and steer her into the boat.