“Buggers’ve been fighting each other, Skipper,” Scrimshine observed. Even with his new-found regard for military manners he still had difficulty in restraining his tongue. “Don’t recognise that flag, though. One of those new East Mandinorian syndicates, maybe?”
“It’s not a company flag,” Hilemore said. “It appears the Voters Rights Alliance has a significant presence here.”
He could see numerous vessels in the harbour, none of them warships. Only one was in motion, an old Blue-hunter Hilemore soon recognised. The Farlight’s signal lamp blinked out a message as she approached, moving at dead slow and drifting to a halt some fifty yards short of the door.
“‘Half the town v. pleased to see you,’” Talmant related the message. “‘Steer to port or the other half will fire on you.’”
Hilemore was tempted to follow his first impulse to turn the Superior about and make for open water. This place was clearly riven with internal strife and he had no desire to embroil his command in a conflict that might impede their mission. But the Superior was down to less than one-fifth of her coal reserves. Added to that was their rapidly diminishing food stocks and all the ammunition they had expended in the Torquils. Without a substantial resupply the chances of recovering the Longrifles and making use of their discovery were slight at best.
“Ahead dead slow,” Hilemore told Talmant. “Mr. Scrimshine, take her in and steer immediately to port.”
“Ethany Kulvetch.” The young woman in the ill-fitting and besmirched uniform greeted Hilemore with a salute. “Acting Colonel, South Seas Maritime Defence and Security Force.”
Given her youth and diminutive size Hilemore might have found Kulvetch’s appearance almost comical but for the recently stitched cut above her left eye and the carbine slung over her shoulder. The fact that she had the weapon slung barrel down and wore a half-empty bandolier across her chest indicated she had plenty of practice in using it. She had been waiting on the quayside along with a squad of similarly dishevelled but well-armed South Seas Maritime Marines. He took note of the way her gaze continually strayed to the eastern regions of the port across the harbour, as if expecting a cannon shell to come sailing over at any second.
“Corrick Hilemore,” he replied with a salute of his own. “Captain of the IPV Superior.”
“Welcome, Captain. Captain Tidelow of the Farlight vouched for your conduct but was somewhat reluctant to elaborate as to your mission here.”
“Resupply. Assuming South Seas Maritime is still open for business.”
Kulvetch’s gaze darkened with disappointment. “I had hoped you might have been subcontracted to assist us in our . . . local difficulty. We tranced requests for reinforcement with Head Office until our Blood-blessed fell victim to a sniper’s bullet. That was two weeks ago.”
“Sadly, I knew nothing of the situation here until we caught sight of your wall. Unfortunate business.”
The colonel’s eyes grew darker still as she settled her gaze on the eastern districts. “They hung all our senior managers on the first day of their so-called uprising. Held a trial and so on, to give it the appearance of actual justice.”
“The signs proclaim them as murderers.”
“There had been a good deal of trouble since the other ports went silent and ships started arriving with all manner of mad rumours. Management’s attempts to quell the disorder may have been . . . excessive but they certainly didn’t deserve to be slaughtered at the hands of a slum-born mob.” A shudder ran through Kulvetch then and she lowered her gaze, Hilemore realising she was even younger than she first appeared. “Forgive me,” she said, straightening her back. “My father was amongst the slain. He had command of Defence and Security here.”
“I see. My condolences. And your position in this port, Colonel?”
“When the uprising began I was a junior executive in the Customs Enforcement Division. Two days later I was the most senior official left. It took some hard fighting but with good and loyal soldiers”—she inclined her head at the squad of Marines—“and the support of the corporate populace, we won back half the city.”
“Would I be correct in assuming, therefore, that you are the only figure in authority on this side of the harbour?”
“You would. If you wish to purchase supplies you will negotiate with me. As a corporate officer I’m sure you’ll understand that prices will reflect prevailing circumstances.”
Hilemore’s hand went to his breast pocket and emerged with a gold Dalcian sovereign, one of the stack taken from the wreck of the Windqueen. Hilemore had fortuitously liberated the coins and other sundry valuables from the Viable Opportunity’s safe before seizing the Superior. “I’m sure we can agree on a mutually beneficial price,” he said, handing over the coin.
Kulvetch glanced at the sovereign, betraying scant interest before handing it back. “You mistake me, Captain,” she said. “It is not money I require, but your service. Vile insurrection has sundered this port in two. I require your assistance in uniting it and”—she fixed him with a steely, implacable gaze, voice taking on a hungry tremor—“ensuring justice is meted out to every last Voter bastard we can lay our hands on.”
“It’s been a stalemate for the better part of a month.” Kulvetch had escorted him to the roof of South Seas Maritime headquarters in Stockcombe, the tallest structure in the port, affording a fine view of the whole city. “As you can see the falls create a natural and impassible barrier between the eastern and western districts. Meaning the only avenues of advance are via the harbour or the wall. The Voters attempted a charge across the wall the day after we secured control of this side. A few massed rifle volleys were enough to see them off. They tried a night attack in boats next. Fortunately, most of the ships in the harbour chose to ally with us and they didn’t even make it to the wharf. Since then they’ve been content to stay in their hovels and cast the occasional shell at us.”
“They have artillery then?” Hilemore asked.
“Two batteries of six-pounders and one eighteen-pounder long-barrelled cannon, whilst we have only four heavy guns. That’s the main reason I haven’t yet ordered an attack of our own, plus lack of numbers. All told I have less than three hundred soldiers under arms, plus just over seven hundred volunteers from the townsfolk. They’re low on training and weapons but keen as a blade.”
“The Voter numbers?”
“The neighbourhoods east of the falls are more populous than on our side, plenty of slum rats over there to recruit to their deluded cause. I’d estimate at least three thousand under arms.”
Hilemore let out a sigh of grim amusement. “I have faced long odds before, Colonel, but never impossible ones. What exactly do you expect a single warship to do against such numerous shore-based opposition?”
“Destroy that damn artillery of theirs,” Kulvetch returned, her tone heating appreciably. She pulled a folded map from the pocket of her tunic and began to unfurl it. “Through careful observation we have pin-pointed most of their guns . . .”