“I had it searched and all the bottles disposed of,” Verricks told him, then pointed to a chair. “Sit down, Mr. Thriftmor. The steward will bring you some coffee presently.”
A range of emotions passed over the Director’s face, from defiance to anger before subsiding into resentful acceptance as he sank into a chair, gaze lowered.
Trumane afforded Thriftmor a brief and plainly disgusted glance before nodding at Lizanne. “And this lady?”
“Miss Lizanne Lethridge,” Verricks introduced her. “Of Exceptional Initiatives.”
Trumane stiffened a little at that, as did Madame Hakugen, though they both greeted Lizanne with a polite nod. “By any chance,” Trumane said, “would you be related to . . .”
“Professor Graysen Lethridge.” Lizanne didn’t bother to keep the weary irritation from her voice. Mention of her familial connections just now was certain to worsen her mood. “He’s my father.”
“And my valued colleague,” Trumane said. “His insights were of great assistance when designing the refit of the Viable Opportunity.”
“Then I hope you paid him. It would make a pleasant change from the norm. I believe you have a report to make.”
“My report is somewhat lengthy,” Trumane said after a moment of bemused irritation. “As yet I haven’t had time to compile a written version.”
“A verbal report will do very well, I’m sure,” Verricks said, moving to the table and pulling out a chair for Madame Hakugen. “Let us all please sit. Refreshment is on the way.”
Trumane related his tale over coffee and sandwiches, Lizanne noting the enthusiasm with which the former Comptroller consumed the food while the captain maintained an air of restraint. She already knew much of what he had to say, particularly regarding the desertion of Lieutenant Hilemore along with half the crew of the Viable Opportunity. “A vile and outrageous breach of contract,” Trumane said, some colour returning to his face. “I intend to petition the Sea Board for the ultimate penalty at the court martial, in the unlikely event the swine ever returns from his mad venture.”
“There will be no court martial, Captain,” Lizanne said, instantly drawing a fierce glower from the captain.
“I beg your pardon?” Trumane asked.
“Lieutenant Hilemore will face no charges,” she said simply. “In seizing the Corvantine ship and sailing for southern waters he acted on the instructions of an Exceptional Initiatives agent, as you should have done.”
“What Exceptional Initiatives agent?”
“Claydon Torcreek and the Longrifles Independent Company are contracted employees of my division.”
“Contracted for an insane expedition to the Interior from which they returned with a pack of fairy stories.”
“Their expedition bore fruit, bitter though it turned out to be. The answer to our current difficulties may well lie amidst the southern ice. It was your duty to find it, a duty Lieutenant Hilemore undertook instead. Therefore, as I say, he will face no charges.”
The reddish tinge to Trumane’s face deepened as he continued to glower. “I will not stand for this,” he grated. “When the Sea Board reads my full report . . .”
“If Torcreek and Hilemore fail,” Lizanne cut in, matching his glower with an intent stare, “within a few months there may well be no Sea Board to read it.”
Trumane began to speak again but stopped at a cough from Captain Verricks. “A matter for another time, I think, Captain,” he said. “I have little doubt that once this . . . confused state of affairs has been rectified there will be a full enquiry. Any charges you wish to bring against your subordinate will receive due consideration then. As for now, I should like to hear how you came to be in command of such an unusual fleet.”
Trumane took a moment to master his anger before turning away from Lizanne, addressing himself solely to Verricks. “The Viable was the only warship in Lossermark. With no cargo arriving and the Interior closed to foraging parties Madame Hakugen and I agreed that an evacuation had to be attempted.”
“So your fleet carries the entire population of Lossermark?” Verricks asked.
Trumane remained impassive but Madame Hakugen’s coffee-cup paused on its way to her lips, Lizanne noting how her hand trembled as she set it down. “Lossermark is a large port,” she said, staring straight ahead. “There wasn’t room for everyone. Mothers with children were automatically allotted a place, as were the Conglomerate Levies. All others had to be chosen by lot, myself included. The situation . . .” She faltered, blinking rapidly. “The situation deteriorated alarmingly on the day of departure.”
“Bunch of headhunters and other scum tried to storm their way onto the fleet,” Trumane elaborated. “A few salvos from the Viable put paid to that mischief.” He sipped his own coffee and Lizanne saw that his hand didn’t tremble at all. “To the Travail with the lot of them, I say,” he added. “Worthless cowards.”
Watching Madame Hakugen dab a napkin at her welling eyes, Lizanne recalled her own fraught days leading the resistance at Carvenport. As bad as things had gotten towards the end she had at least been spared the burden of making such a decision. “I’m sure you did your best, madame,” Lizanne told the former Comptroller. “These days it appears we have nothing but hard choices ahead of us.”
“Any incidents during the voyage north?” Verricks asked.
“We lost one ship to a storm three days from port,” Trumane said. “An old coal hauler barely fit to sail. Another two took off on their own course a day later. I wasn’t going to waste time hunting them down.”
“No drake attacks?” Lizanne asked.
Trumane gave her a frosty sideways glance and shook his head. “Never caught sight of one during the whole voyage. Makes me wonder if all these tall tales of rampaging drakes and conquering Spoiled are just that.”
“Sadly, they’re all true,” Verricks assured him, whiskers bunching in a grim smile. “Feros has fallen silent. We have been unable to trance with them for two days.”
“There could be any number of reasons for that,” Trumane said. “An outbreak of influenza amongst the trance staff for instance.”
“Indeed. Which is why I intend to sail there forthwith. Your command is hereby ordered to join us.”
“There must be thousands of civilians in those ships,” Lizanne said. “You’re asking them to sail towards the very thing they’re trying to escape.”
“Thirty-two thousand civilians, to be exact,” Madame Hakugen said. “Who have been at sea for far too long already. Our supplies are not copious and Feros is the nearest port.” She inclined her head at Captain Verricks. “We will be happy to sail under your protection, sir.”
Verricks gave a small huff of discomfort that told Lizanne all she needed to know about his intentions. “Captain Verricks is not offering protection, madame,” she said. “He intends to form company with the Viable Opportunity and sail for Feros at the best possible speed. The Viable is a blood-burner and there are three Blood-blessed on this ship, which means the engines of both vessels can be fired to full capacity. Do I miscalculate, Captain?”
“Military necessity, miss,” Verricks sniffed. “As you said. Nothing but hard choices.”
“If you abandon these people,” Lizanne told him, speaking every word with great precision, “the report I will write to the Board regarding your conduct will make Captain Trumane’s report on Lieutenant Hilemore seem like a love-letter in comparison.” She held his gaze, seeing the stern resolve of a professional and long-serving Protectorate officer.