Free Mutineer by J.A. Sutherland Page A

little of the wider universe while at home on Dalthus, but felt she should gain some knowledge of more than the ships themselves now that she was in the Navy. Finished with the Gazette, she moved on to her studies.
    There were always ever more complex navigation problems to go through, ship’s systems to learn about, and tactical simulations to run through. Not that the captain nor any of the others will ever ask me about them. While Captain Neals grilled the other midshipmen more ruthlessly even than Captain Grantham had, he’d never once included Alexis. It wasn’t that she wanted to face the brutal quizzing — having scenario after scenario thrown at her with demands for what orders she would give — but it was designed to prepare the midshipmen for their lieutenant’s exam. An exam where three or more captains would demand answers to whatever they could dream up before finally passing the applicant to lieutenant or sending him back to the pool of midshipmen.
    So Alexis was reduced to studying on her own and keeping her own answers to herself when Neals quizzed the others. That she felt she came to better decisions than the lot of them was small comfort when it couldn’t be confirmed. Likely, though, if Neals ever did include her, he’d not accept anything she said, so perhaps his indifference was preferable.
    She was almost done with yet another treatise on navigation when she heard the other midshipmen begin to arrive back aboard, talking in the gunroom outside her hatch. Timpson came in to change his own uniform, ostentatiously stripping out of his dress uniform and underthings before pulling fresh clothing from the drawer beneath his bunk. It was one of the reasons Alexis didn’t mind, in fact preferred, having the upper bunk aboard Hermione, even though its height made it more difficult for her to get into. Taking the lower bunk would have put her right at eye level with things she honestly preferred not to think about.
    “Saw you got some fresh stores, Carew,” Timpson said, pulling on his boots. “About time, that.”
    “Yes, I received some good advice about giving up.”
    Timpson stood up and faced the bunks. “What’s that mean?”
    Alexis shrugged, never taking her eyes from her tablet. Timpson left and she returned to her studies.
    There was a loud scream from the gunroom and she quickly locked her tablet and slid off the bunk. She rushed through the hatch into the gunroom to find Timpson, Brattle, and Ledyard staring at Bushby in shock. The senior midshipman was staggering around outside his berth, eyes watering profusely and spitting on the deck. Well, then, that didn’t take long.
    “Bushby!” Brattle yelled. “What the devil—”
    Bushby spat once more and looked up at them, his chin was covered in streaks of brown and bright red spittle that leaked from his mouth. Alexis covered her mouth and tried to look concerned. Bushby looked around wildly and his eyes widened as he spied the wine bottles the others had on the table. Oh … I’d not recommend that, Alexis thought, doing her best to keep from laughing outright.
    Bushby rushed to the table and grasped a bottle, throwing his head back and draining it. He lowered it finally, looking relieved, but then his eyes widened. He gasped and clutched at his throat, then his chest.
    “ Surgeon ,” he croaked, rushing toward the companionway. “ Where’s Rochford? ”
    “Should we help him, do you think?” Timpson asked.
    “He can find the orlop deck on his own, I suspect,” Brattle said. He went instead to Bushby’s berth. “What was the man doing?”
    Alexis went to the pantry and examined her stores. She noted that a box of her chocolates was missing and took one of the others, carefully noting the discrete marks she’d made on the packaging. She returned to the gunroom as Brattle was coming out of Bushby’s berth with a similar package, this one opened.
    He held it at arm’s length, his eyes squinted and watering, as he carried