Tale of the Thunderbolt by E.E. Knight

lot of shouting and shooting behind me. Figured it was a good chance to throw in with y’all. Then we saw these two,” he said, gesturing to the Thunderbolt sailors.
    â€œMy David,” Ahn-Kha said, but Valentine was already reacting. Lights appeared from the T-intersection.
    â€œGet over here, men,” Valentine said, and he and Went helped them get over the barricade as Ahn-Kha pointed the machine gun down the passageway.
    â€œIn there,” Valentine ordered, indicating the hallway behind the barricade leading to the aft storage lockers. “Torres, keep an eye on them.”
    He heard voices coming from the two joining corridors. “Musta been back here,” one of the voices said. A few shots still sounded from forward.
    â€œHello?” Valentine called down the hall. “If you’re looking for the people yelling for help, you found them.”
    The voices hushed. Valentine hardened his ears, searching where his eyes could not go.
    â€œMebbe a trap,” someone muttered around the corner.
    â€œIf it is, you can tell the commodore you avenged me. Quiet now, I need to listen,” a female voice said. “Hello back,” the unknown woman added, a bit more loudly. “This ship is in the hands of the Commodore’s Flotilla, of Jayport, Jamaica. I offer you a chance of surrender with fair treatment. Why were you calling for help?”
    The owner of the voice stepped around the corner, and all that Valentine could make out in the smoke and darkness was that she was a tall woman. An equally tall man joined her, and at a motion from her hand he opened a kerosene lantern and held it up, revealing the two of them. They both wore loose cotton shirts, cut as pullovers with deep V-necks, dark culottes topped with a sash and gunbelts, and boat sandals. She had dark hair pulled back from her face and handsome, large-eyed features showing Latin blood in her golden complexion. The man behind her was ebony-hued, eyes narrowed suspiciously as he searched the men on the barricade, a revolver in his other hand.
    Valentine thought it best to match her and hopped over the barricade, though he took care to land on his good leg. “Ahn-Kha, tell your pair in the laundry not to fire. It’s over.”
    Ahn-Kha barked something out, answered by grunts from the darkness of the laundry room. Valentine moved forward to meet the two at the intersection. She looked at the bodies, and Valentine saw her reading the story in the carnage.
    â€œSurrender might not be the right word, but we won’t trouble you.”
    â€œYou in a position to cause trouble?”
    â€œNot if you play fair by us. My name is Valentine, out of Southern Command in the Ozarks. God knows how I could prove it to you, though. Our plan was to take the ship, but” — Valentine indicated the barricade behind him — “it went rather wrong. Help us, and you’ll have my thanks, and my word that we will not harm you or the Thunderbolt further.”
    â€œYou are a long way from Mountain Home, Valentine,” she said, showing a better knowledge of his land than he would have guessed. “My name is Carrasca, First Leftenant of the Rigel .”
    â€œWhat’s happened to the rest of my crew?” Valentine asked.
    â€œA few were killed. Someone from the bridge fired a machine gun into us, and more were shot off the superstructure, but most surrendered. I see your men are better armed than the rest.”
    â€œWe had the arms locker and engine room, about the only thing that went right tonight. You picked a good time to board.”
    â€œLucky for both of us. Can you clear out that mess in the corridor? I need to send men down to watch the engine room.”
    â€œNobody is going to sink her,” Valentine said.
    â€œIt is my responsibility to make sure of that. I’m sure you can understand.”
    Valentine stepped aside as more of the Rigel ’s men entered, nodding to