Two of the marines spotted the movement at the same time. The first man threw himself between the admiral and the barrel of the gun. The second marine grabbed for the girl herself. Helen’s gun fired twice, and each shot hit the young marine who’d used his body to shield the admiral. He fell. The second marine nearly reached her, but she took a step back and fired again. The shot hit the man in the face. Unhindered once more, Helen now turned and calmly pointed her gun back at the admiral, who had stood frozen in place, unable to move. It had all happened so quickly.
And then Colonel Fitzgibbons fired. He had not moved from his spot. Instead, he had drawn his sidearm while others flailed about or stood transfixed. He shot the girl again and again as she fell. The gunshots only ceased when the girl lay motionless, legs twisted beneath her, the pistol falling from her grasp, blood on her chest and dribbling from her mouth.
The baroness was screaming, fighting against the two men holding her. The baron raged and cursed, and shortly disappeared under a swarm of uniformed marines. They kicked and punched to subdue him. Two servants rushed into the room, and Fitzgibbons’s men shot them dead without waiting to see if they would interfere.
Malthorne’s heart was still pounding from his near death. He found his voice. “Take the baron and baroness to my ship. They will both see York Tower.”
Outside, the fresh air of the Drake estate cleared his head. He turned to Colonel Fitzgibbons, who walked beside him with a scowl.
“You saved my life, Colonel. You and your marines. If you hadn’t reacted so swiftly, I would be dead.”
“I only did my duty, sir.” His voice was tight, strained. He must be furious that a girl of seventeen or eighteen had managed to kill two of his men.
“Nevertheless, you did your duty, and you did it well. We all should have taken closer note of the girl. No blame will fall upon you for it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Times will be troubled, Colonel. I need loyal men by my side. You come from an unpropertied lineage, am I right?”
“Yes, sir. We are, and have always been, a military family.”
“No longer. Now you will have lands and a title to add to the rank of officer. These estates. Do you fancy them?”
“Yes, sir. I would say that I do.”
“Very good. I will see to it that they are yours. Taken from a traitor and given to a man loyal and true—what more could be done? But only the land,” he added, thinking of his estate on Hot Barsa. “The manor house itself, you will burn to the ground.”
“I understand.” An eager, unseemly note had entered his voice.
“See that it is done.”
Malthorne regained the skies less than an hour later, the baron and baroness his prisoners. Below, the manor house and all its outbuildings made a raging inferno in the early morning, a sight that surely must be visible for miles across the Central Auckland Plain. Helen Drake’s body was still inside, burning along with all of those beautiful books and furnishings.
Chapter Sixteen
The New Dutch were practical sorts, not given to hysterics over the loss of their ship and its cargo. The barge captain and crew readily agreed with Drake’s demands. The gun would be disabled, the shields down at all times. Blackbeard and Orient Tiger would escort them to the ship’s final destination, see the tyrillium sold to the Hroom, and then set the New Dutch crew free. Of course, Drake and Vargus would keep the proceeds of the sale, but nobody else needed to die.
There was one small, unforeseen problem. Capp and Carvalho had been inspecting the captured barge to see what other goodies it might contain when they found some of their rivals from Orient Tiger attempting to smuggle off several thousand gold coins taken from the ship’s safe. The two sides came to blows. One of Vargus’s men was shot in the leg, and one of Drake’s people took a saber slash across her chest. In the end, Orient Tiger made off with the loot, and the conflict made it to the ship level.
Drake got Catarina Vargus on the viewscreen, and she agreed with him that the only solution was an equitable division of the treasure. Equitable, as she defined it, was a 70/30 split in her favor. After all, she had found the guilders, and she was now in possession of them. The two captains went back and forth, getting nowhere, until she suggested discussing the gold coins in person. By now, Drake’s crew was riled up, not only the enlisted men and women, but the officers, as well. Even the Hroom on board seemed outraged.
Drake saw no alternative but to agree to another meeting. But this time, on his ship. He was firm on that point.
#
When the two of them were alone in the war room, Catarina Vargus glanced about her without sitting. “So cold.”
“Would you like me to raise the temperature?” Drake said sarcastically, as he took a seat. “Or perhaps fetch you a jacket to cover your bare shoulders.”
“Not that kind of cold. Austere, boring even. Wood paneling on the walls, paintings of ancient sailing ships and men hunting foxes with hounds. Remind me again, is this the year 2630, or have I suddenly been transported back in time a thousand years? The room even smells of pipe smoke. You and your gentleman warriors, out subduing the savage reaches of space. Isn’t that right?”
“You have a fertile imagination. There is no smoking in my war room. And perhaps you didn’t notice that my officers include women.”
“Which is why I wonder that you are so hostile to me. It cannot be on account of my sex, yet it’s mystifying how you treat me as a subordinate and not a partner.”
Catarina came up behind him and put her hands on his shoulders. They were surprisingly strong, and when her finger brushed his neck above the collar, a thrill went down him. He shook off the sensation.
“I see what you’re doing. It won’t work.”
“What am I doing, James?” She took the seat next to him.
“You accuse me of dismissing you on account of your sex, and at the same time you’re not above using feminine wiles to get your way.”
“We use the tools we are given. It so happens that I possess ample sex appeal in addition to intelligence and energy. I didn’t expect you to be so hardened as to be immune. But maybe a man who would decorate his war room in this manner considers himself above female company. You’re a confirmed bachelor, I suppose.”
“Hand over the gold, Catarina. This ridiculous game is beneath you.”
“You’d end our partnership over a few thousand guilders? What is your personal share of that? It’s trifling. I thought you’d declared yourself above mere pecuniary interests. Apparently, that was a falsehood. You are more mercenary than I thought. Or are your debts to that scoundrel in the San Pablo yards greater than I’ve been told?”
“It isn’t about the money, it’s about control over our partnership. The proper hierarchy we agreed upon. You promised to obey me.”
“Submitting to your whims in battle is one thing, surrendering rewards that are rightfully mine, another matter entirely.” Catarina’s eyes flashed, and she sprang back to her feet. “I found the treasure, I seized it. In the battle, my ship took all of the risks and suffered most of the damage.”
“This time. Next time, perhaps not. But that is my call, not yours. I am the flag officer of our little fleet. I command the crew of the tyrillium barge, and I command you. If we add more vessels, if we gather every pirate ship within a hundred light years, my conditions will remain the same.”
“The devil take your conditions. I told you, James. I am a lord of space, fully sovereign. I answer to no man. I will obey you in battle—that I agreed upon—but I will not suffer under your tyranny.”
“You have no choice.”
“Is that so? What would you do if I took the money and simply ran? Would you hunt me down and kill me for it? Is that what kind of man you are?”
“I’d let you go, of course. The tyrillium is worth five times what you took in gold.”
“Five times the value, and ten times the risk. I’d take the gold and count myself lucky.”
&n
bsp; “Then go,” Drake urged. “Keep the money and leave. I can better explain it to my crew that way. We keep the tyrillium, Orient Tiger keeps the gold. My crew can do the math.”
Catarina looked at him for several long moments as he returned her gaze without faltering.
At last she came and sat down by him again. She moved her chair next to his and leaned in so close that her breath was warm against his cheek.
“I don’t want to be your enemy, James. Please, believe me. We can have a wonderful partnership. Very prosperous.” Catarina put a hand on his knee. “And I’m not only talking about financially.”
“Is this a serious proposal, or another tactic in your attempt to cheat us out of our share of the gold?”
“I see interest in your eyes. If I slide my hand up your thigh a few inches, will I feel your interest?”
Drake was glad that his lap was underneath the table, and he prepared to grab her hand should she make good on her threat. Not that he fully minded, of course.
“On the one hand,” he said, “I’d like to think that you are sincere, that you’re not trying to play me because you’re so greedy for that money. On the other, romantic interest would complicate matters.”
“Complications are not always bad.”
“My life is already plenty complicated.”
“So what is one more thing?”
“Show me you are sincere,” he said. “Promise to send back our share of the gold.”
Catarina pulled back her hair and touched her left ear. “Da Rosa, are you there?” She frowned. “I can’t get through.”
“That’s because the room is shielded,” Drake said. He took out his hand computer and hit a couple of buttons. “Try it now.”
She tried again, and this time seemed to get someone. “Have you counted the gold? How much is there? That much? Send over eight thousand guilders to Blackbeard. Yes, I know that’s half!” she snapped. “I can do the math. Yes, I am serious. Do it at once.”
Catarina ended the call. “There, it is done. You will shortly have your gold. I hope you will trust that it is fully half.”
“Capp got a good look and seems to have an eye for that sort of thing. I’m sure she will tell me if you short me.”
“She will be satisfied, I promise.” Catarina’s hand remained on his knee, and now she leaned in. “As for what I was saying a moment ago—”
The door to the war room opened, and Tolvern stepped in. “Captain, we—” The commander stopped, and her mouth fell open as she looked them over, sitting so intimately together.
Drake sprang to his feet, embarrassed to be caught in such a position, the true folly of it washing over him. What had he been thinking? He straightened his uniform.
Tolvern recovered quickly. A brief flash of what looked like irritation, or maybe disappointment, crossed her face, and then her features smoothed. “We received a message from Orient Tiger. They are shipping over some gold. May I ask how much?”
“Eight thousand guilders,” Drake said. “Fully half. That’s what? About three thousand pounds worth in Albion guineas? Captain Vargus and I have come to an agreement.”
“Yes, sir,” Tolvern said dryly. “I can see that.”
#
An hour later, Tolvern had finished overseeing the counting of the gold coins. Catarina Vargus stood next to her in the engineering bay with her hands on her hips and a smooth, almost insolent look on her face. Tolvern tried not to let her jealousy rise up, but it was impossible.
Let her act casual, I know what I saw.
The woman had been all over the captain when Tolvern entered the war room. No surprise that Vargus would try to seduce Drake; she exuded sensuality and had an attitude of taking what she wanted. The shocking part was how little the captain had been resisting. When would he have stopped her, when her tongue was in his ear? When she was straddling him naked on the table? The thought made Tolvern burn. Jealousy was an emotion unbecoming to her station and to her professional relationship with the captain, but recognizing that was easier than dismissing it.
“Is something the matter, Tolvern?” Vargus asked. She studied Tolvern’s face. “Still convinced I’m trying to cheat you?”
“It’s only what I would expect. You seem like the cheating sort.”
Vargus smiled. “Do you have a specific accusation, or am I free to leave?”
“Yes, please. Go back to your ship.”
“Not yet. I have some old mates on board. They invited me for a drink in the mess.”
“Don’t you have your own crew to get inebriated with without corrupting ours?”
“There will be no inebriation. A quick drink, a few laughs at shared memories, and then I’ll be off your precious ship and out of your way.”
Tolvern forced herself to stay calm. The last thing she wanted to do was admit her jealousy to this woman. For one, Vargus was likely to blurt it to the captain, and that would raise all sorts of issues. Let Drake stay oblivious.
“In that case, you will excuse me,” Tolvern said. “I have business on the bridge.”
She reached the bridge, but found herself struggling to concentrate. She’d meant to check their hydrogen stores and had promised Barker she’d look over his analysis of the new cannon installed on San Pablo, but neither subject held her interest. Instead, she studied Drake as he gave instructions to Nyb Pim about the course he wanted to set. The captain meant to take a more circuitous route to their final destination than the one charted by the tyrillium barge, in case the New Dutch had got off a distress signal. No sense stumbling into an ambush.
Drake seemed calm, unflustered by his encounter with Vargus. Looking at him now, Tolvern couldn’t believe that Vargus had presented any risk. Drake must have been playing the woman, letting her think that her act was working. And in the end, she’d given him what he wanted: half the gold had returned to Blackbeard. What had Drake given her in return? Nothing.
“And now,” he said, “I will leave the bridge to you, Commander. We’ve got a long, hopefully quiet haul to the next jump point, and I’ve been on duty for fifteen hours.”
“No worries, sir. Go, get some rest.”
“Very good. Don’t be afraid to wake me if there’s trouble.”
“Yes, sir.”
Tolvern watched him go, then reluctantly turned back to her work. She made it through the analysis of their hydrogen stores and suggested a slight course correction to Nyb Pim so they could pass through a gas-rich patch of space where the ram scoops could replenish their supplies. But she couldn’t bring herself to tackle Barker’s memo about the cannons. It was so bloody dry and technical.
Maybe she was wrong. If Catarina Vargus truly intended to seduce the captain, why should he turn her down? Nobody else was doing the job, and Drake was lonely; he’d admitted it once, and hinted at it other times. By why did it have to be Vargus? It could easily be someone else.
“Ensign Capp?” she said.
Capp looked up from her computer. “Aye?”
“Will you man the helm? I’ve got a headache all of a sudden. I’m going to take something and lie down for a stretch.”
Tolvern furrowed her brow and put a hand to her temple, afraid, as Capp studied her, that the woman would wink and make snide innuendo. But Capp nodded. “Sure, go on, then. There’s nothing happening here, that’s for sure.” The subpilot yawned, as if to prove her point.
Tolvern left the bridge and walked down the hallway toward her room. Her heart was thumping away, and she wasn’t sure, when it came down to it, that she could actually go through with this thing.
But if she didn’t do it now, she’d never find the nerve.
Chapter Seventeen
Drake didn’t have the energy to cook dinner, but he needed to eat before sleeping, so he stopped at the mess for a quick bite. There was a good deal more joking and crude language in his presence than he’d been accustomed to before, but he made a point of not demanding special decorum on his behalf. He even sat with Carvalho and
Lutz and endured their ribald humor. It was the sort of conversation that would have been better after a drink or two. Which the two men seem to have had long before he arrived.
He made it back to his room, belly comfortably full, but he wasn’t particularly tired, in spite of how long he’d been on duty. Maybe some music would relax his mind. But when he opened the door to his room, the music was already playing. For a moment, he thought he must have absentmindedly told Jane to turn it on before he arrived. Except it was a waltz, not unpleasant, but nothing he recognized or would have chosen himself. Then movement caught his eye; someone was already in the room.
And there she was, sprawled across his bed, her shoes off, her vest unzipped and partially opened, with the ruby pendant hanging between the swell of her breasts. She’d let down her hair, which draped in black curls over one shoulder. An artful position, carefully chosen for effect.
There was nobody else it could have been, yet he was still surprised to see her here: Catarina Vargus, captain of Orient Tiger, his rival and the reluctant second officer of his makeshift fleet. And now, apparently, his would-be lover.
Drake reached back and closed the door without taking his eyes off the woman.
This brought a smile. “So serious,” she said. “Until you closed the door, I thought you were going to call security.”
“You’re still wearing your gun belt. Maybe I should.”
“I’m not the only one packing heat.”
He touched a hand to his sidearm and smiled. “Is this a duel?”
“Oh, I hope so. But maybe not with pistols at—” She looked around at the tight quarters— “five feet, is it? Aren’t you the captain? Where’s your state room? My second mate has larger quarters than this.”
“The Punisher-class cruisers weren’t built with officer comfort in mind. They’re killing machines.”
Lords of Space (Starship Blackbeard Book 2) Page 14
