Lords of Space (Starship Blackbeard Book 2)

by Michael Wallace

“Oh, stop it with the sexy talk. You really know how to get a lady aroused. Next, you’ll be bragging about the size of your cannon. Now take off that sidearm before it fires prematurely.”

  Drake didn’t miss the innuendo, but nevertheless, he removed his gun belt, and she did the same thing, only with an alluring shimmy at her waist as she got it off. The vest fell back momentarily when she bent to drop the gun on the floor, and he got a glimpse of her firm belly and the swell of one breast almost, but not quite, exposed to the nipple. She was sexy as hell.

  Drake came over to the bed and sat down. “How did you get in here?”

  “I knocked. Nobody answered, so I put my hand on the pad. It wasn’t locked.”

  “Oh, yes. I left it unlocked for Commander Tolvern and forgot to lock it again.”

  “Tolvern, you say? Are you lovers?”

  “No,” he said quickly. “Of course not. She is a friend and confidant. Really, no,” he added when Catarina raised an eyebrow. “I’ve known her since she was a girl. We practically grew up together.”

  “It wouldn’t bother me if you were. But I like to know who my rivals are. Now, maybe I’m wrong, but I could have measured the hostility radiating off Jess Tolvern with a Geiger counter. Seemed like jealousy.”

  “It’s not jealousy,” Drake assured her. “She’s suspicious because you’re a pirate, and she doesn’t much care for this whole scheme with the sugar antidote. Then there was the business with the gold.” He took a step toward her.

  Catarina still lounged across the bed, not reaching for him, not making any more move than she already had. He was aware of a choice, a step that might seem easy now, a bit of pleasure willingly shared between two people, but that had consequences going forward. It took every bit of willpower to hold back as he looked her over. Her body was both lean and feminine, and there was something sexy about the insolent look on her face, the intelligence burning in her eyes, even the way she parted her lips.

  “Would you like me to leave?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “If you’re nervous, we could have a drink first. I get the feeling it has been a long time for you.”

  “It has been, but I’m not nervous. I am deliberate. I don’t like making mistakes.”

  Catarina sat up and moved the pillows behind the small of her back. Keeping her eyes on his, she deliberately took the edge of her vest and let it slip off her right shoulder. It caught against her breast and then slid free. He held her eyes for a long moment, then, just as deliberately, let his gaze drift to her exposed breast.

  “Come here,” she said. Her voice was husky.

  Drake fell upon her. Their lips pressed together hungrily. Catarina arched her back, breathing heavily. She grabbed his backside hard with one hand and plunged the fingers of her other hand into his hair to drag his face down to her neck, and then to her breast. She was a demanding lover, insisting, directing his every move, moving his mouth here, his hand down there. Her own hands and mouth were everywhere, sometimes biting at his neck while she dug her fingernails into his back. She tore at his clothes, ripped her own off. She shoved him down, surprisingly strong, and straddled his waist. The ruby pendant dangled from her neck. It was the only thing she was wearing.

  “Harder,” she insisted as she pressed down onto him. “Yes, like that. James!”

  She was making so much noise that he put his hand over her mouth to hush her. It was all terribly arousing, even as he was alarmed by the ferocity of her desire.

  The lovemaking was hard and furious until they were done, and then surprisingly, she turned tender. She stroked him along his lips and cheek, and then kissed him softly along his shoulder and chest where she’d left marks. For several minutes, there was no sound but her breathing in his ear, and the sound of a waltz playing tranquilly in the background.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, “I didn’t mean to be so . . . you know.”

  “Is it always like that for you?”

  Catarina laughed, and sounded a little embarrassed. “I don’t know. It has been almost two years since I did that anywhere but my own imagination.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  “Well, there was one time,” she said. “But I needed to be gentle with him. I’d seduced my cousin, you see, and he was young and inexperienced.”

  “You what?”

  “Only a second cousin,” she said hastily. “And by young, I mean nineteen, not a child, God, no. I don’t want you getting the wrong idea.”

  “I’m not sure what idea to get, to be honest. Sometimes you sound like a lady, other times like you’ll jump me in an alley, ravish me, rob me, and leave me for dead.”

  “That’s not too far off how I sound in my own head.” Her hand was resting on his chest, and now she ran it down to the fine hair along his belly, and lower, where her fingers rested with a light squeeze. “Come on, let’s do it again.”

  “I’m not sure I can, not so soon.”

  “Don’t be silly, of course you can. We’ll be gentle this time. Is there hot water in your shower?”

  “Yes.”

  “And soap? Lots of soap with lather?”

  “Of course.”

  “Perfect. You can soap me from head to toe. And then I’ll take a turn. If you’re not ready for another round by the time that’s done, then . . . well, you will be ready.”

  #

  Tolvern hadn’t been on shift that long when she set off to seduce the captain, but nevertheless, she went back to her room to freshen up. She took a quick shower, put on fresh underwear and a clean uniform, then spent a few minutes on her hair, adding a bit of gel and pinning her bob behind her right ear. Was that still the fashion? She thought so, but she wasn’t sure. Then a little bit of lipstick—only a touch, she didn’t care to be spotted by other crew and remarked on—and a touch of eyeshadow.

  Her confidence grew as she looked herself over in the mirror. She’d never be taken for a beauty; the freckles and the silly turn of her nose would prevent that, not to mention her lack of feminine curves. Nevertheless, she could passably be called cute. Those fellows at the bar on San Pablo had been checking her out, hadn’t they?

  She didn’t wear any perfume, but she used a fair bit of her face lotion that smelled of Zealand wildflowers, both to soften her skin and to give her an enticing aroma. Get close to him, let him smell her clean skin, with its scent of the meadows back home. Her stomach fluttered at the thought.

  Tolvern almost chickened out before leaving her room, but once she was in the hallway, she moved with alacrity. Every moment in the open risked bumping into someone who might comment on her altered appearance. Thankfully, she found herself alone in the hallway, alone on the lift, and alone again as she made her way quickly down the corridor that led to Drake’s rooms. She only hesitated when she reached the captain’s door. She knocked instead of ringing.

  The way her stomach was flopping, she’d have thought she was going into battle. Her pulse made a quick, rapid drumbeat, and her mouth was dry. She imagined Drake’s expression as he opened the door. Shocked? Intrigued?

  But he didn’t answer. He must be asleep, unless he was eating in the mess. It was at least ninety minutes since he left the bridge though, so he was probably back in his room. Had to be. She rang this time. Still no answer.

  Tolvern glanced nervously up the corridor, not wanting to be caught out here, not by the captain, nor anyone else. She touched the link at her ear. “Jane? Where is the captain?”

  “Captain Drake’s last registered position was in his personal quarters.” It was no doubt Tolvern’s imagination, but the computer sounded reassuring, even encouraging. As in, Go on, take a risk. You’re both lonely. He won’t turn you down.

  There was no other choice now but to either call him or turn around. If she turned around, she might never find the courage a second time. So she called.

  But again, there was no answer. Jane said he was in his room. Even asleep, he never turned his com link off; he needed to
be roused in case of emergency. In fact, in this case he’d specifically told her to call if there were problems. Tolvern’s nerves now shifted to worry. Was he okay? Had something happened?

  She put her hand on the palm reader, little thinking it would work. Surely it was locked. But it wasn’t, and the door slid open. She stepped into the room, and the door shut behind her. Music was playing—Strauss. She didn’t know he was into waltzes.

  “Captain?”

  The bed was messy, as if he’d been sleeping and had suddenly vanished. Because of the music, she didn’t immediately hear the shower, but the room was so small that she took in both the kitchen and the bathroom next to it in a single glance. The door to the bathroom was open. Now she heard the water and saw movement behind the glass, steamed up from the heat.

  Of course. Drake hadn’t heard her knock, ring, or call because he was taking a shower. He must have laid down, been unable to sleep, and thought a hot shower would clear his mind. She sometimes did the same thing when she was agitated.

  Tolvern’s first inclination was to back slowly out of the room, retreat to her quarters to scrub off the makeup, and return to the bridge pretending nothing had happened. Her second thought was to wait for him on the bed, maybe even strip to her underwear so there could be no doubt of her intentions when he came out. The expression on his face when he first spotted her would tell her everything.

  Too weak. Too passive. She couldn’t give him a chance to think about why fraternizing with his first mate would be a bad idea, or give herself a chance for second thoughts as she waited for him. No, there was a better choice.

  She made her way to the bathroom, her heart thumping, unbuttoned her uniform, and let it slip off. She went to take off her panties. Voices caught her ear. Tolvern froze; she stood so close to the shower door it would hit her if it opened.

  The voices were soft, murmured, a man’s baritone, followed by a woman’s voice, low and sultry. Now, staring at the shower glass, Tolvern could clearly see that there were two bodies moving in there behind the glass, which was not so opaque or steamed over as to have blocked that, had she been paying the slightest attention.

  The horrifying thought struck her that she’d been on the verge of opening the door and stumbling into the shower naked with the captain and his lover. She snatched her uniform off the floor. Every curse known to man passed through her head as she struggled to get it on.

  She was still fumbling with the buttons when the shower door opened. Catarina Vargus appeared through the half-open door, naked and voluptuous, her dark hair slicked back and drizzling water that channeled between her breasts and down her smooth belly and thighs. Steam rose from her body. Vargus spotted the intruder and froze, still half in, half out of the shower. Her gaze dropped to Tolvern’s fingers, working at the buttons, then back to her face. The woman’s eyes widened. That look said everything.

  She knew. She saw and understood everything Tolvern had been intending.

  Of the two women, Vargus recovered first. She stepped the rest of the way out, and Tolvern caught a glimpse of Drake’s muscular back and buttocks; he was turned away from her, thank God. Vargus shut the shower door.

  “Give me one second to dry off,” Vargus said in a loud voice over her shoulder. “There’s no room in here for the two of us.”

  The woman gave Tolvern an urgent look toward the door and mouthed silently, “Hurry!”

  Tolvern just had the presence of mind to snatch up her shoes and socks before she fled Drake’s room. Somehow, she got them on in the corridor without being spotted and made her way to the lift. She was roiling with emotion: shame, jealousy, anger at herself and the captain, and even a flood of gratitude to Catarina Vargus. The woman could have easily laughed and opened the shower door for Drake to see her. Tolvern’s humiliation would have been complete.

  She was so wound up that she didn’t remember her makeup and her slicked-back hair until she got to the bridge. Nyb Pim glanced up, Smythe too, but neither seemed to notice her changed appearance. Capp, who was more observant than both of them put together, was reading something on her screen, brow furrowed, lips moving as she labored over the words.

  Tolvern walked toward the war room, and this motion finally caught Capp’s eye. “Hey, Tolvern, check out this subspace message that just came in. King’s balls, you’ll never believe it!”

  “One moment,” Tolvern said, and pushed into the war room.

  There was a small bathroom off the room, and she went inside and locked the door. She lathered her hands with soap and water and scrubbed at her face. Only when it was clean, and the clip pulled from her hair, did she look in the mirror. Her familiar features stared back at her, the eyes that were not particularly striking, but with good color and symmetry. Her nose, a little quirky, yes, but not too big. She had nice lips and good teeth. And if her cheekbones were not distinguished, at least she had an excellent complexion.

  She’d meant to consider herself defiantly in the mirror, tell herself that she was more than a match for Catarina Vargus, but instead she suffered a fresh welling of emotion. Tears rose in her eyes. This made her angry.

  “Don’t be an idiot,” she growled. Her eyes stopped watering.

  Tolvern stood staring at herself in the mirror, making fierce faces, even purposefully allowing herself to look ridiculous, until she was composed enough to go back out again. The risk had passed. Nobody would know but the captain of Orient Tiger, and the unexpected compassion the woman had shown seemed to indicate that the secret would be safe.

  What does it matter, anyway?

  Let Drake take his lover. There was nothing wrong with that. He was a good man, and honorable, and there was no doubt he would still do the correct thing by his crew.

  As for Tolvern, she would be fine. She’d made a mistake, and what of it?

  She remembered Capp’s urgency, and found herself curious as to what message had arrived. Who even knew their location enough to send such a message?

  Tolvern came back onto the bridge to find Capp pacing the floor, while Smythe and Manx were in communication with engineering and the gunnery, respectively.

  “What is it?” Tolvern was suddenly aware that she’d been off her post against the captain’s orders. If he couldn’t leave his commander in charge of the bridge, who could he trust? She vowed not to make that mistake again.

  “The Royal Navy is in the system,” Capp said. “Captain Rutherford, on Vigilant. He’s the one who sent the message.”

  The news was like a slap. “Dear God. How long until they intercept us?”

  Over the past week, they’d picked up bits of news as the two pirate ships jumped ever deeper into Hroom territory in search of the tyrillium barge and her escorts. There had been another battle between Albion and the empire, and much of the Royal Navy was in motion. Dreadnought remained in orbit around Albion, the lord admiral engaged in unknown business on the surface, but he was expected to ship out soon. Meanwhile, nothing had been heard of Rutherford’s fleet since it defeated the empire forces at San Pablo. Now, Tolvern realized with horror that Rutherford must have been tracking them all along. He’d caught Blackbeard out here, far from any safe port or jump point.

  “No, it ain’t that,” Capp said. “That’s the crazy thing. Rutherford is demanding our help.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Drake’s first indication that something had gone wrong came when Catarina suddenly sprang to her feet and grabbed for her pants and boots. She yanked them on, snatched up her gun and holster, and strapped them in place. She pulled on her vest and zipped it up over her breasts.

  They’d been lying in each other’s arms talking ever since coming out of the shower. Catarina had asked Drake if he and Tolvern had ever been lovers. He assured her that they had not, and neither had he been intimate with any other crew member. This answer seemed to satisfy her, and for the first time, the thought crossed his mind that maybe Catarina held genuine affection for him.

  To that point, he’d ass
umed that she’d come for a bit of pleasure. Come to him to take what she wanted and leave. Not so different from how she’d tried to take the gold. She wanted it, she thought it was hers. In this case, a moment of fun, but nothing more. Drake had been prepared to deal with the situation on those terms, but now he reconsidered. What if she were interested in a deeper relationship?

  She was getting dressed so quickly that Drake grew concerned. “Is something wrong? Did you get a message from your ship?”

  It was the only thing he could think of that would get her moving so quickly. They’d each put in their com links as soon as they’d dried from the shower, even as they lounged in their underwear.

  Now she touched her ear and confirmed his suspicions. “I’m on my way to the pod right now,” she said, not to Drake, but to some distant listener. “Be there in ten minutes.” When she looked at him again, her face was hard and serious. “You’d better get to your own bridge. If they don’t know yet, they will soon.”

  “Know what?”

  “Your navy friends. Seems they’ve found us.” With that, she left.

  Drake’s own call came even as the door to his room was still closing. It was Capp, sounding agitated, begging him to hurry to the bridge. It only took a moment to get dressed, run his fingers through his hair, and make for the lift.

  He came onto the bridge to find Tolvern in the captain’s chair, with Capp next to her. The two women were discussing something in agitated tones.

  Capp spotted Drake. “There you are! You’ve got to see this.”

  Tolvern’s face darkened, and she didn’t look at him as he came over, only jumped out of his chair and made her way to her own console. He didn’t have time to consider this odd behavior before he was at the console and reading what had agitated them. It was a message from Captain Rutherford.

  We are under attack from two vessels of unknown alien origin. Do not trust myself strong enough to combat them. Fleeing toward your location. In the name of Albion and His Majesty, King Bartholomew, this is bigger than either of us, and I beg your aid.