Lords of Space (Starship Blackbeard Book 2)

by Michael Wallace

  “This is conjecture?” Rutherford asked.

  “Yes, but doesn’t it make sense?”

  “It does,” Rutherford said, nodding slowly.

  “What isn’t conjecture is that the last time Apex attacked the Hroom, they did so with a fleet of several thousand ships.”

  Rutherford looked troubled at this. “And now we’ve fought them. They came after me, gave me more than I could handle. Probing, testing.” He nodded. “Like killer whales hunting their prey to exhaustion. And that second ship escaped to spread the word.”

  “You shouldn’t have fought Orient Tiger,” Drake said. “You should have destroyed the Apex ship as I ordered.”

  “Do not forget the political limitations under which we operate, sir,” Commander Pittsfield offered, entering the conversation for the first time. He had been listening intently. “We had to do it.”

  “I pulled my punches,” Rutherford said. “I didn’t try to destroy your friends, only hold them off with sufficient firepower to avoid suspicion from Malthorne’s cronies. Unfortunately, Orient Tiger came at us swinging. I had my hands full. Before you could intervene, the enemy had escaped.”

  “With word of our weakness,” Tolvern said. “How long before Apex seeks out Albion to prove its dominance? To bloody well eat us for supper? Hroom for the main course, humans as a side dish.”

  “The Hroom might see that as an improvement to being our sugar slaves,” Drake said. “Anyway, we aren’t as weak as all of that. We destroyed Apex’s ship, they didn’t destroy ours.”

  “Luck,” Rutherford said. “If you hadn’t been in the system already, if you hadn’t been you, but that fool Harbrake, I’d be dead.”

  “Apex doesn’t know what was luck and what was skill,” Drake pointed out. “They know that two human ships appeared out of nowhere, that we showed more initiative than empire commanders, and that our combination of weapons and tactics are sufficient to defeat a pair of Apex warships.”

  Rutherford sighed. “If only we’d finished the job and destroyed that second ship. We had them crippled.”

  “Again, they might see that as intentional,” Drake said. “We let them go so the survivors could spread the word. A message that humans are not easy prey, that Apex should find a weaker food source.”

  “Are we?” Rutherford asked. He shook his head. “We may have bought a few months, maybe a couple of years, but the empire is a rotten stump. They’ll tear it to pieces, and then they’ll be at our throats.”

  “If we were smart, we’d form an alliance with the empire, instead of fighting it,” Tolvern said.

  “You can forget that,” Rutherford said bitterly. “Malthorne has the entire navy in motion. We’ve already fought three minor battles against the Hroom. Word has it that the king has levied two hundred thousand new marines, and the lord admiral is stockpiling sugar. There’s no call for that unless we mean to occupy and enslave several new Hroom worlds.”

  “Talk to the lord admiral,” Tolvern said. “Explain the situation.”

  “Malthorne won’t listen,” Rutherford said. “He wants his war. Whatever he’s about, he purposefully started this conflict.”

  “What we need is a stronger empire,” Drake said. “We can’t have the Hroom falling to pieces, attacked on both sides.” He hesitated. “We can’t have billions of them paralyzed as they wait for their next fix of sugar.”

  Tolvern fixed him with a cool, steady eye. “Then you’ve decided?”

  “I have. It is not merely a moral imperative, it has become a practical matter, as well.”

  “So, what?” Rutherford said. “Just hand it over and let the Hroom shake off the most potent weapon we’ve got?”

  “The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Apex frightens me more than the Hroom.”

  “Maybe now it does,” Rutherford said. “Don’t forget that the math is not in our favor as far as the Hroom are concerned.”

  Drake didn’t want to argue this point again; he’d worked it over too many times in his own head already.

  “This is a storm we may some day face. But I know Hroom. They have been my friends and my enemies. A Hroom is a rational being. In some ways, more intelligent than we are on an individual basis, but with less imagination, perhaps. More docile, more easily led, whether or not they are addicted to sugar.” Drake nodded. “But there is no inherent reason why we could not partner with them. Their minds are not so different as to be incomprehensible.”

  “Whereas Apex is unknown,” Rutherford said. “Is that what you mean?”

  “Not entirely unknown. What we know is ugly. How do you find accommodation with someone who would eat you? Sal Ypis said that Hroom were terrified of Apex, with whom they could not negotiate or reason. Humans, on the other hand, make them wary and cynical.”

  “I can’t understand why they’d be wary and cynical,” Rutherford said dryly. “It’s not like humans are ever self-absorbed. Or greedy and grasping.”

  “And yet, from a Hroom perspective, wouldn’t they prefer an accommodation with Albion to a war for survival against Apex? They’ll be more inclined to do so if we free them from the sugar.” Drake hesitated. “Come with me. Be the third ship in my fleet. We’ll be safer traveling together.”

  “You know I can’t,” Rutherford said, though the reluctance was clear in his tone. “I am still a loyal officer of the fleet. And with what crew? I’ve got two officers I can count on: Pittsfield and Caites.”

  “Would the rest mutiny against you?” Tolvern asked.

  “Mutiny?” A wry smile from Rutherford. “Funny that you’d mention it, Tolvern.”

  She blushed.

  “Anyway, it’s not mutiny if the admiral has given instructions for handling a rogue captain,” Rutherford continued. “And don’t suggest sending over some of your pirates to take control, either. I wish the both of you all the best, but my place is in the fleet.”

  Drake knew Rutherford too well to attempt to change his friend’s mind. Even after Drake exchanged fire with the lord admiral’s own battleship outside Albion, he’d still harbored delusions of a reconciliation. Rutherford had no such impediments, so why would he risk his position?

  “But here’s what I can do,” Rutherford said. “I’ll return to Albion and explain the situation, take it straight to the king if I have to. If you can win us goodwill with the empire by sharing this antidote, maybe they’ll give us more information about Apex. That would get the king’s attention.”

  “What about my parents?” Drake said. “They’re innocent. When you see the king, you have to convince him that they have nothing to do with this.”

  “I will try, I can promise you that much.”

  “And my sister—she must have justice. Malthorne murdered Helen in cold blood.”

  “I will do what I can.”

  Rutherford stood, as did Pittsfield and Tolvern. Drake followed with some reluctance. Even sitting here in his civilian clothing, he’d felt more at home, more in his element than any time since his arrest. This was his place, in the war room with his fellow officers. Rutherford, a peer, of noble blood. Pittsfield and Tolvern, fine, educated officers with energy and intelligence.

  Drake’s place was here, not with pirates and brigands.

  Rutherford held out his hand. “I’ll work to earn you a pardon with the king. Until then, I wish you all the best.”

  Drake took the offered hand and relished the firm grip. But moments later, they were on the bridge, and Rutherford began to abuse him in front of the other officers, denouncing him as a turncoat and a coward while calling for security to escort the two visitors back to their pod. Drake now recognized this as an act, but even though Rutherford didn’t mean a word of it, somehow the abuse hurt more than ever.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Drake and Rutherford had flown several million miles from the site of the battle before meeting. As they spoke, their respective ships remained motionless and cloaked. Neither captain was keen to tempt the assumption that Apex wouldn�
��t return in greater force while they were chatting.

  Even so, Drake figured he’d lost only about ten hours since seeing Catarina off, and she was still visible on long-range scanners. She would shortly catch the tyrillium barge before it escaped the system, and then the two ships would jump together. Before she did, Drake sent a final message to assure her that he was on his way to the rendezvous point.

  Several days passed before they finally met in the Koris system, most of it in the tedium of long intra-system hauls from one jump point to the next. Drake was glad to see Catarina appear on his viewscreen, and her saucy smile showed that she was pleased to see him, as well. Her vest was still half-unzipped, that pendant with its almost obscenely big ruby nestled in her cleavage.

  “Ahoy,” she said. “Or is that ‘argh’? I can’t keep my pirate lingo straight.”

  “Shiver me timbers,” he said. “So you didn’t run off with the goods after all.”

  Commander Tolvern snorted loudly from the other side of the bridge. She’d proclaimed herself disinterested in hearing what the woman had to say, but did not seem so disinterested as to avoid eavesdropping. She and Capp busied themselves at the tech officer’s station with Smythe and Noah Brockett, the science officer, who had come up from the lab.

  “Believe me,” Catarina said, “I was tempted. And there are plenty on my ship who would have cheered me on.” An exaggerated sigh. “But no. Alas, there is some honor among thieves. Do you want to come over and discuss the tyrillium sale?”

  She put a slight emphasis on the word “discuss.” Drake glanced at the others on the bridge, but they had busied themselves with other matters. Good. The last thing he needed was for anyone to suspect what had happened between himself and Catarina.

  “I’m terribly busy over here,” he said with affected nonchalance. “But perhaps once we’ve completed the sale, we can hammer things out in person.” He winced at Catarina’s smile. Poor word choice.

  “Well, then,” she said. “Let’s bring this plunder to market.”

  She ended the call. A few minutes later, as the ships were accelerating once more, she sent more information about what had happened since they’d last spoken.

  After the barge’s attempted escape, Catarina had thrown the captain and first mate in the brig and replaced them with several of her own people, and she promised Drake there would be no more trouble from the barge. For the next few days, the pirate ships and their booty traveled in peace and solitude.

  But they were flying through lawless territory, and trouble was bound to find them. A week after Drake and Catarina’s rendezvous, they had their first pirate encounter. First to appear was a single frigate, which lurked behind, following silently. Then a second frigate joined, followed by a third. Drake received the first of a series of increasingly threatening messages. The pursuing ships knew what was on that barge and claimed that Blackbeard and Orient Tiger would soon be swarmed with more pirate ships if they didn’t pay protection money.

  After the third such message, Drake turned Blackbeard and Orient Tiger about and came in swinging hard. The enemy pirate ships were soon fleeing for their lives, well bloodied. After that, they enjoyed peace for a few days, but on the next jump, they came right into the middle of a gathering armada of empire warships. Now it was Drake’s turn to flee in terror, while mighty sloops of war fired up their engines and made to give pursuit. Blackbeard and Orient Tiger barely made it out of the system alive with their prize ship intact.

  Their target was a system where Hroom, Ladino, and New Dutch colonies worked a series of mining claims on a small, hot moon circling a rocky, lifeless planet close to its sun. Once, there had been a Royal Navy refueling station on the moon as well, but it had been shelled and then abandoned during the war. Much of the infrastructure was still in place however, and Drake and Catarina landed the barge at the abandoned spaceport while their respective ships remained in orbit.

  #

  The Hroom were not great hagglers, and the empire buyer, a pale-skinned sugar eater named Byven Teth, had brought the exact agreed-upon sum instead of playing games like a human would have done. Byven Teth expressed curiosity about Blackbeard. He didn’t seem to know about Drake’s mutiny from the fleet, but recognized a Royal Navy cruiser when he saw it, even one so altered as theirs. Drake didn’t give the Hroom information, only assured him that he was no agent of Albion, but was acting independently.

  Neither did Drake mention the sugar antidote. Byven Teth asked too eagerly if there was spare sugar on board. Already, the sugar supply had become chancy with the fresh outbreak of hostilities. There were Hroom factions, Nyb Pim had said, who would be no more anxious to see the antidote distributed than would be Admiral Malthorne.

  Drake and Catarina stayed in the system a week, paying too much of their hard-earned gold to repair their damaged ships. Metals and fuel were dirt cheap on the moon, manufactured goods, expensive. And labor costs were outrageous. Still, once they had made their repairs and paid their respective crews, they each found themselves in possession of roughly 32,000 pounds in gold and silver coin. It was an obscene sum of money.

  Drake accompanied Catarina into the mining town on their last day in the system. They caught a movie—some show that had been popular on Albion three or four years earlier, not that Drake had seen it—and then came onto the main street to hunt for a good meal. The sun glowed red and diffuse overhead, dimmed by the plexisteel dome over the camp that kept oxygen in their lungs and radiation from frying them like eggs on a hot skillet. But it didn’t filter the stench of burning gas and cook fires. A fine dust that sifted over everything, even coating their lungs and the insides of their mouths.

  Dinner was outrageously expensive, four guineas for a pair of quail with some vegetables and fresh, hot bread with real butter. He could have served a banquet for twenty people in his father’s great hall for that kind of money. But he had to admit the food was good. Half the restaurant was full of their respective crews, eating, cheering, drinking, and tipping outrageously. Capp and Carvalho caught his eye from where they’d been groping each other in a corner booth. They raised their goblets and gave the two captains a drunken salute that was soon joined by a cheer from the others in the restaurant.

  Drake was happy to see Commander Tolvern absent from this display of debauchery. Her share of the treasure would be enough to buy a small estate in the Zealand Islands, should she ever be able to return. And should she be wise enough to keep her hands on the money, instead of throwing it about like the rest of the crew.

  “Last day in camp,” Drake told Catarina, when the commotion had died down. “They seem anxious to make the most of it.”

  “Many a fortune will be lost tonight,” she said. “And a lot of whores, barkeeps, and professional gamblers will wake with fresh silver in their pockets.”

  “Did you notice that the menu is new?” Drake asked. “I’ll bet prices are double what they were a week ago. Our crew has wasted so much money they’ve inflated the entire economy.”

  “It won’t last long. All that gold and silver will end up in the hands of a few rich men and women, mark my words. As for me,” Catarina added, stopping to tilt back her wine, “I may look the pirate, but I’m no fool. Tonight will be my sole extravagance.”

  “Yet you can afford it more. You have more money than anyone else.”

  “We have more money. Your share is equal to mine. Anyway, you understand. There’s a lot of expense in maintaining a pirate operation. If I lose my ship, these fellows won’t exactly pitch in to buy me a new one.”

  “You have 32,000 pounds, Catarina. You could buy a new frigate with that kind of money.”

  “And I recently did, remember? Thanks to you stealing Captain Kidd.”

  “You said this was your father’s old ship.”

  “Doesn’t mean that I just rolled it out of the hangar. Some other fellow was using it, and he needed to be paid.”

  “So you’re in debt, that’s it. Like how I owe a share to
Rodriguez for fixing up my ship when I was short of funds.”

  “No debt at all,” she said proudly. “Not a shilling. I don’t mean to boast, but I have a good deal set aside, your brutal attack on my father’s ship notwithstanding. With this haul, that puts me at close to—” she lowered her voice, “—ninety thousand pounds.”

  Drake whistled. “You could buy a barony on Albion with that kind of money. Maybe a small one, but still. Wait, why are you telling me this?” He eyed her with suspicion. “That’s not the sort of thing you want getting out.”

  “I thought I could trust you,” she said with a smile.

  “I don’t see why you should. I don’t trust you, that’s for sure.” He said this with his own smile.

  “Hah. Well, I have practical reasons for telling you. As soon as we are in orbit, come visit me on my ship. I have something to show you.”

  #

  Once they were off the rocky moon, Catarina showed him a good many other things first. Their lovemaking wasn’t so frantic as the first time, but she was a passionate woman, and she liked one or the other of them to take control. Nothing passive, nor particularly gentle.

  When they finished, Drake walked around her expansive quarters while she slept. It was easily four times the size of his own room, with a paper library of beautiful books, a tub that could be extravagantly filled with hot water, and its own viewport onto space. He stared at Blackbeard just off starboard, the glow of yellow from the bridge, the blue plasma engines in the rear. Behind her, the bright, fixed lights of distant stars and unknown constellations. Tolvern would be expecting him on the bridge shortly, might begin to wonder why he was staying so long on Orient Tiger. He didn’t want his commander to suspect that the two captains were engaging in any sort of relationship. Certainly not now, when he was unsure himself what, if anything, he and Catarina had together.

  Soft footsteps sounded behind him. He turned to see her, a silk robe over her smooth, supple body. She wiped her hand across the viewport to black it out.