Dreadnought (Starship Blackbeard Book 3)

by Michael Wallace

  All in all, their behavior displayed a disgusting lack of discipline, but when Tolvern saw what had them so worked up, she didn’t think there would have been any way to prevent the celebration. There was no gold bullion in the room, but what the pirates had discovered was nearly as good.

  A huge pile of silver ingots, each one roughly a foot across and two feet long, lay stacked on one side of the room. They were stamped with the lions rampant of Albion and marked H.M. Mint – Sidney - .999 – 1,000 lbs. One thousand pounds! Each was a half-ton of silver. Formed in ingots in the Sidney mint and brought here to stamp out silver shillings.

  She did some quick counting of the stack of silver. It was fifteen ingots wide, fifteen deep, and ten high. Each one a thousand pounds. There was more than a thousand tons of silver in the room. A fortune.

  But how big a fortune? Tolvern closed her eyes to do the math, since all those gleaming ingots were an impossible distraction. An ounce of gold was worth fifty ounces of silver, which meant that each ingot would be worth 320 ounces of gold. The entire pile was worth more than 600,000 Albion pounds. No wonder they were dancing around like idiots. Even Tolvern’s fraction of a fraction would make her rich.

  Capp spotted Carvalho and let out a whoop of delight. He caught her in his arms and swept her in a circle, and then they were dancing around, hollering like fools. Someone handed Capp a hip flask, and she took a long, sputtering chug.

  The com link sounded. It was Drake. “I understand you have rescued my parents.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Well done. Very well done, indeed. I knew I could count on you.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Now grab your people and get out of there.”

  “Sir, we’re in the vault. We’ll need time to get the goods out.”

  “How much is there?”

  “A thousand tons of silver. I figure it’s worth six hundred thousand pounds, more or less.”

  Drake let out a low whistle, then stopped. “Silver, you say?” There was something in his voice.

  Tolvern eyed the pile of ingots, and a twinge of worry settled in her gut. They should probably get a forklift. Where would that come from?

  “It’s going to take some time, sir.”

  “We don’t have time.”

  “I thought there was a truce.”

  “That doesn’t mean they’re going to let us loot the royal treasury. Fort William has sent messages wondering what you’re still doing down there. What’s more, Fort St. George is refusing to obey the king’s command. It has engines and is moving itself into geosynch over York Town. Once that happens, we’re in trouble. And the Royal Marines are growing restless. The king himself sent a message to warn me they’d be moving soon.”

  “But, sir. It’s a fortune. We need time to move it.”

  “Grab what you can and get airborne. I told Paredes already. Ten minutes, and you’re in the air. If not, you will be destroyed by Fort St. George. It’s that simple.”

  Tolvern checked the time and ended the call. She didn’t relish sharing the bad news. It was the situation with the platinum ore all over again. They were sitting on a fortune, with no way to move it.

  “Ten minutes,” she told the company. “That’s all we have. Then we’re dead. One of the forts will start shooting at us.”

  This provoked angry cries and arguments among the various crews. Fists flew, and knives came out. Tolvern took her gun and fired it into the air. The shot was deafening in the enclosed vault.

  “Knock it off!” she said angrily. “You’re wasting time. Let’s get what we can and get out.”

  Some of the crew were already working at it, multiple hands grabbing the topmost of the ingots and struggling to lift it. They weren’t going to be able to get it all, not even close, but if ten people could manage an ingot a piece, they might get twenty or thirty out of here. That was something.

  But that was easier said than done. The ingots were hard to grip, and it proved impossible to get ten people around any single bar. The best they managed was to knock two of them on the floor. The second ingot landed on someone’s foot and crushed it. He lay screaming, foot still pinned, while his companions worked at the silver, trying to wrestle it up.

  Someone said there was a wheeled handcart on the schooner and ran to get it. Others went with him, and they came back with the cart and bunch of blankets. Paredes was suiting up two men in powersuits, the kind with clamp hands for manipulating large, heavy objects, but that would take a few minutes. They managed to get one ingot into the wheelbarrow and another onto each of the blankets, which they dragged, grunting and cursing, toward the ship.

  By the time the two men from the schooner came clanking down the hallway in their powersuits, Tolvern had three minutes to get them to the ship and airborne. All in all, they managed to haul out eleven ingots, less than 10,000 pounds worth of the massive fortune. Tolvern was the last into the hold of the ship, and its engines began to rumble the instant the doors came up. She checked her computer as she strapped herself in. It had been ten minutes and forty-seven seconds since Drake’s call.

  The other members of the assault team were looking forlornly at the handful of silver ingots dumped into the hold. There were mutters and groans, and more than a few sniffles. Tolvern turned with disbelief to see tears welled up in Carvalho’s eyes.

  “After all this time, this was my chance,” he said. “All that treasure, right in front of me. And we left it behind.”

  “You know what?” Capp said from Tolvern’s other side. “Maybe we should strap those things down better, know what I mean?”

  Tolvern eyed the silver blocks. They seemed solid and immovable at the moment, but wait until the schooner started jumping around to avoid incoming fire.

  “Are you listening to me, Commander?” Carvalho said. The plasma engines roared. “Why? It isn’t fair.”

  The ship lifted out of the courtyard. The silver ingots slid to the end, where they piled against the cargo doors and stayed there. And then they came under fire, and Tolvern had other things to worry about.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Paredes’s schooner came racing out of the atmosphere of Albion at escape velocity. The baron and his wife were on board. Even so, Drake didn’t allow himself to relax as he studied it on the viewscreen. The schooner still had to get clear of Fort St. George, now maneuvering itself into place. The fort readied torpedo tubes, prepared to blast the small ship apart. Drake could only hope that Paredes discovered his best evasive moves, because he was going to need them.

  Meanwhile, Blackbeard, Outlaw, and Pussycat came charging in, but the fort had enough weaponry to hold them off with cannon and missiles while hunting the schooner with torpedoes.

  Things were looking grim until Fort William and Fort Ellen entered the fray. Apparently deciding that St. George was in rebellion against the Crown, they fired on it as they came in range. St. George was smaller, but able to maneuver under her own power, and she was forced to move out of geosynchronous orbit. Paredes’s schooner slid past unscathed, and Drake led his task force beyond the moon while the forts settled their conflict.

  The schooner came into range of Blackbeard and flung across away pods. They carried Tolvern and the surviving members of the away team, plus Drake’s parents. While he waited, he considered the developments of the past few hours.

  Five Hroom fleets were now in the system. The pair of navy frigates pursuing the remaining sloops of the first fleet had managed to disable another Hroom warship, but the last three ships had turned on them and destroyed one and crippled the other, then returned to their suicide mission.

  Malthorne had divided his forces a second time. One portion of this latest split was locked in a struggle with the larger of the Hroom fleets. The navy had already lost a corvette, two destroyers, and several torpedo boats, but had wiped out four of the nine sloops, and were fully engaged with the other five. Even better, the four navy cruisers in the fight had suffered little damage and
had pinned the enemy ninety million miles from Albion.

  Dreadnought led a smaller force to engage the newest fleet to enter the system. Malthorne would catch it several hours from Albion. That would be another fierce battle, but no doubt Dreadnought would prevail.

  But then there were the two remaining alien fleets. The first of these was eight sloops of war, untouched by combat. Rutherford was pursuing them with a small flotilla, led by HMS Vigilant, but he could only harass them from a distance. It would fall to Drake and the orbital forts to hold them at bay until Rutherford arrived.

  The final Hroom fleet had fought off Potterman’s small force, destroying a corvette and destroyer. HMS Philistine maintained pursuit, together with Catarina on Orient Tiger. One destroyer and one pirate frigate were no match for six Hroom sloops of war. They could only follow and nip at their heels. This force of Hroom would arrive an hour or two behind the one Rutherford was pursuing.

  The away pods arrived on Blackbeard. Tolvern and Capp came onto the bridge moments later, grinning. They shook hands all around.

  “My parents?” Drake asked.

  “They’re looking good,” Tolvern said. “I sent them to your quarters and told them you’d come down. Shall I take the helm, sir?”

  “In a few minutes. I’ve got to organize things here before we are in battle again. What did you loot from the treasury?”

  She sighed. “Not much.”

  Capp’s cheer vanished into a scowl, and she flopped into her seat. “Don’t know why they bothered with a safe. Just put them silver bricks on the floor and dare people to take ’em.”

  Tolvern explained about the huge silver ingots, and how they’d only managed to haul away a handful before they’d been forced to run for it. It was probably for the best. The situation was fluid, and emerging from this battle with Drake’s honor restored might be easier without a thousand tons of royal bullion stuffed into his cargo bay.

  Manx moved back to the defense grid station, leaving Tolvern to settle into her seat. The commander seemed mostly relieved, the disappointment fading quickly from her features.

  “We’re getting messages from the other three ships,” she said. “They want their money. They aren’t so keen to stay on and fight the Hroom.”

  “That ain’t the half of it,” Capp said. “Some of them blokes will be drinking a toast to the Hroom Empire after today. Them kind don’t care much for Albion.”

  “I would not blame them for running,” Drake said. “They are probably seeing the same reports we are, and know that it will be an ugly fight. But I don’t intend to let them go, all the same.”

  “Sir?” Tolvern said.

  “Tell them to hold still. The silver should keep them quiet for a few minutes, at least. Then they’ll get their payment.”

  Drake studied the green and blue sphere of Albion on the viewscreen. The Zealand Islands lay below them, and a deep longing stirred in his bones. He stood.

  “You’re going to see your parents now, sir?” Tolvern asked.

  “Not yet.”

  “Sorry, you stood, and I thought—”

  “One should always stand before one’s king. Call the palace. I need to speak to him.”

  Tolvern’s eyes widened. “To King Bartholomew, sir?”

  “Yes, Commander. To the king. I would call fleet headquarters, but you know their position on this ship and her captain. His Majesty spoke with me earlier, and I hope he will hear me out a second time.”

  It wasn’t easy getting through, but after a few minutes, the viewscreen blanked out Albion, and King Bartholomew appeared. He was still in his library, and although there were two armed palace guards visible behind him, the same fire was crackling on the hearth, the same dogs sleeping there.

  “Your Majesty,” Drake said, “shouldn’t you be on your way to the countryside to wait out the battle?”

  There was a several-second delay as Drake’s message traveled to Albion and the response returned to where Drake hovered near the orbit of the moon.

  “To what purpose, Captain? If the Hroom break through, there will be no kingdom left to rule. No, I will stay in York Town and share the fate of my people.”

  “As you wish, sire. For my part, I am prepared to show my loyalty by defending Albion against the Hroom as if I were still an officer of the Royal Navy. I will work with Captain Rutherford and the orbital fortresses to drive them off. But I have two conditions for my support.”

  The king’s bushy eyebrows raised. “You would set conditions on me? Haven’t I as good as promised a pardon should you help us?”

  “There can be only one flag officer in this battle. That will be me. I must be allowed to organize the defenses and command all forces. You know my qualities, sire. You understand why I ask this.”

  The king nodded. “Very well. And the second condition?”

  “I have three ships with me, plus another frigate fighting alongside Captain Potterman. They are not loyal to me, they are hired guns. Pirates and smugglers. I hired them to help rescue my parents, and now that we have finished that task, they are anxious to collect their payments and be off. We need them in the fight, and I don’t have the money to pay them.”

  “And you want Albion to pay their fee?”

  “I do not have the necessary funds, your majesty.”

  “Very well. How much?”

  “Given the circumstances, the cost of hired guns is rather dear. Their aid will cost the royal treasury.” Drake didn’t wait for the king to point out that they’d already stolen a hefty deposit from said treasury. “And what’s more, I am afraid that my credibility with these people is rather strained—or will be, once they realize I am unable to pay what I already owe. It would be better if you could make the offer yourself.”

  Drake hadn’t thought the king’s eyebrows capable of climbing higher, but now they did. “You want me to speak directly to pirates?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “And how much should I offer them?”

  Drake named an obscene sum. The royal eyebrows now reached their maximum altitude. But it was, indeed, a seller’s market, and the king agreed.

  #

  Drake entered his quarters to find his parents staring in wonder through the viewscreen, which showed the cool blue sphere of Albion. The planet was growing larger on the screen by the moment. The king had made an offer to the pirates, and it had been accepted. Blackbeard and the others were moving into position around the forts to offer support fire.

  Fort William came glittering around in orbit, her lights on. Blackbeard was above Britain now, where it was still night, and York Town was a glowing yellow metropolis almost directly beneath them.

  His parents didn’t seem to have heard him enter, and he watched them quietly for several seconds. His father, still proud and erect, and his mother, upright, her face and form so familiar he was transported back to his childhood just looking at her. How he had admired them, how he had thought them so wise and all-powerful. And how strange to look at them now, staring at the viewscreen, and realize they’d never been in space before. They must be frightened, almost terrified, as they considered the vast empty spaces, the void only inches away.

  “Father, Mother,” he said awkwardly.

  They turned. Relief and sorrow flashed across his mother’s face. His father looked stern, yet there was a burning pride in his expression as he took in his son.

  They were not the hugging sort in the Drake family, and so they didn’t embrace. But his father gave him a powerful handshake that lingered for several seconds, and his mother clasped his hands in hers, tears in her eyes.

  “You heard about Helen?” Baron Drake asked in a low voice, near the breaking point.

  “Yes, Father. I am so sorry.”

  “They shot her like an animal,” he said. Anguish showed on his face. “Left her where she fell and burned down the house around her.”

  Drake worried about his other sister. “What about Madeline? Is she . . . ?”

&
nbsp; “She is fine, thank heavens,” his mother said. “Her husband is stationed on Mercia, and they were away when it happened.” Her eyes flashed with sudden anger. “Make them pay for it, James. Make them pay.”

  He was taken aback by this hard edge. “Yes. Admiral Malthorne will answer for his crimes. I promise you.”

  “Colonel Fitzgibbons, too,” she said. “His men assaulted the estate, Fitzgibbons pulled the trigger that killed Helen. The lord admiral has given him our property as a reward.”

  “And the colonel, too,” Drake agreed. He glanced back at the door, anxious to leave and return to the bridge. “Are you comfortable here? Can I get you anything? I’d send you somewhere safer, but at the moment, there is nowhere to go.”

  “We will be fine here,” his father said. “Go, do your duty.”

  Drake left them in his room, troubled to see them in this condition. Even should he get them back to the estate, the manor house was in ruins, and his father didn’t have the funds to rebuild it. Drake could have given them money for the rebuilding effort—the estate would some day be his, anyway—but he’d already surrendered everything he had to the other pirate captains. None of that mattered in the slightest if he didn’t stop the Hroom assault. If they got through, there would be nothing left of Albion civilization to rebuild.

  When he got to the bridge, Drake began to organize the defenses of Albion. All the orbital fortresses were his to command. Even St. George had acquiesced to the king’s demand that it aid Drake’s defense. Of the pirates, only Paredes and his schooner had declined the king’s offer. They’d taken the looted silver as full payment and fled for parts unknown. But Drake still had Pussycat and Outlaw, and together with Blackbeard, they could provide powerful support for the orbital fortresses. He positioned them between Fort William and Fort Ellen, while he took Blackbeard back beyond the orbit of the moon to wait.