Tolvern didn’t allow herself to hope. Since that awkward moment when she had spotted the two of them together, she’d always suspected Catarina Vargus and the captain would part ways sooner or later. And Tolvern was no longer afraid to admit to herself that she would happily take Catarina’s place, and do so permanently. But Drake, as much as he seemed to value her friendship, would never offer such a thing—of that, she was sure.
“Besides,” Drake continued, “there is more than enough excitement right here. Fighting Malthorne and freeing Albion, for one. Then there is the matter of what General Mose Dryz and the Hroom Empire will do with the sugar antidote. Will they keep fighting us, or are they embroiled in their own civil war with the death cult? And will we make common cause against Apex?”
At the moment, Apex and the Hroom were too much to worry about. It was Malthorne that held Tolvern’s attention, and how to muster the forces to defeat him.
“So Catarina is leaving for good?” she asked. “There’s nothing you can promise to keep Orient Tiger in the fight?”
“Apparently not. Catarina is only in orbit until we can scrape up her bounty from this bleak rock, then she will be gone. But her sister Isabel is staying.” He sighed. “Assuming we can pay her debts, of course. With what the king promised her, it might take a while.”
Drake spent a few minutes laying out the situation as it stood. Malthorne had not declared himself king, but it was assumed that this was only a matter of forming a new parliament and having the House of Lords beg him to take the crown. Malthorne would make a great show of reluctance, then take it.
To counter this move, Rutherford had sent a message to his uncle, the Duke of West Mercia, offering him the crown. The duke had been eighth in line to the throne before the attack, and a respected figure both on Albion and in the colonies. He was said to be mulling the offer, but the planet of Mercia was currently neutral in the struggle. Even with Mercia’s aid, the anti-Malthorne forces would be outnumbered and outgunned. Without Mercia, they would be doomed.
Meanwhile, Drake and Rutherford were cobbling together a fleet to form the heart of the rebellion. Or rather, the loyalists, as Drake called them. They’d augmented their fleet with two disabled warships captured in the Gryphon Shoals—Richmond and Calypso, cruisers left drifting and crippled after battling a Hroom fleet. The two ships were currently undergoing repairs in Saxony’s orbit. Most of the rest of Drake’s forces were also damaged, and some had been sent to San Pablo for repair, as skilled manpower was in short supply on Saxony. Hubert Rodriguez, who had worked on Blackbeard after her fights with Vigilant and Captain Kidd, was overseeing the work.
As soon as Richmond was repaired, Catherine Caites would be given command. She’d been named the third-ranking officer in Drake’s fleet, which surprised Tolvern. How old was Caites? Twenty-eight? Potterman, older and steadier, but with his best years behind him, would take command of Calypso.
“We’re pretty thin on leadership,” Tolvern said. “Is there any hope?”
“I certainly think so. Of course, I would like our chances better if we had a hundred thousand marines to guard this planet, and not a ragtag militia. And if I didn’t think Malthorne would do to Mercia what he did to San Pablo.”
“Surely not,” she said, horrified. “Dropping atomic weapons on Hroom is one thing, but Albion citizens?”
“He as good as destroyed York Town when he let those sloops through. If he had attacked the aliens instead of Blackbeard, five million Albionish would still be alive.”
Tolvern fell silent, because of course he was right, although such a monstrous thing could scarcely be imagined. She finished her tankard and waved to the barmaid for another, not because she needed any more of the strong beer, but because she didn’t know what else to say.
“You have a choice, you know,” Drake added. “Catarina likes you. She would happily give you a position on her bridge.”
“Working with pirates like that fellow with a Gatling gun for an arm? No, thanks.”
“You already work with pirates.” Drake lifted his drink in a mock toast. “Cheers to that, me hearty.”
Tolvern laughed. “If it’s all the same, I’ll stay with you.”
“I never thanked you properly for rescuing my parents. I want to do that now. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
“I was just—it was only my duty, sir.”
“And I wanted to tell you how worried I was when I saw Paredes knocked out of position. As soon as the first away pod missed the hook, I could scarcely breathe. I was sure you were going down after it. I thought I’d lost you. Did you know, did you see that you might miss the transfer?”
“I did, and I was terrified,” she admitted.
“So was I.” Drake put a hand on her arm, and her heart skipped. “I was more relieved than you know, Jess.”
“Me, too.” It was a weak response, but she found herself tongue-tied. They stared at each other, and she thought he might say something else.
But then Drake cleared his throat. “Anyway. What do you know of HMS Philistine?”
“Huh? Potterman’s destroyer? Well, I suppose that once she’s patched up again, she’ll—wait. Why are you asking?”
“Potterman will be taking command of Calypso. That leaves an opening at the helm of his destroyer. As you said, we’re thin on leadership.”
“But I don’t want to leave Ajax. I mean, Blackbeard,” she corrected. She’d already begun to think of herself as a commander in the Royal Navy again, on the bridge of a Punisher-class cruiser.
“This is a promotion,” Drake said, smiling. “You know that, right? Rank of captain, with all the free Saxony beer and haggis you can buy with the salary that entails.”
I want to be with you. By your side.
“I am pretty young.”
“So is Catherine Caites, and we’ve given her a heavy cruiser. Surely you can manage a wee destroyer and its crew of twenty-six.” Again, he was smiling, his tone light and teasing, but she knew he was serious and that this wasn’t an offer so much as a command.
“Of course, I will do it if that’s what you want.”
“I will miss you on my bridge, but yes. It’s more than what I want, it’s what I need.”
“Captain Tolvern,” she said, trying it out. “That does have a ring to it. Does this mean you’re now Admiral Drake?”
He chuckled. “No, just Captain. I will not choose for myself any title that hasn’t been granted by my superiors. But perhaps if the Duke of West Mercia accepts the crown.” He finished his beer and shrugged. “We will see.”
The door opened, and a young woman entered. She had short, blond hair, a bright, intelligent expression, and a military bearing. She handed her cloak to the barmaid and approached their table.
“Ah, here’s Caites now,” Drake said.
“May I join you two?”
“Please,” Tolvern said.
“Thank you.” Caites eyed Drake briefly before turning back to Tolvern. “The rest will be here shortly, but I thought I’d introduce myself before Rutherford arrives. He’s a little stiff, you know, and it will be all formal once he arrives. My name is Catherine Caites.”
Caites had a West Canadian accent, not so different from Tolvern’s own, and that set her at ease. A young woman of good breeding, but without an impossibly arid upper-class accent and all that implied. She looked warm and friendly. Tolvern found herself instinctively liking the woman.
“I am Jess Tolvern, second in command on Blackbeard.” The women exchanged a firm handshake. “Nice to make your acquaintance.”
“I know all about you. When they said I’d be sent to Richmond, I assumed I’d be your commander and was pretty excited. I had no idea they meant to make me captain.”
“It could have gone that way,” Drake said. “Rutherford and I certainly discussed the possibility.”
“Please, no,” Tolvern said. “That would have been far too much responsibility for my first command.”
“
That’s exactly what I said,” Caites said with a laugh.
Rutherford came in shortly, together with Potterman, the older man’s arm in a cast and sling from an injury taken in the battle. Isabel Vargus joined them after the second round, adding a rougher edge to the company. By the time the barmaid brought out bowls of mutton stew and hunks of rye bread for supper, the workers had all left, and the tavern was rapidly filling up with officers.
Capp came, after drinking hard with the enlisted types in one of the ale houses in town suddenly doing booming business. She coaxed the barmaid into teaching them one of the local drinking songs and dragged Tolvern up to dance with her. Capp winked and flirted with the younger officers, taunting them until they joined the song and dance. The barmaid produced a penny whistle, which added accompaniment. Soon, Capp and Tolvern had half the room dancing. Even Drake and Rutherford, while they were not dancing, lent their strong baritones to the song.
By now, Tolvern was more than a little drunk. The room was warm and filled with food, drink, and good cheer. Several light years away, Vice Admiral Thomas Lord Malthorne was plotting their destruction, but for tonight, those troubles seemed a universe away.
-end-
From the Author
Thank you for reading Dreadnought. The series continues with book #4, Rebellion of Stars. Buy it right here! If you enjoyed the book, please consider leaving a review on Amazon.
To receive notice when my next book is released, visit my web page and sign up for my new releases list. This mailing list is not used for any other purpose.
The Starship Blackbeard Series
Book #1 – Starship Blackbeard
Book #2 – Lords of Space
Book #3 – Dreadnought
Book #4 – Rebellion of Stars (coming August, 2015)
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Dreadnought (Starship Blackbeard Book 3) Page 22
