Catarina turned toward Drake with an accusation in her voice. “Albion, Drake? Really? Where the devil are my ships?”
“In orbit around the moon. Quarantined.”
“Dammit, you said I’d only been down a few weeks.”
Something that was almost a wince passed over his face. “By a few I mean nineteen.”
“Nineteen!”
She’d been down for over four months. In that time, her goods had been hauled out of the Vargus System, and her ships escorted across several jump points to Albion, where the Admiralty had kept them confined in orbit around the moon. Her crew must have gone through every emotion from fear to anger as they waited. By now they must be so bored they were ready to do anything Drake told them, so long as they got a change of scenery and a fair wage.
“I’d have brought you out earlier if it had been possible. Lieutenant Capp sent me a subspace and told me what was going on. I ordered McGowan to transport you here, but to otherwise leave you and your ships alone until I arrived.”
“And it took you nineteen bloody weeks?”
“I’ve been on the Inner Frontier, scouting. We lost some ships to the Scandians, and I needed to keep my forces at the ready in case they intended to raid into Albion territory. Believe me, I came as soon as I could.”
Catarina Vargus may have had a genteel upbringing on Albion, but she’d spent years among pirates, and it was a decidedly unladylike language that now came out of her mouth. She cursed Drake, the Royal Navy, the Admiralty, the king, and of course Edward McGowan. The construction workers looked up at her outburst, but Drake’s scowl put them back to work.
“You’ve taken my agency, Drake,” Catarina said. “As good as reduced me to your vassal already. So all of that nonsense about the grand duchy, my own battle cruiser—it was all rubbish, wasn’t it? You’ve made your choice, and I’m either taking it or leaving with nothing.”
“You said you’d listen. Will you?”
“I’d sooner listen to a snake. He’d be more trustworthy.” She waved her hand. “Go on. Do your thing. Say your piece.”
There was only a post where the captain’s chair would be, but the console was in place. Drake touched a couple of buttons, and changed the main viewscreen. It showed a high-level star chart. At the center was Albion and its colonies and vassals. Working down and outward in a spiral, you reached the Ladino and New Dutch worlds, various semi-lawless systems, and the vast swath of Hroom planets. Many of the Hroom systems were in a state of civil war or semi-collapse and were marked yellow on the map. Farther out, the Singaporean systems.
A tenuous link showed entry into the Omega Cluster. Nearly bereft of connections with the other systems, a single jump point—the one doorway Catarina had discovered—provided entrance into the Vargus System. Beyond that lay an unexplored swath of more than a hundred stars, some of which were likely to have colonizable planets. Or alien civilizations. Or, well, who knew what? That was the thrilling nature of discovery.
In the other direction, toward the Inner Frontier and beyond, lay the numerous systems between this sector and Old Earth. Multiple colors and notations indicated all the dangers, both known and only guessed at, that had severed contact with the home planet.
“This is Scandian territory,” Drake said. He illuminated about ten systems in a shade of gold. “The descendants of settlers from Sweden, Denmark, and Norway. Their main planets are Odense, Roskilde, and of course, Viborg.”
“I know who the Scandians are. Brigands and raiders. Don’t you remember? I made an expedition toward Old Earth, almost made it, too.”
“Ah, yes. I’d forgotten that.” His tone said that he had not, in fact, forgotten, but was testing her.
“The Scandians are vicious brutes,” she said, “quick to pounce on any weakness. They’ll leave your system a desert if you don’t drive them off.”
“They weren’t always like that,” he said. “Until the time of Queen Maud, the Scandians lived in quiet, peaceful colonies, growing steadily in numbers ever since the Great Migration. They became rich on trade between Albion and Earth. When they needed to fight, they were as likely to hire mercenaries as send out their own ships.”
This part, Catarina didn’t know as much about, and she looked on in interest as he highlighted the three home worlds, clustered in a neat triangle of systems right on the main space lanes back toward the home planet. During her failed expedition toward Old Earth, she’d passed quickly through the Scandian systems, and only on the fringes.
“There was something about a plague, right?” she asked. “An outbreak of the blood tongue?”
“Several outbreaks of the blood tongue—the pestilence killed millions and left millions more disfigured. That was followed by civil war and then a fight with some aliens. That may have been Apex—we’re not sure.”
Drake shook his head and continued, “We had our own problems fighting the Hroom at the time, and both trade and communication collapsed. In retrospect, stabilizing the Scandian systems would have been a good idea. Now that they’ve gone full Viking, they’re a growing menace. Fortunately, our inner flank has few jump points, and we have kept enough ships out there to deter raids. McGowan cut his teeth fighting Scandian raiders, in fact. Even destroyed one of their star wolves.”
“Yes, I know. He bragged about it all the time when we”—she stopped herself—“when I knew him on Albion.”
“The marauder captains have been making more aggressive moves as of late,” Drake said. “Star wolves have entered Albion territory and jumped back out again. The Royal Navy is heavily armed and building our forces rapidly, so I’d be inclined to ignore them while we focus on finishing off Apex. But unfortunately, that’s no longer possible.”
“Of course not,” Catarina said. “That would mean minding your own business, and that’s something Albion never does.”
Drake paid her insult no mind. He tapped at his console again. “Look at this recording.”
An Albion warship appeared on the screen, with the gold lions rampant proudly emblazoned on the deck armor. It was burning along at a good clip, according to the plasma flaring out the back. A torpedo rumbled from a tube and accelerated away from the ship. Moments later, the warship fired a cannon salvo at a target off port.
“You’re looking at a Havoc-class destroyer,” Drake said. “The footage is from the Great Bear System, on the edge of Scandian space, taken by an accompanying torpedo boat. The boat did not survive the encounter, but before it died it sent a good deal of data to a Royal Navy relay station.”
“How old is this?”
“A few weeks.”
“A few as in nineteen, or as in three weeks?”
He glanced down at the console. “Twenty-three days, to be exact.”
On the screen, the destroyer took incoming fire along its deck even as it kept firing. The view changed, and two long, gray shapes loomed ahead of it. The pair fired pulse weapons and thumping cannon fire that sent the torpedo boat that was taking the footage into a roll. As the ship climbed the z-axis, Drake tapped his console, and the screen paused. He tapped again. Three grainy black shapes stood to one side.
“Three more star wolves,” the admiral said. “The sensors caught them at this moment and tried to bring them into focus.”
“Don’t you have logs?” Catarina said. “Wouldn’t the captains have reported exactly how many ships they were fighting?”
“They reported six star wolves. These three weren’t spotted until my tech officer was poring over the data—hardly surprising, given the circumstances.”
“So there were at least nine enemy ships.” It was a fearsome display of firepower. “No wonder the destroyer didn’t survive. It didn’t, did it?”
Drake let the footage run again. Light flared on the screen, and when the image returned, everything was grainy, as if sensors had gone offline and struggled to bring in adequate data to form a composite image. Moments later, it all went black.
“This torpedo boat ce
rtainly didn’t,” he said. “As for the destroyer, I don’t know. Either destroyed or captured, most likely. Point is, there was a major force of Scandian warships in the Great Bear System as of a few weeks ago.”
“That’s several jumps from here,” Catarina said. “Doesn’t mean that the marauder captains are going to target Albion. Hold on.” She looked him over. “I see what you’re doing, and it won’t work.”
“I’m not sure you do see, not yet.”
“You’re trying to get me interested. It won’t work. I’m not one of your captains, I’m not going to head off to adventure for the glory of Albion. After everything you people have done to me, I won’t shed any tears if you face a few raids. Neither would anyone else who has suffered under your guns and your stuffy superiority. You Albionish think you’re better than everyone else. So when you take your blows, the rest of us are going to call it cosmic justice.”
“We know where the Apex fleet went,” Drake said. He brought the star chart back up and dragged it past the Scandian systems, continuing inward on the galactic rim in the direction of Earth. “Here. What they used to call the Lawless Zone. The buzzards have set up and are rebuilding their harvester ships.”
“How do you know that?”
“The task force we lost. It slipped quietly from system to system, made a reconnaissance, and was on its way back when the Scandians caught it. Unfortunately, we lost most of the data, but we got enough. The destroyer found the alien base.
“The buzzards are rebuilding their harvester ships,” Drake continued, “and there’s nobody opposing them. If there are any human civilizations still standing between here and Old Earth, they either don’t know, or are incapable of stopping it.” Drake’s lips narrowed before he spoke again. “I’m gathering a massive fleet, and we’re taking it through. We have to destroy Apex before they rebuild. If not, they’ll find Earth, exterminate its population, and return here stronger than ever.”
“That might take years. Plenty of time to build our defenses,” Catarina said. “Your defenses, I mean.”
“No, Vargus. Apex is a hive-like, caste-oriented species. Queens, drones, warriors, and so on. You know how fast a hive of wasps can grow—it’s exponential. As fast as we build our forces, Apex can build faster.”
“But why me? Why would you give me this battle cruiser instead of staffing it with your own crew? You’ve never explained that part. If you want my fleet, you could put me back on Orient Tiger and hire me as a mercenary. Or try to hire me, anyway. That makes more sense.”
“This battle cruiser is a bribe,” Drake said. “As is my promise of a grand duchy. That’s the carrot. The stick is the warning that I can take it all away. Everything you built—I need it. I will have it, one way or another.”
“I admire your candor as you threaten and manipulate. You need to give me more if you want my cooperation.”
“Here’s my problem, Vargus. The blasted Scandians are too strong. They’re going to raid my supply ships. Force us into combat. Weaken us when we need to husband our strength for the main fight. I’ll have to leave a full task force in every system or else go creeping through. And every time I fight Apex, what then? Run the gauntlet again so I can be repaired and resupplied? What I need is a forward operating base.”
Drake changed the view again. Catarina caught her breath. There was her ship, Orient Tiger, in orbit around Albion’s moon, together with all the other frigates and schooners of her fleet. With them, her barges. She’d carefully ferried them into the Vargus System, only to see them captured and hauled back here.
“You’ve got an entire prefabricated colony on hand,” Drake said. “Factories, a spaceport, thousands of trained colonists. It was a remarkable feat to gather it all. Not only must it have cost a fortune, but the logistics of it all—and to keep it a secret, too!”
“You have no idea.”
“I explained my scheme to the Admiralty, and while there was some . . . resistance, it was the logistics that convinced the other interested parties, including the king.” Drake pulled the view back to the Scandian systems. “Here, in the Great Bear System. This is where you’ll build your base. Dig it into an asteroid and hunker down.”
“You want my base in the middle of Scandian territory?”
“Let’s call it the outskirts, not the middle, but yes. It can be easily attacked from all of the major Scandian ports. And resupply from Albion will be challenging—you’ll have to stand alone, as often as not—but you’ll be perfectly positioned to rebuild my damaged warships when they return from fighting Apex.”
Drake had spoken so assuredly to this point, that the tentative way he offered this last bit was notable. He had indeed laid out his carrots and sticks, and could now only hope she took his offer. And she finally understood why he needed her. They could steal her goods, maybe even convince many of her colonists to help, but could they dig in and build the fortress, the massive forward operating base they needed, without her? Doubtful. Not on the timescale Drake was demanding.
She should say no. She knew Drake; he wouldn’t kill her. Take her goods, sure, but he’d let her keep Orient Tiger, surely. With that, she could return to her old life. It had taken years to build her fleet and set her colonization scheme in motion, but she was still young. She had time.
His brow furrowed as he studied her face. There was a lot to admire in him, she thought. His sense of loyalty and justice. His honor that was neither too rigid nor too flexible; his crew would fight and die for him in a way they wouldn’t for another commander. At one point she’d tried to enlist him, get him to join her colonization efforts on Segovia.
That ship had sailed, both literally and metaphorically. Instead of joining her, Drake had taken Blackbeard into battle against Lord Admiral Thomas Malthorne in the Albion civil war, and then engaged in a brutal, desperate struggle against the menacing Apex fleet. Somewhere along the line, he’d attached himself romantically to one of his captains, Jess Tolvern, and when the woman had resigned her commission and become governor of Singapore after the Apex war, the two had married.
“Apex will find you, you know,” Drake said. “You can’t hide in the Omega Cluster. Not for long. If the aliens wipe us out, they’ll go looking for remnant human populations. That’s what they do. They exterminate, they consume everything. And rumor will lead them to your colony world. Maybe not right away. But a few years, a few decades, and they’ll find your colony. Whatever you build will be destroyed, whether you’re still around to see it or not. I know what you’re thinking, but it won’t work. You can’t hide.”
“Actually, I wasn’t thinking that at all,” Catarina said. “I was thinking that I need better terms.”
One of Drake’s eyebrows climbed. “Oh?”
“I want seventy-five years of sovereignty,” Catarina said. “Not ten, not twenty-five, but a full seventy-five to build my own world, my own culture. Everything.”
“You’ll be dead long before then.”
“My heirs won’t be.”
“I was unaware you had any. Go on,” he said.
“And I want ten thousand more colonists. I will select them. Albionish, Ladino, Singaporeans—they will be my choice, not yours.”
“Is that all?”
“My expenses covered,” she said. “My losses made good. Anything that can’t be dug up at the end of the day and returned to my private use will be replaced at your expense.”
“Done.”
“Plus a sum of fifty thousand pounds to correct a few deficiencies in my earlier colonization fleet.”
“That’s a lot of coin.”
“It’s a lot of risk.”
“You could build your own battle cruiser with that kind of money.”
“Speaking of which, I want to keep this one when I finish.” She looked around her at the exposed wires and missing paneling. “Still needs some finishing touches, but she’s going to be an excellent little ship when she’s done, and I want her.”
“Hah. Only if yo
u stay in the navy. Once you take your title and leave, this battle cruiser is mine.” He shrugged. “Sorry, Vargus. That part is non-negotiable. I’ll agree to your other terms, but not that one.”
Catarina grunted. “Fine.”
“So you’ll do it?”
“Yes, I’ll do it. We’ll draw up a contract like good mercenaries. And I can’t force my people. They’ll need to be given an option. Some will leave. You might need to throw money at the others.”
“What about that fifty thousand you asked for? Can’t you pay them from that?”
“That’s my bonus, Drake. You’ll pay off anyone else yourself.”
He hesitated. “It’s going to be dangerous. You get that part, right? These are Scandians we’re talking about. Marauder captains, raiders on ice, ready to assault your positions, taking slaves and plunder. I know you’ve gone into battle many times, but the enemy ships are star wolves. They’re not pirate frigates.”
“I assume when you offer me the second most powerful ship in your navy that I might need to fire her guns once or twice.”
“You’ll be exposed. I don’t just mean when you sneak into the Great Bear System—although that will be dangerous in and of itself—but once you start digging in, I expect the enemy to go crazy. You’ll insult their honor and present an irresistible target for raiding at the same time. The attacks will come early and often, and the navy will be far away fighting the buzzards. You’ll be dangling out there on your own.”
Catarina laughed. “Now listen to you! After all that work, are you trying to talk me out of it?”
He clamped his mouth shut.
“Good,” she said. “Well then, Admiral.” She swiveled the captain’s console screen toward her. “Since this is mine now, how do I hail Orient Tiger? I need to get my crew over and see that they’re properly trained.”
“Ah, yes,” Drake said slowly. “There’s one other thing I should mention.”
Catarina was instantly wary. “And that would be?”
Queen of the Void (The Void Queen Trilogy Book 1) Page 8