Dreadnought (Starship Blackbeard Book 3)

by Michael Wallace

  “That’s right. I’m looking to hire a few ships.”

  “What for?”

  Tolvern stared. That voice. So similar. The face, too. And it had said ‘Vargus’ on the back of the frigate at the yards. This woman’s accent was rougher, and that scar and artificial eye had altered her appearance, but she had to be related to Catarina.

  “Are you available for hire?” Drake asked.

  “Matter of fact, I’m not.” She nodded toward her companion. “Just formed a partnership with this fellow here. We’re waiting for one more bloke, then we’re figuring on heading into orbit and hoofing it out of here. You got a ship of your own? You look like it. We could use a fourth, especially if you’ve got cannon and a couple of torpedo bays.”

  “Oh, we have weapon systems,” Drake said. “That’s not what we’re lacking.”

  The woman looked intrigued. “Let’s hear it, then.”

  She gestured at her companion, who dragged over chairs from a nearby table. Drake nodded at Capp and Tolvern, and the three of them sat.

  “I gotta know,” Capp burst in. “Are you sister of that lady what’s captain of Orient Tiger? Bloody hell, you look just like her, except for the . . . ” Capp tapped next to her eye, “you know.”

  “Ensign, hold your tongue,” Tolvern said.

  “It’s all right,” Drake said. “I’ve been wondering the same thing. You and Catarina Vargus must be related somehow.”

  They stopped as the proprietor approached with a tray holding shot glasses. It smelled like tequila filtered through an old sock. Tolvern took a sip of hers and tried not to grimace.

  Capp downed hers and smacked her lips. “That’ll do the trick.”

  “Yes, I am,” the woman said at last. “I’m one of the Vargus girls. Isabel—the oldest. What do you know of me?”

  “One of the Vargus girls?” Tolvern asked. Wonderful.

  “There are four of us. The old man loved his daughters.” A note of sarcasm entered Isabel Vargus’s voice. “You know my father is dead, right? Shot in a fight in the San Pablo yards.”

  “Yes, so they say,” Drake said smoothly. “Sorry to hear it.”

  Isabel shrugged. “Didn’t get along with him much, so . . . ” She downed her drink.

  Still, Tolvern thought it best not to offer details. She’d been the one to kill the pirate captain. Her own gun, a lucky shot as the elder Vargus ran for cover.

  “You could say we have plenty of issues in the Vargus family,” Isabel said. “Catarina gave me this.” She indicated her artificial eye.

  “I’m hoping to hire your sister, too,” Drake said. “So if that’s a problem . . . ”

  “Yeah, back to that. No worries about little sis, we’ll work together if we have to. But I got another thing going now.” A gesture toward her companion. “Like I was saying earlier. Why don’t you join us?”

  “Unfortunately, I am otherwise engaged,” Drake said. “I will have to decline your offer.”

  “In that case, give me a month, and I’ll be free for your job, whatever that is. Assuming the pay is good.”

  “It is,” Drake said.

  “But we don’t have a month,” Tolvern added.

  “Three weeks, maybe, if we push it.” Isabel sounded intrigued, and Tolvern could tell she was having a hard time not grabbing for both opportunities: Drake’s and the one offered by her Ladino companion.

  “No,” Drake said. “I need to leave now. It’s a rescue mission, and every day counts. I’d rather not arrive to find them executed because I took my time.”

  “A rescue mission?” Isabel asked. “How does that pay?”

  “Well enough, I promise you,” Drake said. “We’ll pay you up front.”

  “There might be loot, too,” Tolvern added.

  “There might be,” Drake said. “I can’t guarantee the loot. But if there is, there could be a good deal of it.”

  There absolutely would be, Tolvern thought, if they could get their hands on it. Drake’s parents were imprisoned in York Tower on the edge of King Bartholomew’s palace compound. The Royal Mint kept gold and silver bullion in the vaults attached to the tower. It was the kind of loot that would make a thousand pirate captains drool. Not easy to get to, of course. Not at all.

  “All right then,” Isabel said. “You lay out your job, and I’ll lay out mine, and we’ll figure out which is the most lucrative.”

  “I thought we had a deal?” the Ladino said, scowling. “You’re going to weasel out now?”

  “I’m not weaseling anything,” Isabel said. “ We were still discussing matters. Besides, do you really need that gear back so bad?”

  “It’s not just my gear, it’s all the other abandoned stuff.”

  “Pete lost his shirt during that leviathan attack a couple of weeks ago,” Isabel said. “You hear about that? Out in Hades Gulch. We’re fixing to go back to the Gulch and get what’s left of his gear, and anything else we can find, too.”

  “Sounds dangerous,” Drake said. “Even more dangerous than what I’m offering, in fact. You can’t fight a leviathan.”

  “Don’t intend to. We’ll scan before we go in, make sure it’s not around. Only thing is, we’ve got to be the first ones back.” Isabel lifted out of her chair. “Where is Dunkley? He went to the crapper twenty minutes ago. That’s the third guy on our team. You can make it four, if you want, or you can throw down some gold and we’ll get your thing done instead. Pete, where is he?” she asked her companion.

  “Want me to go look for him?” the Ladino asked.

  “Nah.”

  Tolvern had been putting a few things together, and now said, “Pete Paredes? You have that schooner they were scraping barnacles off at the yards?”

  “Yeah,” the Ladino said warily. “That’s mine.”

  “I thought you and Vargus were enemies,” Tolvern said. “That’s what her men told us.”

  He shrugged and played with his empty shot glass, before waving for the bartender to bring another round.

  “Well?” Tolvern asked. “Are you? Enemies, I mean?”

  “What does that mean out here?” Isabel said. “My sister gave me this bad eye, and I just told your captain I’d work with her again. Bit of bad blood between me and Pete, but we’ll work through it. No, I have no permanent enemies. I’m not like my old man, bloody fool, who got himself killed trying to get his revenge. He was an idiot.”

  “Are you sure you don’t have any permanent enemies?” Tolvern asked nervously.

  Isabel had been playing with the strap of the holster at her side as she spoke, and it wasn’t hard to imagine her whipping out her gun when she heard that the people responsible for her father’s death were sitting across the table.

  “Nope, none. You got someone hard to work with, I’m good with that, so long as you cross my palm with silver.”

  “She may not have enemies,” Capp said suddenly. “But I do.” She rose to her feet. “Dunkley, you son of a—kings balls! I was wondering if that was you.”

  A man had come strolling across the patio floor, cinching up his belt. He looked pale, like he’d eaten something strange, and had one hand on his belly. No wonder he’d been in the bathroom for so long.

  He studied Capp, his eyes widening in recognition. “Capp, old buddy. What are you doing out here? Thought they sent your sorry butt to the mines.”

  “Shut your gob!”

  “I hope they at least gave you a good flogging.”

  Capp’s nostrils flared. Before Tolvern and Drake could grab her, she lowered her head and barreled forward. Her head drove into Dunkley’s belly. The man fell with an “oof” with Capp on top of him. She came up swinging. He was bigger than she was, but couldn’t seem to get out from under her, and it would have gone very badly for him if Tolvern and Drake hadn’t reached the fight. They each took one of Capp’s arms and dragged her back. She struggled and cursed.

  “Ensign!” Drake snapped. “In your seat!”

  Capp settled down. She pulled
free and sat down sullenly. Paredes looked alarmed, but Isabel Vargus was chuckling and shaking her head with amusement.

  “Ah, it’s a funny universe that brings together two old mates.”

  Capp shot Isabel a look. “Don’t seem funny to me.”

  Dunkley rose to his feet and felt at his jaw. “What the hell is your problem, Capp?”

  “You know my problem.”

  “That’s your style, isn’t it? Don’t like what a bloke says, and you punch him. What did the captain call you that time? Remind me, why don’t you?”

  Capp sprang to her feet again, but this time Tolvern and Drake were ready and pulled her back down.

  “Keep your temper,” Tolvern warned her, “or you’ll be off the bridge in two seconds and scraping barnacles. You got that?”

  “Yeah, I got it, Tolvern.” Capp glared at Dunkley as he came and slowly sat on the farthest side of the table, never taking his eyes off her. “You know what this tosser did? I’ll tell you. He got me arrested.”

  “That was your own damn temper,” Dunkley said. He glanced around the table before settling his gaze on Tolvern. “Capp stormed onto the bridge and punched our captain in the nose.”

  “Gave me thirty bloody months,” Capp grumbled. She grabbed another drink from a passing tray. Her anger seemed to be deflating.

  “I thought you caught him cheating at cards,” Tolvern said. “That’s what you told me.”

  Capp hooked her thumb at Dunkley. “That’s what he said. Found me when I was drinking and got me all wound up, saying how the captain was cheating. You did that on purpose, Dunkley, and don’t go and deny it.”

  “How was I supposed to know you’d act like a blooming idiot?”

  “Enough,” Drake said. Capp fell silent.

  He studied Dunkley. “If you were Capp’s shipmate, what are you doing out here?”

  “My enlistment ran out a couple months ago, so I came looking for work. You know I wasn’t trying to get you thrown in the brig, Capp. And I sure didn’t mean for you to get thirty months in the mines.”

  “Yeah, well. I ain’t there, am I?”

  Isabel Vargus leaned back with her hands behind her head. She had a wide, slightly inebriated smile on her face. “Dunkley only showed up six weeks ago, from what I heard. Broke and looking for work. Now he’s got his own schooner. Kinda suspicious, if you ask me.”

  “It was legit,” Dunkley said.

  Pete Paredes snorted and downed his liquor. “Sure, it was.”

  “None of our business, either way.” Vargus eyed Drake. “Well, sir. Let’s get properly introduced. This one must be your first mate. Tolvern, right? And the feisty one is Capp. I got that. You know us all by now. Who would you be?”

  Drake hesitated, and Tolvern saw him formulating a story. But Drake wasn’t much more of a liar than the Hroom general, and even before he spoke, she knew he’d tell some version of the truth.

  “My name is Captain James Drake, formerly of the Royal Navy, now in business for myself.”

  Isabel straightened and glanced at her companions. Dunkley stiffened, but Paredes looked confused until Isabel whispered something in his ear, and then his eyes widened and he appraised them with greater attention. Isabel took in Capp and Tolvern with a more cautious look, before returning her gaze to the captain.

  “So you know my family already, it would seem,” Isabel said. Another look at Tolvern. “All of you do.”

  “Yes,” Tolvern said. She kept her hand where it could get to her pistol. “No permanent enemies, you said?”

  “These prisoners you’re looking for,” Isabel said, ignoring the question and speaking to the captain instead, “they wouldn’t happen to be on Albion, would they?”

  “Let’s say maybe they are,” Drake answered.

  “And you’ve got money?”

  “Eight thousand to hire your frigate, three thousand apiece for the two schooners. I’m sure that’s more than the three of you hope to get from this leviathan thing.”

  “You could say that. If you can pay.”

  “And if you can contact Catarina,” Drake added, “I’ll offer her twelve to hire Orient Tiger. It’s a bigger ship, you understand, more crew to pay, more expensive to repair.”

  “I can reach her. And for twelve thousand, she’ll be interested.” Isabel’s mechanical eye kept narrowing and dilating. “That’s twenty-six thousand pounds. How do I know you’re good for it?”

  “Your sister can confirm that I have the money. She’s the one who helped me earn it.”

  Tolvern studied him. He did have the money, but after paying the crew of Blackbeard, that would clear out his massive haul in the tyrillium barge operation. He’d be left with nothing.

  “That makes two frigates, two schooners, and your own ship,” Isabel said. “You still flying the navy cruiser you stole, modified with all the crap you looted from my dad’s ship?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Hefty little armada you’ll have there. But we’ve got to rush Albion? That’s your mission?”

  “That’s right,” he said again.

  Isabel let out a low whistle. “I mean, that’s good money, but it’s not exactly life changing for someone in my boots. I could upgrade my ship, set a little aside, sure. Doesn’t help if I’m dead, though. Can’t speak for these blokes, but I’m not sure even eight thousand is worth it for me and my crew, not unless you can guarantee that we’ll all survive.”

  “I can guarantee no such thing,” Drake said. “There’s an excellent chance someone will die. Maybe we’ll lose a whole ship, if we’re unlucky. But here’s what I’ll do. I’ll pay you half in orbit, and half when we go through the last jump point. Then, when we finish the mission, I’ll give you another eight.” He looked at Paredes and Dunkley. “Three more for each of you. A bonus. Share it with your crews or keep it for yourself, that’s up to you. And that’s on top of any loot we take, which we will divide according to standard practice.”

  This time, Tolvern carefully did not look at the captain. He didn’t have the kind of money he was promising, she was sure of that. He’d just pledged over fifty thousand pounds, of which at least twenty was offered on pure swagger. He’d have to sell his father’s estate to get funds like that, and the barony was currently in the hands of Malthorne and his cronies.

  A warm breeze blew in from the sea, carrying the smell of brine and decaying seaweed. Below the patio, two dogs started fighting, snarling and barking, until someone at one of the other tables fired his gun over their heads, and they raced off, howling.

  “I’m in,” Dunkley said. “For six thousand, you bet I am. Buddies again, Capp?”

  Capp grunted. “Sure, I guess. Mates, buddies, whatever. That’s what Cap’n wants, that’s what I’ll do.”

  “I’m in, too,” Paredes said. “I’m flat broke, and me and my crew were already planning to go sniffing around where that star leviathan was. Can’t be more dangerous than that. Besides, we saw a Hroom fleet in Hades Gulch on our way out. That’s more than enough trouble for one godforsaken star system.”

  A Hroom fleet. That was strange. Hades Gulch was on the edge of the Omega Cluster, which had no known jump points into it. Where would the empire have been sending those ships?

  “Well, then, that’s settled,” Isabel said. She waved to the bartender to get his attention. “Hurry up, we’re thirsty! You people eaten yet? The apple pie is pretty good if you need something other than liquid refreshment.”

  “Apple pie!” Capp said. “I knew it! You hear that, Tolvern?”

  “Does that mean we have a deal?” Drake asked.

  “We got a deal, yeah,” Isabel said. “Assuming my sister will have you.”

  Oh, she’ll have him, all right, Tolvern thought gloomily.

  “Yes, I believe she will,” Drake said, his measured tone giving away nothing. If Tolvern hadn’t seen him in the shower with Catarina, she’d have suspected nothing.

  The bartender set a drink in front of Isabel, and
she picked it up and held it out as if in a mock toast. “Then you have yourself a fleet, Captain Drake.”

  Chapter Six

  There was trouble getting out of orbit. Paredes owed the yards seven hundred pounds that he was unable to cover, and the welders and crane operators took his crew captive and refused to let the schooner out of impound until someone coughed up the money. Drake reluctantly paid out from Paredes’s three thousand—an advance. Good chance that money would vanish, along with Paredes, the first time they went through a jump point.

  Then, while half the motley fleet was still planetside, another ship, a pirate frigate by the unlikely name of Pussycat, showed up from the outer worlds of the system demanding a piece of the action. The captain of Pussycat, a man named Aguilar, warned that he’d alert Albion if he weren’t allowed to join the flotilla. Some on Blackbeard, Capp and Barker chief among them, advocated blowing Pussycat out of space to serve as a lesson to the rest. But Isabel Vargus said that Pussycat and her crew could be reliable, if properly paid.

  Drake wanted that ship. Pussycat looked like a deformed warthog, her squat profile banged up from numerous fights and her engines undersized. But she bristled with weapons. That would give Drake a cruiser, two frigates, and a pair of schooners, and if Isabel located her sister and Orient Tiger, he’d have a third frigate. But he couldn’t make the numbers work to pay them all.

  He was in the war room, drumming his fingers on the table, a message to Pussycat half composed, when Tolvern came in.

  “Got another message from Aguilar,” she said. “He has someone in the yards, someone who tipped him off in the first place, and he knows Vargus is fueling Outlaw and will be in orbit soon. We’ll be ready to go as soon as Outlaw is up, and Aguilar doesn’t want to be left behind. He’s threatening to send a subspace to Albion if we don’t agree to his terms by the time Vargus takes off. That’s twenty minutes.”

  When Drake didn’t answer, she pulled up a chair. “Captain, you have to decide. It’s either knock him out of the sky or hire him on. I know you want that ship, so . . . ”

  “Aguilar wants eight thousand,” Drake said. “I don’t have it.”