Blackbeard Superbox, page 38
“I am sorry, sir,” Pittsfield said. “Please accept my condolences.”
“Thank you, Commander,” Drake managed.
After that, nobody spoke for several long, excruciating seconds. Drake felt like he would drown in the silence, as it grew thick and stagnant.
“I don’t know why Malthorne would do it,” Rutherford said at last. “Your parents are in the Tower as traitors, accused of aiding and abetting your mutiny, but everybody knows the charges are a sham. I would say the admiral arrested them to force your surrender, but after . . . well, after killing your sister, there’s no way you’d be anything but an implacable enemy. The whole matter defies explanation.”
“I understand,” Drake said. His voice sounded hollow in his ears, as if he spoke from the bottom of a deep well. “Malthorne did it for revenge.”
“Revenge?”
“You heard about my assault on Hot Barsa?”
“Not the whole of it,” Rutherford said. “Only that you attacked and did some damage. The lord admiral personally sent a message ordering me to hunt you down. I wasn’t sure how much of what he said was the truth.”
“Enough of it. We attacked Malthorne’s private estate, left his manor house on fire. I suspect his attack on my family’s lands in Auckland, even the murder of my sister—” Drake’s voice caught. Could it really be true that Helen was dead? “—even that, was revenge.”
“Why did you attack?” Rutherford asked in a bewildered tone. “What would possess you to do such a thing?”
“Tell him,” Drake told Tolvern. “I can’t. I need a minute.”
Tolvern filled Rutherford and Pittsfield in on what had happened since the mutiny. The merchant ship Drake had been accused of destroying and then concealing? That had been carrying a secret antidote to the Hroom sugar addiction. It had been taken to Malthorne’s estates on Hot Barsa, seized by Blackbeard’s away team, and was now being synthesized in Blackbeard’s lab while Drake decided what to do with it.
“I don’t know what Malthorne is doing,” Rutherford said when she’d finished. “Perhaps nothing more than consolidating his control of the Admiralty by marginalizing or forcing out those who might otherwise oppose him. This business with the sugar antidote may or may not be related—at the very least, it was obvious he wanted a new war with the Hroom.”
Drake forced himself to regain control of his emotions. There would be time later to grieve for his sister and to figure out what to do about his parents imprisoned in York Tower.
“And now we have a new complication,” he said. “Apex.”
Rutherford leaned back. He glanced at Pittsfield, then turned back to Drake. “Yes, that.”
Drake thought about what the Hroom crew member had told him. “You’re the one who used that term, so I have to ask, how sure are you that these ships are Apex and not something else?”
“Not sure at all,” Rutherford said. “The Hroom survivor said the word, that is all. At first, I thought ‘Apex’ might be this new technology that allowed a ship to pierce space and create its own jump point. But as the ships chased us, it was clear they possessed an entire suite of unknown technology. The craft looked different, they had unknown energy weapons that were devastating to our armor. Even the tactics were different. Not Hroom maneuvers at all. Do you know anything more?”
“A little,” Drake said. “But it’s conjecture, told to me by Hroom. The Hroom Empire is at least fifteen hundred years old, and it has explored far deeper into this sector of space than we have. Humans have come across strange craft, ancient derelicts, some drifting for tens of thousands of years, but no other aliens besides the Hroom. The empire has. A few hundred years ago, about the same time as the Settlement, the Hroom had a short, sharp war with a race of beings they called Apex.” Drake stopped. “Again, this is mostly conjecture. It comes from one Hroom crew member, reporting on an incident from the history books.”
“I understand. Go on.”
“The Hroom were strong at the time,” Drake continued. “This other race fought hard, fought savagely, then suddenly retreated with their entire fleet for unknown parts. Physically, they were a strange race of sentient, flightless, bird-like creatures. Culturally, they were predators. Meat eaters, not omnivores like Hroom or humans. They ate both their own dead and the dead of their enemies.”
“Scans showed dead Hroom on the warship,” Rutherford said. “But not as many as we’d expected. I thought the sloop was flying with a short crew, but maybe . . . Why Apex? What does that mean?”
“It’s a Hroom term,” Drake said. “The Apex worldview, their religion, even, seems to be related to their nature as predators. They move through the galaxy hunting and eating other intelligent species. They are apex predators. They literally consume other intelligent races.”
“Why did these aliens disappear?” Rutherford asked.
Tolvern spoke up. “Sal Ypis—she’s the Hroom who seemed to know something of Apex—said they’d withdrawn because the empire was too strong.”
“Think of them like killer whales,” Drake said. “They hunt other predators—dolphins, sea lions, sharks—but they won’t hunt sperm whales. A full-grown bull sperm whale can bite a killer whale in two.”
Apparently, there had been even larger whales on Old Earth, but none of those embryos had survived the colonization of Albion. The powerful, aggressive sperm whales were the only animal that killer whales wouldn’t hunt.
“At the time, the Hroom Empire was like a bull sperm whale,” Drake said. “Apex couldn’t defeat it, so they withdrew to watch and wait. Now they’re back, and they’ve discovered that the empire is dying. After centuries of war with humans, and with a crippling sugar addiction ravaging their population, the Hroom are ripe for the killing.”
“Not that weak,” Rutherford said ruefully. “We lost too many good men, too many ships in the last war.”
“And yet, weren’t there times that you wondered why the Hroom were so slow to respond?” Drake asked. “At Kif Lagoon, we kept expecting enemy reinforcements. They never came. When the time came to end the war, the empire settled quickly, agreed to so many conditions that the lord admiral pleaded with the king to demand more concessions. That makes more sense if you assume that the Hroom were fighting probing attacks on their flanks from Apex.”
“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.
