Dreadnought (Starship Blackbeard Book 3) (12 page)

Yes, there was that. By sharing so much information with the admiral, Rutherford was inadvertently leading his old friend into a trap. Time to rectify that error, if he could.

“Your fleet has offensive capabilities,” Rutherford began, “but you are lacking the leadership to execute your battle plan. This is your fatal flaw. Without better leadership on our side, the Hroom may still break through. That goes double for your proposed invasion.”

The pipe dangled from the admiral’s mouth. “Excuse me?”

“Not
your
leadership, Lord Admiral,” Rutherford said hastily. “But you lack captains with sufficient energy and understanding to prosecute the war. Most of them are no more imaginative than their Hroom counterparts.”

Left unspoken was that Malthorne had given most of those men their commissions. He had stacked his fleet with loyalists. He’d even replaced much of
Vigilant
’s own crew, and there was no doubt in Rutherford’s mind that the fleet was less battle-ready as a result.

Malthorne took a puff on his pipe, seeming to relax as he realized the slight had been unintentional. “What do you suggest?”

“Offer an olive branch to James Drake.”

“James Drake is a traitor.”

“He is misguided, I will concede that. And he is a proud man, like I am, Admiral. As is, I dare say, any commanding officer who is worth anything. But if you were to free his parents from York Tower, return their lands, and give Drake back his commission with a full pardon, wouldn’t he be likely to return to service, duly chastened and repentant?”

Malthorne looked for a moment as though he were considering the offer. “No, Rutherford. This I will not do. The only commission I will offer Drake is the commission to dangle from the end of a rope. Is this understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Rutherford’s heart sank, as he imagined Drake trying to rush Albion to free his parents, while
Dreadnought
and the bulk of the capital ships of the Royal Navy were lurking in the system.

There was still a hope that he could secure Drake a pardon from the king himself. But now, Rutherford had to concentrate on his main duty, saving Albion from the Hroom.

“In that case, I have another suggestion for improving leadership in the fleet.” Rutherford avoided looking at Caites, who had been waiting so quietly that the admiral may have forgotten she was present.

But before Rutherford could continue, Malthorne touched his ear and cocked his head. A scowl creased his forehead. “Well, put him on, then,” he snapped at whoever was on the other end of the call.

Captain Harbrake of
Nimitz
appeared on the big viewscreen above the bridge. Rutherford had just been thinking of the man and his ship; he was about to suggest that Malthorne put Caites at the helm of
Nimitz
and put Harbrake somewhere more suitable to his talents, or lack thereof.

Harbrake’s big hound-dog eyes seemed even more droopy than usual. His forehead was bandaged, and his arm was in a sling. The computer console behind the captain was a black, twisted piece of plastic and metal. There had apparently been a fire on his bridge.

“What the devil?” Malthorne demanded.

“They caught us unaware, sir.”

“How did they manage that?”

Harbrake licked his lips. “We came at the smuggler base, sir. The one that we caught scanning us.
Calypso
attacked from below, and I made a direct approach with
Nimitz
. But we didn’t see the second base. They fired missiles and knocked through the fore shield.”

“And where was your destroyer escort during all of this?”

“I didn’t think I’d need them, sir. I sent them chasing a Ladino craft that made a run for it. They caught it, sir, but alas, they were out of position when the fighting started. Without adequate firepower, I was forced to withdraw from combat.”

“Wait, you
withdrew
? You didn’t even destroy the pirate base?”

“I am afraid not, sir.”

Malthorne gaped. He sputtered for a moment and then snarled for someone to cut the connection. It vanished, Harbrake’s sorry visage replaced by a view of
Nimitz
and
Calypso
lying motionless a few dozen miles off port. Malthorne ordered the zoom brought in further.
Nimitz
’s scars were visible from a distance, with one of the rear engines leaking plasma. Black craters pitted
Calypso
’s surface from stern to bow.

Rutherford could scarcely believe Harbrake’s stupidity. The man could have called ahead to soften the blow, but he’d been so craven, so afraid to face the admiral’s wrath that he’d returned all the way to the fleet before giving the bad news, and now the magnitude of his failure was visible for all to see.

The bridge was in an uproar as the admiral leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling, shaking his head in disbelief and muttering curses.

Rutherford would have been amused at this display of Harbrake’s incompetence. But instead, two of the most powerful ships in the navy had been bloodied by a feisty snake pit of smugglers, illicit miners, and pirates.
Calypso
and
Nimitz
were older-model Aggressor-class cruisers, but they should have been more than enough to handle the mission. Now, they were wounded and weakened in advance of the critical fight with the Hroom death fleet.

Malthorne sprang up and slammed his hand down on the table. Rutherford and Caites scrambled to their feet. Malthorne jabbed a finger at Rutherford.

“You! You will be my fire support.
Vigilant
and
Churchill
will do what those destroyers failed to do. I will take this battleship and clear these vermin out myself.”

“But Admiral, we don’t have time for pirates and smugglers,” Rutherford said.

“You would leave them unchallenged? Allow them to attack our ships with impunity?”

“It will take us twelve days to reach Albion if we leave now. Returning to the pirate redoubt will burn two days, at least, and we’ll have no time to prepare for the Hroom.”

“You said as short as a fortnight, possibly longer.”

“An estimate! Admiral, listen to me.”

“No, we will launch a punitive expedition and crush them. Rutherford, you have your orders.” Malthorne turned, shouting for his officers to meet him in the war room.

What had been a simple raid to stay agile while gathering the fleet had now become cause for a major punitive expedition, and that seemed to have burned all sense from Malthorne’s thoughts. No wonder he had attacked the Drake estate so viciously. Malthorne’s mind was fully occupied with thoughts of revenge.

“Lord Admiral!” Rutherford called, but Malthorne stormed off without turning and disappeared into his war room. Rutherford muttered a low oath.

Every minute spent on
Dreadnought
increased the delay until the fleet jumped to Albion, so he collected Lieutenant Caites, and the two of them left the bridge on their way to the away pods.

“So close,” he said, as they got on the lift. “If I had spoken one moment earlier, it would have happened. Imagine if I’d told Malthorne that you deserve to be commanding officer of HMS
Nimitz
just before the viewscreen popped up with Harbrake’s stupid, gaping expression. Nobody could have planned better timing. Now, when I make the suggestion, it will look like opportunism. And Malthorne will have cooled down and remembered all the political reasons he put Harbrake at the helm.”

“It is all right, sir,” Caites said. “There will be other opportunities. I do appreciate your efforts on my behalf.”

Rutherford fixed her with a sharp look. “This was not on your behalf, let us be clear about that. You are an obviously superior officer to Harbrake, and I wanted you at the helm of a capital ship before we go into battle. Just in case there are misunderstandings about my motives.”

“Why would there be?”

He put his hand on the button to keep the lift doors closed. “Because you are a woman and very young. And because you are—” he swallowed this down, uncomfortable saying it “—because you are pretty, people will talk.”

“That is ridiculous,” she said.

“I don’t know if you’re scoffing at being called pretty or complaining because of the implication of fraternization with your superior officer, but both of these things are true. And they are holding you back from your rightful place as captain of a Royal Navy cruiser.”

“It won’t hold me back for long.”

Caites had hesitated when Rutherford first proposed the plan, claiming to be unready for such a promotion, but he saw no hesitation in her now as she thrust out her chin and flared her nostrils.

“Well said, Lieutenant. It speaks to your good breeding.” He took his hand off the button, and the doors opened. “Now, let us get this ridiculous punitive expedition out of the way so we can go home and protect Albion from destruction.”

Something that he’d said or what had happened on the lord admiral’s deck had set her thinking, and not in a good way, because Caites was fuming, muttering to herself, by the time they reached the away pods. She scarcely hesitated before climbing into the cylinder and strapping herself in with a loud click. Shortly, they were hurtling through space on their way back to
Vigilant
.

Chapter Ten

Drake blinked at the viewscreen. His thoughts were hazy, like he’d awakened from sleep, but he had no headache, and his mind was quickly recognizing the catastrophic scenario presenting itself. Six Hroom sloops sat arrayed in what was known as a “Hroom claw” but was more like a sideways bowl, with the mouth enveloping Dunkley’s schooner, and all the Hroom pointed in toward it.

Instruments showed Hroom serpentines warmed up, and pulse cannon began to thump at the schooner. Dunkley belatedly fired up his plasma engine and began to nose around to escape the claw, which was about to clamp down, and hard.

“Gunnery!” Drake said into the com. “Tubes three and four. Barker?”

“Here, sir,” came the man’s groggy voice. “Tubes three and four.”

“And belly cannon. Fire all guns on the lead sloop.”

“Aye, sir.”

Tolvern was alert now and giving instructions to engineering, while Smythe lifted from where he slumped over his console. He shook his head and groaned.

“Wake up, Smythe,” Tolvern said. “I need those specs, and I need them now.”

“Got it, Commander,” he slurred, and began to fumble at his console.

Capp was cursing and rubbing her temples, but Nyb Pim was still staring around him with his big Hroom eyes, looking not so different from an addict at the end of a long sugar swoon. Sometimes, the Hroom seemed to come out of the jumps more slowly than humans.

Isabel Vargus came through the jump with
Outlaw
, but the shark-nosed frigate sat dead and motionless at the moment. Isabel’s crew would be staggering about for some time before they could be useful. Meanwhile, the slow, natural movement of the jump point gradually moved her away from it, opening a position for the next ship in the fleet, which would be Paredes on another schooner, followed by
Pussycat
and her heavy armaments, and finally, Catarina on
Orient Tiger
. Somehow, Drake had to hold the Hroom off until they arrived.

All this passed through his head in a moment, even as pulse-cannon fire slammed into the schooner. Dunkley’s shields held, and he twisted away like a fish evading a spear gun. The first bomblets swarmed out from enemy serpentine batteries. In minutes, the entire bowl-like space between the sloops of war would be filled with them.

“Echelon formation,” Drake said. “Break the claw.”

This was directed to Tolvern. She had already opened a channel with Dunkley, and gave orders. Meanwhile,
Outlaw
was coming about, and Isabel seemed to understand exactly what he intended. Her systems were still warming up—it would be a moment before she could join the fight—but she swung in to join him in the echelon. Soon, they were arranged on the diagonal, ready to charge and hammer the Hroom formation until it broke apart.

“Torpedoes ready,” Barker said through the com.

“Fire.”

A pair of torpedoes raced ahead of the ship, even as
Blackbeard
and
Outlaw
thrust forward, accelerating, to puncture the back of the formation. Enemy sloops moved to evade.
Blackbeard
’s belly cannon opened up with kinetic fire. The range was still too great, but the cannon fire forced additional evasive action.

Paredes came through the jump. His schooner sat dead, but
Blackbeard
and
Outlaw
were now roaring into the fight to help Dunkley. All Dunkley had to do was straighten his bow and lead those torpedoes in clearing a path.
Blackbeard
and
Outlaw
would follow, and, in a massive wedge, would break the claw.

But Dunkley didn’t obey the commands Tolvern was shouting through to him. His schooner was agile and fleet of foot, and Dunkley seemed to think he could ignore orders and shake off the attack alone. Bomblets swirled around him, and incredibly, he slipped between them and emerged from the bowl nearly unscathed, with Hroom warships still shooting after him.

Dunkley attempted to circle behind the cruiser and the frigate, where he could be protected by their guns—or so Drake could only guess, as the fool was ignoring all orders from
Blackbeard
’s deck. But by now, the two ships were racing in tandem to puncture the back of the Hroom claw, and they blew past him. The end result was that Dunkley had eluded the closing claw, but he dangled, exposed.

Paredes was still trying to get his own schooner moving, and the heavily armed
Pussycat
had just popped through and sat motionless. They were easy prey for the approaching Hroom warships. But the sloops ignored them and chased after Dunkley, instead. One of the sloops trained her guns and pounded the rear of the schooner. She wriggled and squirmed, but a sloop flanked Dunkley on either side, with two more above, and one below.