Dreadnought (Starship Blackbeard Book 3) by Michael Wallace Page A

other—there’s a civil war in the empire, apparently—we have to assume they’re coordinating an attack on Albion.”
    “Are we sure we trust Drake?” Caites asked. “Could he be lying?”
    “Why wouldn’t we trust him? It has been established that Drake was framed for his crime, and he behaved honorably when he came to our aid during the Apex attack. Our allegiance is still to Albion, the Crown, and the navy, but I see no reason to question Drake’s integrity.”
    “Yes, but these allies of his you mentioned,” she pressed. “They must be pirates he hired to help rescue his parents. Do we trust them ? I don’t think we do, and I don’t think we trust anyone who would hire them, including James Drake.”
    Under other circumstances, Rutherford might have seen her comments as insubordinate, but it was Caites’s initiative that had brought her to his attention, and he carefully considered her opinion.
    He was sympathetic to Drake’s situation. Shortly after leaving his old friend, Rutherford had sent messages to a few trusted allies. One was his uncle, the Duke of West Mercia, who was the most powerful lord on Mercia, a cousin of the king, and by all accounts an honorable man. The duke, who was married to Rutherford’s mother’s sister, was eighth in line for the throne, not far behind Admiral Malthorne himself. Rutherford asked the duke to petition the king to pardon Baron and Lady Drake.
    But Rutherford could only frown at the foolishness of hiring pirates. The frontier worlds were lawless enough without putting more money, more equipment, and worst of all, more grandiose ideas, into the heads of the rabble who lived there.
    “Yes, I see,” Rutherford said at last. “Hire pirates, engage in piracy, and you become a pirate, no matter the difficult decisions that led you to that point. But I don’t believe that Drake is lying so as to gain an advantage. If he were doing that, he would send us as far from Albion as possible, not draw us home.”
    “Assuming Drake is telling the truth,” Pittsfield said, “there are two Hroom death fleets, apparently on a suicide mission. It will take a good deal of firepower to stop them, with or without Drake and his pirates.”
    “Our fleet is filled with dunderheads like Harbrake and Lindsell,” Caites said.
    “Those dunderheads are superior officers of His Majesty’s Royal Navy. You will remember your place, Lieutenant.”
    “My apologies, sir. I misspoke.”
    “Yes, well, they do have their limitations, I will grant you that. I would take Drake over the lot of them, but if we can’t trust his allies, where does that leave us?”
    “It leaves us unable to stop the Hroom before they attack Albion,” Pittsfield said. “We have no choice but to trust them. We need Drake’s ships. And if there’s a third fleet we haven’t detected yet . . . ”
    Rutherford completed the thought. “That may still prove insufficient.”
    “Unless—” Caites began. “May I speak frankly, sir?”
    She rubbed at the brass buttons on her jacket with one hand and tapped at the table with the other. Rutherford regretted cutting her off earlier. He didn’t want to squelch her initiative—that initiative was why he had promoted her to be his second mate. Nevertheless, it wasn’t in his repertoire to apologize for speaking gruffly.
    “You may always speak frankly, Lieutenant. I only ask that you be circumspect with your language. We must not abandon decorum in our enthusiasm.” It all sounded stiff coming out of his mouth, like something his father would have said, but he thought it proper.
    “Yes, sir. With all due respect, we must face these enemies with our full might.”
    “Go on,” he said.
    “ Dreadnought , sir. If you were to tell the lord admiral, he could recall all navy resources to Albion.”
    “He would demand the source of our information,” Rutherford said.
    “You could equivocate, sir,” Pittsfield said.
    “Equivocate?” Rutherford looked at him with