Read Dreadnought (Starship Blackbeard Book 3) for Free Online Page B

sides by a shallow, briny sea.
    The northern hemisphere was cooking in the height of summer, so Drake went south. The shuttle carried him, Tolvern, and Capp to a small settlement named Brinetown. The buildings were red mud brick, and from the air, Brinetown looked like a low-slung tent city alongside a shallow bay. Dry berms divided the bay into squares, each one a mile or two across and shaded an unnatural color: red, purple, or sickly green. The shuttle driver said they were evaporation ponds to extract dissolved minerals from the sea. As the shuttle came down, a vast flock of pink birds lifted flapping from the water’s edge, and as one bumped off the windshield, Drake was surprised to see that they were Old Earth flamingos.
    The shuttle landed at the spaceport on the edge of town. A motley collection of spacecraft stretched across the tarmac or sat in hangars, these latter visible through open bay doors. Many of the ships were no larger than torpedo boats—salvage vessels, cutters, asteroid scrapers, and the like—but there were several larger frigates and schooners. Armed men patrolled the perimeter of these ships, eyeing each other warily, and Drake was again glad that he hadn’t landed Blackbeard ; he’d have needed to guard her at all times.
    The air was so dry it seemed to suck the moisture from his lungs when the three of them stepped onto the tarmac. No wonder Nyb Pim had declined shore leave—the Hroom would have withered to a husk in this climate. At least it wasn’t overly hot, thanks to their arriving near the shortest day of the year. He paid the shuttle driver, who waved them back so he could lift off.
    “Well,” Capp said, scratching at her lion tattoos as they shaded their eyes to watch the shuttle blasting skyward. “Here we are. Now how do we get to town?”
    “What do we need in town?” Drake asked.
    “Gotta find taverns and the like,” Capp said. “You know, where these blokes we need are hanging out. Like on San Pablo.”
    “Seems like everything and every one we need is right here,” Drake said.
    “But—”
    Tolvern patted Capp’s shoulder. “The captain isn’t one for bars and taverns. I told you, this isn’t shore leave. This is work, it’s why we’re putting gold in your pocket.”
    “Don’t mean it can’t be fun, too.” Capp looked glum. “Look at me. What did I get dressed up for?” She wore tight pants and a leather vest unzipped enough to show cleavage. She wore polished, black, knee-high boots with silver buckles. Eye shadow gave her eyes a smoky look.
    “I was wondering the same thing,” Tolvern said. “Were you hoping to meet someone? Wouldn’t Carvalho be jealous?”
    “Of what?” Capp sounded baffled.
    “Of, you know, giving it to someone else,” Tolvern said.
    “Giving it ? Listen to you, all prissy like. Why should he care? I ain’t gonna run out of it or nothing. King’s balls, Tolvern, where are you from, anyhow?”
    “Civilization. You might have heard of it.”
    Drake shook his head, mildly amused, and walked toward one of the larger hangars to his right. The others followed. As he walked, he took in the spaceships, the lorries shuttling workers and supplies around, the cranes moving pieces of decking and other heavy equipment. He’d been hoping to spot a familiar ship, but Orient Tiger was not in evidence. He’d known that, of course. He’d sent coded subspace messages upon entering the system, and Catarina had not responded. Still, one could hope. Catarina clearly knew the world, and it was as good a place to put in for repairs and resupply as any.
    A lorry with six-foot-high tires rumbled out of one of the hangars, pulling a frigate on a wheeled trundle. The aft portion of the ship, from the side-mounted cannon to the engines, had the clean, sleek profile of a Royal Navy corvette, but the prow was the stubby nose of some other ship, painted to resemble a shark’s toothy snarl. Painted across the side in big block letters: OUTLAW.
    “I