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captain of her own cruiser. She was roughly Tolvern’s age, and during the initial fleet organization on Saxony, there had been a discussion of whether to put Caites on the cruiser and Tolvern on the destroyer, or vice versa. It was a major promotion for both women. Caites had at least commanded a torpedo boat before, and that settled it. She was given the powerful HMS Richmond .
    Rutherford had first elevated the young woman, and his decision now looked prescient. Caites had fought with distinction in the most recent action, single-handedly holding off enemy forces while the rest of Drake’s fleet jumped for safety, and then coming through unscathed herself. Rutherford now greeted Caites as if she were a full peer, in contrast to how he’d addressed Tolvern.
    Finally, Drake called in three others from his crew: his pilot, Nyb Pim, Science Officer Noah Brockett, and Henny Capp.
    Capp looked nervous as she entered, uncomfortable. She was from a low background, raised in the working-class neighborhoods of York Town. On Saxony, Rutherford had barely tolerated her. Drake willed both of them to hold their tongues.
    Rutherford leaned back in his chair. “Well? We’ve failed. Now what?”
    Drake considered how much of his new intelligence to admit, and how quickly. Best to start with the good news.
    “Not a failure. We lost two mercenary frigates, but we picked up another cruiser.”
    Lost didn’t mean destroyed. It meant they’d abandoned the fight, taken their money and run. No doubt they’d return to piracy. They might even prey on Drake’s own shipping out of Saxony.
    “You mean Melbourne ?” Rutherford asked. “Will she even fly? Six months in the docks, and how will we pay for it?”
    “That’s the good news,” Drake said. “We got a communication from Rodriguez in the yards. He’ll fix her for eight thousand pounds.”
    Rutherford stared. “After the beating we gave her? Are you certain the villain doesn’t intend to steal her from us? And when?”
    “Several months, admittedly.”
    Rutherford threw up his hands. “There you go.” He grunted. “And I suppose Tolvern will captain it? She got her first horse shot out from under her, so why not give her a better one?”
    “More good news,” Drake said. “ Philistine is in better shape. Most of the damage proved superficial. He says three weeks, and she’s back in space. We do some final in-orbit repairs, and she is good to go.”
    Tolvern was shifting in her seat, and he was already getting off track. He needed to cut this off before she offered to resign her commission and Rutherford tried to accept.
    “We’ve got other worries,” Drake said. “First among them, Dreadnought .”
    This got their attention. The word hung in the air. Vice Admiral Thomas Lord Malthorne’s battleship had taken a beating, first at the hands of the Hroom sloops of war, and then from the rebellious ships fighting his attempt to destroy his former allies. Floating in orbit around Albion, it was still the most powerful ship in known space, but they’d assumed it would be in repairs for the better part of a year. Malthorne was fighting on multiple fronts, and the atomic bombing had destroyed the planetside headquarters of the Royal Navy, together with much of the material and personnel who could have done the repairs.
    Unfortunately, they’d all been wrong on that score.
    “ Dreadnought has left orbit,” Drake said. “One of our spies on Fort William said she shipped out three days ago.”
    “Bloody hell,” Capp murmured.
    “Our source says Malthorne is taking a pass around the sun to test her systems,” Drake continued. “Once she’s proven spaceworthy, he’ll load her up with marines, collect an escort, and set out on an expedition. But where?”
    “The planet of Saxony, I should imagine,” Rutherford said. “Malthorne wouldn’t leave orbit for anything less than total victory. With the unrest on Albion, there is no assurance that another claimant won’t