Dreadnought (Starship Blackbeard Book 3) Read Online Free

us,” Nyb Pim said.
    Drake remembered the slave galleon from which he’d rescued Nyb Pim. The slavers had kept the Hroom in a single berth, cooled to keep their cargo placid between sugar feedings.
    “What did the general say?” Drake asked. “Are we prisoners? Is this a Hroom prison cell?”
    “I have never been on a Hroom ship,” Nyb Pim said. “I do not know what a prison cell looks like.”
    “Yes, I forget. So you have no idea?”
    “I am afraid I do have an idea.” There was something odd in Nyb Pim’s voice. “This is a prayer room. These seats are meditation stools, for praying.”
    “A prayer room?” Drake said.
    “I don’t get it,” Brockett said. “Are they trying to convert us to their religion or something?”
    “No,” Nyb Pim said. “It is where you make your peace and pray to the god of death. Before they execute you.”
    “What?” Brockett squeaked. “Captain, is that true?”
    “He is a Hroom,” Drake said. “He doesn’t lie, as a general rule.”
    “No, I do not,” Nyb Pim said.
    “So we’re going to die?” Brockett said. “King’s balls, we are, aren’t we?”
    “I hope not,” Drake said. “For now, let’s calm down until we have a better idea of what the Hroom are thinking.”
    Nyb Pim closed his eyes. Praying? Drake hadn’t thought him particularly devout. In fact, hadn’t he been raised by human missionaries? Surely, he wouldn’t be praying to the Hroom god of death.
    Brockett paced the room. “My dad owns a candy store.”
    Drake looked away from studying the Hroom and blinked. “What?”
    “A candy store. You know, the kind where you go as a kid, you put down a tuppence, and the candy man weighs out horehounds or lemon drops and puts them into a little bag. Or cinnamon bears. I love cinnamon bears.”
    “I know what a candy store is. How is this relevant?”
    “Dad wanted me to take over the store when he got too old to run it. Me, not my brother. My brother has no head for numbers, plus he’d eat up the profits. He’s got a sweet tooth that would put a Hroom to shame. Of course, I loved candy too. What kid doesn’t?”
    “Brockett, for God’s sake, is this the time to reminisce about your misspent youth?”
    “I wanted to be a scientist. Why? The store wasn’t so bad. And now, look at me. I’m going to be killed over sugar. Sugar! That’s ironic, don’t you think? I grew up helping my dad at a candy store. It must be bad karma for all the cavities we gave kids.”
    “We’re not going to be killed over sugar,” Drake said.
    “Didn’t you hear him?” Brockett asked, pointing at Nyb Pim. He sounded almost hysterical now. “This is a prayer room. You’re supposed to pray for your soul while they build the gallows.”
    “Hroom don’t hang prisoners,” Drake said. “They prefer beheading.”
    “That doesn’t make me feel better. It really doesn’t.”
    Had Tolvern been here, she would have told Brockett to shut his mouth, but Drake was willing to grant the young man a little hysteria. He’d seemed brave enough when invited to join the crew after the attack on Lord Malthorne’s estate that put the sugar antidote in Drake’s hands. But Hot Barsa was a slave world, and Brockett had been working in Malthorne’s labs developing fast-growing strains of sugarcane. That was the karma that would be inflaming Brockett’s conscience, not that nonsense about his father’s candy store.
    Drake climbed onto one of the seats while he waited for Brockett to calm down. It was too big, too high off the ground, and he couldn’t fold his legs the way Nyb Pim had. But the way it cupped him did provide a certain meditative space. Eventually, Brockett joined the other two. They sat without talking, with only the faint hum of the red lights overhead and their own breathing to cut the silence.
    After about fifteen minutes, the door opened, and in stepped General Mose Dryz. He was alone. His eyes were milky, and his breathing quick, as if he’d recently