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

said, “but it’s true. We fought two of their ships, destroying one and chasing off the other.”
    “How did you do that?”
    Drake smiled. “You’re not the only one who hears questions he does not wish to answer.”
    “So you are offering this as a trade. This is what you want in return, human and Hroom against Apex, against the predator hunting us both? An alliance?”
    “I can’t offer an alliance. I’m a renegade, a declared pirate, and Lord Malthorne is determined to start another war.”
    “He has already started it.”
    “I know. And I can’t stop him,” Drake said. “So I can’t offer you an alliance.”
    “That is good, because I cannot offer an alliance, either. Neither can the empress, not at this time. And it is not the war with Albion that prevents it, though that is a part.”
    “Because there’s another war, isn’t there? A Hroom civil war, that’s what I’ve heard. Is it true?”
    “There is always a civil war,” Mose Dryz said. “Since humans arrived and gave us sugar, there is always some part or other of the empire in rebellion. But this time, it is different.”
    “What is happening this time?” Drake asked.
    Mose Dryz stood silently for a long moment, looking contemplative. When he finally spoke, he didn’t answer the question. “There is something else I can give you in trade.”
    “I didn’t ask for trade, you understand that? This is a gift. Perhaps you will remember this down the road, but I give it to you freely.”
    “So you have said.” The Hroom turned his deep, liquid gaze to Brockett. “You are clearly a skilled scientist, and perhaps you can make something more of this than we have. A tissue sample—can you . . . how do you say . . . ?” He said something to Nyb Pim.
    “He wants to know if you can sequence a genetic code.” Nyb Pim said.
    “Of course,” Brockett said. “I’m a geneticist by trade, and Blackbeard has a great lab, all the tools I need.”
    “What kind of tissue sample?” Drake asked.
    “How do you call them? Apex? Yes, two samples from enemies killed in battle. Our people are working on them, too, but so far we have made little progress. So if your scientist thinks he can make something of them, I will share.”
    Brockett’s eyes lit up. “I’ll sure try. Yeah, this is great. Happy to tell you what I find, too, if the captain will let me.”
    “We’ll make of it what we can,” Drake told the general. “If we find anything useful, we’ll let you know.”
    “Very well. I will send you back with the samples. I suppose that is all. You may return to your pod now.”
    Mose Dryz turned as if to go, then hesitated, as if he wanted to say something else.
    “Yes, General?” Drake asked.
    Again, silence. Brockett opened his mouth, as if something had just occurred to him about the tissue samples, but Drake lifted a hand to hush him. Let the general think, let him fill the silence himself.
    “I should not tell you this,” Mose Dryz said at last. “But these people are my enemies, as well as yours.”
    “Apex?” Drake asked.
    “No, not Apex. A Hroom faction. They must not succeed, or their next step will be to destroy me and all Hroom who think as I do.”
    “Succeed in what?”
    “There is a death cult in the empire navy,” Mose Dryz said, “worshipers of the dark wanderer, the god of death.”
    Drake thought back to the temple platform outside Malthorne’s estate on Hot Barsa. “Lyam Kar. Yes, I’ve heard of the god of death. This is his prayer room, right?”
    “Yes? Then you know he is a jealous god. He preserves those who honor him and destroys those who do not. The Hroom people have dishonored their most important god—this is what the death cult says—and they wish to cleanse our worlds. They will put all of the sugar eaters to death, for a start. Do you know how many millions, how many billions would die? More than Albion has ever killed or could dream of killing.”
    “You could kill all the eaters, but sugar