Free Shattered Sun (The Sentinel Trilogy Book 3) by Michael Wallace Page B

a Royal Navy cruiser, HMS Peerless , her hull gleaming, the rampant Albion lions shimmering gold on her shields. Spread out in the space around Peerless was an impressive collection of navy warships: three lean, barracuda-like corvettes, five destroyers, three missile frigates, and six torpedo boats.
    Blackbeard had not even begun to scan the system for other ships when Peerless hailed the bridge.
    “Shall I put them on, sir?” Smythe asked.
    Tolvern rubbed her temples. They throbbed from the jump, and she’d rather have an hour or two before facing company, a couple of gallons of hot tea, maybe even a good night’s sleep.
    “Sir?” Smythe prodded.
    “Go ahead.”
    Captain Reginald McGowan appeared. He was older than Drake, somewhere in his mid-forties, but an exceptionally handsome man whose looks had only been enhanced by age. Sharp, penetrating eyes made her want to either stare or look hurriedly away. A jaw so strong that if attached to a hammer shaft could have split stones. Dark hair, going salt and pepper at the temples, and a finely shaped nose added to his aristocratic bearing. He was trim, with strong shoulders and the sort of lips that made women swoon at officer balls, imagining what it would be like to be kissed by them. Kissed hard, in fact.
    Tolvern didn’t like the man.
    “Captain McGowan,” she acknowledged.
    “Tolvern. Looks like your ship has been knocked around a little. You really should be more careful with navy hardware.”
    This brought mutters from the others on Blackbeard ’s bridge. Fortunately, Capp was off shift, or no doubt she’d have let loose with one of her outbursts. And at the same time, given McGowan a lustful eye, scheming for the best way to get him in her bed.
    “We’ve been in a few scrapes,” Tolvern said. “But don’t worry, we’re all patched up. For now—don’t know how long that will last.” When he didn’t speak, she added, “It’s a rough neighborhood out here.”
    McGowan gave the barest of shrugs. “It’s a dangerous universe all around.”
    “Yes, but some tours are more hazardous than others. If I were you, I wouldn’t expect to keep that fancy paint job for long.”
    His eyes narrowed, and she wondered if he was taking that as a dig. Good, let him.
    McGowan had been strutting through Albion, San Pablo, Fantalus, Peruano, and a number of other safe systems for the past few months, keeping his ships pristine while others wrestled in the mud with pirates, Apex, Hroom, and even Singaporeans.
    As a matter of fact, he’d managed to avoid combat during the civil war, too. Peerless had been lurking in Hroom territory when McGowan’s cousin, Nigel Rutherford, threw in his lot with Drake’s forces in their fight against Lord Malthorne. To McGowan’s credit, he’d convinced his crew to join Drake, rather than the usurper, and rushed back to join the fight. But the war ended before he arrived.
    Had the man even seen combat since the last Hroom war? And no, arresting smugglers didn’t count.
    “How long have you been here?” she asked.
    “Five days.”
    “The system is secure?”
    “Not at all. It’s swarming with Apex ships, as you’ll see the moment I send over my scans.”
    “They why are you calling me? You know they can sniff out our communications.”
    “So what? I’m happy to be spotted. Let them come. We’ll give the buzzards a good thrashing.”
    “Bold words for someone who has never faced them in battle.”
    McGowan only smiled at this.
    “Captain,” Smythe said via the com link, “ Peerless is sending over data. Sharing it with you now.”
    Tolvern glanced down at a summary of the military situation. Sentinel 3 was hidden in the ice ring around the Kettle, and from the way the massive fleet of Apex ships kept their distance, it didn’t seem that the enemy had been able to find it yet. There were seven hunter-killer packs of four lances each, with four of the seven packs also boasting the larger, more powerful spears. Worse