Silent Running (The Hope Island Chronicles Book 3)

by PJ Strebor

  Flexing blood into his right arm he tensed for battle. He needed weapons and medical treatment. First he had to escape the security section. Stepping through the hatch he reached out with his senses. Danger at the other end of the corridor. The cell block. Mild danger the other way leading to the stairs. He moved on, his senses on high alert. The office of the security chief loomed. He stepped inside and began rummaging through the draws until he found his gear. With painful effort he strapped his knife to his calf, shoved his monocular into a pocket and retrieved his watch. The dial read five hours twenty minutes to go.

  Opening the hatch Nathan stepped into the corridor. No danger to his right but when he turned to the left his back flared. He crouched down and removed his knife from its scabbard. A guard stepped around the corner, stared at him and fumbled for his sidearm. Nathan threw the knife and charged at him. The blade flew straight, making a soft squishing sound as it embedded itself in the guard’s right eye. Catching the falling body Nathan opened a hatch and dragged the body inside. He donned the guard’s shirt and tunic, gritting his teeth as the soft material brushed against his hand. With shaking hands he took the guard’s security tag, attached the sidearm to his right hip and disengaged the locking clip. He wiped blood from his knife and returned it to the scabbard.

  Sensing no immediate danger he stepped into the corridor and made his way to the stairs. A minute later he walked into the infirmary. The Pruessen doctor, Jahn, looked up from his computer screen. He raised his hands.

  “I’m unarmed, Hans.”

  “On your feet.” The doctor complied.

  He stared at Nathan’s brutalized hand. “Good lord, what did they do to you. Let me take a look at that.”

  Nathan reached for his sidearm. “I need painkillers. Strongest you’ve got.”

  Jahn nodded, stepped to a cabinet and filled a hypo. “This’ll help.” He reached for Nathan’s hand.

  “You first. Into your left hand.”

  “It’s a painkiller not poison.” He sighed. “If I put it into my hand I won’t be able to use it. You know, genius, to treat your wound.”

  Nathan nodded. He made a fair point. “Into your cheek then.”

  Another deep sigh. “That could compromise my vision. This is really strong medicine.”

  “Who’s talking about your face. Give it here and assume the position, doctor. Or will a numb ass get in the way.”

  Jahn shook his head and pulled down his pants. “One shot only. Two is dangerous, the entire vial will kill.”

  Nathan injected him and stood back while he pulled up his pants. Satisfied that the medicine was benign he injected it into his thumb. He groaned with relief as the pain subsided.

  “Now, if you’ll let me do my job, I’ll see what I can do with that hand.”

  Nathan nodded and let the doctor sanitize the area, reset the bone, suture the gash and set a cast. His other fingers lost some of their feeling but, for the time being, worked.

  “How many naval personnel on the base?”

  The doctor tightened his jaw and took a step back, an expression of weary acceptance on his sagging face.

  He might come in handy.

  “Sit on the floor.”

  Jahn complied, all the while watching Nathan’s every gesture. He stunned the doctor, who slumped to the floor.

  Nathan stared at the overhead. A plan began to form.

  CHAPTER 18

  Careful to keep his injured hand clear of the straps, Nathan repositioned the bag onto his left shoulder. His detour to the armory had been most profitable.

  He retraced his path back up the stairs to the second level. Detecting no danger he moved quickly to the brig and used his security tag to open the hatch. He stood in the hatchway to be greeted by a room full of stunned faces.

  “This is a jailbreak,” Nathan said. “Everyone move.”

  Moe got to him first, a thousand questions forming on her face.

  “Later,” Nathan said, handing her a pistol and a pair of I/R goggles.

  Moe noted his damaged hand and anger colored her face. She handed out weapons and goggles to almost every one of the eighty-four remaining crew.

  “Listen up,” Nathan said. “Set your weapons on stun. There’ll be no killing today.”

  Moe stepped in close to him and whispered, “They’re Pruessens, Nate.”

  “I know what they are,” he replied angrily. “I have my reasons.” He couldn’t take the chance that someone would kill the deep cover operative known as Captain Reinhardt.

  “Settle down,” he said. “We are going to take this base, intact. Firstly we find and disable all military personnel. Secondly, we do not make war on civilians.” Even if they are Pruessen.

  A woman, not much older than Nathan stepped forward. “Excuse me, but who are you?”

  “Nathan Telford. And you are Lieutenant Ruvera?”

  “Yes. How did you –”

  “I checked Adroit’s crew roster en-route to Saint Joan.”

  A collective hush fell over the crew. “We’re on Saint Joan?” Ruvera gasped.

  Nathan nodded. She shook herself. “What is your rank?”

  He sighed. “Same as yours, same as Moe’s.”

  Moe cut off her next question. “He is the senior officer here. And command pilot qualified. He’s senior to me by seven months. This is a combat situation and the senior combat officer is next in the line of command. You know the regs better than any of us, Grace.”

  Relief painted Ruvera’s face. “Good. Just checking.”

  “Moe, you know the crew better than me so divide them up into teams of eight and we’ll get about it.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.”

  “Hmm.” He checked his watch. Four hours fifty six. Plus fifteen minutes to get into position before his little surprise.

  While Moe organized the troops Nathan checked out the security section. He found only two CPO’s and a junior Lieutenant on duty and stunned them.

  Back at the brig Moe had the ten teams organized.

  “Team one, with me,” Nathan said.

  Nathan outlined his plan, receiving nodding approval. The teams moved out to their designated positions. He took his team up to level three. Again resistance was light and dispatched without any problem. Where the hell is everyone?

  ***

  Captain Reinhardt could not escape the feeling that something didn’t feel right. He had no evidence but had learned to trust his gut over the years. Could it have been something the prisoner had said? Or didn’t say? Another instance where his memory had become foggy. Strange.

  “Orders, Captain?” the marine sergeant asked. His action squad of ten wore body armor and carried heavy-grade pulsar rifles.

  “Sweep the entire base. Look for anything out of the ordinary. No matter what it is, if it doesn’t feel right, contact me immediately. Do you understand my meaning, marine.”

  “Aye, aye sir.”

  Commander Schmidt stood to one side, arms folded, beneath a disapproving scowl.

  Ten more men were almost suited up.

  Reinhardt grew impatient. Leaving the armory behind, he marched up the stairs to the security section. Using his security tab he passed through the hatch and headed to the comm room at the far end of the floor. He had left a skeleton crew to man the section but could find none of them. Shaking his head he checked the comm logs. Nothing untoward there. Movement made him glance up from the screen.

  “On your feet.”

  He recognized the young man as one of the prisoners. Reinhardt did as instructed.

  “You killed two of my friends,” the young man said. Reinhardt could read a man from his eyes. This one would kill him. He had to act before that happened. “You had your man beat them to death. Preussen fucker.” His nametag read Riley.

  The Captain leaped at him. Startled by the unexpected attack Riley froze. Reinhardt got within a hand’s length of him when the weapon discharged. The pulsar beam tore through his right arm and he dropped to the
deck.

  “Now I’ll make you pay,” Riley spat, “you worthless piece of Pruessen shit.”

  Riley centered the weapon, pointing it directly between Reinhardt’s eyes.

  “Riley! Stand down.” A new voice but one that he remembered.

  “He killed Smith and Junice.”

  “I know you want payback. Believe me you’ll get it. But not this way.”

  The newcomer stepped up to the boy and held out his right hand. “Surrender your weapon sailor.”

  Riley wanted to kill him. No question about it. His teeth locked together. Reinhardt braced for death.

  The newcomer snatched the weapon from his hand with a speed the Captain had never seen. He glanced at the pistol.

  “I ordered you to set your weapon to stun.”

  “We need to kill them all. They’re murders.”

  “Report to Lieutenant Okuma. Tell her what you’ve done.”

  Riley glared at Reinhardt.

  “Now sailor.”

  The younger man snapped to attention and marched off.

  He remembered this man. The battered prisoner with the unbelievable story. What did he say his name was? Hans? Come a little closer Hans and I’ll break your neck.

  “On your feet, Captain,” he said.

  “Could you give me a hand?”

  “No.” Hans showed enough caution to keep a healthy distance between them.

  “But I’m wounded.”

  “What you are, Captain, is a very dangerous man. Now get up.”

  As he stood, Reinhardt wondered why he was still alive. Hans had been brutalized so badly that any other man would seek some measure of revenge. They moved toward the stairs. Presently they entered the infirmary. Doctor Jahn lay on the floor and stirred as Hans shook him.

  “Not again,” the doctor said.

  “On your feet doc. I’ve got a patient for you.”

  Jahn, unsteady on his feet, staggered to a cabinet, selected a vial and shot it into his neck. He recovered most of his composure in quick order and treated Reinhardt’s wound.

  “There is tissue damaged and tearing of the muscle, so the best you can do is not use it for a few weeks.”

  Reinhardt nodded. During the exercise Hans stood well out of range of a possible attack. His eyes never left the two Pruessens.

  Jahn turned to him. “He’ll live. So, what now? Are you going to stun me again?”

  “Pack what medical supplies you can carry to treat stun wounds.” He kept looking at his watch.

  Hans took them back upstairs, opened the brig hatch and ushered them inside. Personnel lay on the floor, some unconscious. The hatch snapped shut.

  “Who is that man?” the doctor asked.

  “Now, that doctor, is the question.”

  ***

  Nathan checked his watch before keying his comm. “Moe, are your teams in place?”

  “Yep.”

  “Three minutes to go,” Nathan said.

  “We’re ready.”

  “Good. Did Riley report to you?”

  “Yeah. He’s been a bad boy, hasn’t he?”

  “Just keep him out of trouble,” Nathan said.

  “Shall do.”

  “Two minutes.”

  As he talked he made his way toward the armory. His back flared. A hatch opened and Jaeger stepped through. His former torturer froze. Nathan reached for his sidearm. The marine was too fast for him. Jaeger’s sharp kick knocked the pistol from his hand. Instinctively, Nathan blocked his next blow with his left arm. Pain seared through his arm as his damaged hand took the brunt of the hit. While Nathan reeled from the agony the marine swung behind him, wrapped his arm around his neck and dropped to the floor. Nathan’s spine screamed as his back bowed across Jaeger’s knee. The grip on his neck tightened and he felt consciousness slipping away. His elbow struck back again and again but the Pruessen’s training prevented Nathan from striking anything significant. Nathan’s eyes began to blur over and he could feel consciousness ebbing away. Desperate, he groped into a pants pocket. Gripping the hypo he flicked off the cap and jabbed it into Jaeger’s leg. All of it.

  Almost immediately the pressure eased on his throat. The giddiness faded and he staggered to his feet breathing raggedly. Jaeger’s face distorted as the chemical worked its way into his bloodstream. As Nathan dragged him into a nearby room the shrieking began. Curled into a ball on the deck the Pruessen writhed in agony and screamed. And screamed. And screamed.

  ***

  Moe had her teams positioned around all the key areas throughout the base. They waited, IR goggles ready, weapons primed. Adroit sat in the hangar below. She’d be their first target. She counted down the seconds.

  “All teams, stand by.”

  They would all know when to act. If Nathan’s time delayed sabotage of the primary base generator worked. “It’s just a small conventional explosive,” he’d said.

  Moe adjusted her infra red goggles, ready to slip them on. Any second now. If it worked. A dull thump from far away, then all the lights went out. The personnel crawling over the monitor were at first bewildered then panicked by the absolute darkness. As the Pruessens stumbled about in utter confusion her team lit up the dark hangar with pulsar fire.

  ***

  Nathan linked up with team one. They positioned themselves where he strongly suspected the enemy would go to first. He ordered four into the armory with the rest spread out in adjoining rooms. It didn’t take long for the first group of armed soldiers to grope their way to the only source of light. The IR goggles. As soon as the armory hatch opened the Athenians inside fired. At the same moment Nathan’s group came out of their rooms and finished off the rest.

  A young petty officer summed it up.

  “I think we’re going to need a bigger brig.”

  Other teams reported in. All military personnel were accounted for and were on their way to the brig.

  Nathan left team one to their duties and strode to the main hangar. Along the way he passed sailors dragging limp bodies. Adroit came into view.

  “Moe, where are you?”

  “Bridge.”

  As he walked through the boat more unconscious bodies were being removed. The bridge appeared to be ship-shape. Lieutenant Ruvera sat at the operations station with her CPO beside her.

  “How are we looking?” Nathan asked.

  “I’m still checking,” she said without looking up.

  In the briefing room Moe examined the holo-display of the boat.

  “What’s happening?” Nathan asked.

  “I’ve got the senior engineer checking her out. And people doing spot checks. She seems to be in good shape but I won’t know for sure until we complete our inspection.”

  She looked up for the first time. “What’s going on, Nate?”

  “What do you mean?” Nathan asked.

  “Wadda you mean, what do I mean. Sparing the Pruessens. You?”

  “I told you,” Nathan said, “I can’t discuss it.”

  “Not even with your very best friend?”

  He pursed his lips and shook his head.

  She sighed. “So what’s the play?”

  “What would you do?”

  “I’d leave here really soon.” She glanced at his timepiece.

  “We’ve got plenty of time. Hours.”

  “So, we get out of here and make a run for the frontier?”

  He shrugged.

  “And the Pruessens?” Moe asked.

  “There’s a resupply ship due here within twelve hours. I’ll evacuate all personnel in landing boats and they can wait in orbit for her.”

  “If you do that you know what that will mean for us?” Moe didn’t seem happy.

  “Yep. They’ll alert every ship between here and the frontier to track us down. Yeah, I know.”

  “And you’re all right with this arrangement?”

  “It’s not ideal but we’ll have to live with it,” Nathan said.

  “Yeah, you get that.”

&n
bsp; CHAPTER 19

  With the backup generator engaged Nathan abandoned his goggles.

  Passing the guards he stepped into the crowded mess. The civvies clustered together in small groups, all wearing their apprehension openly. Their attitude did nothing to calm the anxiety of their children. A man approached, hands held up in supplication. Nathan remembered him.

  “Are you in charge?” he asked.

  Nathan nodded.

  “Hans, is that really your name?”

  “It’ll do, for now. I know you’re concerned, Lance, but we don’t make war against civilians. That’s more of a Pruessen trait.”

  “So, what happens to us?”

  Nathan faced a sea of troubled faces.

  “This base will be evacuated as soon as possible. We will not harm any of you unless you do something stupid.” Their frowns softened moderately. “Questions?”

  “What about our research?”

  A few more eggheads sparked up and Nathan could see where this was leading.

  “This base will shortly become a glass lined hole in the ground. Damn your research. You’ve got your lives and that of your families. Be grateful.”

  He turned away as his comm beeped. “Tel, Captain.”

  “It’s been two hours so, as ordered, I’ve scheduled a meeting of the boat’s senior officers,” Moe said.

  “Good, I’m on my way.”

  “Not so good I’m afraid,” Moe said.

  Ten minutes later Nathan stepped into Adroit’s briefing room and took the Captain’s chair.

  He passed his eyes over the faces of the boat’s senior officers. Many were younger than he.

  “Where’s Doctor Bryant?”

  “Dead,” the D-O said.

  “Team six got into a firefight just before the lights went out,” Moe said. “The doc took one. Captain.”

  Nathan rubbed at the bump above his right eyebrow. “Continue, D-O.”

  “I’ve done a complete diagnostic of the boat’s systems and almost everything checks out, Captain.” Ruvera paused for a moment. “However –”