Silent Running (The Hope Island Chronicles Book 3)

by PJ Strebor

  “Find the controls to open the boat bay hatch,” Nathan said.

  “Aye sir.” Again the questioning tone. “Ah, yes, I’ve got it.”

  “Very well,” Nathan said. The hub came into view on his forward sensors. A relatively benign looking sphere dotted with antennae and a large hyperspace communicator. The HK’s dotted the area around the hub, silent and immobile, for now.

  “Kellerman – Captain.”

  “COB,” Kellerman replied. “Me and Hoppe are on the guns.”

  “Good,” Nathan said, “stay icy.”

  The boat answered to ahead flank. Once he achieved maximum speed Nathan cut power to the engines, piloting the boat toward its target on accumulated momentum. The first HK came into view off his port side. He slid past it without incident. So, no sensor upgrades. Two more HK’s to either side of the boat offered no response to his presence. The hub appeared between his cross hairs but Nathan waited until the range closed. His targeting scanner locked onto the target. Nathan fired three pulsar head torpedoes at the center of the sphere then banked away to starboard and pushed the throttles full ahead.

  “There are three mines directly ahead of us,” Winkler said. “Three more are approaching our stern. Fast.”

  The hub exploded with the briefest gush of fire.

  “Now Winkler,” Nathan said. “Open the boat bay hatch.”

  “Aye, sir, opening now.”

  Lining up on the three nearest HK’s Nathan fired a torpedo at the first, then the second and third. The first and second vaporized, the third, alerted to the attack took evasive maneuvers, avoiding his torpedo. “Shit.” Finally, a pop between his ears. Once again his knack activated when he needed it most.

  Utilizing both of his gifts Nathan streaked toward the deadly mine. Its powerful pulsar outranged his weapons so he would have to survive a couple of shots in order to close to effective range of his much weaker weapons. His Prep jabbed painfully against his spine. Nathan rotated the boat through her axis as the hunter-killer fired. The beam of silver blue energy came so close to the keel that the boat shuddered. E 692 still had not closed to effective pulsar range. Another jab of pain, another wild avoidance. Finally in range Nathan fired. The HK dodged his shot and fired back. Nathan was a micro second slow in responding. The enemy fire grazed the port tip of his boat sending a vibration through his command. He held off on his next shot, avoiding another close call. Locking her up, he depressed the firing stud. It hit dead center and the mine exploded.

  “Yes!” Winkler yelled.

  His Prep screamed and he rolled the boat over onto her back. Another HK had found his range.

  ***

  Kellerman and Hoppe sent a blistering torrent of pulsar fire at the HK but it dodged their best efforts to kill it.

  “Fucker,” Hoppe shouted.

  “Let’s try this,” Kellerman said. “Hoppe when I give the word light up its starboard side. Ready?”

  “Yep.”

  Kellerman aimed his weapon to the opposite side of the mine and prepared to fire.

  “Now,” he shouted.

  As he expected the HK jigged away from Hoppe’s fire and right between his crosshairs. He fired an automatic burst and clipped its edge. Damaged, the mine spun out of view.

  “Yeah!” Hoppe yelled.

  The boat bay hatch began closing. “What the fuck?”

  “Attention all crew, brace for rapid ingression,” Winkler said. “I say again, brace for rapid ingression.”

  Kellerman and Hoppe stared at one another before racing to the stern and propping their backs against the bulkhead.

  ***

  “I say again, brace for rapid ingression,” Winkler said.

  With HK’s closing in on his position Nathan could not ingress from the danger in a conventional manner. Rapid ingressions were never a good idea, unless death was the only other option. Crossing into hyperspace at high speed could damage the boat. No choice. Opening the perforation into hyper Nathan cut engine thrust and pressed his back into his chair.

  The best analogy for the transition from normal to hyperspace was to imagine yourself rowing a boat. A slow steady pace in normal space. Then you drop over a waterfall called hyper.

  At full speed E 692 crossed the barrier into hyper. The boat immediately sped up. Nathan groaned as his body pressed into his chair. It felt as if someone had parked a ground car on his chest. Through blurring eyes he read the stress meter just before he blacked out. Fifteen gees.

  Sometime later the pain woke him. He hurt all over and his bruised ribs made breathing difficult. He sat quietly and checked to see if his body had sustained any permanent damage. Light headedness, a general malaise and overall discomfort, but nothing permanent. His legs refused to work so he continued to wait for the effects to pass.

  CHAPTER 54

  Date: 16th October, 326 ASC.

  Position: E 692, traversing hyperspace. Northern Quarantine Zone.

  Chief Petty Officer Kellerman stepped from the shower and began toweling down. A hot shower and massage had eased the stress in his neck muscles after yesterday’s fifteen gee outing. Every member of the crew were feeling the effects of the bold maneuver but knew that if Vogel hadn’t done what he had, none of them would be feeling anything.

  In the mess he poured himself a coffee. Four crewmen chuckled from a nearby table while examining a data-pad.

  “How did he do that?” one of them asked.

  Curious, Kellerman stood behind them.

  “Hey COB,” another said, “have you seen this?”

  Kellerman expected to see porn but instead found that they were watching a recording of Vogel’s attack on the communications hub.

  “No,” Kellerman said.

  “Hey, play it back so the COB case see it.”

  “Okay.”

  Kellerman followed the action. The stealth approach, the attack on the hub, which got a cheer from the crewmen, the escape, the HK that should have destroyed them.

  “How did he do that?” a crewman asked. “It’s like he knew what it would do beforehand.”

  “And here’s the fun part.” The imaged showed the rapid ingression. “Oh, my aching back.”

  “Sorry COB, but there’s no footage of you and Hoppe killing HK’s.”

  “I still hate Vogel’s guts, but with him in charge I’m starting to think we might just make it into the south.

  Kellerman hid a smile.

  CHAPTER 55

  Date: 20th October, 326 ASC.

  Position: E 692, traversing hyperspace. Northern Quarantine Zone.

  After a week aboard the E boat, the crew’s open hostility toward Nathan had slowly eased to a sad resignation of their current circumstances. They were a sullen lot but with each day that passed without encountering a pursuing warship, their understandable anxiety eased.

  The resistance to his presence aboard the boat had lightened after his successful attack on Traunstein, but the abiding resistance to his captaincy remained. No doubt there would still be crewmen who would be happy to see an end to him. Still, they appeared to be a little less dire than a week ago.

  Nathan flexed his left hand. After nearly three months of recovery he had dispensed with the cast. His thumb still hurt but was improving with every passing day.

  He stepped into the officer’s wardroom. There were only four crewmen, eating and talking. Their conversations, that would normally discontinue when he showed up, carried on. For the sake of convenience, both officers and enlisted crew used the same mess. He stood by the serving area until today’s rostered cook turned up.

  “God help us,” Nathan said, “Blass is cooking again.” He turned and examined the crew. “Well, nobody’s keeled over yet so I might get lucky. What manner of poison are you serving today?”

  “Stew, my mum’s secret recipe.”

  Nathan curled a lip.

  “It’s that or the sauerkraut.”

  “I’ll take my life in my hands and try your mum’s stew.”


  The steaming bowl landed on the bench. It was brimming with red meat, potatoes and an assortment of vegetables. The aroma made Nathan’s mouth water. He took an exploratory sip and tried not to smile.

  “Blass, I’ve eaten food on both sides of the frontier and I’ve got to say that is the most nauseatingly foul mess I’ve ever tasted.”

  A nervous smile briefly tugged at Blass’ face. Some traditions remained the same in any navy.

  He approached Commander Bessell. He too had opted for the stew. “Mind if I join you?”

  Bessell looked up from his meal and shrugged. “It’s your boat, so you can sit wherever you want.”

  Baby steps. Nathan took a bench seat opposite him and began eating his meal. It was one of the finest navy meals he had ever eaten and he finished it quickly. At no point during the meal did either man speak to the other. Nathan stepped to the cleaning area and placed his bowl and utensils into the cleaning cabinet.

  “Not like that,” Bessell said. “They’ll clean better if you angle them, like this.”

  “Thanks,” Nathan said. A very small step, but a step nonetheless. “You’re off-duty, aren’t you, Commander?”

  “As much as I can be on this undermanned boat.”

  “I’m in the mood for a drink,” Nathan said. “How about you?”

  “Consorting with the enemy?” No smile from the Commander but a lighter inflection than usual.

  “Why not? We could all be dead tomorrow.”

  “Okay.”

  Okay? He recognized the expression from any number of old vids. It hadn’t caught on within League worlds.

  E 692’s former Captain had a particularly well stocked bar in a corner of his quarters. Nathan selected a bottle of top-end whisky and two glasses then joined the commander in the adjacent briefing room.

  “No ice?” Bessell grumbled.

  “The icemaker’s broken down,” Nathan said. “According to the COB there’s no one aboard who can fix it.”

  “I’ll take a look at it when I can spare a minute. A man can’t drink good Caledonian whiskey without ice. It’s uncivilized.”

  They both drank, in silence. Nathan had been sensing concern from the chief engineer which came across stronger than that of the rest of the crew.

  “You’ve got something on your mind, Commander, so why not spit it out.”

  Bessell emptied his glass and stared Nathan in the eye.

  “We can’t run this boat with a crew of twenty,” Bessell said. “You got lucky with Traunstein but that target wasn’t a warship. We need more bodies.”

  “Yeah,” Nathan said. “I’m open to any suggestions you might have.”

  “There’s a Pruessen Naval prison on Atrius,” Bessell said. “If we make a course correction now, we can be there in four days.”

  Nathan looked it up on his computer then stared at his Chief Engineer.

  “A plague planet?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Want another drink?”

  Bessell shrugged. “Why the hell not?”

  CHAPTER 56

  Date: 24th October, 326 ASC.

  Position: E 692, approaching planet Atrius. Northern Quarantine Zone.

  Nathan had gleaned all the data he could find on the planet Atrius and its prison. A barren rock, once favored for the mining of precious metals, but now an abandoned wasteland and the last refuge for one hundred and fifty-seven of the worst scum in the Pruessen navy.

  Nathan brought the boat into geosynchronous orbit above the underground complex.

  Commander Bessell sat in the Captain’s chair with Ensign Winkler beside him at the XO’s station. Nathan adjusted his external comm.

  “Winkler, hail them as we practiced,” Nathan said. “Then it’s up to you, Commander.”

  Bessell nodded.

  “Naval prison eight-niner,” Winkler said, “this is Pruessen naval warship, E 692. Respond to my signal.”

  A long pause. “This is prison eight-niner. What can we do for you?”

  “I am Captain Bessell, master of this boat. We have been in action with a PLF warship and have sustained damage. We request permission to dock at your facility to make repairs.”

  “Hold one, E 692.”

  Several minutes passed. “Captain Bessell, I am Captain Clement, administrator of this facility.” Another pause. “Are you aware that this planet is infected with the Derwent Plague?”

  “Yes, Captain, I am aware of that,” Bessell said. “But your facility is the closest friendly port. Our vessel urgently requires time to make repairs. I don’t think we’ll make it to another planet, not with a damaged nav-comm.”

  More pausing. “Very well, Captain, you have permission to dock. I am sending exact coordinates now. Be advised that we adhere to an ultra-strict policy regarding quarantine procedures. Once you have effected repairs your crew will be quarantined aboard your boat for the prescribed forty-five days. Understood?”

  “Understood. I assume you will decontaminate my boat after we land?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “I appreciate your cooperation. I’ll thank you in person, shortly. E 692, out.”

  Bessell looked at Nathan. “How’d I do?”

  Nathan smiled and applauded, then turned his attention to the helm.

  As the boat passed into atmosphere Nathan reached out with his senses. His back wasn’t aching as it would be if he were flying into danger. Presently, the entrance to the complex came into view. His scans showed a weapons lock on, but no screaming came from his Prep.

  “Bessell, ask them why they’ve locked us up.” Still no danger from the base.

  “What?” Bessell yelled. “Why don’t you take evasive measures?”

  “Why don’t you do what I asked?”

  Bessell grumbled but carried out his order.

  “Prison, this is E692. Why have you locked your weapons onto my boat?”

  “Don’t worry, Captain,” Captain Clement replied. “It’s SOP until we get confirmation that you are who you say you are. We have that now and am standing down.”

  “Very well,” Bessell said and keyed his comm off. “Vogel, how did you know we were safe?”

  “I’m a little busy at the moment, Commander.”

  Nathan brought the boat down to ground level, slowed his approach to hover the boat. The hangar doors slowly opened. The hangar area had been designed to accommodate an industrial-sized landing boat rather than an E boat. Nathan edged the boat inside with barely an arm’s length between the hull and the hangar’s walls. He gently dropped her onto her skids and began shutting down systems.

  “E692, do not open any external hatches until decontamination is complete,” the prison officer said.

  Winkler acknowledged.

  Nathan checked his sensors. The hangar had been transformed into a huge vacuum chamber. The ultimate in decontamination for visiting vessels. They took regulations seriously and kept the area under vacuum for three minutes before restoring standard atmosphere. From an airlock, two personnel emerged wearing V suits and carrying scanners. They began examining the boat from bow to stern.

  These people are positively anal.

  Once the inspection was completed, they were hailed.

  “E692, you are cleared. Welcome to prison eight-niner.”

  “Shall we go meet our hosts?” Nathan asked.

  “Captain,” Bessell said. “You’d better call me Captain.”

  Nathan nodded and turned to Winkler. “While we’re away you are in charge. No one leaves the boat. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir. I’ve cleared one hatch, as ordered, and the COB is posted there.”

  “Good,” Nathan said. “Carry on.”

  On the way to the midships lift he said, “He’ll be a good young officer one day.”

  “He’s got a lot to learn,” Bessell said.

  Exiting the lift on deck three they made their way to the port midships hatch. Good as his word, CPO Kellerman stood guard.

  Nathan nodded to the CO
B, stepped aside from the hatch and ushered Bessell through. “After you, Captain.”

  They took the ramp down to the hangar deck. To aid their deception, Nathan had changed into a fresh uniform with Lieutenant’s bars attached. A hatch opened and an officer approached them.

  “Captain Bessell?”

  “Commander, when I’m off my boat.”

  “Of course, sir. Would you come with me?”

  Bessell nodded, and together the three of them took a meandering path through the facility, finally stopping at a door marked Administrator.

  Nathan’s back flared. Before the officer could touch the admit button Nathan hit him hard across his jaw.

  “What the fuck?” Bessell snapped.

  “They’re onto us. We’ve got to get some weapons.”

  Nathan jogged down the corridor, his senses seeking out danger.

  “How did you -”

  “Not now, Bessell.”

  He rounded a corner to be greeted by two guards. Nathan smiled and waved.

  He grinned at Bessell. “You take the one on the left.”

  Bessell smiled back and nodded as the distance closed.

  “Excuse me gentlemen,” Nathan said, as they slowed, “could you tell me where the armory is?”

  “Sir?”

  He turned to look at the other guard. Nathan hit him hard under the jaw. The Commander did the same to his target. They staggered to the deck but did not pass out. Relieving one guard of his sidearm Nathan stunned them both. He and Bessell strapped on the sidearms. Nathan pushed down on the weapon releasing the locking device so that the pistol hung loosely in its holster. Bessell heard the click and did the same.

  “What now?”

  “I’m playing this by ear.”

  In truth Nathan had no clear idea what to do next. The armory perhaps?

  They continued along the corridor passing many hatchways, none of which said armory. Then an alarm blared.

  Shit.

  As they moved forward Nathan could sense the danger all around them, converging on their position. Being a prison it would no doubt have high-level surveillance.