by PJ Strebor
“I can’t do that, Captain Garner,” Nathan said. “Quarantine regulations forbid such interaction.”
“We will be fully suited-up and shall follow the strict letter of the regs. All right?”
“We could both get fried for this, Captain Garner. But very well.”
He signed off.
“Captain, is that normal?” Ryden asked. “I’ve heard southerners are paranoid about plague contamination.”
“That we are, Commander.” Nathan snorted. “I think Captain Garner wants to check on me. If you see my point.”
Krause frowned.
“Ah, yes, of course,” Ryden said, nodding. “She wants to make sure that you’re safe from a boatload of blood thirsty Pruessens.”
“Something like that.”
Locking onto the beacon, Nathan covered the distance to the picket in minutes. In the last four years the Cimmerians had greatly improved the basic design of their Kamora fighter. This model was easily ten times the size of the original. Considering the firepower carried by the prototype, these new ships would present a formidable challenge to any attacking force.
“Wings?” Ryden said.
“She’s a multipurpose warship,” Nathan said, “equally capable of operating in space or atmosphere. I had a chance to fly the prototype and I can tell you, kilo for kilo they’re a dangerous proposition for any navy to deal with.”
“But wings?”
“Look again, Commander,” Nathan said. “Under those wings.”
Ryden took a moment to examine the ships again. “Weapons pods?”
“Yep.”
“Okay, I’m impressed,” Ryden said around a chuckle.
Behind the picket four warship were parked. Escort ships from the planet?
His comm beeped. “Captain,” Garner said, “please dock with the first Kamora and use the port stern airlock.”
“Very well.”
Once docked with the huge warship, Nathan approached Ryden.
“With me Commander,” Nathan said.
They made their way to the starboard airlock, stepped inside and Nathan sealed it. Opening the outer airlock hatch he was greeted by the Kamora’s sealed hatch.
Minutes passed before the hatch opened, revealing three Cimmerians wearing V suits. The hatch leading to the ship’s interior remained sealed, as per the quarantine protocols. The Cimmerians had the characteristic broad build and intelligent amber eyes, yet were no taller than Nathan.
The captain stepped forward and offered her hand.
“It is an honor to have you aboard my ship, Captain.”
“Please, call me Nathan.”
“Joan.” Once again she, like most Cimmerians, stared at him as if he were a legendary figure from mythology. She broke from her spell and stared at Ryden. It was not a friendly gesture and even more so from a face resembling an intelligent ape.
“This,” she said, of an older officer, “is our doctor. Would you mind if he examined you, and, ah, your Pruessen?
“Of course.”
Nathan remained still as the doctor ran his scanner over him. Nathan presented his thumb for the blood sample. Scanning the sample brought a brief smile to his face. He followed the same procedure with Ryden. The Commander had obviously never seen a Cimmerian before but covered his shock in his typically stoic manner.
“They’re clear of any infection,” the doctor told Garner. “Regulations still state that the airlock must be sanitized, captain.”
All of the Cimmerian officers removed helmets and gloves. Garner gestured to the remaining officer.
“My First Officer, Commander Ferguson.”
Ferguson pumped Nathan’s hand until he cut off the circulation. “Such an honor sir. Such an honor.”
Nathan nodded until Ferguson disengaged.
“My First Officer, Commander Ryden.”
To his credit Ryden held his ground as the Cimmerians attempted to vaporize him with their hostile, glaring eyes. Ernst kept his expression neutral, which was a neat trick considering he had never encountered a Cimmerian before. Let alone Cimmerians who would like nothing more than to rip his arms off and beat him to death with them.
“Joan, I know how you and all Cimmerians feel about Pruessens, and I understand. I held the same view. But Commander Ryden and his crew are seeking asylum, not conflict.
“Defectors,” Ferguson said around a curled lip.
“That’s enough, Angus,” Garner said.
Nathan ignored him. “Joan, I noticed you have some backup ships. Escort warships from the planet?”
The Cimmerian broke eye contact with the Pruessen. “Yes, Nathan. Two battleships, courtesy of Francorum and Bretain, an Oceanian destroyer and a Caledonian frigate. Plus we have another two squadrons of Kamoras due within the hour. A decent picket force.”
“Let’s hope they won’t be needed,” Nathan said.
“You know us, Nathan,” she said. “We don’t back down from a fight.”
Nathan nodded. “You have a fine ship, Joan. The last time I took a Kamora up they were much smaller.”
“Yes, I was on Cimmeria when you battled our enemies. The mark one Kamoras were a good boat in their day, but not what we need for picket duty. This is a mark four version and I’ll put her up against anything shy of a heavy cruiser. So if your friends turn up in E boats, my squadron with tear them to pieces.”
“Good to know. Captain Okuma?”
“After quarantine checks, she was ordered planet-side for debrief, but is on her way here as we speak. Odenwald is in quarantine and the bureaucrats are deciding what to do with them.”
“And Commander Spotiswood?”
“Who?”
That’d be bloody right. “Never mind, and please forget I mentioned that name.”
“What name?” Garner said.
They shared a short laugh.
Nathan’s comm beeped. He held up a hand and keyed his external comm.
“Captain.”
“Just checking in, Captain,” Lt Cmdr Krause said.
Nathan shook his head. “Everything’s fine, Commander. Captain, out.” The Cimmerian’s faces held curious expressions.
“My First Officer, checking in,” Nathan said by way of explanation.
“Checking on us?” Ferguson shook his head.
Again, Nathan ignored him.
“I’d like to take a tour of your ship some time,” Nathan said, “but for now, I have a boat of my own to attend to.”
“I’d be delighted to give you a tour.” Garner glanced at Ryden. “But only you.”
Nathan nodded. “Until then, Captain.”
She shook his hand. “It’s such a pity.” Nathan asked what she’d meant with his eyes. “I’ve had the honor of meeting you, but I can’t tell anyone.”
“Top secret mission, Joan.”
He turned, sealed both hatches and made his way to the bridge with Ryden beside him.
“They seemed friendly enough,” Ryden said around a wry smile.
On the bridge Nathan gestured for Krause to join them in the briefing room.
“As you noticed, Ernst, Pruessens aren’t Cimmerians’ favorite people,” Nathan said. “Your navy paid Cimmeria a visit four years ago, using captured Talgarno warships. It was a messy business and the Cimmerians hold grudges. I know, I was on the planet at the time.”
“Four years ago? Yes, the scuttlebutt went through the fleet like a dose of pox.” Ryden’s eyes narrowed. “Were you, by any chance, an ensign at the time?”
Nathan kept his expression neutral. “I may have been.”
“I’m not following this,” Krause said.
“Come on Werner, you’ve heard the stories. A lone Athenian ensign, destroyed the Bret’s huge battle-station and stopped the invasion.” He jabbed a finger at Nathan. “Guess who?”
Krause’s jaw dropped open.
“No wonder you’re so popular with the Cimmerians,” Ryden said.
“Yes, well, enough of that,” Nathan said, cleari
ng his throat. “So, gentlemen, I would like your professional assessment of our current situation. Are we going to be entertaining guests?”
“If they’ve pursued you into League space, I don’t see them stopping now,” Ryden said. “If I was leading the ships, Cimmeria would be the logical choice for you to go. It’s a long, long way to Athens.”
Nathan nodded. “Would they risk starting a war with the League?”
“They should have called off the pursuit as soon as you entered southern space,” Ryden said. “Pruessen doctrine has always been to enter League space, where feasible, but don’t get caught in the act. If they send a force against Cimmeria, it would have to be big enough to guarantee destroying all ships and all witnesses.”
“An Armada?” Nathan said.
“It’s either that or they give up the chase and return north.”
“They still have a sizeable force covering the frontier,” Nathan said. “That’s not good. That’s not good at all.”
CHAPTER 77
Date: 3rd January, 327 ASC.
Position: Standing off the planet Lucifer. League of Allied Worlds space.
Orson had floated within the darkness of interstellar space for three hours, until E 372 had locked onto his transponder signal and brought him aboard. By the time his E boat rendezvoused with the larger E 788, Telford’s lead had increased to half a day.
He hadn’t sought to scan Telford’s mind. That would only alert him to the fact that he still lived and put him on alert. Orson didn’t need to read his intentions. The only rational choice for his next port of call had to be Cimmeria.
Orson ordered Captain Coppins to send the two remaining attack boats to get reinforcements. Spread out along the frontier were more than enough ships to crush the pathetic Cimmerian picket. Time, precious time. It would take weeks for the Cimmerians to summon assistance. Pruessen forces were only days away. Yes, time was on Orson’s side.
The last four days had gleaned two battleships, three heavy cruisers and six destroyers. A good start but Orson needed an overwhelming advantage, for his attack plan to succeed.
Some captains had been hesitant to cross the border, but one mention of Commodore Draeger’s name had changed their attitudes.
With the sort of reinforcements that were speeding from the north, into this system, the pitifully small Cimmerian navy would be brushed aside like a speck of dust from his dress uniform.
Yes, everything was progressing just as he wanted it to.
CHAPTER 78
Date: 5th January, 327 ASC.
Position: Cimmerian outer marker. League of Allied Worlds space.
Six days without enemy contact had the picket force getting jittery. Nathan sadly admitted that playing the waiting game didn’t sit well with him.
Admiral Knott, the Bretish battleship commander, and senior officer of the expanded picket, had called a meeting of all ship captains. Nathan brought his landing boat into the boat bay of the Bretish battleship HMS Renown and was directed to a parking hangar. He piloted the LB alone, for no one wanted Pruessens wandering around their ship. After he shut down all systems Nathan stepped from the boat. A Bret lieutenant awaited him and snapped to attention.
“Sir,” he said with crisp efficiency, “I am your escort.” He ran, what he thought to be, a non-appraising eye over Nathan’s flight suit. “If you will step this way, sir, Admiral Knott is awaiting you.”
Nathan hid a sigh and nodded. The ship looked as if it had just rolled off the production line. Not a scratch or a speck of neglect to be seen. If the stiff-backed lieutenant was anything to go by her ship’s compliment may be just as untried as well.
Stepping from the lift Nathan followed the lieutenant into a large, lavishly appointed room. Waiters loitered, eager to swoop onto any near-empty glass. Nathan started to get a bad feeling about this whole night. He nodded to Moe, who’d abstained from drinking. Captain Garner had also chosen not to partake. Amongst a sea of class A dress uniforms Nathan’s flight suit stood out like an ugly sister at a debutante’s ball.
The lieutenant directed Nathan to the admiral. Tall and rangy with the beginning of a paunch and graying at the temples.
“Admiral Knott, Captain Vogel, sir.”
The Admiral ran his eyes over Nathan’s flight suit. “Vogel,” he said, “that’s a Pruessen name is it not?”
“It’s what I’m calling myself today, Admiral,” Nathan said.
An eyebrow arched. “Really?”
“Sir, I’m on a highly sensitive, top secret mission, so I am unable to reveal my name.”
The admiral smiled. “I know who you are, for goodness sake” he said. “Just having a spot of fun.”
A joker, oh great.
“Captain Garner filled me in,” the Bret continued. “I’ve read the reports on the Cimmerian incursion, so I know who you are.”
“I’m not at liberty to confirm or deny your suspicion, Sir.” Nathan felt a wry smile slither onto his face.
Admiral Knott chuckled then offered his hand. It was unusually soft for such a tall man. “Welcome aboard. So, captain, what’s your poison?”
From his breath Nathan surmised that Knott had been drinking whisky.
“Respectfully sir,” Nathan said, “I don’t think that is advisable, given the circumstances.”
Knott’s lips tightened into a fine line. “Do you think me a fool, Vogel?”
Nathan cleared his throat.
“Accompany me, young sir.”
The admiral sought out an elderly female officer with the rank of commander.
“Captain Vogel may I introduce you to Commander Selby, Renown’s senior medical officer.”
They shook hands.
“Dorothy,” the Admiral said, “I don’t think young Captain Vogel approves of drinking on the job. If you wouldn’t mind?”
“Yes, Admiral,” the doctor said, casting a disapproving scowl at Nathan. “Captain Vogel, the Admiral would never consider such behavior if he thought it would interfere with the normal running of the ship.” From a table she picked up a bag and removed a hypo. “One shot of this will neutralize any alcohol in your system within thirty seconds.”
Nathan sighed. Well, hotshot, you got that one wrong.
“My apologies, Admiral,” Nathan said. “During my last visit to this world I –”
“I know, Lieutenant Telford,” Knott whispered. “And, I understand the constraints of a top secret mission. I’ve read the file on you and what you, and others had to contend with. But not all Bretish Admirals are imbeciles, you know.”
“Of course not, sir.” Nathan felt the back of his neck heating up.
Knott hailed a waiter and ordered a refill.
“Oceanian beer, if you have it,” Nathan said to the waiter.
“That’s the way,” Knott said. “Now come along and I’ll introduce you to some of the other captains.”
“Captain Le Clere of the Francorum battleship Toulouse, Captain Vogel.”
The Franc held out her hand and Nathan shook it. What the hell. I’m commanding a warship full of square heads, so shaking a Franc’s hand is nothing.
“A genuine pleasure to meet you, Captain,” she said.
She recognizes me.
“Thank you, Ma’am.”
“Come along,” Knott said.
Two younger captains were engaged in conversation but disengaged as the Admiral approached.
“Captain Cunningham of the Caledonian frigate Paisley, Captain Vogel. And while I’m at it, Captain Yardley of the Oceanian Destroyer Sydney. Phew, what a mouthful.”
Nathan shook hands with both officers.
“You’ve monopolized enough of my time, Captain Vogel, so I shall leave you to mingle.”
The Caledonian said something but his accent was so thick Nathan couldn’t understand him. His confusion must have translated to his face. The Occie skipper laughed.
“Believe me, Vogel, it takes some getting used to.” Her broad lethargic accent, although cha
llenging, was translatable.
“I said,” the Caledonian began, “how’s, life, in, the, Pruessen, navy?”
“Surreal,” Nathan replied.
Captain Yardley stepped in close and whispered in his ear. She smelled good. “We both know who you are, Telford.”
“From the looks I’ve been getting I think everyone does.”
Having his picture splashed across the news nets, after the battle of Cimmeria, had done nothing to aid his anonymity.
“I, like, your, work,” Cunningham articulated.
“Yeah, bloody good show on Cimmeria, Telford,” Yardley said.
“Could we at least pretend that I’m doing a bang-up job at convincing everyone I’m Vogel?” Nathan pleaded.
His beer arrived. Nathan drank half of it in a single go and sighed.
“Occie beer,” Yardley said. “You’re a man of good taste.”
Nathan’s nerves were jangling so he finished the beer and ordered another.
“Not like you to drink on the job, Nate,” Moe said. She and Joan Garner had snuck up on his six. After introducing Cunningham and Yardley, Nathan explained the new drinking rules. Moe took Joan’s order and headed for the bar. Over the next two hours the evening progressed in a smooth and friendly manner until the Admiral called the meeting to order.
“I thought that this evening, and its informality was in order. Soon we could be fighting and dying with one another so …” he held out his arms. “I hope everyone has had a good night.”
“Hear, hear,” Cunningham said.
Nathan thought that’s what he said.
Knott smiled. “Very well, people, time to address the elephant in the room. We all know who Captain Vogel is and when you leave this room that information stays here. I’m sure you’re all aware that someone on a covert mission needs to maintain their anonymity. Yes?”
Everyone nodded. Nathan began to relax, feeling mildly lightheaded from the six beers he’d consumed.
“Good. Now, I need opinions, observations, even speculation as to what our next move will be.”
“Admiral,” Nathan and Moe spoke at the same time.
“I think we’re both thinking the same thing, Nate.”