The Hope Island Chronicles Boxed Set

by PJ Strebor

  Ahead his flankers held up closed fists. He went down on one knee and sighted along his rifle’s barrel. As the first guard rounded the corner Kellerman cut him down. Sprinting after the other guards he and Hoppe fired automatic bursts into the corridor until they exhausted their magazines. Five bodies lay on the floor. The coup de grace was delivered to any who were not killed outright. A total of six struck from the total. Forty two to go. Now all of his team had weapons.

  Ensign Winkler had run scans of the complex but could give only rough coordinates for what might be the location of the surveillance section. As long as the guards could see them coming they would be at a major disadvantage. In the next twenty minutes his team killed five more guards and lost two of their own. Ahead his lone flanker held up his fist and pumped it vigorously. The COB jogged to the hatch with the words Surveillance stenciled onto it. Not expecting a response he hit the admit button. The hatch slid open and he took a quick look inside. Empty. His team filed inside. They’d been examining the computer readout and images for only five minutes when the hatch opened. A guard, with a sandwich stuffed into his fat mouth, froze in place. Kellerman clicked his pistol’s setting to stun, motioned the guard into the room and read his nametag.

  “Hinkle, are you the surveillance officer.”

  With a mouthful of food he could only nod.

  “Good, you’re working for me now.”

  ***

  The hypo hissed into Nathan’s neck. Such was the relief that he could have kissed the prison doctor. Bessell groaned when he got his shot.

  “The Captain will want you lucid, when he interrogates you,” the doctor said. “If it was up to me I’d execute both of you traitors.”

  “Since you’re done with us,” Bessell said, “I suppose that you may as well fuck off.”

  Nathan snorted.

  The doctor’s eyes flared with unadulterated loathing. He turned on his heel and left.

  Nathan tried to stand and on the third attempt made it. His head swam so he slumped onto his bunk.

  Twenty minutes passed before the medication took hold and he could walk again. From a table Nathan filled two mugs with water. He noted the range of condiments. Sugar, salt, pepper. Handing one mug of water to Bessell he drank the other.

  “More,” Bessell said.

  Nathan handed the commander another drink and held his mug in hand. The hatch opened and two guards stepped through, their pulsar rifles at the ready. Captain Clement stood between them. He stared firstly at Bessell then Nathan. An appraising examination.

  “You and your crew,” he said to Bessell, “are already dead. You must know that. It is a fitting end to all who would betray the Empire. Luckily for us, we knew of your treachery before you arrived. Your boat is fast but not as fast as a courier boat. God knows what you would have done if we hadn’t been forewarned.”

  “We would have taken what we needed and been on our way,” Bessell said.

  “What do we have that you need?”

  “Trained naval personnel.”

  Clement laughed. “The prisoners? Ha, they’d cut your throat the second you turned your back on them. They’re psychopaths, every last one of them.” He shook his head. “Prisoners.” He sobered. “What I want from you two is answers.”

  “Then try asking a fucking question,” Bessell snapped.

  Clement smiled in a way that he thought to be intimidating. It wasn’t.

  “Back on Reynolds, why did you attack your own squadron?”

  “He didn’t,” Nathan said. “I did.”

  “You? You did all that damage? All by yourself?”

  “Yep.” He swirled the contents of his mug and continued to flex his leg muscles.

  “Why would you do something that is tantamount to suicide?” Clement asked. “You must have known you didn’t stand a chance of escaping.”

  “I needed a boat. E692 was closest, so I took it. I didn’t want the rest of the squadron chasing me down so I crippled them.”

  “I’ll give you credit, Vogel, you’re bold,” Clement said. “For now at least. But there’s someone who wants you back in one piece. He’ll be here in a short time. His name is Reinhardt. Heard of him?”

  “The name rings a bell.” Nathan held his gaze for a moment. “All right, you’ve got me. Good for you. But the crew had nothing to do with it. They are blameless.”

  “They allowed you to do what you did without stopping you. Twenty of them and only one of you. They should have prevented you from seizing their boat. They didn’t so they’re as guilty as you.”

  Nathan suspected as much, but had to give it a try. Be caught by Reinhardt? No, that didn’t work for him. Both guards had lowered their rifles. He swirled the contents of his mug. It contained three parts water to two parts salt. Throwing the contents at Clement and the guards was only partially successful. Clement and the guard to his right got a good dose in their eyes. The one to his left got nothing. Nathan pushed Clement back pinning the unaffected guard to the bulkhead. The blinded guard wiped at his eyes and groped for his sidearm. Nathan couldn’t hold Clement and fight the guard at the same time. Bessell staggered past and fell onto the guard who’d brought his sidearm to hand. Bessell struck him once, a shattering blow that stunned him. Although exhausted he took hold of the pistol and lobbed it to Nathan, who caught it in his right hand and set it to kill. He pressed the barrel under Clement’s chin. The Captain stopped struggling, but the guard behind him continued to try for his sidearm. Nathan saw fireflies in his vision and knew he would pass out soon.

  “Guard, disarm immediately or I’ll kill your Captain.”

  “Do it!” Clement shrieked.

  The guard finally drew his sidearm.

  “Guard disarm immediately!” Clements shouted. “That’s an order.”

  “Fuck you Captain!” the guard snarled. “You’ll be killed by a prisoner, not by me. And that suits me fine, you fucking gutless paper pusher.”

  Nathan felt his head swimming and his knees beginning to buckle. He swung about, pressed the barrel against the side of the guard’s head and fired. The guard stopped moving. With the last of his energy, Nathan threw Clement to the deck before sliding down the hatch coaming till he rested on the deck. The darkness closed in on him, irresistible, welcoming. Pass out and you’re dead.

  The guard knocked out by Bessell began to stir. Nathan shot him through his left eye.

  “That’s cold-blooded murder,” Clement said.

  “Yeah, I’ve been hanging around Pruessens for way too long. Picked up some nasty habits.”

  He kept breathing deeply until his vision began to clear. Clement eyed him and began to move. Nathan grazed his boot with a short burst from his pistol.

  “You can’t escape,” Clements said. “I still have over fifty guards. Surrender now.”

  “No thanks,” Nathan said. “Now shut the fuck up.”

  It took fifteen minutes before Nathan could stand again. Bessell managed to prop himself up against a wall. Clements had remained grimly silent.

  Nathan knelt down beside Bessell. “Can you walk?”

  “I’ll try.”

  Nathan helped him to his feet but he could tell that the Commander wouldn’t last for long. The man had to be thirty years his senior.

  “Clement, get over here,” Nathan ordered.

  The Captain complied.

  “Support the Commander.”

  “Are we going somewhere?”

  “You’re taking us to your surveillance department.”

  “What if I refuse?” Clement said.

  Nathan struck out, breaking his nose. “Don’t test me, Clement.”

  Once he’d recovered, Clement led them through the prison.

  “How far?” Nathan asked.

  “Not far.”

  Nathan could sense his hostility and knew better than to trust him. He would break something more significant if the square head pushed his luck.


  They moved on until Bessell could go no further. The Commander slumped to the deck, his eyes closing.

  “How far?” Nathan asked.

  “Not too far,” Clement said.

  Nathan struck out with a sharp front kick. Clement screamed as his left elbow shattered.

  “You fucker. I’ll see you dead,” he screamed, tears streaking his face.

  Nathan came eye to eye with him. “How far?”

  “Two corridors over.”

  Nathan’s back flared. He raised his rifle as a head poked around the corner. Firing an automatic burst he ran to the corner and risked a quick look into the corridor. Nathan just caught the guard as he disappeared around a corner.

  Bad, bad.

  He heard the sound of boots on deck plates coming from an adjacent corridor and more from behind. They’d boxed him in. The first group fired from the corridor he’d just come from. They were still using the stun setting. Using Clement as a shield Nathan returned fire catching one of them in the arm. He turned as another group began firing from the other direction. It was only a matter of time before they’d hit him. Dropping the rifle he brought his sidearm to hand, grabbed Clement by his hair and pushed the barrel of his pistol under the square head’s jaw. Nathan backed away, pinning his back to the bulkhead.

  “Cease fire or I’ll kill your Captain,” Nathan shouted.

  “I’m coming out,” a voice said. “Hold your fire.”

  “Very well,” Nathan said. This will be the negotiator.

  A man stepped into the corridor and holstered his sidearm.

  “I’m Commander Styles, second-in-command of this facility.”

  “Say your piece, Commander,” Nathan said.

  “You can’t escape,” Styles said. “Even if you made it to your boat, and even if you get through the hatch, our missile defenses would knock you down before you get air under your keel. So stop this nonsense.”

  “I still have your Captain, so you will—”

  Styles nodded once. A guard stepped out with his rifle raised. Nathan took cover behind Clement. The guard fired. Nathan shot him in the chest with a lethal pulsar shot. Styles remained where he was, his hands folded across his chest.

  Clement slipped through Nathan’s hands like dead weight and fell to the deck, dead. He’d been shot through the head.

  Nathan sensed movement from behind. He raised the barrel of his pistol, pushed it under his chin and stared at Styles.

  “I won’t be taken alive, Styles. Attempt to stun me and I’ll pull the trigger. I’m certain that Captain Reinhardt won’t be happy with that result. You and your lot will have the HRS all over your case; if you live that long.”

  Styles unfolded his arms and drew his sidearm. Two guards with raised pulsar rifles aimed their weapons at Bessell.

  “You may have no regard for your own life, but you won’t stand by while I order the execution of your friend. Will you?”

  “He’s not my friend,” Nathan said. He glanced at Bessell. For the first time since meeting him, the surly Commander grinned at him.

  “You’ve got nowhere to go, Vogel.”

  Styles was right. Nathan had been outfoxed by an expert.

  Nathan sensed movement off to his left and from behind.

  He dropped the pistol and dropped to his knees next to Bessell.

  Styles holstered his sidearm and smiled.

  “Now you’re being smart.”

  “Yes I am. You square head fucker.”

  Grabbing Bessell by his uniform Nathan slid him to the deck and lay on top of him.

  An eruption of pulsar fire lit up the corridor. Styles caught two pulsar bolts to his chest. All around him men screamed and died. The attack lasted only seconds until all of the guards were down.

  Chief Petty Officer Kellerman delivered the coup de grace to any guards not killed outright. Nathan glanced over his shoulder. Petty Officer Hoppe went about the same grisly work.

  “Get off me,” Bessell snarled.

  Nathan helped him to a sitting position.

  In ones and twos the rest of the crew appeared. Most of them.

  Pushing himself to a standing position he asked, “How many did we lose?”

  “Three,” the COB said. “Four injured.”

  “How many guards left?”

  “Four.”

  “Got ‘em,” Nathan said.

  Kellerman nodded.

  Curiosity got the better of Nathan. “How the hell did you,” he held up his hands.

  “It’s easy to organize an attack when you’re being fed intell from the surveillance room.” He tapped his external comm and winked.

  Nathan smiled then chuckled. The rest of the crew joined in.

  CHAPTER 59

  Date: 26th October, 326 ASC.

  Position: Pruessen Naval prison eight-niner. Planet Atrius. Northern Quarantine Zone.

  Nathan marched along the corridor leading to the cells. Now fully recovered from his injuries, he had immersed himself in the prisoner records for the last two days. As the late Captain Clement had stated, the prison was the home to one-hundred and fifty-seven psychopaths. No matter how many times Nathan checked the records the choices for crew replacements were thin. Only one small group showed potential.

  He stepped into the office, took a seat and keyed his external comm.

  “Kellerman, send in Ryden.”

  “Yes, sir,” the chief said.

  Nathan glanced at the screen, running over the details he’d already set to memory.

  “If I get him, the others will follow.”

  Out of the one-hundred and fifty-seven prisoners, only sixteen appeared to be in any way suitable. Commander Ernst Ryden and fifteen of his officers fitted the bill, but whether Nathan could convince him to join his crew was another thing. Building trust would be another matter. The hatch opened and the prisoner stepped inside.

  “Commander Ryden, Skipper,” Kellerman said.

  “Thank you, Chief.”

  Ryden was thirty-five with a similar height to Nathan but far stockier. He’d commanded an E boat for four years before he’d ran afoul of the Empire. For the last fifteen months he, and what remained of his crew, had been guests of this facility.

  Nathan gestured to the only other chair in the room. Ryden sat.

  “I’m Lieutenant Vogel, Captain of the E 692.” Ryden’s granite features remained static. “Your record states that you nuked a city in the Belloran system during the Pruessen Navy’s invasion. Your court martial found you guilty and here you are. I’ve read your record and it’s spotless.” Nathan raised his eyebrows. “Sounds like a fit up to me.”

  Ryden met his eyes and sighed. “I had orders to do it. I didn’t like it but if I’d refused, well you know what would have happened.” he snorted without mirth and shook his head.

  “Yeah,” Nathan said, “The HRS if you’re lucky or summary execution if you’re not.”

  “Life in the Empire.” Ryden shrugged. His eyes stared blindly toward an uncertain future.

  “Did you present your boat’s records at your hearing?”

  “Yeah,” he said bitterly.

  “And?”

  “The attack orders were wiped from them.” He shook his head. “Those orders came from way up top so …” again he shrugged. “I’ll never see my wife and kids again. If they’re still alive.”

  Nathan nodded. He could almost feel sorry for Ryden if he were anything but a Pruessen. “Commander, it is my intention to take my boat and seek refuge in the south.” Ryden’s rigid jaw softened in mild astonishment. “You have nothing to look forward to in the Empire except imprisonment or death. I’m offering you an opportunity for a new start.”

  The Pruessen thought about it briefly. “Not without my crew.”

  “Very well,” Nathan said. “Can you convince them to follow my orders?”

  “Like you said, Captain, we’re dead men if we stay here,” Ryden said.
“I’ll need to speak with my crew but I think they’ll go along with your mad scheme. It’s a slim chance but better than the alternative.”

  “From your record I’d surmise that they’ll do anything you ask of them.” Nathan stood, swallowed bile and held his hand out to the Pruessen. Ryden hesitated before shaking his hand.

  “Follow me,” Nathan said.

  The Commander tensed. “To where?”

  “Your crew is waiting for you in the mess.”

  CHAPTER 60

  Date: 1st November, 326 ASC.

  Position: E 692 Traversing hyperspace. Northern Quarantine Zone.

  In the five days since leaving the prison, the two crews had gotten over their wariness of one another and were starting to work like a cohesive single entity. Nathan continued to walk the boat every day. Although the resentment toward him remained, it had softened to mild dislike rather than out and out hostility. He even managed to get the odd smile out of some of the boat’s crew. The baby steps were lengthening.

  Ryden’s crew were grateful to be alive and to be given a slim chance of freedom. Little by little the boat started to work but with a crew of thirty-three doing the work of eighty-nine, everyone felt the pinch. Still, the drills needed to continue.

  “Bridge to crew, this is a drill,” Lieutenant Commander Krause said. “Alert condition one. Alert condition one.”

  As the alarm began to beep, Nathan set the timer on his board. Hopefully they’d get it right this time.

  The X-O, Krause, was a godsend. Cool and efficient, he ran the boat as well as anyone could, under the circumstances.

  Ryden and Krause worked well together. Nathan did not wish to interfere with a team which worked so smoothly. Although he retained the role of Captain he stood back as the circumstances required.

  Seven minutes was the optimal time for all crew to get suited up and report to their assigned combat stations. As the time clicked past nine minutes Nathan’s heart sank.