The Hope Island Chronicles Boxed Set

by PJ Strebor

  “And Odenwald is out of range,” Nathan said, “so what are we still doing here? How am I doing so far?”

  Ryden smiled. “Okay, you’ve got me.”

  “I want that ship dead,” Nathan said. “There’s something I haven’t mentioned. I have a nuke sitting on that ship. Our nuke.” Ryden pursed his lips. “But it failed to detonate when I hit the destruct key. Ernst there’s a back-up timer.” He looked at his watch. “In seventeen minutes it will detonate the nuke. I want to be around to see that.”

  “Thanks for the update,” Ryden said around a wry smile. “But with all of this commotion, they may have found it.”

  “If they have, it’s all the more important to find some way of destroying her.”

  ***

  Captain Lennartz stepped from the lift onto deck nine and proceeded to the cargo bay. His X-O and a tech were scanning the suspect container.

  “Captain,” his X-O said, “this is the one. I’m getting definite radiation readings.”

  “So, what are you going to do about it?”

  The officer stared at him for a moment. “I don’t want to tamper with it, Captain. It might be booby-trapped.” He rubbed at the corner of his eye. “Perhaps we should simply get it off the ship?”

  “Fuck yeah, we’re going to get it off the ship,” Lennartz bellowed. “And right now, Commander!”

  “Aye, aye, Captain,” the X-O snapped. He got very nervous when his Captain’s blood was up. As he should be.

  He and the tech fitted the anti-gravs and pushed the contain out of the hold and toward the freight lift.

  ***

  Nathan’s comm beeped. “Captain.”

  “Skipper,” Rudi said, “something’s happening.”

  Nathan stepped onto the bridge while Ryden left for engineering. Hovering over his targeting hood he saw the cruiser limping away. They’d gotten one engine working. Nathan’s uneasiness grew.

  Then the boat bay hatch started to open. What the hell?

  Nathan moved the boat almost to within range of the enemy pulsar array, then zoomed his tactical hood into the boat bay. The crew had manhandled the container into the bay and were preparing to dump it overboard.

  Nathan sensed the increased danger from Redemption but pushed the throttles ahead. This time they were ready for him. Pulsar fire lanced out and struck the boat. She shuddered under the impact. Nathan fired back but missed the weapons.

  “That shooting is too good for a computer,” Rudi said. “They must have switched to manual operation.”

  The boat shook again as fire tore into her. Nathan gritted his teeth. The personnel pushing the container were shielded behind it. However, in order to move the container the anti-gravs had to lift it from the deck. Shutting down the starboard pulsar he set the other to extra fine beam setting while dropping the boat so that he could fire under the slightly raised container. He focused on the gap, which was only a few centimeters from deck to container.

  Then a familiar popping between his ears. With his knack as his ally, he focused on the gap and fired a fine beam, raking it from starboard to port. A body dropped to the deck on the starboard side, his face warped with agony. The shot had probably separated his feet from his legs. Although it slowed, the contain continued to move sternward.

  Again the boat shuddered as pulsar fire raked her.

  Squaring up on the container, he estimated the average height of a male and aimed for a point that should hit them in the chest. He fired across the container from starboard to port, effectively cutting the contain in half. Focusing on the port anti-grav he fired. It exploded, causing the contain to lurch over and crash onto the deck. Try moving it now, fuckers.

  The boat was hit again. Nathan had had enough. With his concentration absolute he fired only five times. All five enemy pulsars fell silent. He checked the time. The nuke would detonate at any second. Positioning the boat outside the boat bay, he was stunned to see the container moving. Sluggishly, to be sure, but edging closer to the drop-off point. He didn’t want to be anywhere near Redemption when it blew but he couldn’t allow the container to be jettisoned.

  There must be dozens of soldiers pushing the container. Pure brute strength. With the container resting on the deck Nathan couldn’t hit them as he had before.

  Positioning the boat so that his weapons pointed at an acute angle, he fired at the overhead. The twin pulsars ricocheted off the overhead, struck the bulkhead behind the container and ricocheted again. Two bodies dropped into view. A lucky shot, but he’d take it. Holding his finger on the firing stud he nudged the boat from starboard to port. The container stopped moving.

  Nathan’s back flared. Rolling the boat over he pushed the throttles to maximum.

  “Explosion from astern,” Rudi said.

  Nathan checked his stern feed. The container had exploded but Redemption remain intact. Could the nuke’s energy have been expelled into space?

  He was contemplating what to do next when Redemption exploded in a brief flash of nuclear fire. Well clear of the blast zone Nathan throttled back. He removed his helmet and wiped sweat from his face. Krause stood at his elbow, and handed him a towel.

  “Thanks,” Nathan said.

  “That was the most incredible piece of flying I have ever seen,” Krause said. “Commander Ryden is the best pilot I’ve ever served with but what you just did was, was …”

  “Thanks again.” Nathan said. “How badly are we hurt.”

  “We’ve been shot up, but nothing that can’t be repaired,” Krause said. “We’re no longer stealthy, I’m afraid to say.”

  “As soon as Adroit is repaired we’ll get E 692 stealth-worthy again.” Nathan took a short breath. “Casualties?”

  “Two dead, five injured.”

  With the adrenaline leaching from his system the weight of post-knack combat took its toll.

  “X-O, call the Commander to the bridge,” Nathan said.

  “Aye, aye, Captain.”

  Once relieved of his helm duties Nathan walked unsteadily to his quarters and collapsed onto his rack.

  CHAPTER 71

  Date: 23rd December, 326 ASC.

  Position: Planet Spinney. Northern Quarantine Zone.

  Nathan began his inspection, running his scanner over the boat’s keel, searching for the slightest imperfection. Thirty minutes of painstaking examination revealed a perfectly smooth, stealth worthy surface.

  During the last four weeks Adroit had been fully repaired, and her damaged stealth

  engine now performed with the sort of faultless precision demanded of a monitor. Now, fully operational, she sat in orbit on picket duty.

  Taking the maintenance ladder brought Nathan to the boat’s topside. Technicians crawled over her hull like dozens of industrious ants. A lot had been done in a short time thanks to the efforts of the crew.

  Kellerman, as Chief of the Boat, supervised his teams of non-coms. As ever, the chief engineer had supervised all departments and coordinated them with typical Pruessen pragmatism.

  “Good morning, Commander,” Nathan said.

  “Captain,” Bessel said. Nathan waited. Bessel knew what he wanted to hear. “Failing any hiccups I should be ready for static tests by early afternoon. You can probably take her up tomorrow. If all goes well.”

  “You’ve done a hell of a job, Bessel. Well done.”

  He didn’t quite smile. “Thanks.”

  Bessel was the right man for the job so Nathan left him in peace. Things were finally coming together. All vessels would be ready to go by tomorrow and a thinning of the patrol ships along the frontier boded well for a speedy escape into League space. Nathan returned to his quarters and within two minutes had submerged into a deep state of meditation. Reaching out with his mind he scanned the frontier. More than half of the Pruessen fleets had been withdrawn from the massive blockade, leaving sizeable gaps. The remaining ships were constantly moving, trying to cover as much space as humanly
possible. Yes, he could use the openings to get everyone to safety. Slowly, he returned to full consciousness. A smile touched his lips.

  Finally, after five months in the north, four being pursued, the way home was clear. Then he felt the presence of another, stepping into his mind.

  “No, it can’t be,” he hissed. “I killed him.” The power of Saxon’s mind pressed down on him, irresistible. Try as he did he couldn’t block him. “What do I have to do to get rid of this fucker!” The old frustrations returned anew. He keyed his L-M.

  “Adroit – Telford.”

  “Adroit, D-O.”

  “Put me through to the Captain.”

  “She was up most of the night working on the -”

  “Wake her up, D-O,” he snapped. “I want you both in the briefing room on a secure comm.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  A minute later he got his reply. “What’s up, Nate?”

  “Saxon’s back.”

  “I thought you -”

  “Yeah, me too. He’s located me and that’s bad for everyone.”

  “So, what’s the play?”

  “Firstly, the blockade has been halved. I guess tying up that many assets for so long finally got too much for them.” Nathan explained the spiral patrol patterns for the enemy ships and gave her the coordinates for the safest way through. “That course should drop you mighty close to the Cimmerian outer marker.”

  “What about you?”

  “With any luck we’ll lift-off tomorrow. I want you to take Odenwald and leave here in two hours. Before you go we need to be resupplied. Food and torpedoes.”

  “I’ll have Fish get what you need and use one of Odenwald’s big landing boats to bring the supplies to you.”

  “Good,” Nathan said. “Then you go. Understood?”

  “This is getting to be a habit, Nathan,” Grace said.

  “Yeah, next time I kill the bastard I’ll make sure he doesn’t get up.”

  “Why don’t you come with us?” Moe asked.

  “I’d love to, Moe, but I can’t. Cimmeria has limited defenses since they’ve cut ties with the Brets. If Saxon has a battleship fleet supporting him, it could overwhelm them.”

  “So,” she said with weary resignation, “what’re you going to do?”

  “I’m going to lead them into the Ebony Corona.”

  “Holy fuck!” Moe and Grace exclaimed simultaneously.

  ***

  In the boat’s briefing room, Nathan sat back in his chair, placing his hands behind his head. Both Ryden and Krause couldn’t keep the astonishment from their faces. Ryden cleared his throat.

  “So, how long has this Saxon character been on your trail?”

  “Four months.”

  “And you tell us this now? Krause said.

  “As I said, X-O, I thought I’d taken care of the problem.”

  “So, the Ebony Corona?” Ryden said. “That’s ballsy. You know, if they have enough ships they could bracket us in there. A hyperspace void sounds good but if things get dicey we can’t use hyper to escape.”

  “There’s a risk to it, I know. But I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

  Both officers chuckled. “So we’ve seen,” Krause said.

  “We’ll need a resupply run before they depart,” Ryden said.

  “Odenwald is sending a landing boat down with everything we’ll need.” Nathan turned to Krause. “Have our supply officer prepare to receive torpedoes and two months rations.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  CHAPTER 72

  Date: 25th December, 326 ASC.

  Position: Aboard E 811. En-route to Planet Spinney. Northern Quarantine Zone.

  Orson’s tactics looked like they were working again. With his ability to track Telford and using his Y boat to confirm his location, time was running out for the Athenian. Having docked with the E boat he stepped into the briefing room.

  “He’s on the move again,” Saxon said.

  “Where?” Captain Coppins asked.

  “He left Spinney a day ago and is currently heading due west.”

  “West? There’s nothing out there.” Coppins considered the intell for a moment. “He could run south using the corona’s interference for cover. But that wouldn’t prevent you from tracking him, would it?”

  “I can find him wherever he hides,” Orson said. “Set course for the corona. If he enters the hyper-free zone I will give you coordinates to intercept him. One of your boats will enter with me and the other two will get ahead of him. We’ll box him in and capture him.” Orson grinned. “This time he’s mine.”

  CHAPTER 73

  Date: 25th December, 326 ASC.

  Position: Adroit convoy, approaching the northern frontier. Northern Quarantine Zone.

  Moe strummed her fingers against her console. Waiting did not come easy to her. She shook her head, trying not to think about Nate and the terrible peril he could be in.

  Concentrate on doing your job, Captain.

  The Commander had agreed to take his stealth boat to the frontier to scout for enemy activity. If Deception was spotted then the giant freighter wouldn’t stand a chance of sneaking past the diminished enemy forces. More stealth-worthy than a monitor, Deception also boasted a highly advanced sensor suite.

  Nathan had said these coordinates offered the best chance for the three vessels to slip across the frontier and into League space. The responsibility for protecting both Adroit and Odenwald preyed on her mind. Deception could look after herself. Her comm beeped.

  “Captain.”

  “Captain Okuma,” the Commander said. “There’s a way through.”

  Succinct as ever.

  Moe listened as the Commander explained the distribution of the enemy forces. After being months on station, with nothing to do, it had created a condition of lethargy amongst the enemy crews. The oscillating patrol patterns covered as much space as humanly possible, but they were predicable.

  Deception led the way. She would check the frontier for any possible changes, then flash feed Adroit with either a go or come about signal.

  Moe decided to cross the frontier within normal space. If the enemy patrol pattern changed Moe didn’t want to risk detection from their hyper wakes.

  Twenty minutes after beginning their run, Odenwald reached her top speed and cut all engine thrust. Adroit matched speed with her, and prepared to cover her six, if need be.

  They were one minute from the frontier when Moe’s comm beeped.

  Be a go signal. A go.

  “Captain,” Moe said.

  “Go,” the flash feed comm said.

  Maintaining their forward speed, with judicious bursts of their stern mag maneuvering plating, all vessels crossed the frontier without detection. Thirty minutes later they slowed in preparation for hyper ingression.

  Moe double checked her navigation plot. They could make into Cimmerian space in half a day. Nathan’s instincts had once again proved to be abundantly accurate.

  Her comm beeped.

  “Captain.”

  “Captain Okuma,” the Commander said, “I’ll leave you to escort the Pruessen ship into friendly space. I have other business to attend to.”

  “Very well.” Her comm went dead.

  And good day to you, Commander.

  CHAPTER 74

  Date: 27th December, 326 ASC.

  Position: Transiting south through the Ebony Corona.

  Nathan knew the risk he was taking. Saxon could deploy the E boats to bracket him. With no hyper to escape into, he would have a good chance of snaring him. Commander Ryden held the same fears.

  “I’m not crazy about your plan, Nathan,” Ryden said.

  Nathan sensed Saxon closing the distance with E 692.

  “Saxon is obsessed with capturing me,” Nathan said. “That’s our biggest advantage. Obsession clouds judgment. Also, he’s a spook, not a combat officer.”

  “You’re taking
a big chance, Nathan.”

  “Why, Ernst, didn’t you know that fortune favors the bold?”

  ***

  Two days later Orson arrived at the corona. Telford must believe that the interference within the hyper-free zone would block his ability to track him. That would be his final mistake. Orson followed his course from normal space while he awaited the arrival of the depleted squadron.

  The E boats turned up twenty hours later. Orson gave Coppins the intercept course to cut Telford off then, with an accompanying attack boat, gave chase into the corona. Telford was so close Orson could feel his anxiety.

  Orson wriggled within his form fitting V suit. Although uncomfortable in the extreme it was a sensible precaution. Especially when dealing with someone who’d proven himself to be uncannily insightful. Even within the corona his courier boat outpaced his escorting E boat. Orson steadily closed the distance with the stolen E boat. Something didn’t feel right about the situation.

  Stepping onto the flight-deck he could see nothing ahead but empty space.

  “Can you scan him from this range?” Orson asked.

  From the right-hand seat the tech looked up from his scanning hood. “No sir, we’re too far away. But I have his wake. We’ve got him, sir.”

  No, something’s not right.

  “Pilot take us into sensor range.”

  The pilot and tech exchanged anxious looks. “That’s not advisable, sir.”

  Orson gritted his teeth. “Why?”

  “Well sir, it would bring us dangerously close to her torpedo envelope.”

  “Tech, what speed is that vessel doing?”

  “One-third, sir.” Once again the tech glanced at the pilot. Orson fought to control his anger.

  “Pilot, am I right in assuming that a landing boat’s top speed is about one third of an

  E boat?”

  “Ah, yes sir, but I don’t see …”

  “Of course you don’t,” Orson snapped. “What if we-re tracking a landing boat? We could be flying into a trap. He’s used that ploy before and badly damaged an entire squadron of E boats. Misdirection, pilot. You will close the range to that contact quickly and confirm what it is. Once you’ve done that you can fall back out of range.”