The Hope Island Chronicles Boxed Set

by PJ Strebor

  ***

  Slowly, as if rising from a hundred-year sleep, Nathan began to return to the world. A few times he got his eyes open before drifting away again. Once, he awoke to find Doctor Jahn hovering over him. A hiss from a hypo and back to la la land. Finally the shock to his system self-healed and he remained awake.

  As his focus cleared he took in the captain’s quarters. Someone must have carried his unconscious body here. Swinging his legs over the rack he tried to stand but his trembling knees refused to cooperate.

  “Bugger.”

  The hatch opened.

  “Wadda ya think you’re doing?” Moe said.

  “Nathan,” Grace said, “back into bed with you.”

  Although he tried to resist, the two women wrestled him back into his rack then stood back and stared at him like a pair of overzealous guard dogs.

  “There’s got to be a regulation against this sort of behavior.” Nathan felt powerless against his two protectors. “I don’t need a pair of nannies fussing over me.”

  Moe sat on the edge of his rack and took his hand. She’d never shown affection in that manner.

  “You were out for thirty-six-hours.”

  Nathan was stunned into silence.

  “The doc says you were suffering from extreme mental trauma and kept you comatose to allow time for your body and mind time to heal. So heal.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Oh yeah?” Moe smiled. “Try and get up.”

  Nathan did try but Moe held him down with one hand. He stopped struggling against the inevitable and lay back. He couldn’t contain an exasperated sigh.

  “That’s better,” Moe said. “Let the doc give you the once over then we’ll see about feeding you.”

  He nodded, his irritation clear.

  “We were very worried about you, Nathan,” Grace said.

  “So, what happened?” Moe asked.

  Nathan held her eyes. “Saxon happened.”

  “Fuck me,” Moe gasped. “Again? I thought you blew up his ship.”

  Nathan couldn’t believe it himself. “This guy is really pissing me off. He’s either very smart or the luckiest prick in Tunguska.”

  “He nearly killed you,” Grace said.

  “Has he tried something like this before?” Moe asked.

  “No, but this time I stretched my senses to their limit. That must have given him a way in.” Haunted by the jarring experience Nathan stared into nothingness.

  Doctor Jahn arrived minutes later and made a complete medical examination.

  “He’s weakened by whatever did this to him, but he’s healing at a rapid rate. He’ll be fine.”

  “See?” Nathan said and tried to get up.

  “You’ll be fine if you rest,” Jahn added. He turned to Moe. “Captain, I recommend a high intake of protein to help get him on his feet.”

  “Thanks, doc,” Moe said. “Grace, could you take care of that.”

  The D-O nodded, looked at Nathan and left.

  “How far out are we?” Nathan asked.

  “Six hours.”

  “Then that’s how long I’ve got to get back on my feet.”

  Jahn turned to leave.

  “Luther, stay,” Nathan said.

  “Yes, Captain?” the doctor asked.

  “Is there anything in your bag of tricks that can temporarily block neural activity?”

  Jahn rubbed his chin. “Yes, but it’s not without risk. Whose brain function do you need blocked?”

  “Mine.”

  “For how long?”

  He looked to Moe for the time it would take to get to Lucifer from the I-M.

  “Seven hours,” Moe said.

  “May I ask,” Jahn said, “why you would want to do such a thing?”

  “I have my reasons, Luther. Can you do it or not?”

  “The quick answer is yes,” he said. “The prudent answer is I don’t recommend it.”

  “Noted,” Nathan said. “What’s involved?”

  “It’s simple enough. I inject sullaroid into your brainstem. That will slow your neural activity within a minute. Then I administer a dose of misalate to bring you back.”

  “What are the risks, doc?” Moe asked.

  “The drugs are used in extreme cases where extensive cerebral surgery is performed. I’ve heard of people being under for twelve hours and sometimes they awake fully cognizant after surgery. Sometimes there can be complications. Brain damage.”

  “That’s it then,” Moe said. “It’s too dangerous. You can’t do this, Nate.”

  “Thanks mother, but it’s not your choice. All right doc give me the odds.”

  “It doesn’t work that way,” Jahn said. “After five hundred years of research and learning we still know remarkably little about the brain. It’s medicine’s last great frontier.”

  Nathan frowned. “You get that.”

  ***

  Nathan belched then patted his enlarged stomach. The bowl of venison stew was delicious but he hadn’t enjoyed forcing the second bowl down. The boat’s cook, CPO Driscoll, had outdone himself. Nathan could feel his strength slowly returning. He dozed in his rack until Adroit returned to Cimmeria.

  With his two nannies standing by to catch him, Nathan got unsteadily to his feet. His slight giddiness passed quickly.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  “Do you think you can make it to the boat bay?” Grace asked.

  “I’ll make it,” he said between set teeth.

  He was staggering by the time he slumped into a chair aboard LB one. Moe fitted his harness before disappearing onto the flight deck. His vision had cleared by the time the landing boat hadcome aboard HMS Renown.

  The same young lieutenant greeted them as they disembarked. A minute later they joined Admiral Knot and Captain Garner in Renown’s briefing room. Nathan stifled a groan as he fell into a seat.

  “Are you all right, Nathan?” Garner asked.

  He smiled and nodded.

  “I have a feeling that I’m not going to like what you have to say,” Admiral Knott said, “but let’s have it.”

  “Admiral,” Moe said, “our assumption that the enemy are using Lucifer as a staging area is correct. Our best estimate is that they have assembled six battleships or battle cruisers, eight heavy cruiser, a dozen destroyers and an indeterminate number of E boats. At least one of those E boats is a light carrier, equivalent to an Athenian monitor escort boat.”

  Admiral Knott looked as if someone had sucker punched him in the gut. Silence hung in the air for nearly a minute before Knott cleared his throat.

  “I’m open to any suggestions,” he said, his voice dull with resignation.

  “Attack,” Nathan said.

  Knott said nothing but instead stared at Nathan.

  “If we wait for them to dictate terms, they’ll massacre us,” Nathan continued. “So if Captain Garner is up for a fight, and I know that she is, I propose that we pay Lucifer a visit.”

  “Go on,” the admiral said.

  “This will be a pure stealth operation, sir,” Nathan said. “Captain Garner and her three squadrons of mark four Specters, plus Adroit and E 692. Under stealth we close with the enemy hit them hard, hit them fast then withdraw.”

  “I don’t like your chances of getting out in one piece,” Knott said.

  “That’s why we have to do it stealthily and quickly,” Nathan said. “The idea isn’t to destroy their heavy units - that’s not feasible. The operation will be to damage them enough to delay their attack. Perhaps long enough for our reinforcements arrive.”

  “Captain Garner,” Knott said, “what do you think?”

  She chuckled. “It’s just the sort of ballsy tactics I’d expect from Telford. Yes sir, it’s a sound plan but as he said we’ll have to make it fast. One pass?”

  “No more than one pass,” Nathan said. “Any longer and they’ll bring their big guns to bear on us.” He s
miled wryly. “That would be bad.”

  “Captain Okuma?”

  “Yes sir,” Moe said, “it’s the only option we have.”

  Knott sighed. “Very well, you have a go.”

  It wasn’t hard for Nathan to sense remorse from the Admiral. This was probably the first time in his career he had order people to their deaths.

  CHAPTER 80

  Attack inspires a soldier, it adds to his power, rouses his self reliance, and confuses the enemy. The side attacked always overestimates the strength of the attacker.

  Field Marshal Carl von Clausewitz, On War, 1832.

  Date: 10th January, 327 ASC.

  Position: Cimmerian outer marker. League of Allied Worlds space.

  Acting Captain Moe Okuma brought Landing Boat one aboard E 692 and parked it in a hangar.

  Ensign Willet awaited her.

  “Welcome aboard, Skipper,” he said.

  “I’d like to say I’m happy to be here,” Moe said, glancing about the bay.

  “Don’t worry skip, the crew aren’t that bad once you get used to them.”

  Willet led the way through the boat. It looked primitive by comparison with a monitor, exposed conduits and manually-operated dampeners. Despite her misgivings the boat had worked most effectively in combat.

  She passed a number of the crew who nodded respectfully. Fucking square heads.

  The lift opened on deck one. Willet headed for his station while Moe hit the admit button for the briefing room. She stepped across the coaming. Nathan awaited her, with a Pruessen officer.

  “Welcome aboard,” Nathan said.

  “Yeah,” Moe said. She ran a discourteous eye over the square head.

  Nathan tucked his cheeks in.

  “Could you excuse us for a minute, Ernst.”

  “Certainly, Captain.”

  After the bridge hatch closed Moe waited. Nathan looked at her in that appraising way he knew would get her hackles up.

  “So, are you and Ernst best buddies now?”

  “He’s a fine officer, Moe.”

  “What the hell’s happened to you?” Moe said. “No one I’ve met hates Pruessens more than you, but here you are getting cozy with them.”

  “Okay,” Nathan said, “I see your point but -”

  “Okay. Okay? Now you’re talking like them. What’s going on with you?”

  “Perhaps I’ve lost my mind,” Nathan said. “Or, maybe, just maybe, I’ve finally grown the fuck up!”

  Moe had no answer to that.

  “You were aboard Odenwald for months,” Nathan said. “Did you find any monsters hiding under your rack?”

  “What?”

  “I know you fought the urge to do so, but you made friends on the Pruessen ship. Didn’t you?”

  Again Moe had no answer.

  “There are no monsters on Odenwald, just people fleeing a monstrous regime. Same here. My crew are good men, good warriors, not monsters. They have no love for the empire.”

  “So we just shake hands and forget about the past?”

  Nathan’s eyes flared with a familiar dangerous spark.

  “I will never forget the past. You of all people should know why. But I will not sacrifice the future for a past that can never be changed. I’ve come to know these people over the months aboard this boat. They are a wretchedly treated group, like the rest of the empire’s population. Nobody likes the way Pruessen operates but …”

  Moe could tell Nathan’s blood was up by the way he paced the deck to calm down.

  “Five hundred years ago the Pruessen’s ancestors went through something remarkably similar to what’s been happening over the last thirty years. It was called fascism. It snuck up on them quietly, draped in the guise of a progressive regime. Before the population knew it, they were trapped in a totalitarian nightmare that they couldn’t fight. Any attempt to oppose such absolute power was stomped on. Beatings, prison or death awaited anyone who resisted the new order. That happened then and it’s happening now. Do I hate the Empire, you bet your life I do. But the Pruessen people? They’re like any people, some good and some not so good, and yes, some monsters. I remember that from my childhood but I only remembered the monsters.”

  He rested his hands gently on her shoulders.

  “That, my friend, is what I mean by growing the fuck up.”

  Moe swallowed a lump in her throat.

  “So, hate the regime but not the people?” Moe asked.

  “Yep.”

  “I thought Odenwald was the exception,” Moe said. “They’re basically civilians shanghaied into military service, but your crew are career military. I thought there would be a difference.”

  “There is one difference.” Nathan smiled. “No women aboard this boat.”

  They both chuckled.

  “All right, I get it,” Moe said. “Play nice with the square heads.”

  “We’ll be going into combat with those square heads in a couple of days. Ernst Ryden and you had better learn to work together real bloody fast if we all want to survive this mission. So get your shit together, Captain.”

  He playfully nudged her shoulder.

  “Right,” Nathan said, “you feeling hungry?”

  “Yeah, what’ve you got.”

  Nathan opened a heating cabinet. The smell made Moe’s mouth water.

  “Disgusting,” she said.

  “Apparently Petty Officer Blass has a mother, who made this for him when he was a lad.”

  “I never thought of Pruessens having mothers,” Moe said. “I assumed they were all raised by wolves.”

  “Behave yourself, Moe. You’ll be dining with Ernst and me, so get used to it quickly.”

  He keyed his external comm. “Ernst, care for some dinner?”

  The Pruessen stepped into the room and stood facing the two Athenians.

  “Commander Ernst Ryden, Acting Captain Moe Bradman.”

  A brief delay before Moe held out her hand. “Commander,” she said.

  He shook her hand. “Captain.”

  “I don’t know about you two,” Nathan said, “but I’m hungry enough to eat a horse.”

  “I wouldn’t let the cook hear you say that or you might get your wish,” Ryden said.

  To Moe the situation felt bizarre. Oh, well, in for a penny in for a pound, as the Brets say.

  CHAPTER 81

  Date: 12th January, 327 ASC.

  Position: Planet Lucifer, outer marker. League of Allied Worlds space.

  The plan was in play. Adroit, E 692 and three Kamoras set a course to the O-M on the opposite side of the planet. With Captain Garner’s three squadrons following, four hours behind them. Both units would transit through hyper to the inner marker, then stay under stealth for seven hours whilst they positioned for attack. By matching the speeds of all warships involved they hoped to be in weapons range of the enemy force at the same time. Garner and her ships hitting them bow on with Adroit and E 692 sneaking in from astern.

  The one sticking point remained. Nathan. If Doctor Jahn’s attempt to hide his consciousness failed and Saxon sensed him, the entire mission would turn into a debacle. Nathan had considered sitting out the mission. Moe, Ryden and Garner were good at their jobs. From a logical viewpoint he shouldn’t be on this mission. However, part of him knew, with an odd type of certainty, that his presence would be needed.

  “Give me a moment, doc,” Nathan said to Jahn.

  He stepped from the briefing room onto E 692’s bridge.

  “Commander.”

  Ryden turned from the helm. “Yes, Captain.”

  “The boat is yours.”

  “Acknowledged.”

  “Best of luck to you all,” Nathan said.

  He stepped back into the briefing room then turned right into the captain’s cabin. Nathan lay face down on his rack.

  “Anytime you’re ready, Luther.”

  The hiss of the hypo, then piece by piece h
is mind dissolved into a dark nothingness.

  ***

  Orson rested on his bunk aboard the light carrier E 778. He was a well-satisfied man. Tomorrow, two more battleships would arrive from the north giving his fleet an unassailable advantage over the Cimmerians. His fleet would fall against their outnumbered opponents like a black wave of death. No witnesses would remain after the attack and Telford would be his.

  He snorted at the thought of Telford. Four days ago he’d tried snooping around the fleet. Saxon had seen to it that he would not try that again. He could imagine Telford still writhing in pain after the mauling he’d received. That thought brought a cruel smile to Orson’s face.

  As a precaution, he reached out with his senses every so often but no sign of danger appeared. The Cimmerians would be mad to attempt to attack a force of this size and even the senior Pruessen naval officers felt relaxed and ready for the forthcoming battle. It would be brief and decisive. Yes, everything was falling into place nicely.

  ***

  From Adroit’s combat sphere Moe noted that Commander Ryden kept E 692 locked into formation off her starboard beam. Although leery about going into combat with a Pruessen as her wing man, Nathan described Ryden as not only an experienced combat professional but also a totally trustworthy man. Nathan, ever the skeptic with regard to anything Pruessen, trusted this man, and that would always be good enough for her.

  For seven hours the two boats had closed with the enemy, who now showed clearly on her bow holo-panels. The number and size of the armada staggered the senses and at any moment they could be spotted, and then all hell would break loose. So far, so good.

  The two stealth boats had cut all engine power two hours ago and by judicious use of their stern mag plating had maintained their forward speed without increasing the chances of detection. As an added precaution none of the attack force had their shields activated.

  Captain Garner had offered three of her Kamoras for the attack. Nathan politely declined the offer. They were fine boats but way too big for the task. Although stealth like, they could not match either E692’s or Adroit’s stealth capability.