First Comes Duty (The Hope Island Chronicles Book 2)

by PJ Strebor

  “Shit!”

  “Pilot, please repeat your instruction.”

  “Disregard last transmission.” Turn your damn mike off.

  “Outrider Five, FOO.”

  Nathan took a deep breath before keying his LM.

  “Outrider Five.”

  “Outrider Five, just a heads-up. The boat is braking in preparation for egress,” Chappell said. “We have a possible contact and need to check it out. Should take about thirty minutes. It’s probably an echo, but we can’t take the chance.” Chappell’s silence confirmed to him what would come next. “Nathan, as alert fighter you will be on point.”

  “Roger, Boss.” Nathan maintained a relaxed tone.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine, Boss, how are you?”

  She chuckled lightly. “Everyone’s a bloody comedian.”

  “Hey, Boss, it’s no biggie. I’ll go and shake the bushes, and if I find a snake, I’ll report same and skedaddle.”

  “Just make sure you don’t get bitten in the process.”

  Nothing further needed to be said. Nathan busied himself with check and counter-check of his systems. Every time he found his fingers strumming, he did another unnecessary systems check.

  Waiting: the scourge of the soldier. He might soon be flying to his death, but first he had to wait.

  Nathan sensed through his bones the slight trembling that abruptly stopped.

  “Outrider Five, D-O.”

  “Five.”

  “We are in position for egression.” Reiffel said. “Confirm status.”

  "Aye-aye, Ma’am. Wait one.”

  “Standing by.”

  He double-checked his LM to confirm it was off. “Come on, Telford, it’s probably nothing. Pull your shit together.”

  His chair made a complete rotation to verify all hangar hatches were sealed and no personnel remained within the boat bay. When the main hatch opened, anyone caught in the bay would fry.

  Nathan engaged the keel thrusters and, as his fighter lifted from the deck, retracted the undercarriage. While Outrider Five hovered at the dead center of the bay, he engaged his navigation shields. Within the close confines, full shields would scorch the nearby bulkheads. Nav shields would afford him little protection from the ravages of hyperspace. He had to react fast.

  “D-O, Outrider Five.”

  “D-O.”

  “O/R Five standing by for departure.”

  “Very well, Nathan. Good luck. Boat bay doors opening on my mark. Three,” —Nathan held one finger above the thrust controls— “two,” —his right forefinger waited by the shield controls— “one, mark!”

  The doors snapped open, the brilliance of hyper flooding into the bay. Pushing the throttles into the red, he raised the shields to maximum as soon as his fighter cleared the bay. Behind him, the doors snapped shut. All within five seconds.

  Nathan positioned his Specter above Insolent’s forward weapons array.

  “Outrider Five, in position for egression.” Nathan closed his left eye. When he egressed, it would help him to adjust to the sudden darkness — an old pilot’s trick taught to him by Henry Worsfold.

  “Very well, Outrider. Opening perforation, now.”

  “Insolent, O/R Five, committing.”

  Nathan engaged both stealth engines and pushed the throttles forward to quarter-speed. He would have a bumpy entry into N-space, but it would give him a small tactical advantage, if an enemy ship awaited him on the other side.

  His collision alarm blared as he struck the relative solidness of N-space. The small size of his fighter made the jolting experience far easier to absorb than would be the case for a boat as large as Insolent. Within Tunguska’s distinctive continuum, size really did count for something. After all, if a bullet encountered far less resistance travelling through air than an aircraft, then the same principle applied to his small, sleek fighter within Tunguska’s environment.

  The egression from the absolute brightness to the stark blackness of interstellar space caused spots to dance around his right eye. He opened his left eye, which functioned perfectly. Nathan sent out a full-power active scan. Vision to his stunned right eye cleared by the time the results scrolled across his heads-up display. No contact readings returned from his scan. No inbound torpedoes to ruin his day. Exhaling through pursed lips, he ran another complete survey of the region, making a slow rotation through his axis while the active scan pinged away. Finally satisfied, he engaged his larynx mike.

  “Insolent, Outrider Five.”

  With the hyper perforation trimmed to a fine point, his transmission went through loud and clear.

  “Outrider Five, Insolent.”

  “Insolent, I detect no contacts within range of my sensors.”

  “Very well, Outrider Five, we’re egressing now.”

  Insolent crawled through the perforation at dead slow speed. When the hyper perforation closed behind her, she did an active scan with her far more powerful sensor suite. The fighters leapt, one at a time, from her boat bay, taking up positions around her. In less than thirty seconds, the scan confirmed the region as safe.

  “All Outriders, FOO. Adopt standard patrol protocol. Remember, no open comms, people. We could have a bogie out there, so we do this by the numbers. Go.”

  At flank speed, Nathan’s Specter reached its assigned patrol area in quick time. He formed one-fifth of the early warning envelope surrounding the convoy.

  An hour later, Nathan shook himself as his concentration began to wane. Maintaining focus was the single most important aspect of escort fighter duty and one repeatedly drummed into pilots’ heads. A lapse in concentration, a gap inadvertently missed in the patrol envelope, could allow an enemy ship to slip through and surprise the convoy. Staring into the ebony environment for hours at a time could be likened to doing brain surgery in a dark room.

  Nathan remained calm, although his instincts were stretched and alert. Then he caught a glimmer of movement at his ten o’clock position. At the same moment, his passive scanners beeped. Nathan set his Specter on an intercept heading and was prepared to flash feed Insolent, when the vessel took shape. Sure enough, the warship coasted on momentum, with little to give away her position.

  He identified the ship as a light cruiser of the Coventry class, one of the older types of Bretish Royal Navy vessels. She should not have the same type of high-tech sensor arrays as a monitor.

  With careful bursts from his mag plating, Nathan brought his boat into position behind the aging cruiser while maintaining full stealth mode. The cruiser’s disinterest in him confirmed they had no idea his fighter sat on her six with his gun sights squared up on her engine nacelles.

  Selecting an open frequency, he keyed his larynx mike. “Unidentified warship, this is the Athenian naval escort vessel Outrider Five. Identify yourself.”

  Certain captains of League vessels, for some unfathomable reason, refused to answer hails. Nathan found the practice to be not only annoying but thoroughly unprofessional. The cruiser tried to track his fighter, but Nathan maneuvered around their best attempts.

  The Coventry’s lack of response irritated him. “Unidentified warship, this is Athenian naval escort vessel Outrider Five. Identify yourself immediately or I will fire into you.”

  In response, the warship engaged her shields and struck out into the dark space with every sensor on the ship. Although Insolent operated in stealth mode, using passive sensors, she could not help but detect the warship now. His irritation grew at the Coventry’s failure to abide by League regulations. Nathan painted her engine room. He engaged no weapons, but as soon as the cruiser’s sensors detected the weapons lock, everything changed.

  “Athenian warship, this is Royal Navy cruiser Staffordshire. Release your weapons lock immediately.”

  “Staffordshire, from Outrider Five.” Say please, he was tempted to add. “Identity friend or foe, signal confirmed. Releasing weapons lock.”

  Nathan waited but received no further communi
cation from the cruiser.

  “Insolent, O/R Five.”

  “Insolent. What the hell do you think you’re doing, Telford?” the captain growled.

  “Insolent, O/R Five. I confirm the presence of a Royal Navy Coventry-class cruiser. Inbound to your location.”

  “Yes, Telford, we caught on to that fact when you locked her up.” The silence lingered for many seconds. “Return to the boat immediately.”

  “Outrider Five. Order confirmed, Captain.”

  He could not imagine just how diabolical Bradman’s response would be.

  CHAPTER 28

  Date: 4th March 322 ASC.

  Position: Traversing Bretish Commonwealth space.

  Status: Hyper lag time.

  “Kyushu Maru, this is Outrider Five, requesting permission to come aboard.” Nathan resisted the urge to add the word again. He tried to appreciate that they were civilians, but after twenty minutes sitting on her six, the situation was becoming ridiculous.

  “Outrider Five, this is Kyushu Maru,” the LSO said. “Please stand by.”

  “Roger, Kyushu Maru. Outrider Five standing by.”

  It’s going to be one of those days. The convoy might be in Bretish space, but they were getting closer to the frontier with every passing day. He should be out on patrol, not warming his butt out here.

  Well, you brought it on yourself.

  After the incident at Triton, Bradman’s expected reaming did not eventuate. The FOO had had a few choice words with him, but her barely concealed smile dulled the impact. This had been the skipper’s best opportunity to date to drag him over the coals, yet he had chosen not to: odd behavior, and a little disconcerting.

  However, yesterday’s incident had not been overlooked. Nathan considered that he had acted properly and within the rules of engagement set out for all League vessels. Apparently, the Bret commander advocated a different interpretation.

  This time the FOO read him the riot act. No implication of a smile this time. Words stuck in his mind, such as “young fool”, “could have gotten yourself killed”, and Nathan’s personal favorite, “even if they deserved it”. Once again the skipper remained silent.

  Until today.

  Cross-cultural orientation is what they called it. At the end of the day, it meant he would have to spend the next ten days aboard the civilian ship. Ten days out of the pilot’s seat.

  The Nihonese officer’s refusal to allow him to come aboard exacerbated a bad situation.

  “Kyushu Maru, Outrider Five.”

  “Kyushu Maru LSO, go ahead.”

  “LSO, request permission to come aboard.”

  “Outrider Five, LSO. Please stand by.”

  He knew he should leave it there, but impatience got the better of him. “LSO, what’s the problem?”

  “We are having a slight technical difficulty with our tractor and request that you stand by.”

  “LSO, I am more than capable of coming aboard unassisted.”

  A long pause, then a new voice: a woman’s, harsh, stringent.

  “Outrider Five, this is Commander Chida, first officer of the Kyushu Maru. You will hold your position until we are ready to tractor you aboard. Understood?”

  Nathan did not attempt to fight his immediate rush of blood.

  “Commander Chida, I do not require assistance to come aboard. I require only your permission to do so.”

  “No vessel enters this boat bay under its own power. You will submit to our rules.”

  “Commander Chida, I am not a landing boat pilot, I am a Monitor Corps officer and you will not treat me with such disrespect.” Nathan altered his tone to match the severity of the first officer’s. Disrespect, he had learned, was the worst of all possible accusations to make against a Nihonese. “Prepare to take me aboard.” Under League rules governing escort missions, the first officer could not refuse. The escort vessel’s word would always be law. In Nathan’s case, that might be a bit of a stretch. A long silence greeted his ultimatum.

  “Outrider Five, Kyushu Maru.” The voice had softened moderately. “Who am I speaking to?”

  “Ensign Nathan Telford.”

  “Ensign Telford, I assure you, no disrespect was intended. Our standard operating procedure for bringing any craft aboard is tractor assistance only. They are the rules set down by the Nihon Mercantile Board. However, I have the greatest respect for the skill of Monitor Corps pilots and will acquiesce to your request.”

  “Thank you, Commander Chida.” And about bloody time.

  Nathan brought his Specter in slowly, marveling at the immense size of the boat bay. Rotating his fighter, he parked at the rear of the boat bay.

  While he shut down his systems, a service crew rolled out a gantry and parked it against the leading edge of his port dorsal.

  The moment Nathan retrieved, he was beset by a pack of crewmembers jostling one another to assist him. He accepted their help, retrieved his kit from the small locker behind the combat sphere and sauntered down the gantry. His gloves and helmet had been handed to a tall, incredibly lean young man who stood by the foot of the ladder with his face pointing to the deck.

  “Sir, welcome aboard the Kyushu Maru.” The young man bowed deeply from the waist, his voice muffled with respect and formality. “May I please take your bag?”

  “And you are?”

  “Sir, I am Rating Third Class Tabei.” His eyes remained downcast. Nathan had not seen such subservience since he was a slave under the heel of the Pruessen Empire.

  “Thank you, Tabei, but I think I can handle this.”

  The young rating squirmed. “Sir, please, it will reflect badly on me if I do not carry out my duty.”

  “Your duty?”

  “Sir, I am your steward.”

  A steward for a visiting ensign? I have so much to learn about these people.

  “Well,” he sighed, “I wouldn’t want to get you into hot water.” He handed the Nihonese his kit. Tabei clutched it without looking up.

  “Sir, would you please follow me to your quarters?”

  “Lead the way, Rating Tabei.”

  Nathan was initially struck by the size of the ship. His first impression became reinforced during his short journey through the bowels of the mighty vessel. The corridors were huge, the overheads nearly three meters high, the sense of space mildly disorienting. If the Kymu followed the standard design pattern for a bulk freighter, then only ten percent of her displacement would be allocated to areas other than freight. This area generally ran along the spine of the ship, with the container rails positioned on either side. Ten percent of a ship with a displacement of four million tonnes made for a hell of a lot of legroom.

  Nathan and his taciturn steward arrived at junior officers’ quarters on deck three. Tabei opened the hatch to his room and stood back. Nathan made himself a promise to get a smile out of the reserved young crewman before he returned to Insolent.

  He could not believe the size of the room. If that was what junior officers rated, then the captain’s digs must occupy an entire deck. Soft, firm floor coverings underfoot, brightly colored walls, and a room in one corner containing the head and shower. Unbelievable opulence.

  “Tabei, is this a standard stateroom for junior officers?”

  “Yes, Sir. Both for ensigns and junior grade lieutenants.”

  Nathan dropped onto the huge bed and sighed. “Tabei, I think I could get used to this.”

  “Yes, Sir,” he said, his eyes not rising.

  Nathan began removing his armor. Tabei, naturally enough, wanted to help. Nathan allowed him to remove the armor and pack it away, but when he attempted to help him undress, Nathan finally reached his limit.

  “Thank you, Tabei, but this part I can handle by myself.” The steward stepped back, his shoulders slumping. Nathan felt sorry for him, but his sympathy would extend just so far. “Unpack my belongings and lay out my flight suit and shoes, would you.”

  Tabei leapt at the opportunity to assist while Nathan started to
extricate himself from the form-fitting V-suit. By the time the steward had laid out his clothes, Nathan had the suit off to the waist, but Tabei still didn’t catch on.

  “I shall not require your services for a while, so why don’t you go and grab a coffee or something.”

  Tabei glanced alternately between his shoes and Nathan’s chest. “Sir, have I done something to offend you?”

  Oh, for crying out loud. He contained his growing exasperation and forced a smile.

  “Rating Third Class Tabei, I believe I can honestly say you are the best steward I have ever had. And I shall tell your superiors as much.”

  Tabei bowed formally to show his gratitude.

  “Right, now I need to be alone.”

  “Sir, you wish me to leave?”

  “I knew you’d catch on eventually.”

  Tabei slunk from the room. At no time had he looked directly at Nathan.

  ***

  Freshly showered and clad in a spotless black flight suit, Nathan became restless after a few minutes of idleness. Cross-cultural orientation? What exactly did it entail? Surely, with quarters as fine as these, his stay wouldn’t be so bad.

  Checking the room’s computer terminal, he looked for the term cross-cultural orientation and found nothing that specifically related to his current situation. He tried transferred officers and drew a blank. He stared at the blank screen for some time before being rescued by the buzz of a wall-mounted comm.

  “Ensign Telford.”

  “This is Commander Chida.” The voice sounded hard but lacked the intransigent tone heard earlier. “Have you settled in all right?”

  “Yes, thank you, Ma’am.”

  “Good. Would you report to the bridge at your convenience?”

  “I’m on my way, Commander.”

  “Very well. Chida out.”

  Nathan leapt from the comm panel, stepped through the hatch and turned aft. He barely avoided tripping over Tabei, who sat on his haunches with his back resting against the bulkhead. The steward sprang to his feet, so startled by Nathan’s sudden appearance that he accidentally glanced at him. His eyes were hazel, and innocent beyond his years.