Silent Running (The Hope Island Chronicles Book 3)
Page 1
Table of Contents
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
CHAPTER 43
CHAPTER 44
CHAPTER 45
CHAPTER 46
CHAPTER 47
CHAPTER 48
CHAPTER 49
CHAPTER 50
CHAPTER 51
CHAPTER 52
CHAPTER 53
CHAPTER 54
CHAPTER 55
CHAPTER 56
CHAPTER 57
CHAPTER 58
CHAPTER 59
CHAPTER 60
CHAPTER 61
CHAPTER 62
CHAPTER 63
CHAPTER 64
CHAPTER 65
CHAPTER 66
CHAPTER 67
CHAPTER 68
CHAPTER 69
CHAPTER 70
CHAPTER 71
CHAPTER 72
CHAPTER 73
CHAPTER 74
CHAPTER 75
CHAPTER 76
CHAPTER 77
CHAPTER 78
CHAPTER 79
CHAPTER 80
CHAPTER 81
CHAPTER 82
CHAPTER 83
CHAPTER 84
Silent Running
Book Three of the Hope Island Chronicles
PJ Strebor
Check out news about PJ Strebor at www.space-dock.co.uk
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialog are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2014 PJ Strebor
Edited by Siobhan Marshall-Jones
Published by Space Dock
www.space-dock.co.uk
Cover Art by Gary Compton
Book Design & copyediting by Garcom Media
Keep up-to-date with all Space-Dock titles and get FREE short stories from your favorite authors.
http://space-dock.co.uk/signup/
From 13th July 2017 to the 17th July 2017 the first book of the Hope Island Chronicles, Uncommon Purpose is FREE
From the 14th July 2017 to 21st July 2017 the second book in the Hope Island Chronicles, First Comes Duty is 99p/99c
CHAPTER 1
Those whose performance is consistently poor should not be entrusted even with just ordinary responsibilities. — The Emperor Maurice. The Strategikon, c. AD 600.
Date: 17th June, 326 ASC
Position: Approaching the Takagi Occlusion. Eleven light-years from the northern frontier.
Status: Pursuit course.
Lieutenant Nathan Telford stared through his Specter fighter’s forward holo-panels, into a scene of heart-chilling savagery. Takagi had a fearsome reputation as one of the most dangerous regions of space within the Tunguska Fault. A nightmare of ionized radiation flashed out from the dark, surrounding space and even from the periphery of the disturbance, his fighter shuddered from the turbulence. Takagi was a contained area where matter and anti-matter danced in a violent ballet of annihilation and rebirth, similar to the very dawn of the universe. It reminded Nathan of a ferocious equatorial thunderstorm. Terrestrial lightning or ionized radiation resulted in the same outcome. Death, or a boat too badly damaged to continue the fight.
He lost contact with the headhunter as soon as she entered the occlusion. Nathan keyed his comm.
“Courageous - outrider two.” No response. Although well within comm range the monitor escort boat refused to answer his hail. The captain insisted on playing her foolish games. “Courageous - outrider two. Am in pursuit of an enemy vessel. Request that you launch all fighters to support my engagement.”
His instruments showed they’d received his message, but were stubbornly refusing to respond. No fighters launched from the ill-named boat to support him. Nathan gritted his teeth.
“Damn my career. I’ll take the bitch to task for this one.”
He shook his head within his helmet.
Concentrate on the task, Telford.
Nathan pushed the throttles into the red. His Specter fighter plunged into the havoc. Almost immediately, the buffeting struck his boat. Sensing a threat from his lower port quarter he adjusted his heading just before a bolt of energy reached out to kill him. Within the massive area of disturbance his comms were useless. As were his sensors. However, his personal sensor, his Prep, could always be relied upon.
More buffeting. An unusually violent storm, even for the Occlusion. He sensed the enemy ahead and adjusted his heading accordingly. In full stealth mode he closed the range with it.
Ahead he caught a brief glimpse of the enemy. Nathan continued to close the gap between them while avoiding the multiple dangers posed by the region. Through the jumble ahead he got his first clear image of the enemy ship. An Armadillo class headhunter. A big sluggish brute, lightly-armed but heavily armored. A very difficult ship for a lone fighter to kill.
If he was sitting at the helm of the Monitor Courageous this would be a simple task. Close with the enemy, utilize the monitor’s superior weaponry and kill her. However, Captain Jardine had chosen to put her only qualified command pilot into a fighter.
As he closed with the Armadillo he could see clear signs of damage. Multiple vents of fine mist indicated where her hull had been breached.
His sense of danger, his Prep, burned the spot on his spine between his shoulder blades. He took his fighter above the next eruption of deadly energy but in so doing lost his line on the enemy. Nathan brought all weapons online as he leapt toward the fleeing ship. Finally, they spotted him from his trailing wake.
Pulsars struck out from her stern chasers, missing him comfortably. A brief gout of fire from her single stern tube; a torpedo launched in desperation. It failed to acquire a lock on and disappeared off to his starboard side to be destroyed by a bolt of energy.
Waiting for the range to be perfect, he fired his twin pulsars into her starboard engine. Armored baffles deflected his shot. Shit. With her impressive energy shields and thick armor plating, a single fighter couldn’t hope to kill her.
Dodging the sluggish pulsar fire, he took his fighter above the enemy ship and away from her stern weapons. Extensive damage had been done to her forward sections. She’d taken a terrible beating, her bow weapons array smashed and open to space in several key areas. But what of her hyper generator? Secured behind impressively thick armor and shielding, it could have withstood the terrible battering.
Positioning his Specter under her keel he played the waiting game. In time the Occlusion thinned out. Soon they would be clear of its interferen
ce and could enter hyperspace. Nathan waited, reaching out with his senses. Waiting, waiting. Gradually the dangerous field fell astern as they cleared Takagi. Nathan waited until his senses said the time was right. He pushed his fighter forward bringing her up across the headhunter’s bow. Sure enough the energy field from her hyper generator shimmered on his forward plates. With no enemy weaponry to hinder him he fired a single SR missile which erupted with a brief gout of flame against her generator. Her capacity to ingress into hyperspace had been removed. She wasn’t going anywhere until extensive repairs had been carried out.
Now he needed reinforcements to finish the job.
***
Nathan’s Specter streaked into Courageous’ landing bay, coming to a jolting stop as she hit the arrestor field. Minutes later he parked his fighter in her allotted berth in starboard hangar. His crew chief waited for him as he retrieved from the combat sphere. As usual she took his gloves and helmet and helped him unbuckle. Nathan had little to say to her. He had little to say to most of the crew. All handpicked by Captain Jardine, they represented a fundamental shift in the Athenian Naval Service which had reached into and infected Monitor Corps.
The days of the Corps being the home of the best, most highly trained and professional warriors had taken a severe hit over the past year. Courageous shone as the most extreme example of a cancer eating into the elite ranks of Monitor Corps.
Courageous did not contain the very best of officers and crews. Jardine, a trenchant believer in the old guard’s outmoded tactical viewpoint had, over the past five months, removed most of the Athenian colonials from the boat, replacing them with inept republicans. Nathan had no doubt that if this trend continued, it would in time mean the end of Monitor Corps as an effective weapon of war.
Nathan left the hangar bay and strode along the lower lateral corridor. Passing crewmembers took in his furious expression and cast their eyes to the deck. He stopped at the first drop shaft, and reached through the environmental force field before hauling himself inside. Exiting the shaft on deck one he made his way to the bridge.
The helm officer glanced over his shoulder, took one look at his incensed expression and quickly turned away. The D-O, another ill-qualified republican twit, glanced up from his station as Nathan approached.
“Lieutenant Telford,” he began, “the Captain is busy.”
Nathan ignored him and hit the admit button to the briefing room. Receiving no reply he leant on it until it opened.
***
Captain Octavia Jardine sat at the briefing table, an ornate Zhong teacup to her lips. Her comm beeped. “Captain.”
“He is on his way up, Captain,” her D-O reported.
“Very well,” she said.
She dabbed her lips with a pure white cloth napkin, sat back and smiled. He would be here any minute now. Her only bit of fun on this terrible little boat. Still she could never forget the past. Whilst at the academy, Telford had made a mockery of her son. Julius had been a fourth year senior midshipman and Telford a mere plebe, but he still managed to get the better of her son. That humiliation stung and would never be forgotten. No one crossed the Jardine clan without receiving a suitable reprisal. She didn’t need that past incident to justify harassing Telford. A officer of his ilk invited her attention by his very presence aboard her boat.
Years ago, like many before her, she had applied for service in Monitor Corps only to be rejected for some obscure reason. Rejected? Although a member of the Jardine dynasty who, for three centuries, led the Athenian Naval Service, both in times of peace and war, Monitor Corps had dared to reject her. Such insolence. Well, her father, Fleet Admiral Hector Jardine, had finally been promoted to the position a Jardine, and only a Jardine, should hold. Commander-in- Chief, Athenian Naval Service. In the last year, since his appointment, all the right people, family and friends of the Jardine elite, had been placed onto the fast promotions track offered by Monitor Corps.
Yes, given sufficient motivation the rowdy Monitor types would be shown how ladies and gentlemen of proper breeding conducted themselves. No more of the lax discipline which had greeted her when she took command, oh no, not with her, and her father, running the show. She ignored the bridge chime and reached for her cup. The tea had gone a little tepid so she picked up the pot. She had just refilled her cup when her patience ran out.
“Ad-mit,” she said to the pickup.
Telford stepped into the briefing room, still clad in his v-suit and armor. Today, not what she expected. No ranting about duty and responsibility of monitor corps officers. No raised voice, nothing. As usual she could not read his face. Octavia would be disappointed if their game ended so soon.
“Captain,” he pointed to the chair, “may I?”
She nodded benevolently. What’s he up to?
He sniffed. “Longjing tea?”
“Lapsang.”
“Smells nice.”
“Tastes better,” she said. “Perhaps one day you will learn to appreciate the difference, when you acquire some good taste.”
“And perhaps, Captain, one day you will engage with an enemy,” he said around a cruel smile. “When, of course, you acquire a backbone.”
She slammed the cup down so hard it nearly shattered.
“How dare you speak to me in that manner. Apologize immediately or I will –”
“Will what? Rename your boat the Gutless Wonder?”
Octavia Jardine found herself too close to apoplexy to be capable of speaking. Even for Telford, this stepped over the line.
“Not far from here is a disabled Armadillo class headhunter. She’s waiting patiently for this boat to go and kill her. Yet, once again, you chose not to engage the enemy. I have to wonder why.”
She finally found her voice, struggling to control her rage. She would not allow this rough colonial ogre get to her, again.
“Not that I need to explain myself to you, Lieutenant, but in the opinion of my helm officer, only a madman would enter the Takagi Occlusion. The headhunter helm officer must be insane.”
Surprisingly, Telford nodded. “Perhaps. Or maybe their helmsman has something between his legs, apart from fresh air and promises.”
She chuckled, rather than exploding with rage. She refuse to allow him to press her buttons. “I like you, Telford. You are an arrogant, self-centered ego maniac but your entertainment value is indispensable to me.” She considered his neutral expression for a moment. “I suppose being posted to a properly run boat must be a great burden for you. Remember, it has been four years since that disaster of yours on Cimmeria. Oh, I know that over the years you have become Admiral Waugh’s pet and that she has promoted you without good reason. Only twenty-six and already a full grade Lieutenant? Yes, Telford, I know all about you. Top of your class at Fighter Training School, early inclusion into Fighter Tactics School, where, miracle of miracles, you blew out the numbers yet again. And then to top it off, a year before coming aboard my boat you pass through command pilot qualification and what a surprise, you top your class.” She briefly glanced at the patch attached to the left shoulder of his uniform denoting command pilot qualification. “It must be wonderful to have someone backing you with the support of Admiral Waugh.” She made her tone suitably dark as she continued. “But do not push your luck with me, Telford. My patience is wearing thin and Admiral Waugh will not be around much longer to protect you.”
She sat back to savor her victory. Telford’s expression had not changed but the pallor of his skin gave her some small hope. It was always so difficult to pierce his rough hide.
“Captain, once again, you leave me absolutely flabbergasted. Considering your enormous girth I can understand how getting off your gigantic ass and doing some real monitor work would be troublesome, but to have the gall to suggest that I am receiving favoritism, is, is,” he snorted and shook his head, “contemptible. Even for an incompetent ass-kisser like you.”
“That’s enough.”
“Careful, you just used a contraction.
” He made an annoying tish-tish sound with his tongue.
“One more word from your foul colonial mouth Telford and you’ll be facing a general court-martial, where you can explain your disregard for authority and insubordination of a superior officer.”
He leaned back, grinning like a demon. “Good, let’s do that then. And when I finish explaining my crimes you can explain unwarranted promotions of personnel totally unqualified to step onto a monitor’s deck, your blatant refusal to engage enemy vessels, and a yellow streak down your back wide enough to land a fighter on.”
“That is it, Telford,” she screamed.
“Good, bring on the court-martial.” He stood, leaned forward onto the briefing table and glared at her. His eyes had transformed into two pools of unadulterated loathing. “I fucking dare you. You’re a bloody disgrace to any uniform, but an absolute affront to the men and women who have died wearing the colors of Monitor Corps. If a creature like you is an example of where Monitor Corps is heading, I want no part of it.” His grey eyes blazed with conviction. “Come on you gutless bitch, for once in your privileged life show something other than bluster and threats.”
A tremor ran down her spine. Telford must be demented to contemplate taking on the might of the Jardine dynasty. Only her shocked, stunned silence gave her pause to understand this lout’s dynamic strategy. He actually wanted a court-martial. A court-martial would require all parties to be truth tested using Athens infallible AVU. She could not risk that happening. In that moment of revelation she understood, and with her appreciation of the moment, Telford lost his foolish gamble. She tried to contain her inner smile but it slithered onto her face. Some people, even her friends, described it as an ugly smile. That pleased her no end. She chuckled.
“No Telford, no, no, no. No court-martial for you. As I said, I like having you around. You can continue to put in request after request for a transfer but I will choose to keep you here. In time, I will spank the arrogance out of you. It might take months, or, knowing your stubbornness, even years. But in the end you will sit at my feet and beg for scraps. You will jump when I say jump, and roll over, even before I order you to.”