Silent Running (The Hope Island Chronicles Book 3)

by PJ Strebor

  Nathan rubbed his forehead, a headache forming. “Wonderful.”

  CHAPTER 45

  You're the predator right up until you're prey.

  James S.A. Corey, 21st century novelist. From Abaddon's Gate

  Date: 26th September, 326 ASC

  Position: Deception. Hyper lag time, normal space. Northern Quarantine Zone.

  Nathan could feel the other clambering around inside his mind. With a great deal of effort he’d learned how to keep him out, but only for short periods. Nathan placed a powerful image into his consciousness and concentrated on it and only it. Ellen would forever be a very powerful image. Ellen frowning. Ellen laughing. Ellen snoozing in his lap. Nathan was getting better at blocking Saxon. He didn’t know if it was Saxon but he had to call his nemesis something and Saxon sounded as good as anything.

  His eyes snapped open as the alert alarm blared. He jumped from his rack and ran to the bridge.

  “What have we got, Trudy?” he asked the tactical officer.

  “Hyper egression, one vessel. She’s pinging.”

  “Warship or courier boat?”

  “It’s at the extreme edge of my scanner’s range, but my best guess would be a courier.”

  She appeared to be perplexed that he knew the boat type in advance.

  “Stella, how long till our buffers are fully charged?”

  “Two hours,” Stella said. “Do we ingress?”

  Nathan worked the problem. If it was a courier, and one of the boats equipped with a working Y space generator, the attack force could be days behind her. E boats were the fastest combat boats in the Pruessen navy, so it stood to reason that they would deploy them to pursue him.

  “We’ll wait until the buffers are fully recharged.”

  “Very well.”

  Two hours later with no sign of warships, Nathan set course north west and ingressed the boat.

  ***

  It took the E boats eighteen hours to respond to Orson’s hyper comm. It wasn’t good enough. He docked with the E 811, arriving at the bridge a minute later. He motioned for Captain Coppins to join him in the briefing room. Unbidden, Captain Reinhart joined them.

  “This isn’t working, Captain Coppins,” Orson said. “Eighteen hours is not good enough.”

  Coppins outranked Orson but knew better than to treat him like a subordinate. No one messed with one of Commodore Draeger’s people.

  “Commander Saxon, we discussed this,” the squadron commander said. “Our quarry is too fast for us to keep up.”

  “You’re the commanding officer of this squadron, Captain, so think of something.”

  “I’ve been toying with an idea,” Coppins said, “but there’s no guarantee it will work.”

  “Let’s have it.”

  “If you can give me rough coordinates for the vessel, I will send my boats out individually and attempt to locate her. We might be able to get ahead of her or at least within torpedo range. If we can disable her she’s ours. It’s a long shot but we might get lucky.”

  “Anything is better than eighteen hours,” Orson said. “Do it.”

  During the discussion Reinhardt had nothing to add.

  CHAPTER 46

  Date: 29th September, 326 ASC

  Position: Deception. Hyper lag time, normal space. Northern Quarantine Zone.

  Trudy speculated. “Hyper egression, he’s pinging, but too far out to detect us. I’m having a lot of trouble reading his profile,” she rubbed her mouth. “She could be an E boat, Nathan.”

  It was the possibility Nathan had been dreading. The E boat commander had done what Nathan would have done. Disperse his forces and hope for a large measure of luck.

  He faced the D-O’s station. “How long?”

  “A bit over four hours,” Stella said.

  “Trudy, what’s he up to.”

  “He’s actively scanning over a very broad area,” she said. “I’m guessing at this range but I think he’s moving slowly.”

  If he stays that way we should be out of here before he spots us. But next time we might not be so lucky.

  Four hours later Adroit disappeared from normal space.

  ***

  “Hyper egression,” Trudy said. “He’s pinging.”

  Fuck, that’s the fourth time they’ve found us in the last week. They were getting closer each time.

  “Tell me more, Trudy.”

  “She’s running at full ahead, active scanning over a broad area. She’ll be on us in an hour if she maintains speed and direction. Whoa, another one just egressed off our six. She’s adopting the same search pattern.”

  “Stella?”

  “Two hours left,” she said. “Do we go?”

  “Wait one,” Nathan said.

  Nathan rechecked his navigation plot. Yeah, we can make it with what we’ve got in the buffers.

  “We go.”

  CHAPTER 47

  Date: 6th October, 326 ASC.

  Position: Deception approaching the planet Reynolds. Northern Quarantine Zone.

  Nathan pretended to view his navigation plot but had his eyes closed and his mind focused. Having passed through the outer marker he wanted to get as close to the planet’s inner marker as he could before egressing. He had been braking the boat through hyper for just over twenty minutes. If he overshot the inner marker the gravitational forces would rip Deception to sheds. As he felt his Prep scream he pushed the throttles full forward till the boat stopped. He checked his plot, pleased at how close to the I-M he’d gotten. Egression went smoothly and he set course for the planet at flank speed. He applied navigation shielding only, in order for Deception to recharge her buffers more quickly.

  He stood and tried to stretch the kinks out of his back. The low overhead made that impossible. Nathan gestured to Max who took the helm.

  “Are you sure you want to do this, Nathan?” Max asked.

  “No choice.”

  He gestured to Stella and together they stepped into the commander’s lair and took their seats.

  “I understand why you’re doing this,” Spotiswood said, “but I want you back aboard this boat. We’ll need your talents if we are to make it home.”

  “How much time do you think you’ll have before the E boats catch up with you?” Stella asked.

  “The last enemy contact got mighty close. They’ve got this down to an art. Only six hours. So I’ll use that as a benchmark.”

  “We’ll wait for you at the I-M for two days. After that we will have to head for the rendezvous with Odenwald.” The commander paused for a moment. “Do you think you can do this?”

  “It’s the only thing I can think of,” Nathan said. “If we keep running they will eventually close the gap to torpedo range. Reynolds has only a token military presence so the E boats will have to send down marines to try and capture me. If I can kill enough of them they will either abandon their pursuit or Saxon will have to come to the surface to get me. If he does, I’ll kill him.”

  “Or he’ll kill you,” Spotiswood said.

  “Maybe. But either way Deception will be safe.”

  CHAPTER 48

  Date: 7th October, 326 ASC.

  Position: Planet Reynolds. Northern Quarantine Zone. Dortmund

  Nathan brought the landing boat in low, skimming across the top of the rainforest. Not far from a major road he put the LB down in a small clearing surrounded by thick growth. After opening the hatches he returned the boat to Deception, using a reciprocal course. A half hour walk to the highway where he flagged down a passing ground car, then twenty minutes to take him to the outskirts of the Dortmund Spaceport. He located a gold dealer and exchanged the gold coins, provided by Spotiswood, for credit on his stolen Pruessen navy credentials. A tidy sum indeed and more than enough for his needs.

  He hired an air-car and went shopping. His second port of call was a bank where he withdrew a sizeable amount of cash. Whether north or south of the frontier, everyone spoke a universal language; cash.

  Research
always factored into his planning, and he had days to consult the database, for all the intell he needed on this planet. Like many worlds far from the influence of the empire, Reynolds exhibited a particularly liberal policy with regard to weapons sales. A smile had stretched his lips when he’d read that piece of information. Nathan parked his air car and strode to the exclusive arms trader store. The sign above the door read, Dieter’s Antique Replica Firearms. Get more bang for your buck.

  Perfect.

  The interior of the store was a small, dingy affair and not what he’d expected. Nathan examined the stock and shook his head. Unimpressed didn’t quite cover his feelings. He could feel the proprietor’s eyes following his every move. Finally the store owner made his move.

  “Mornin’ friend, I’m Dieter, how can I be of assistance to you?”

  A short fat man with graying hair and halitosis that made Nathan recoil.

  “I’m looking for a rifle, pistol and some additional specialized items .”

  “Sure thing, friend,” Dieter said, moving rapidly into sales mode. “Hunting rifles are over here.”

  “Yeah, I’ve seen them. They’re shit.” Nathan could practically hear the cogs churning in Dieter’s brain. “I want a sniper’s rifle, semiautomatic, with a scope and night vision.”

  Dieter’s smile turned into a grin. “A connoisseur. I do so like a man who knows what he wants. Come with me.”

  Nathan followed him into a back room lined with weaponry. He spied a rocket launcher but considered it to be overkill. From behind a locked cage Dieter presented Nathan with a rifle that, just from its appearance, screamed havoc.

  “Heckler and Koch MR 308. One of the finest sniper rifles of its day. Ancient tech for the discerning marksman combined with modern manufacturing techniques. Feel the weight.”

  Nathan did so and raised it to his shoulder. As light as a pulsar rifle. Nathan could learn to love this weapon of death.

  “Seven point six two caliber cartridge, available with transparent polymer magazines, holding either ten or twenty rounds.”

  “Scopes?”

  Dieter took one scope from a rack.

  “This is the only scope I have because there’s no finer. With this you could shave the wings off a fly at two hundred meters.”

  Nathan carefully examined both rifle and scope before fitting it to the H & K.

  “Pistols?”

  From another drawer the arms salesman produced another lethal-looking weapon.

  “Glock 17L. Nine millimeter cartridge, seventeen round magazine. There is no finer hand gun.”

  It felt good in Nathan’s hand. Natural, as if it belonged there.

  “I need silencers for both weapons.”

  “Not a problem but they’re pricey.”

  In a long narrow room, converted into a firing range, Nathan got the measure of his weapons. He asked basic questions, practiced magazine loading and removal, checked out the rifle’s scope and emptied three magazines from each weapon into the targets.

  Other items, also available in the gun store took his total purchases to a higher figure than he’d expected. He haggled over the price to make it look convincing, but had more than enough money to cover the transaction.

  Two more stops then back to the aircar. After making his drops throughout the encroaching rain forest, he booked into a five star hotel. He had accomplished all of his tasks in just over five hours. Nathan took a shower and dined in the hotel’s restaurant. Then he took a nap.

  ***

  Nathan’s Prep hummed as the enemy formed up around their ground cars. “Planning an assault are you? Isn’t that nice,” Nathan whispered.

  Through the telescopic sight of his H & K sniper’s rifle, he placed the cross hairs on the officer in charge. The marines all wore armor and helmets, but it would make no difference. The high-velocity bullets would pierce light armor like a hot knife through butter. The seven point six two hollow point bullets would do grievous damage to anyone they hit.

  He took a deep breath and expelled it as his finger gently squeezed the trigger. The rifle made a soft popping sound as the round passed through the silencer. The marine’s head spouted blood as the round tore through his helmet. The squad of marines froze for an instant then took cover behind their cars. Nathan sighted on the next one. As another marine dropped to the roadside the rest came alive, raising their pulsar rifles, looking for the source of the silent death that rained down upon them. Nathan took three more down before they found proper cover in a nearby alley.

  ***

  “The Lieutenant’s dead and four others as well,” Marine Sergeant Kratt shouted.

  “Fuck,” Orson screamed. “Sergeant, locate him with your sensors. Look for a pulsar signature within the hotel.”

  “Tried that sir, no signature,” the marine said. “He’s using old-style weaponry. Bullets, he’s killing us with bullets for fuck’s sake.”

  Orson roared his rage then practiced the relaxation methods the Commodore had taught him. As his pulse subsided he redoubled his focus on Telford. Yes, he’s in the hotel, but where?

  Examining the image of the hotel he started at the bottom-most floor and worked his way up.

  “Got you,” Orson said between set teeth. “Sergeant, he’s on the roof. Remember Kratt, I want him alive.”

  “Yes sir, understood.”

  ***

  Sergeant Kratt sighted through his monocular and spotted their quarry on the roof. The sniper would wait for the marines to show themselves before once again raining death upon them. A bullet hit the wall a centimeter from his face. Pulling back he rubbed flakes of render from his eyes. The remainder of his squad were seasoned solders, brave, dependable. And shitting themselves.

  “He’s on the roof,” Kratt told them. “We block off the exits, go in and get him. Listen up. On my order we will run like hell for the hotel. It’s only twenty meters away but we all take different routes, no bunching up. And adopt a zigzag pattern. When we make it to the hotel we’ll be safe. Got it?”

  His men nodded their confirmation. They knew not all of them would make it to the hotel, but they were men of duty. Kratt took them further into the alley. A twenty meter running start might help save some of them. They began limbering up, some running on the spot. Kratt did the same.

  “As soon as you clear the alley, split up and zigzag. Ready. Three, two, one, go.”

  Kratt burst from the alley his heart pounding, waiting for the silent death to cut him down. He heard someone go down, and another grunt. A bullet grazed the armor on his left shoulder. It stung but the shoulder armor deflected the shot so he was good to go. With a final burst of energy he fell against the hotel’s front wall, panting, the adrenaline still pumping through his body. He’d lost one man, who lay face down on the street, in a pool of his own blood. Another had been nicked but remained operational. Out of his squad of ten he had five marines left. He detailed three to cover the exits and took the last one with him to the roof. One of them would get this fucker. A minute later they stepped from the lift and took the stairs up. They paused by the door leading to the roof. Kratt swallowed bile and risked taking a quick peek around the door jam. Nothing. He looked again, passing his eyes over the roof. Nothing. Kratt checked either side of the outside door with his mirror. Nothing. With marine sign language he indicate to the other marine the plan, then counted down silently to zero. Rifles at the ready both marines burst onto the roof and pinned their backs to the wall. The lift area lay in the middle of the roof and provided the only place for their enemy to hide. Kratt moved left the other right. They met on the other side. Nothing. Rifles at the ready they backed away until they could check out the roof of the lift. Nothing.

  Kratt checked with his marines on the ground floor. They’d not seen him.

  “What the fuck’s going on, Sarge?”

  Kratt had no idea.

  ***

  “What the fuck do you mean, he’s not there?” Orson shouted. “Have you checked the exits?”
“Aye, sir. He’s not here.”

  As soon as Orson cut the comm it beeped. He keyed it. “What?”

  “Please step onto the bridge, Commander,” Captain Coppins said.

  Orson did so, all the time fighting the urge to scream his frustrations at the world. Coppins looked up from the tactical display.

  “I think we have him,” he said.

  “What?”

  “An aircar lifted from the roof a minute before our men got there. We’re tracking it now.”

  As the minutes ticked by Orson got his rage under control. The Commodore had been right about that. His anger had clouded his judgment, hindering his efficiency.

  “He’s landed, Captain,” the tactical officer said.

  “Put it on my display,” Orson ordered and returned to the briefing room. There he was, a red blip walking away from the air-car, fifteen clicks from the spaceport, surrounded by rainforest. They’d have to go in after him.

  Orson heard the hatch slide open. Captain Reinhardt joined him.

  “That fucker is really irritating me,” Reinhardt said. “I’d like to help you get him.”

  Orson thought the intelligence officer might be of use. Since the marines had suffered fifty percent casualties he could use all the foolish volunteers he could get.

  “Nine years ago we tried to capture him on his home planet,” Orson said. “A rainforest world, just like this. He killed the raiding party including one of our best men. He was scarcely seventeen.”

  “With your, ah, skills and my proclivity for violence, we may be able to even the odds,” Reinhardt said.

  “We take him alive,” he told the Captain.

  “Of course.”

  Orson harbored a strong suspicion that Reinhardt was lying.

  CHAPTER 49

  10th October, 326 ASC.

  Position: Planet Reynolds. Northern Quarantine Zone.