Silent Running (The Hope Island Chronicles Book 3)

by PJ Strebor

  “What’s the name of this boat?”

  “Our designation is E 692.” Winkler’s dull monotone and dead eyes indicated a state of shock.

  Nathan keyed the comm. “To the crew of E 692. I have commandeered this vessel and fired on your squadron. From what I know of your navy’s policies there will be no going home for any of you. You allowed a single man to enter your boat and use it to attack your squadron. At very least you will all be charged with dereliction of duty and that means you’ll be handed over to the HRS. At worst you’ll face a court-martial and summary execution.”

  He covered his mike. “Winkler, confirm what I said.”

  Winkled cleared his throat and tagged his comm. “This is Ensign Winkler. Everything he said is true. The squadron has been badly disabled.”

  “Very well,” Nathan said, “I’ll give you all an hour to think about your options. Bridge out.”

  CHAPTER 51

  When bad men combine, the good must associate; else they will fall one by one, an unpitied sacrifice in a contemptible struggle.

  Edmund Burke (1729-97) Irish born British statesman and political philosopher. Thoughts on the Cause of the Present Discontents (1770).

  Date: 13th October, 326 ASC

  Position: E 692, traversing hyperspace. Northern Quarantine Zone.

  Winkler confirmed. “As ordered, I’ve assembled the entire crew in the boat bay, sir.”. He had only partly recovered from the shock of what had occurred.

  “Very well.” Nathan reached out with his senses. Hostility, anger and a deep and abiding sadness flooded from the skeleton crew. It could translate as danger or a weary acceptance of an untenable situation. Nathan could understand their emotions. They could never go home, so they could never be reunited with family and loved ones. Bad luck. He had been controlling his hatred for the square heads but the strain was growing. The crew of this boat had only the slightest taste of his loss. At least their families were still alive.

  He headed for the aft lift with Winkler on his heels. Striding into the boat bay Nathan did a quick head count. Nineteen crewmen plus Winkler made the twenty he said were aboard. Nathan had locked the armory so none of the crew were armed. With Winkler’s help he had examined the crew’s jackets and knew their names and positions. Only two officers and the COB. The rest were NCO’s of varying experience.

  “I am, for the sake of a name, Captain Vogel,” Nathan said. “I have assumed command of this vessel and intend to take her into League space.”

  “Who made you Captain?” a crewman called out.

  Nathan sighed. There’s one big mouth on every boat.

  “I did, Petty Officer Blass. I stole the boat, so it’s mine. Now to the business at hand. There’s only twenty-one of us to tend this boat so I expect you, Chief Petty Officer Kellerman, to write up a roster that will properly utilize the crew effectively.”

  “May I ask the Captain why me?” Kellerman asked.

  “You’re the chief of the boat,” Nathan said. “Who else would I choose?”

  Kellerman nodded glumly.

  “Commander Bessell, report on the conditioning of the maneuvering department.”

  “We call it engineering. Only Athenian monitor crews call it maneuvering,” Bessell said, his hatred barely under control. “Who are you?”

  Damn. “Just someone who’s trying to get home. Now, report on the condition of your department, Commander.”

  “We’re running at flank speed so we’ll need to recharge the buffers in seven hours.”

  Nathan nodded. “Very well.”

  He singled out the next one on his list. “Petty Officer Overden, you’re the only weapons technician left aboard, so now you’re the weapons officer. Rank Lieutenant.”

  The Pruessen showed no emotion but Nathan suspected the promotion would please him.

  “I understand that none of you are happy with the situation but if we are going to survive we have to work together. If we don’t, we’re as good as dead. You all might want to think about that.”

  No happy smiling faces but pretty much what Nathan expected. They had just lost everything.

  “COB, I’ll need that roster by twenty-two hundred.”

  Another sullen nod.

  “What about mess?”

  “Blass, I just might nickname you cat.”

  “Huh?”

  “Curiosity killed him.” He ran his eyes over the crew. Their hostility burned beneath the surface yet was in conflict with their overriding desire to live. It all takes time. Baby steps.

  “You want breakfast, fine,” Nathan said. “Blass, you’re cook for tomorrow. COB, make a rotation for every crewman to do mess duties.” He examined every face, noting sadness, rage and shock. “Any questions?” Most of them stared at the deck. “Very well, crew dismissed.”

  The muttering started before Nathan had made it to the hatch.

  ***

  Nathan finished examining the roster and nodded his approval.

  “Well done, COB,” Nathan said. “I like the idea of having Overden training the crew to assist him in the weapons bay. If we’re attacked, and I’d be surprised if we weren’t, it may be the difference between living and dying.”

  He examined Kellerman. Late thirties, professional, determined.

  “May I ask a question?” the COB said.

  “Go ahead.”

  “Do you seriously think this insane scheme of yours stands a chance of working,” Kellerman said. “We’re dozens of light-years from the frontier and our navy will deploy every ship they’ve got to stop us.”

  “That’s why we’re not heading south,” Nathan said. “And as for our chances, they’re on the slim side, but as they say a chance is better than no chance.”

  “Who says that?”

  “Dunno, maybe it’s just me.” Not a smile from the Pruessen but a slight relaxation of the stiff lips. Baby steps.

  CHAPTER 52

  Date: 14th October, 326 ASC.

  Position: E 692, traversing hyperspace. Northern Quarantine Zone.

  Nathan walked the boat twice a day, checking in with his overworked crew and assisting where he could. The crew’s hatred of him remained evident with every gesture and grunted reply. For the moment all he could do was feign disinterest and move on. He figured the crew would come around in time.

  Forty minutes into his afternoon inspection he approached the engineering section by way of the main lateral corridor. His Prep burned. Here it comes.

  Three crewmen appeared from a supply room, determined hatred written on their faces. Nathan palmed his sidearm. They took note of that.

  “You’re a big man with a gun to back you up, aren’t you?” Holtz said.

  Nathan sighed. He had been expecting an attack for some time. After what they’d all lost, a measure of revenge would seem to be in order. The time had come to mark his patch.

  The three men tensed when he drew his sidearm then relaxed when he threw it behind him.

  “Here I am,” Nathan said, arms wide.

  They all drew knives and positioned for attack.

  “Steak knives?” Nathan said, around a wry smile. “I’ve never been attacked with steak knives before.”

  His blasé attitude got inside their heads, creating doubt. He could read it on their faces. Of all of them Holtz appeared to be the most determined. Nathan readied himself as the young petty officer moved toward him. The knife slashed at Nathan’s face. Grabbing the Pruessen’s arm above the wrist Nathan twisted the arm until the knife dropped to the deck. The other two came to their shipmate’s aid. Holtz swung a fist at him, Nathan blocked it and hit him in the throat. Grabbing his neck with both hands, Holtz staggered away from him. The three of them withdrew to what they considered to be a safe distance.

  Nathan heard the hatch open behind him but he could detect no danger. The three assailants smiled. Kellerman stood beside him, the pulsar held in his right hand. He stared at the crewmen and shook his head.

  “Did you drop som
ething, Captain?” he asked, handing the weapon to Nathan butt first.

  The three crewmen gaped at the COB. Nathan nodded to Kellerman while holstering his weapon. Retrieving the knife from the deck Kellerman approached the crewmen. He handed the knife to Holtz.

  “He needs to die, Chief,” Holtz screamed. “I hate him and want him dead.”

  “I hate him too,” Kellerman said. “But for the time being we need him.”

  “We can do okay without him,” Holtz said. “We should surrender and take our chances.”

  “You’re an idiot, Holtz,” the COB said. “Surrendering means death. There is no chance.” Arms akimbo Kellerman set a steely gaze onto the three would be attackers. “Now listen up you knuckleheads. No more attacks on Vogel.”

  “He attacked Holtz,” an older crewman said. “Hit him in the throat. We should -”

  “You should shut the fuck up and listen to me,” Kellerman barked. “Take a good look at Vogel. Go on, look.” They did as instructed. “See how he’s standing. A pretty relaxed pose, isn’t it? That is the stance of a man trained in martial arts. I’ve seen it before. Relax, await the attack, then strike. He’s Athenian, probably Monitor Corps which means he’s most likely academy trained. Which means he’s been studying Aikido for years. He hit you in the throat, Holtz?” The petty officer nodded. “If he had a mind to he could have easily killed you. That was a love tap. Now each of you say, ‘thank you COB.”

  “But -”

  “Say it,” Kellerman shouted.

  “Thank you, COB,” they replied.

  “You’re welcome. By breaking up this pathetic scuffle I’ve saved your lives and that of everyone aboard this boat. Listen up and spread the word. Vogel is off-limits. If anyone tries for him again they’ll have me to deal with. Got it?”

  “Aye, aye, COB.”

  “Get it through your thick skulls,” Kellerman said. “If he dies, we all die.”

  “We don’t need him,” Holtz spat.

  “Oh, yeah? Who’s going to pilot the boat? You? And even if we make it across the border who’ll speak for us. An Athenian officer gives us a fighting chance. Without him the southerners will fire on us first and ask questions later. Think about that before you even consider further action. Now, return the knives to the mess and get back to work.”

  A final hate-filled glare from Holtz and the trio broke up. Kellerman stood before Nathan.

  “Thanks for that, COB,” Nathan said.

  “Fuck you!” Kellerman spat. “The minute we don’t need you anymore I’ll be at the head of the queue to end you.”

  “Hmm. Well, good luck with that,” Nathan said.

  “I’ve bought you some time, but not much,” Kellerman said. “You’ve done the worst thing to this crew than any man could do.”

  “I know,” Nathan said.

  “No you don’t!” Kellerman snapped. “Yes, you’ve taken their futures, but you’ve done something much more than that. You’ve taken their hope. Not one man aboard this boat thinks we’re going to make it. There’re all dead men, waiting for you to make your first mistake. You can do a lot to a man and he’ll survive but once you take his hope, he’s a lost cause.

  Nathan rubbed at the bump above his right eyebrow. “They need hope do they? Hmm, they need a win, something to renew their expectations.”

  “I don’t know what you’ve got in mind,” Kellerman said, “but whatever it is you’d better do it damn fast.”

  Nathan nodded.

  CHAPTER 53

  Date: 15th October, 326 ASC

  Position: E 692, traversing hyperspace. Northern Quarantine Zone.

  Nathan found Kellerman in the mess drinking coffee. Although he added the requisite quantities of sugar and cream to his coffee the first sip made him wince.

  “Do you mind if I join you, COB?” Nathan asked.

  Kellerman grunted.

  Nathan took a seat opposite and took another sip of the foul blend.

  “I thought the coffee in my navy was bad but this is disgusting,” Nathan said.

  Kellerman’s lack of response was what he expected from one of many crewmen aboard who hated his guts.

  “Do we have heavy mobile pulsar ordnance aboard this boat?” Nathan asked.

  Kellerman sighed. “Yeah, we’ve got two mark twenties.”

  “Good,” Nathan said. “I want them both fitted to the boat bay.”

  “Okay,” he replied.

  “I also need two crewmen who are trained in their use.”

  “You’re not thinking of taking this boat into combat, are you?”

  “Scared?” Nathan teased.

  “I’m concerned that we lack the personnel to function in a combat situation.”

  “With what I’ve got in mind, we’ll do fine with the crew we have,” Nathan said, holding the chief’s eyes. “Now, do we have anyone who can competently fire those pulsars?”

  “Yeah, me,” Kellerman said. “And Hoppe is pretty good. Why do you need them?”

  “I intend to take this boat into harm’s way,” Nathan said. “Protection to our six will factor into my tactics.”

  “Okay,” Kellerman said. “When do you need them fitted?”

  “Within the hour.”

  Kellerman’s mouth tightened into a fine line. He nodded.

  “Report to me when they’re in place,” Nathan said. He ditched the rest of his coffee and left.

  For three days Nathan had been using his Prep to avoid making enemy contact. Now he actively sought out enemy action. Something to restore the crew’s flagging spirits. A touch of hope for the future.

  Consultation of the boat’s data base supplied him with an appropriate target but it entailed great risk. He needed a significant combat operation, which would hopefully snap his crew out of their current malaise. The Traunstein hub should fit the bill. Furthermore, it would send a message to the crew that the Captain of this boat could not only show competence but could keep them alive.

  Nathan navigated the boat to the coordinates and egressed to normal space.

  “Winkler,” Nathan said, “what’s the count on our buffers?”

  The exec station wasn’t what the young engineer had been trained for so Nathan allowed him time.

  “Ah, here it is,” Winkler said. “They’re at fifty-six percent, sir.”

  “Very well, get them charged up,” Nathan said. “Contact me when it’s done. I’ll be in my quarters.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  Even Winkler refused to call him Captain. Hopefully, by the end of the day, that condition would change.

  Nathan dropped onto his rack and quickly fell asleep. Kellerman reported in an hour later. The mark twenties were in place. Winkler contacted him after a refreshing three hour nap. A quick splash of water onto his face then back to the bridge.

  “Winkler, pipe me through the boat,” Nathan said.

  “Aye, sir.”

  “This is the Captain,” Nathan began. “I have managed to avoid enemy contact but it’s just a matter of time before our luck runs out. So I’ve decided to give us an edge. This far out from the Empire, ship to ship communication from those warships hunting us will eventually cause problems. Because that gives our enemies a very real advantage over us I have decided to even the playing field. It is my intention to attack and destroy the Traunstein long-range communications hub. All crewmen alert condition one. Captain, out.”

  ***

  “Well, fuck me,” Bessell said. “I’ll give the Athenian one thing. He’s got balls.”

  Beside him CPO Kellerman nodded. “What do you think, COB?” Bessell asked.

  “Let’s hope he’s not a raving lunatic,” Kellerman said. “Traunstein is protected by hunter- killer mines. Nasty beasts.”

  “Yeah,” Bessell said, “one decent hit could cut us in half. I hope Vogel knows what he’s doing.”

  So did Kellerman.

  ***

  “All decks report they are secured at alert condition one, sir,” Winkler
said.

  It took the crew eighteen minutes to don their V suits and report to their combat stations. A deplorably long time but with only twenty of them covering positions allocated to eighty-nine crewmen, Nathan could fully appreciate their dismal response time.

  “Overden – Captain,” Nathan said over his comm.

  “Lieutenant Overden,” the WEO replied.

  “Load all tubes with type forty pulsar heads and charge the pulsars to maximum capacity,” Nathan ordered.

  “It will take a while to load the torpedoes, sir, with only four of us down here,” Overden said. “But the pulsars are armed and the buffers are firming up.”

  “Very well,” Nathan said. “Advise me when loading is complete.”

  With untrained crewmen in the weapons bay, he couldn’t rely on a speedy reload. Once battle began he would have only six torpedoes to complete the task. They would have to be enough.

  Nathan pushed the throttles to half speed and set E 692 on course for the hub. Traunstein was a fully automated station and old. Hopefully their sensor array hadn’t received an upgrade in recent years.

  His comm beeped. “Captain.”

  “All tubes loaded, sir,” Overden said.

  “Very well.” Nathan keyed his comm off and pushed the throttles to the red line

  “Winkler,” Nathan said, “record the attack and pipe it to every station on the boat.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Unlike the minefield guarding Saint Joan, the hunter-killers were far more lethal. Each contained a single pulsar, equivalent in power to the heavy pulsars carried on a cruiser. A single hit to his boat could disable or even destroy her. They were highly mobile, fast and maneuverable and a difficult proposition to kill. Getting past the outlying mines should present little difficulty but once he attacked the hub the others would come at him hard. His escape would have to be made fast if his crew were to survive.

  “Winkler, drop the shields,” Nathan said.

  “The shields, sir?”

  “Do it,” Nathan ordered.

  “Aye sir, shields are down.” The young ensign’s tone contained a question, curiosity and fear.