Uncommon Purpose (The Hope Island Chronicles Book 1)

by P J Strebor

  Lucas desperately wanted to spare Nathan the coming nightmare but knew that he could not risk even the most inoffensive change to the normal routine of the ship. No matter how slight the variations, the chronically mistrustful Colonel Manson could see it as suspicious. Twenty-two years as the adjutant of the euphemistically called Internee Labor Camps had him seeing plots in his dreams.

  Nathan sat in his usual place, the jump seat beside his mother, engrossed in his studies, observing the conventional running of the ship, and rarely uttering a sound. The ship currently had six cadet crewmembers with Nathan the youngest of the Telford clan to take up such a position.

  During their four years of imprisonment Bellinda’s crew had travelled from one side of the restored Empire to the other. They had been in the thick of battle, re-supplying the Pruessen push into the Pilbara and Bentport systems. They had carried cargo and troops, food and medical supplies and every fashion of dangerous goods not considered fit for Pruessen Merchantmen. Bellinda’s forays into warzones on resupply missions paled next to the dread generated by their infrequent visits to Kulak. Life as a slave of the Empire was harsh but a return to Kulak meant a return to a regime of such indiscriminant cruelty as to make their lives elsewhere within the Empire seem relatively pleasant. For a people who prized their freedom as highly as they did, the past four years had been an exercise in zealous restraint carried out within an existence akin to a living nightmare.

  Everyone of Bellinda’s people were forever changed by that first shocking day in Kulak. The exercise to break them came close to achieving its aim. Some of the crew were traumatized and all of them had changed. Their rage focused them onto a single goal. Escape.

  Two years later they returned to Kulak. Their naivety had been brutally torn from every one of them. Manson renewed his status with more of the same pointless cruelty. He did not need to prove his point. He simply did it, because he could. Two more crew died for no other reason than to fulfill Manson’s sadistic insanity.

  They took it all. They endured. Now after four years of kowtowing to their masters, today would see them free or dead.

  It did not follow the normal tend to have an eleven-year-old cadet serving on the bridge, even for something as mundane as shipboard orientation. However, Nathan had proved to be unlike the other children aboard the ship. And with the number of crew lost to them everyone was expected to lift their weight.

  The other children, though older than he, were puzzled at how quickly he understood the lessons that they struggled with. The older students welcomed his presence in their study groups until he proved to be smarter than they. Then the ugly green monster made its presence known. Lucas and Mary Telford both agreed that he could learn more on his own, under their supervision, than he could within the restrictions of the formal shipboard education system. He had been a cadet observer on Bellinda's bridge for the last two years. Nathan asked few questions during his time on duty, concentrating on the lessons scrolling across his computer screen.

  Nathan glanced up from the touch screen and the lesson he had been reading, as if sensing his father's eyes upon him. He had the deep soulful gray eyes of Lucas' side of the family, with the obscure blue flecks lingering in the background. Lucas allowed a small smile to touch the side of his mouth and dispatched a wink. Nathan returned his smile with that peculiar lop sided smirk that briefly creased the right side of his face. Today a devilish glint hid behind his eyes and a touch of malice distorted his mouth. Lucas felt unfazed by his son's reaction. Nathan knew his obligation to the family as well as any of them.

  Lucas forced his fingers to cease their strumming as he heard the interlocking bridge hatch slide open behind him.

  "Attention on the bridge," Mary Telford ordered.

  Every crewmember leapt from their duty stations and snapped to attention. In accordance with Pruessen doctrine their eyes were cast to the deck.

  Four guards entered, their eyes alert, pulsar rifles at their shoulders. They fanned out into a semi circle covering the hatch. With wide swinging arcs of their rifles they scanned the bridge for danger. A ludicrous show of force against powerless slaves.

  Unlike the squad of bored garrison guards who normally accompanied Bellinda on her intersystem voyages, these guards were professionals. The colonel's personal body guard stood thirty strong, were highly trained, physically hard, well armed. The crew survived their mistreatment at the hands of the guards only because of their status as a valuable commodity. The guard’s strict orders forbade them from killing any of the crew. Beat them half to death, degrade them, torture them, but never kill them.

  Manson did not see himself as a lesser being to whom such petty constraints applied. Looking directly at the colonel meant death.

  The head guard, Mendlesolm, finally satisfied himself that the seven defenseless slaves presented no danger.

  "All clear, colonel."

  With his eyes averted to the deck Lucas could only see the sparkling black boots and immaculately pressed trousers of the person who stepped onto the bridge. The black boots walked casually forward until they were under his lowered gaze. He stood without movement or sound for what seemed like many minutes. The two men had played this game many times before and Lucas resisted the urge to swallow the bile that threatened to choke him. The crew had found out the hard way just how much Colonel Manson enjoyed his games.

  "Captain Telford," the colonel said, "how good it is to see you again." As always, his voice sounded unusually high for someone of his build yet still held the same inference of knife edged menace. The gleaming boots walked to where Rebecca stood frozen by the helm station. "And how pleasant it is to see you again my dear." Lucas could only see her hands clench into fists, the knuckles jutting out white and bony. Manson turned on his heel and in two strides came level with Lucas.

  "Now, enough of the pleasantries. Captain Telford perhaps you would be so good to tell me what sort of game you are playing?"

  A shudder ran down Lucas' spine. For a terrifying moment he thought that Manson had discovered the plan. Then he remembered that it had been he who had invited the colonel to visit the bridge. He forced his pulse rate down and made certain that his voice did not betray him.

  "Colonel Manson, sir," he said in low respectful tones, "I do not understand, sir."

  "Still you play these games with me Telford. After all these years and everything that we have shared you still think that you are my equal. You are a piece of property captain, not an individual, not a person, but a thing." Manson tapped the baton into the palm of his left hand directly into Lucas' line of sight. "Why are we taking so long getting to Kulak four, Telford? We should be there by now but my people tell me that the ship is running only at half speed."

  "Colonel Manson sir, we…"

  Lucas doubled over as the baton slammed into his stomach. He leant on his knees and pushed himself to a standing position.

  "Did I give you permission to speak, slave?"

  Lucas gritted his teeth and said nothing.

  "Good, we understand one another at last," Manson's voice held a note of triumph. "Now tell me why this bucket is moving so slowly."

  "Colonel Manson sir, my senior engineer informs me that he has a problem with the number three engine and that the number two is running erratically. As I informed your office on many occasions this ship is badly in need of a major engineering overhaul."

  The baton came under his chin lifting his head upward. Lucas averted his eyes downward and to the side to avoid committing the cardinal sin.

  "I don’t care for your excuses Telford," the colonel growled. "I will not be late for my arrival at Kulak Four because you Athenian wretches are playing games with me. It seems that you need yet another lesson." He gestured to Mendlesolm who stepped up to the helm station and grabbed Rebecca roughly by the arm.

  David made the mistake of touching the guard. The butt of the rifle struck him in the stomach and he fell to the deck. Mendlesolm dragged an
unresisting Rebecca to the back of the bridge.

  "Colonel Manson sir," Lucas pleaded, "this isn’t necessary."

  The gold head of the baton cut a broad line across his left cheek forcing him to grab the arm of the captain's chair to remain standing.

  "One more time Telford," Manson hissed into his face, "and this vessel will be looking for another new captain." He smiled at Rebecca before turning back to Lucas. "Now captain, you were saying?"

  Lucas had no doubt that the colonel would interpret his labored breathing as fear. He surreptitiously examined the guards. They were relaxed, entertained by their colonel's performance. They were armed and confident, having witnessed such cruel, cowardly displays many times before. In their minds they truly believed that four years of slavery had beaten the fight out of the Athenians. They had actually slung their rifles over their shoulders.

  "Colonel Manson sir, if I may talk to my crew I am sure that I can motivate them to greater efforts."

  "If you cannot motivate them I am certain that I will find a way to do so." Manson smirked. "You have my permission, captain."

  Lucas backed away from the colonel with his head averted until he bumped into the right arm rest of the command chair.

  "Jack pipe me through the ship, please."

  The comm. officer nodded once.

  Lucas took a deep breath and pressed the comm. stud.

  "This is the captain speaking." He paused ever so slightly before continuing. "England expects that every man will do his duty."

  "What?" Manson said. "What is that?"

  Lucas raised his head to look directly into the colonel's eyes. His anger boiled to the surface. Manson's eyes widened in astonishment.

  "It's a quote, from Nelson, you fucker."

  The next few seconds were a blur of frenzied brutality.

  Manson, sensing the obvious danger, reached for his sidearm.

  The bodyguards tensed and reached for their pulsar rifles.

  Lucas produced a knife from his left sleeve. It had many brothers and sisters, manufactured covertly in the ship's workshop. A narrow sliver of polished Decadone, short, sharp and made from an alloy that did not register on sensor scans. Lucas lunged at Manson, awaiting the expected agony of an energy blast tearing though his back.

  At the same instant the main hatch slid aside. Four of Bellinda's largest crewmembers charged onto the bridge. In their hands were solid metal bars and sharp gleaming slivers.

  Distracted by the attack on their colonel, the unexpected onslaught caught them napping. Garrison guards would have presented little problem. But these were an elite force.

  The attackers closed with the bodyguards fast. Too fast to give them any chance to raise their weapons. The two guards closest to the hatch went down quickly: the first felled by a mighty blow that crushed his skull, the second to multiple stab wounds to the throat.

  David jumped from the navigation station and charged at Manson. The colonel saw him coming and tagged him with his heavy baton. David staggered to the deck.

  The third and fourth guards had precious seconds to react. Number three backed away and managed to raise his weapon up to his hip. As his finger closed on the trigger Jackson, rising from the comm. station behind him, drove the knife into his throat. The guard jerked violently as he died and his weapon discharged. Miraculously it missed hitting anyone directly but the ricochet caught one of the attacking Athenian's in the thigh.

  Colonel Manson got his hand around the butt of his pistol before Lucas closed the distance between them. He head-butted the colonel with stunning force then seized the weapon with one hand trapping it in its holster. In the same fluid movement he shifted his stance and swung around behind him. As the sharp, cold alloy of his knife touched the colonel's throat all resistance ceased.

  Now, only Mendlesolm remained as a threat. The guard proved to be quick on his feet and remarkably agile in his thinking. In the tradition of all cowardly bullies, he backed away from the melee, dragging Rebecca with him. He came up against the unoccupied Damage Control console. His huge left hand held Rebecca by the back of her neck the right gripped his pulsar rifle. The barrel of the weapon pressed against the back of Rebecca's head.

  Lucas stared into the guard's eyes, cold fury and hatred burning. He pushed the knife far enough upward to cause a trickle of blood to run down the colonel's taught neck.

  All movement on the bridge stopped as if in a frozen image. The three Athenian attackers poised to grab the fallen weapons. Jackson standing stock still, the bloody knife in his hand. Lucas and Manson unmoving except for their heaving chests. Mendlesolm, cold eyed, determined never to allow the slave to win. Rebecca, inhumanly calm, her eyes sparkling with fury.

  The seconds ticked by as the stalemate began. Rebecca decided to break it.

  "Shoot him!" she screamed.

  Nobody moved.

  Rebecca struggled frantically against Mendlesolm's iron grip to no avail.

  "Someone shoot this fucker!"

  Unlike Manson, who had completely surrendered to his fate, Rebecca fought back. In the one moment Lucas felt an intense pride in his daughter and a terror that chilled him to his depths.

  They were at an impasse that could only end in tragedy.

  Lucas caught a brief glint of movement from under the Damage Control console. A sharp jerky movement, of silver. It struck upwards once, twice, three times. Mendlesolm's mouth opened, distorted, his eyes narrowed in shocked agony. Finally a high-pitched scream tore from the guard's throat.

  Sensing his grip slip from her neck Rebecca swung about catching the weapon as it slid from his hands. She raised the rifle over her head to smash the butt into his face. The head guard fell to the deck, his initial screams dulled to a pathetic whimper. Curled in a half fetal position he clutched his blood splattered groin. If he had not proved, on so many occasions, to be a monster, he may have been a figure deserving of some pity.

  Everyone stared at the sight in stunned amazement.

  Nathan had crawled from under the console's tiny crawlspace. He stood up clasping a bloody knife in hand. His eyes were sparkling with blue fire, his smile cruel, and his intense satisfaction perverse.

  Rebecca turned and snapped the rifle up to her shoulder, aiming at the center of Manson's chest.

  Lucas nodded sharply to his daughter who returned the gesture. He released his grip on the Colonel and stepped aside.

  Manson staggered against the navigation console his hands at his throat gasping for air. Lucas could see that the sudden realization of his changed circumstances distorted his once confident face, Now, only wide eyed terror remained and he made sure to keep his hands well clear of his sidearm.

  Rebecca Telford had a special reason for seeing him suffer.

  "I surrender," he said, holding his hands up. "Under the charter for the treatment of prisoners by the League of Allied Worlds I claim the rights and privileges of an officer of my rank."

  The surrounding Athenians gaped at him in utter disbelief. Lucas relieved him of his side arm and took the baton for good measure. The crew stood in place, their faces shrouded in hatred. As the seconds ticked by only the sounds of Mendlesolm's whimpering broke the hate filled silence.

  Manson's head swung from one side of the bridge to the other, finding only a wall of loathing, lips curled back showing set teeth, narrowed, hate filled eyes, all weapons aimed at him. His gaze fell on Rebecca Telford whose hands gripped the rifle with white knuckled intensity.

  "If you surrender to me now, I will spare your lives." The rampart of cold eyes remained unchanged. "You will never escape this system. Our ships will hunt you down."

  Lucas looked along the barrel of the rifle and into the eyes of his daughter. Of all the crew she had suffered most at the hands of this creature. She deserved this moment. He knew in his heart that she would put her obligation to the family before all else. Manson’s mouth hung open, his chest heaving. “I was only doing my duty.”
>
  Rebecca closed her eyes for a moment then lowered the rifle to rest across her left arm. Manson sagged with relief until he saw the glint of unadulterated hatred in her eyes. A shudder passed through the colonel's body.

  Lucas had never been more proud of his daughter. The temptation to obliterate Manson from existence must have been insufferable. However, the sad, simple truth remained. If they were to escape their prison, they needed Manson alive.

  The colonel straightened his brown tunic, raised his chin and wiped away tears.

  Lucas tapped the gold head of the baton into the palm of his left hand. Manson’s puzzlement at the gesture pleased him.

  "I will accede to any of your demands," Manson said, "if you give me your word that you will not harm me in any way. I know that you Athenians always keep your word."

  Lucas nodded slowly. The gold head of the baton slammed into the colonel's solar plexus. He fell to his knees, a deep gasping groan his only comment.

  A growl of satisfaction rang from the walls. He sobered and looked down at the creature before him.

  "As captain of the Bellinda and patriarch of the Telford family I give you my pledge that no Athenian aboard this vessel will harm you. If you cooperate with us fully. Do you agree to give us your full cooperation?"

  Racked with pain and still gasping for air Manson could only nod.

  A low snarl, resounded from the crew.

  Lucas held up a hand.

  "The day is not yet won." The wall of faces hardened into a singular resolve. "We are still in enemy space and a long way from home. Everyone back to your stations." He gestured for Henry to take the colonel over to the vacant DC station. Tapping the comm. stud on the arm of his chair, he spoke into the recessed mike. "Bridge - Engineering. John what's your status?"

  A few silent, nervous seconds passed before John Telford, replied.

  "Captain, we are in need of a cleaning detail down here," the elderly engineer said. "There is Pruessen blood all over the place."

  A subdued chuckle sounded from the crew and even Lucas allowed himself a short smile.