Uncommon Purpose (The Hope Island Chronicles Book 1)

by P J Strebor

  “Room inspection plebe. Step aside.”

  The seventeen-year-old 4/C straightened her back against the wall. When the hatch slid shut he scanned the room briefly before directing a cold stare at the middy.

  “Well plebe, what do you have to say for yourself?”

  “Sir, I do not understand. Sir.”

  “Oh, you don't eh?” Nathan unclipped his left epaulet to signify the suspension of rank, grinned and spread his arms wide.

  Lucilla Penkovsky hurled herself at him with enough force to stagger Nathan. After a few seconds they broke from their fierce embrace. He pecked her on the cheek and sat beside her.

  “How are you coping, Lucy?”

  “Piece of cake, Nathan,” she said. “And my hair has grown back.”

  “So I see.” Nathan gave the trimmed, curly mass a good ruffle. “Your one time visit to the hair stylist serves tradition.”

  “Yeah, it was fun.” Lucy rolled her eyes. “And the last four months have been really great.” She giggled at her own foolishness.

  “Plebe year is tough, but I knew you could handle it.”

  “Yeah, I … hey, did you catch Aletheia's Friend today?”

  Nathan scowled. “Yes. Thoroughly disgraceful.” He smiled despite his best effort not to.

  “He’s been getting away with posting on the academy web for years,” Lucy said.

  Most people considered the regular column posted by the serial prankster known as Aletheia’s Friend to be harmless fun. The comments ranged across topics as diverse as the weight gain of the commandant's bull dog Princess, to the upperclassmen who were most unpopular amongst plebes, to what bit of mischief may have taken place, when, how much and to whom.

  “Yeah, the cheeky bugger has been posting his version of the truth despite the concerted efforts of everyone from the commandant, to the head of the computer sciences department, right up to the master chief petty officer of the academy.”

  “How could he have known about Lieutenant Duffy's condition?” Lucy asked.

  Nathan snorted. “How AF discovered that Duffy had fallen pregnant has baffled everyone. Some of the more conservative readers thought it to be in poor taste when the net humorist described the situation as: Duffy up the duff. The majority of readers found it hilarious, even though most publicly frowned at the article.”

  Their smiles froze as the hatch opened behind them.

  A midshipwoman bolted to attention. “Give us the room, middy,” Nathan ordered.

  The startled plebe quickly backed away and the hatch snapped shut.

  “Your roomie?”

  “Yeah,” Lucy said. “I wonder if Aletheia's Friend will report this?”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it.” He smiled. “You’re really starting to grow up Lucy. I can’t believe you’re the same scrawny kid I first met when I came to live on Kastoria.”

  She returned his smile fondly. “I’m not, Nathan. I’m a big girl now. And I can’t believe you’re the same screwed up kid who kept venturing into the rain forests even though father told you not to.”

  Nathan chuckled at the recollection. “Yeah, Caleb and Bernie got a bit upset about that. But I proved I can take care of myself.”

  Lucy stroked the side of his face. “Yeah, you’ve never needed anyone's help, have you? Always the lone wolf.” Her wry smile looked awfully familiar to Nathan. “Anything you want to share with me?”

  Nathan cleared his throat. “I was in a different place then. Thanks to your family, and especially you, I got past it.”

  “Me? What did I do?”

  “You reminded me of what it was like to be a kid. To laugh and play as if nothing could ever touch your perfect world.” Nathan cleared his throat again. “You helped me just by being who you were. But you’re not a kid anymore, are you?”

  “No sir.”

  “I should be going,” Nathan said, rising from his chair. “Judy Parnell is a damn good company commander so if you have any major problems take them straight to her. All right?”

  “Sure Nathan, but I don't think it will be necessary.”

  Nathan felt the back of his neck grow warm. “Lucy, I’m sorry I took so long catching up with you but it's been pretty hectic since I got back from summer cruise.” He cleared a small lump from his throat. “Lucy, you're as good as my kid sister, but …” he squirmed.

  “I know, I know.” Lucy rested her hands on his shoulders. “You have nothing to worry about. I might be new but dad told me how things work here. I won't embarrass you in public or attempt to contact you. I'm a plebe and you are a regimental commander. Even though you’re my brother, in every real sense, we don't share the same surname and that could be the cause of tongue wagging. I get it, Nathan.”

  Relieved, he hugged her. Lucy would be fine. “I'll touch bases with you as often as I can. And I expect you to drop in and visit Livy on Athens when you’re on leave.” He reset his epaulet and Lucy copied him. “But for now you'd better snap to, plebe.”

  Lucy drew herself to rigid attention. Nathan winked and stepped through the hatch.

  CHAPTER 21

  Date: 28th May, 320 ASC.

  Position: Mount Kratos.

  Status: Awaiting mid-term results.

  Nathan's opponent struck at his exposed throat. He quickly raised his sword to block the killing blow. Harada countered by shouldering Nathan off balance then sweeping his feet from under him. Nathan crashed to the mat and rolled away. As he tried to regain his footing a sharp agonizing pain flared from his thighs when Harada’s sword struck. Fighting the pain through clenched teeth Nathan again tried to stand. He groaned as Harada’s blade smashed across his armored shoulders, dropping him to the deck. On his knees Nathan swung his blade at Harada’s ankles and missed. Pain stabbed through his arm when his opponent's parry struck his sword from his hand. Harada’s sword thundered onto the back of his helmet stunning him. Unarmed, his body and mind roiled as blows rained onto his writhing body.

  In a display of leniency rarely seen from Master Sokoi Harada, the beating ceased before the medics were required. Nathan was thankful the master swordsman used a dull practice sword. If Nathan were an enemy combatant Harada would find the gaps in his armor and cut him to pieces. Today's beating had not been the first time the dangerous old sword-master had taught him a harsh lesson.

  Nathan struggled to his feet, feeling as though a plains buffalo had trampled him. He joined Harada in the center of the training square and sat before him, his legs folded under his buttocks. Nathan bowed slowly until his head touched the training square. Ignoring the piercing pain that throbbed through his body he sat without moving, awaiting the inevitable rebuke.

  When Harada removed his helmet Nathan followed suit. Sweat rolled down Nathan’s back and flowed from his sodden hair stinging his eyes. He resisted the urge to wipe his face. The Nihonese swordmaster sat impassively, unmoving, disconnected and totally dry. Harada brought his soulful black eyes to bear.

  “Where are you, Telford?”

  Nathan's obvious confusion prompted Harada to continue.

  “You are not here in this moment, not focused. Not one with body and mind. Your technique remains but you are not here. So Telford, where are you?”

  As if to answer the question Nathan heard the comm blare across the academy training ground.

  “Midshipwoman Commander Okuma, report to Commander Zoehrer's office at fourteen hundred hours. Class A's. That is all.”

  An odd mixture of emotions struck Nathan. Moe had qualified for the special cruise. Fantastic. Nathan knew Moe would make the cut and was overjoyed for her. However, only ten middies won their way into the exacting mid-year cruise. Moe’s name was the tenth and final name called.

  “I apologize, Master Harada.” Nathan’s low tone reflected his sincerity. For a sword-master of Harada's repute to give personalized time to a student was unheard of. Nathan had squandered his gift by allowing his mind to wander to an undeserv
ed hope.

  “Perhaps you should place mud in your ears?” The severe lines on Harada’s face softened fractionally, removing twenty years from his age.

  Of course he was right, mud in the ears. The old man missed nothing.

  “Yes, Master Harada.”

  “Do you believe I have treated you harshly, Telford?”

  “No sir, of course not.”

  “The universe will provide all that you need, Nathan.”

  “Yes, Master Harada.” The old man’s going Zen on me again.

  “And what you need right now is a shower.”

  Nathan, more through surprise than good judgment, stared at Harada. An expression dancing on the edge of lethal amiability greeted him. For the first time Nathan smiled in the sword master’s presence.

  “You are my best student, Nathan, but such lapses in concentration will get you killed where you are going.” His finger pointed lazily to the sky. “You know this to be true, do you not?”

  “Yes, Master Harada. Again I apologize for my disgraceful behavior. It will never happen again. I give you my pledge.” Harada had referred to him by his given name twice during his time at the mount, both within the last ten seconds. Does he know something I don’t?

  “As you should,” he said, with contrived gruffness. “Go and hit the showers.”

  “Yes, Master Harada.” Nathan bowed to the deck. He jumped to his feet ignoring the darting pain in his leg.

  “And Telford …” Nathan glanced over his shoulder. “If you ever again waste my time I shall not be so lenient.”

  Nathan nodded once and left, knowing from painful experience how much Harada meant what he said.

  ***

  As mid afternoon approached, time dragged for Nathan. His index finger massaged the bump at the corner of his right eyebrow. The mass of numbers scrolling across his comp pad could not distract him from his unease.

  His entire naval career did not depend on the results of his upcoming assessment. However, he would feel justifiably irritated if all the hard work counted for nothing. Nathan had become accustomed to meeting challenges and attaining his goals. His failure to qualify for the special cruise hit hard.

  “Go for a run before you implode,” Roger suggested.

  “I'm fine.” Nathan replied while trying to make sense of the navigation problem mocking him from the screen.

  “You're ready to jump out of your skin.”

  Nathan looked up. Roger’s boyish grin had not changed since they first became roomies. Nathan snorted and shook his head.

  “So you missed out on the special cruise,” Roger said. “So what? There are hundreds of middies trying for ten slots. We both know what you've been doing instead of hitting the books. You’ve put too much time into your regiment. Listening to every kid with a problem. You can’t be the big bother to all of them, you know. So you dipped out. Get over it. As for your mid terms, don't worry. If you get a good passing grade, great. If you don't, bad luck. Either way, having kittens over it is a blatant waste of energy. Yes?”

  “Once again my friend, you are the voice of reason in a world of noisy disarray.” Roger did not precisely represent the steadfast yin to Nathan’s passionate yang but at times Nathan admired his friend's logical mindset.

  “Then listen to your friend. Get off your orifice and go for a run for an hour or so. If any breaking news arrives I will run as fast as my chubby legs can carry me to the training field to tell you.”

  Nathan nodded and stood. As he opened his locker the wall-mounted comm buzzed. Nathan’s hand reached for it, his finger poised over the button. This would be his mid-term results.

  He stabbed the answer button. “Room eight dash four five. Midshipman Commander Telford.”

  “Ah, Mister Telford, just the middy I was after,” Cmdr Zoehrer said.

  Aletheia's Friend had done a series of articles on how much the commander’s silkily resonant voice sexually aroused most male middies, together with a small contingent of females. Apparently 'Zenith' Zoehrer had not responded favorably to Aletheia's jest.

  Today her throaty tones carried in the background buzz of the comm speaker, an additional spoonful of honey.

  “Report to my office at fourteen thirty hours. Class A's.”

  “Aye-aye, commander, fourteen thirty in your orifice. Class A's. Telford out.” Nathan froze in place, staring at the silent comm.

  “I think you got away with it,” Roger said, breaking the chilling silence. His dubious expression suggested otherwise.

  Nathan groaned. “In your orifice?” his head hit the locker with a sound thud. “What was I thinking?”

  “You were thinking what every red blooded middy has been thinking since plebe year.”

  “This isn't funny, Roger,” Nathan growled. “I have to front Zoehrer in fifteen minutes.”

  “In her orifice.” Roger laughed so hard he tumbled off his rack. “Well,” he said, choking back a laugh, “if things go well between you and Zoehrer it couldn’t hurt your reputation, you know?”

  “My rep is fine, thank you.” Nathan's fingers fumbled as he struggled to tie the thick black cravat to his high-collared white shirt.

  “You're a good guy Nathan, but over the years you’ve taken too many truly risky chances. You can push the envelope just so far, you know?”

  If you want risky chances, try escaping from the Pruessen Empire in an unarmed freighter being torn to pieces by an attack boat.

  Nathan straightened from the mirror, the cravat in place. He was aware of his reputation as a walking talking advertisement for Monitor Corps. Had his desire to be one of the best become obsessive? Livy didn’t think so and their discussions rarely ventured into his naval aspirations. They regularly laughed about all sorts of things.

  “We will talk further on this subject when I return. In the meantime I shall, as an old friend suggested, attempt to lighten up. All right?”

  “Make me proud, Nathan.”

  Nathan winked conspiratorially before stepping over the coaming.

  ***

  Nathan paced the waiting room floor. He stopped before the huge transparent globe that floated within the faintly shimmering anti-grav fields. As he had done countless times before, he examined the three thousand star systems and over two hundred habitable worlds that comprised the sphere of the Tunguska Fault.

  An irregular line encircled its circumference marking the frontier with the northern quarantine zone. Established after the first Franco-Pruessen war, the border had torn the map of Tunguska in half, after diplomatic negotiations with Pruessen collapsed. The fortuitous separation helped to restrict the spread of the terrible disease to the south during the final weeks of the second war with Pruessen. Worlds north of the frontier had not been so lucky. The infected worlds stood out from the map as ugly black dots.

  To the south of the frontier one black dot marred the many systems of the League of Allied Worlds. Delos.

  To the west of the Athenian Republic the border with the north, and the protection of the independent worlds therein, became the responsibility of the Bretish Commonwealth. The Brets had a fine modern navy crewed by aggressive commanders who held the line against all who would intrude into League space. To the east the Francorum Union was accountable for protecting the many independent worlds bordering the frontier. Their reputation had repeatedly been found lacking. Nathan felt his blood rising. My family would still be alive if the Francs hadn't abandoned their duty and left the Iberian system without protection. Fucking Francs, little better than Pruessens. He shook the ugly thought aside and steadied his breathing.

  One anomaly not shown on the globe was the Ebony Corona, a solid hyper depression surrounding Tunguska to a depth of six light years. Vessels were incapable of making hyper-transitions within the depression. This factor transformed Tunguska into a space-locked environment. At the best speed of the fastest vessel, a one-way journey through the corona took twelve years.

 
; This effectively made the region a non-commercial enterprise. Terra Corp had ignored Tunguska, preferring to continue its headlong exploitation of every system they encountered. This made Tunguska the ideal place for those rebellious types who had become sick of T-C’s despotic rule.

  Three hundred years ago, the first colonists to arrive in Tunguska must have viewed this broken region of space as if it were a new Eden. A chance to start over, a new hope. It was not surprising, therefore, that they named their new world after the first democracy in human history. Humanity brought into the Fault a determination to do better, thousands of years of art, literature, philosophy, technology and high hopes. Sadly, humanity also carried the baggage of ancient passions and an unquenchable proclivity for mayhem. Two wars in the last fifty years proved that things never changed. Nathan was studying for his minor in ancient Earth history. He sighed and wondered if humanity would ever evolve sufficiently to learn from the catastrophes of its past. We cannot escape the nature of our lesser selves.

  “Midshipman Telford,” the secretary said, “Commander Zoehrer will see you now.”

  Nathan nodded, straightened his waistcoat and stepped to the hatch.

  ***

  Commander Constance Zoehrer scratched at the ghost itch on her left arm. “Bugger,” she grumbled and discontinued the futile gesture. Modern prosthetics were good but they did not itch.

  The hatch chimed. “Ad-mit.”

  Her eyes remained glued to her screen as Nathan snapped to attention before her desk.

  “Midshipman Commander Telford reporting to the commander as ordered, ma’am.”

  She spared him a glance. “At ease, commander. Take a seat.”

  Constance Zoehrer showed favoritism to no one. However, from plebe year onward she had been Nathan’s year supervisor and knew him as well as anyone. Unlike other military institutions, Mount Kratos earmarked exceptional leaders from day one. This young man stood out from his written reports to his behavior through plebe year and every year since.

  But she never played favorites.