The Hope Island Chronicles Boxed Set

by PJ Strebor

  Nathan’s eyes snapped open. His body buzzed like a plebe on his first day at the mount. Me, of all people.

  He pushed away from his rack, carefully stooping to clear the low overhead. Nathan locked the rack into position before stepping into the corridor. With the crew at their duty stations preparing for hyper ingression he encountered no one.

  The uniformly gray hatches passed by, identified only by stenciled numbers. A locked hatch stood before him, emblazoned with bold red lettering: Maneuvering. Authorized Personnel Only. A drop shaft marked DS 2/5 lay open beside the hatch.

  Nathan reached into the shaft through the meter wide portal. His skin tingled as he passed through the environmental force field. He seized the recessed handholds and pulled himself inside the drop shaft. Nathan took a moment to adjust to the null gravity.

  The same iridescent green used on the corridor’s overheads coated the drop shafts. On his third-year cruise some middies considered the large black arrows to be funny until they lost their orientation and headed 'up' instead of 'down'.

  Nathan tucked himself into a ball and rotated his body so his head pointed 'down.' Recalling an unfortunate incident while onboard Audacious, he made certain to push away with the most gentle of taps. At deck three he slowed his feeble momentum, reached into the corridor, seized the external handholds and dragged his body into the corridor's normal gravity.

  When his feet hit the deck he stood motionless until the queasiness passed. During training the instructors told him to expect the sensation and not to rush things. It would pass in time, they assured him.

  Nathan headed aft until another hatch barred his entrance. Maneuvering occupied the greater part of deck three and a large section of deck two. For the next ten minutes he floated within the boat’s drop shafts, reacquainting himself with this remarkable vessel. The entrance to the boat bay loomed. Although tempted to examine the hangar areas he thought better of it. In the eyes of the crew, middies were all young idiots who were more trouble than the valuable boat space they occupied. Having familiarized himself with the drop shafts, he navigated to the port side of the boat then down to deck two and back toward the longitudinal corridor. Nathan swung from the shaft, landing firmly on the deck outside the wardroom. His navigation had been accurate to the centimeter but his moment of self-congratulation was short-lived.

  ***

  For the past five days Tivendale fought against his sense of outrage. Yet he could not control his seething anger. That bitch Waugh will be sorry. My father-in-law will see to her once I have finished this silly deployment. Three months on this little boat will do wonders for my naval resume. Might even get me my fourth star. When this mission ended he would return home to his darling wife. He shuddered at the thought. But a man with his background did whatever he had to in order to advance. If that meant bedding a sow, so be it.

  Admiral Jardine had assigned him to this particular ship for a reason. He wanted dirt on Waugh. Jardine had never specifically said so but Tivendale knew his mind. Jardine and Waugh had some kind of falling-out in the distant past. Tivendale suspected Waugh had gotten the better of him.

  The crew was not what he expected. Their overall indifference toward proper discipline appalled him. Even his assistant, CPO Argento, displayed an unhealthy familiarity toward someone of his rank. He put her in her place.

  Tivendale glanced around the otherwise empty wardroom. Where could the rest of the crew be? The ship was underway but surely the services of the entire crew were not required.

  When he stepped into the lateral corridor a body dropped onto the deck. Startled, he jumped back.

  “You there, what do you think you are doing?” he shouted. “Midshipman, I asked you a question.”

  The middy swayed as if disorientated before finding his balance.

  “Just taking in the sights, sir.”

  “Are you trying to be funny, mister?” The boy looked too young to be in uniform, even academy grays.

  “No sir.” Although outwardly respectful there lingered within his appalling accent a hint of weary impudence.

  “Stand to attention when you address a superior officer,” Tivendale snapped. “What the blazes do you think you are doing playing around in the drop shafts?”

  The middy slowly straightened his back as far as he could without hitting the overhead. Even in the slightly hunched position his stance lacked conviction. Did he just sigh?

  “Familiarizing myself with the layout of the boat, Lieutenant Tivendale.”

  “Who authorized you to go wandering around the ship?”

  “Well, lieutenant, you did.”

  “What?”

  “It's on the running sheet, lieutenant.”

  Running sheet? Oh yes, of course. He had not found the time to examine it so he used the previous MTO's running sheet.

  This middy’s accent was going to drive him insane. So slow, such an irritating drawl.

  “What is your home planet?”

  “Kastoria.”

  Tivendale nodded knowingly. A colonial and an academy senior midshipman. The universe is definitely conspiring against me.

  “What do you call yourself?”

  The colonial brat raised his eyebrows. “I call myself Midshipman Nathan Telford.”

  “Do not be impertinent. You know perfectly well what I mean. Are you Republican or colonial?”

  “Athenian.”

  Tivendale wanted to slap him. “You were born on a colonial world. Yes?”

  “Some people have all the luck.”

  "Are you trying to be clever, Mister …” he glanced at his nametag, “Telford?"

  “That was never my intention, lieutenant. Merely trying to defuse an awkward situation with a little levity.”

  Tivendale caught in Telford’s lethargic tone the gist of what he left unsaid. The dullness in the eyes. The barely veiled disinterest and his insistence on avoiding the use of the honorific ‘sir’ was now blatantly clear. Well, no middy will ever get the better of Stephenson Tivendale.

  “How would you like to be put on report, midshipman?” The boy stood there, the same dull-eyed expression unchanging. “I asked you a question, Midshipman Telford. Are you refusing to answer my question?”

  “Please forgive me, lieutenant,” he said, with the exaggerated innocence of a five-year-old. “I assumed you were asking a rhetorical question. But apparently not so.” He squinted, as if in thought. “What was the question again?”

  Tivendale bounced on the balls of his feet.

  “You are confined to quarters until further notice.”

  “Aye-aye, lieutenant.” Telford made no attempt to hide his smirk as he turned away.

  Impudent wretch.

  CHAPTER 26

  Date: 5th June, 320 (ASC).

  Position: In orbit, Planet Carina.

  Status: Awaiting clearance to inner marker, for hyper ingression.

  From his position at the Auxiliary Operations Station, Leo Saunders observed how the real professionals performed like a well-oiled machine.

  “Thank you, harbormaster, we are proceeding now.” Cmdr Demianski glanced up from his readouts and nodded once to the captain.

  “Helm, set course for the Inner Marker,” Waugh said.

  “Captain, course is laid in to the I/M,” Lt Cmdr O'Donnell replied.

  “Very well. Both ahead half, thrust engines only.”

  “Aye, captain, both ahead half.”

  “Captain, time to Inner Marker is four hours sixteen minutes.”

  “Very well.” Waugh leaned close to the D-O and whispered something.

  He nodded and partly stifled a snort.

  Leo considered that to be a well-oiled machine. Those two had served as captain and operations officer for so long rumor suggested they could read each other’s minds.

  During the dreary four-hour journey to the I/M the crew stayed alert by conducting checks and counterchecks. Tactical and helm stations
kept a wary eye on the surrounding space. The Auxiliary Operations Station provided additional backup. Leo ran his checks but dedicated one of his screens to sweeping the surrounding space. Commercial shipping was unlikely to venture anywhere near an Athenian naval vessel but human beings were flawed creations and mistakes happened. It would reflect poorly on their files to have a wayward civvy plow into their state-of-the-art boat. Leo felt every minute of the next four hours but paid attention to everything happening around him.

  “Captain,” O'Donnell said, “I/M ETA thirty seconds.”

  “Very well. D-O, confirm our clearance out of system with harbor control.”

  “Aye, captain,” Cmdr Demianski said.

  Leo stifled a yawn.

  “Captain, permission to ingress has been granted,” the commander said. “We have a clear run to the Outer Marker. All departments report ready. I show green across the board. Full shield power is at your command.”

  “Very well. Helm, prepare to ingress.”

  “Aye, captain. Stealth engines on standby. Thrust engines are at your command. Standing by to ingress.”

  “Thank you. D-O, final systems check.”

  “All systems optimal, captain. The boat is fully pressurized and buttoned up. All departments report ready. Maneuvering department reports hyper generator buffer at maximum. Awaiting orders to ingress. Shields are at optimal for station keeping and navigation. I confirm we are green across the board.”

  “Very well, bring shields to Alert Condition one status.”

  “Aye, captain, shields are at A/C one status.”

  “Very well. Helm, standard hyper ingression procedures.”

  “Aye, captain,” O'Donnell said, “activating hyper generator, now.”

  Leo focused the forward optical scanners at the point directly ahead of the boat. The perforation into hyperspace created by the Hydro Magnetic Wave Form generator caused a circle of golden light to form within the darkness of space.

  “Captain, ingression point opened.”

  “Very well. Both ahead dead slow.”

  “Aye, captain. Helm is responding. Both ahead dead slow.”

  Crossing the invisible barrier between normal space and hyperspace was indistinguishable to human senses. Some old hands said they could physically sense something during transition but Leo could not.

  “Captain, hyper ingression achieved.”

  “Very well, helm. D-O, confirm shield status.”

  “Shields are at optimal A/C one status, captain.”

  “Very well. Helm, secure hyper generator. Both ahead full. ETA to Outer Marker?”

  “Aye, captain. Hyper generator is secured. Both ahead full answering. ETA to O/M is one zero niner minutes. Suggest standard roll over and braking commence in fifty-five minutes plus or minus one.”

  “Very well, helm.”

  With shields at optimal level a protective energy barrier stood between the boat and the destructive forces of hyperspace. Any vessel entering hyper without adequate shielding would have their hull fried in very short order. Like sticking your finger into a beaker of undiluted pressic acid.

  One hundred and nine minutes later Truculent egressed into normal space. Leo checked his navigation plot and shook his head. O'Donnell had been within thirty-five seconds of the marker. It was an outstanding example of dead reckoning navigation. O'Donnell, like the captain, wore the gold wings of a command pilot. They were not only remarkable pilots but, by absolute necessity, equally talented navigators. They had to be, for once a course had been laid in all variables had to be accounted for before entry into hyper.

  Having passed through the outer marker and now free of the restraints of the Carina system, Truculent set course toward her northern patrol area.

  “Captain,” O'Donnell said, “recommend ingression on course 325 by 165 by 289. Recommend roll over for egression in eight point two five hours.”

  Leo scrutinized the captain and helm officer intently. This was one of the most critical standard procedures any vessel could undertake. A half-degree variation in course could result in an awkward situation at best and a fatal outcome at worse.

  "Very well, helm, I concur with your recommendation. Prepare for ingression. Both ahead full after transition on a course of 325 by 165 by 289.”

  “Aye-aye, captain.”

  Once the vessel ingressed into hyper Leo checked his panel one last time before CPO Rocca relieved him.

  Now, time to feed the inner man. He should also touch bases with his middy.

  ***

  Nathan looked up from his reader when an officer, about his age, stepped through the hatch. Silver wings adorned his left breast pocket but he did not wear an academy ring. Probably an OCS graduate awaiting a fighter berth.

  “Allan Mattich,” he said, extending his hand. Allan had a nasal twang peculiar to residents of the colony world of Koufos Laurium in Western Quadrant.

  “Nathan Telford.”

  “Settling in all right?” Allan dropped onto the bottom rack.

  “Fine thanks.”

  “Good.” Allan glanced at the hard-copy images affixed to the wall above where Nathan rested on his rack. “Family?” He stood to take a closer look.

  “And friends.” The Penkovsky family, Moe and Livy stared back.

  “Wow! Who's this beauty?”

  “My fiancée.”

  “I thought middies weren’t permitted to marry.”

  “We're not married yet. We plan to, the day after graduation.”

  “Who’s that?” Allan said pointing at the image. “She looks familiar.”

  “That, Allan, is Midshipwoman Moe Okuma.” Nathan said.

  “Moe? Strange name.”

  “Her given name is Mary Ann, but I wouldn’t recommend calling her that.”

  “She’s really attractive. Are you two …?”

  Nathan laughed. “Moe and me? No, she’s my best friend. More like a sister than anything else.” Nathan noted that Allan’s eyes remained fixated on Moe’s image. “She’s aboard Truculent you know. I could arrange an intro if you like?”

  “Ah, well, I –”

  Leo stepped into the now-crowded room. “What are we looking at?” After examining the image of Livy, Leo whistled. “You dog, Nathan.”

  Make that lucky dog.

  Leo squeezed past Allan, removed a holo cube from his locker and activated it. An image formed of a pretty young woman with short dark hair. The little boy in her arms emulated her soft smile. “Mary-Lyn and James Saunders.” Leo swelled with pride. “We got married straight out of the academy and junior arrived a few months later.”

  “Nathan's planning to do the same thing,” Allan said. “I don't know about the baby but the marriage bit. That's right isn't it, Nathan?”

  “Yes Allan, and as for starting a family …” He smiled. “If we did everything right before I shipped out I could be getting some good news when we disembark.”

  “Good for you,” Leo said. “A sound tactical approach. If the academy won't let us marry for some silly fear it will distract us from our studies, that’s their call. But they can't stop anyone from starting a family.”

  “How about you Allan?” Nathan asked. “Any special someone waiting back home?”

  Leo took advantage of Allan's awkward delay. “Our young ensign has more than he can handle. A girl in every port, isn't that right young man?”

  When Leo shook Allan firmly by the shoulder the young officer blushed bright crimson with astounding speed.

  Nathan smiled at Allan’s obvious embarrassment. Moe would love to get her lustful hands on an innocent like Allan. I wonder if I should hook them up?

  “Enough of this frivolity gentlemen. Shall we retire to the mess to see what disaster Cookie has dreamt up for today's repast?”

  Allan, only slightly less red, mumbled his agreement. Nathan leaned against the bulkhead. At the hatch Leo glanced over his shoulder.

 
“Coming?”

  Nathan shook his head.

  Leo's eyes narrowed. “I'll catch up with you in a minute, Allan.”

  Allan nodded before the hatch slid shut.

  “What happened?” Leo's asked.

  “I have been ordered to remain in my quarters until summoned.”

  “Why?”

  “I spent a little time familiarizing myself with the drop shafts. Mister Tivendale did not approve.”

  “Tivendale.” Leo's single word said all Nathan needed to hear of his opinion of the Midshipman Training Officer.

  “I can't remember the last time I was sent to my room without supper. Would I be correct in assuming the lieutenant has no bloody sense of humor?”

  Leo choked back a laugh. “You work fast, Nathan. On the boat less than two hours and you've already run afoul of the MTO. Impressive.”

  “You get that.”

  Leo sighed. “Did he place you on report?”

  “He asked if I would like to be put on report.” Nathan shrugged.

  “What happened?”

  Nathan explained to him the gist of the encounter. Leo shook his head. “You're not backward about coming forward are you?”

  “I had experience with Tivendale’s kind when I was … in the north.” He snorted. “He’s an amateur compared with the Pruessens but I recognized his type within a few seconds of meeting him. I’ll never bend knee to that sort of power abuse again.”

  “I thought you’d lost your memories of that time,” Leo said.

  Damn. “I have. But I get flashes, images of some of what my family went through.”

  “I see.”

  “Besides,” he added in a lighter tone, “I’ve heard bad manners are most un-Athenian.”

  “That's generally correct but there are always exceptions to any rule,” Leo said. “Just watch your step with him.”

  Nathan nodded.