The Hope Island Chronicles Boxed Set

by PJ Strebor

  “We will maintain course and speed to the frontier,” Weiss announced. “When we cross into friendly space I’ll decide what we do next."

  Orson's gut twisted into a hard knot.

  CHAPTER 61

  Nathan faced the team. “I cannot in good conscience leave without the children,” Nathan said, his tone endorsing an unyielding tenor. “I can’t and I won’t. I’m going to find the civvies, with my new friend here.” Flencher smiled halfheartedly when Nathan slapped him on the back. “I am disobeying orders by committing to this action so the rest of you should rendezvous with the landing boat.”

  “You really need to lighten up, Nathan,” Moe said. “You don't have to make everything so bloody dramatic do you? We’ll find the civvies, return to Truculent and face the consequences together. All right?”

  “Don't even think you’re going to get all of the glory for yourself,” Meta said.

  “I could really use a shower,” Ozzie said. “But I suppose I can wait a little longer.”

  Dearkov slapped the flat side of her ax into the palm of her hand. Her gruesome expression confirmed her acceptance.

  “You know, as acting ensign I could order you jokers to report to the landing boat.” The team chuckled. He cleared his throat. “Very well. We'd better get to it.” He looked at Dearkov and raised an eyebrow. “Feeling fit, petty officer?”

  After safely negotiating four decks into the bowels of the enemy ship they approached their destination.

  Nathan noted that Petty Officer Dearkov did not appear at all happy with her new assignment. The indignity of carrying the injured former headhunter on her back was testing what little patience she had.

  Flencher whispered something into her ear.

  Dearkov stopped, plucked Flencher from her back and pinned him to the bulkhead by the throat. Her blazing eyes said much about her restraint.

  “Listen to me you scrawny little weasel,” she said. “The only reason your head isn't tucked up your arse is because Mister Telford says so. But if you don't stop talking to me I will hurt you so severely that your grandchildren will cry. Are you reading me shit-for-brains?”

  With her hand clamped firmly around his throat he could not reply.

  “I'd nod if I were you,” Nathan suggested.

  Flencher nodded, frantic eyes bulging from a red face.

  Dearkov swung him onto her back with the ease of tossing back a cape.

  The team reached the juncture of two main corridors.

  “Which way?” Nathan asked the newly reticent Flencher. “She said don't talk to her, not to me. Now which way?”

  “Right.” After a dozen paces he said, “Stop here.”

  Nathan stood before a hatch embossed with the symbol of a skull and crossbones.

  This guy has to be kidding.

  “You're sure?”

  “The captain keeps the best prizes for himself,” Flencher said.

  Dearkov glared over her shoulder. “Get off me.” Flencher instantly dropped to the deck.

  Nathan examined the old-style hatch. Unlike the other hatches he had encountered aboard Picaroon, this one was fitted with a manual locking bar. Nathan stared at the lock before looking to his team.

  “You could probably shoot it off … if you had your sidearm.”

  His frown indicated he was not impressed with Moe’s attempt at light humor.

  “Now you know how it feels.” Moe said.

  Dearkov took a step back from the hatch and swung her ax above her head.

  “No!” Flencher cried. He hopped toward the hatch, ignoring Dearkov’s blistering glare. “It's cast armor metal. All you'll do is jam the mechanism,” he said. “One of the advantages of being the captain's steward is that I know his secrets.” Flencher manipulated the tumblers until the lock snapped open. “When you raise the locking bar it automatically disengages the internal shielding.”

  “Is it sensor-monitored?”

  “No, only the externals are covered by sensors. This is a headhunter ship not a battleship.”

  Nathan reached out with his senses. Prep did not respond. He sheathed his sword.

  “Wait here,” he said.

  Nathan spun the round handle and pulled the hatch open. He slowly stepped into the room. The children, three girls and two boys, ranged in age from about four to eight years. They huddled together on a huge bed, their little chests heaving. He smiled and approached the children slowly, his hands open in a gesture of supplication. Although healthy and unmarked, fear dominated their eyes. At any moment the restrained whimpering would explode into a full-scale panic attack. How to handle this?

  “Hello children. I’m an Athenian naval officer and I’m here to take you home to your parents.” He held his breath as five pairs of huge eyes stared at him.

  “Our parents are dead.” The pretty blonde girl appeared to be the oldest.

  “What’s your name, young lady?”

  “Simone Garneau.”

  She reminded him of his kid sister Lucy. Not physically but in the wide-eyed innocence young children exhibited.

  “Well, Simone Garneau, that’s not true. My crew have rescued them and they are now on my ship.”

  “You’re lying,” she cried.

  Time for a different tactic. “Mind your manners, Miss Garneau. Athenians don’t lie. Now behave yourself.”

  Tick tock. Simone looked at her hands.

  “I want to go home,” one of the youngsters whined.

  “Are our parents really alive?” Simone asked.

  “As I said, my crew rescued them all and you’ll see them real soon. But children,” he hardened his tone moderately, “you all must do exactly what I say when I say it. Understood?”

  The younger children nodded.

  “Captain Foss said we couldn’t leave our quarters,” Simone said.

  “Captain Foss has a headache he’s not going to get over any time soon. I am captain now. You may call me, Captain Nathan.”

  He stared at the children. All were rightly apprehensive but far less so than a few minutes ago. Only Simone retained a resolute expression.

  “Anyone who wants to go home, jump off the bed.” All but one of them leapt onto the deck. Simone stayed rooted in place, her face twisting with fearful uncertainty. Being the oldest she would suspect the danger more than the other youngsters. Nathan got down on his knees, held out his hands to her and spoke with firm but gentle insistence. “Come on Simone. Let's take you home.” Again he held his breath.

  Her resistance crumbled and she leapt into his arms.

  ***

  Time was running out. Nathan pushed the team to keep going. Each of them carried a child. Flencher limped after them.

  Halfway along deck four Nathan’s back flared. He wanted to stand and fight but couldn’t take the risk of the children being harmed.

  He stared at his friends. “Very well, we’ll take a shortcut down to the next deck. Into the access tubes.”

  The team went first and Nathan had just made it into the tube when he heard the sound of armored boots on deck plates. He froze on the ladder. Simone’s eyes became wide as the sound grew. Her mouth began to open. Nathan held his finger to his lips. If Simone called out… He locked his eyes onto hers and repeated to himself, don’t scream, don’t scream, don’t scream. The girl’s chest heaved with the effort to control herself. It felt as if the marching boots would go on forever. Gradually the clatter of the headhunter patrol dimmed then died. He brushed the girl’s hair and whispered, “Good girl, Simone.” She hugged his chest and her breathing started to return to normal.

  They encountered no other patrols as they moved stealthily to the rendezvous. How the hell have we gotten this far without one of the kids crying or screaming? I guess it’s true. Children really are malleable. Or perhaps it’s the absolute terror that silenced them.

  Nathan quickened his pace as the lateral corridor loomed ahead. Sensing no danger he jogged a
round the corner leading to the forward hatch. His momentum slowed before grinding to a stop.

  The bow hatch was pressure sealed. The landing boat had left without them.

  CHAPTER 62

  “Captain, we are two minutes from the Rio Grande,” O'Donnell said.

  “Very well.” Waugh rubbed her dry eyes.

  “The last landing boat is coming aboard now, captain,” Luis reported.

  The Tackies were all dead by now, or in chains.

  “Boat bay is secured, captain,” Luis said.

  “Very well. Helm, bring the boat to a dead stop as close to the frontier as you dare.”

  “Aye, captain.”

  Waugh crossed the bridge and leaned over the Tactical Station. “Lois, I want you to track Picaroon for as long as possible. Deploy the long-range array if need be but keep an eye on her.”

  “Aye, skipper.”

  Waugh dropped into the captain's chair.

  “Do you think I'm an idiot, Luis?”

  “I think for someone of your advanced years the correct term would be old fool … captain.” He smiled and added, “And no, I don’t.”

  “Why should I think they’re still alive?”

  “He’s quite an exceptional young man, don't you think?”

  “Hmm.”

  So far she had three of her crew dead on this mission and others who could die from their wounds. The loss of her middies ate at her. It had been her decision to attach them to the strike force.

  She pushed her recriminations aside. For the time being she could only sit and wait. Clinging tenaciously to an aching wisp of hope.

  CHAPTER 63

  Nathan stared at the secured hatch. Simone’s white-knuckled grip indicated her suspicions, but thankfully she kept her peace. His mind went blank.

  “Sir, I believe the landing boat is in the boat bay,” Moe said.

  “Quite right, middy,” he replied.

  He stared at his team. They nodded slightly in confirmation. He set off at a light jog with Simone’s hands digging urgently into his webbing. Nathan’s sense of unease increased. If the landing boat had left, Picaroon must have crossed the Rio Grande. However, that was the least of their many problems. At any moment the EDF could be disengaged and the children would show up on the enemy’s sensors. Nathan could not understand why they continued to maintain the field.

  They made their way to the boat bay entrance without incident. Even though his Prep gave no indication of danger he would take no chances with the children’s safety. He placed Simone onto the deck.

  Dearkov placed her charges onto the deck with utmost gentleness.

  "Very well children, I’m going to leave you with Meta and Ozzie for a minute while I get my boat ready. Please behave yourselves."

  Meta and Ozzie ushered them through a nearby hatch and dogged it.

  Once the children cleared the corridor Nathan and Moe prepared their bows. They each had only two arrows left. According to Flencher the boat bay was one of the five areas on the ship where the EDF was not deployed.

  If armed troops were waiting for them behind the hatch …

  Dearkov held her ax in one hand and undogged the hatch with the other. Nathan charged into the boat bay, his bow at the ready. He winced as the dazzling light from the overheads struck his eyes. Blinking rapidly he sighted along the drawn arrow panning from bulkhead to bulkhead. Moe and Dearkov checked out the hangars while Nathan inspected the bay. No armed troops, no pulsars tearing into him.

  If anyone gave the alarm before they were ready to depart they were finished. Bows and arrows against energy weapons would have a poor outcome. For the moment their sensor suppressors would keep the middies hidden from the boat bay sensors, but such protection did not extend to the children. When they left this wretched ship they would have to do so very, very quickly.

  “All clear,” Moe said.

  “Dearkov, check out the LCC.” The petty officer sprinted up the stairs to the Landing Control Center. Nathan and Moe walked around the hangar examining the poor selection of landing boats. One boat was on the center line ready for launch. Nathan cracked the hatch and they checked it out.

  After a careful inspection Moe voiced her opinion. “What a piece of shit.”

  “Yeah, but it’s the best piece of shit.”

  Moe wrinkled her nose. “This belongs in a museum, Nate.”

  “Yeah, but you get that. Start the pre-flight checks will you?”

  “Why certainly, Stanley.”

  When Nathan stepped from the boat, Dearkov jogged down the steps. “All clear. Mind if I ask a question?” Nathan nodded. “I suppose you plan to steal one of these boats and make a run for it?”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  “What about those.” Dearkov pointed her ax at the huge hangar doors.

  “I'm planning to open those before we leave.”

  “Oh … good. So you know how to operate the controls.”

  Nathan gasped and held a hand to his mouth. “I thought you did.” She did not appreciate his humor. “We'll figure it out, Dearkov. Don't worry so much. I mean, how hard could it be to open a couple of doors?” She rolled her eyes. “I'll get Meta to give you a hand. She's better at this sort of thing than I am.”

  Dearkov jogged up the stairs while he returned to the corridor. He reached the hatch and heard childish laughter. When he stepped through the hatch Ozzie and Meta reached for their swords. They sat on the deck playing games with the children.

  He waved at the kids and they waved back. Remarkable. Children really are made of rubber.

  Nathan motioned Meta to join him by the hatch. She winced as she got to her feet and joined him.

  “You're hurting?”

  “The drugs are wearing off.”

  “Good,” Nathan said without humor. “I need you sharp. Get up to the LCC and figure out how to get the hangar doors open. Dearkov can assist you. And you know not to actually open them until I say so, right?” For the sake of the kids, she simply nodded. After she left he drew Ozzie aside.

  “Keep them entertained by whatever means you have to.”

  “I get all the great assignments.” As the eldest child of nine siblings Ozzie’s qualifications were beyond reproach. “Problems?”

  “Nothing that the academy class of 320 can't handle.” Nathan maintained his smile for the kid's benefit but his eyes and tone changed. “You need to keep them quiet. I could hear them out in the corridor.”

  “You're kidding, right?”

  Nathan heaved a sigh. “Just do your best.”

  Nathan walked slowly toward the boat bay, taking a moment to assess their situation. Meta and Dearkov would get the hangar doors open. Moe would prep the LB and Ozzie would take care of the kids. The worrisome, noisy kids who were close to going ballistic. Another reason to get off this ship as quickly as possible.

  Flencher slumped on the deck, his legs stretched out before him. As with the children, he did not wear a sensor suppressor.

  Nathan set his eyes on the former headhunter. Under his gaze Flencher shifted uncomfortably.

  “Flencher, how much do you weigh?”

  ***

  “You're the bloody academy genius, not me,” Dearkov spat.

  Meta resisted the urge to tell the great lump of a petty officer what she really thought. Her sister from Salamis made her feel like a proper lady. They had slaved over the LCC controls for ten minutes. Meta still hadn’t figured out how to open the hangar doors.

  “This technology is forty years out of date. It's totally dissimilar to the systems I’ve studied.”

  “So take a good guess … ma'am.”

  Meta scrutinized the broad control panel, struggling to make sense of the mass of unfamiliar controls. Some of them, like the force field activator and the power relays, she recognized, but numerous others remained mysteries.

  She tried not to think about leaving without Nathan but if company arrived
she might have no choice in the matter.

  “The safety of the children comes first, Meta,” Nathan had said. “I’ll try to divert any patrols away from the boat bay. But if I get unlucky, do not hesitate. Leave as soon as you can.”

  Alone and unarmed he was playing the biggest bluff of his life. If a patrol turns up and does not fall for his ploy … Nathan could take care of himself better than anyone she knew. He’d walk home if need be.

  Meta’s impatience got the better of her. She held her breath and struck at a likely series of controls. Power to the main hatch showed green on her board and she shut down the sequence within a second.

  “Got it.”

  “Great!”

  “But I may have told someone we're here.”

  “Jesus wept,” Dearkov cursed.

  “Get ready to move out.”

  “What about Mister Telford?”

  “He’ll be fine. If the bridge officers are as slack as everything else on this bucket we should be fine."

  Meta led the way down the stairs, stifling a wince each time her feet hit the steps. She sent Dearkov to guard the hatch while she sprinted to the boat. It hurt to sprint but it would hurt a lot more with a headhunter broadsword in her belly.

  She worked her way through the smelly LB and stuck her head into the flight deck. Moe sat in the right-hand seat examining a bank of instruments.

  “Please tell me this thing will fly.”

  “This thing will fly.” Moe's impersonation of Nathan's dryness caused Meta to chuckle. “Are we ready to go?”

  “Pretty close,” Meta said, turning to go.

  “Where's Nathan?”

  “He'll be along shortly.” Meta stepped from the LB and strode across the boat bay to where Dearkov guarded the hatch. Like the hound from hell. Meta froze as the hatch swung open. A headhunter stepped into the bay. Dearkov swung a mighty blow at the helmeted head with force enough to cleave it from its body.

  The headhunter dropped under the blow and drove a flat-handed strike onto her chest. Dearkov staggered back then launched herself at the intruder. He sidestepped her and ran toward Meta while pulling off his helmet. Nathan stopped before the enraged, charging Dearkov and held up his hands in submission.