The Hope Island Chronicles Boxed Set

by PJ Strebor

  The nineteen-year-old rating had removed her helmet and wiped blood from her lip. Around the edges of the fighting suit, abrasions and bruising showed.

  “Are you all right, Abbey?” Nathan asked.

  “I’m fine, Mister Telford.” She winced as she tried to stand, and Nathan supported her. Whitney had done an effective job on the youngster. Nathan could guarantee he would be feeling the effects of his beating for a lot longer than Abbey.

  “Report to the infirmary, Abbey — I think you might have some cracked ribs.”

  “I’m fine, Mister Telford, I just need a minute.” The kid had heart.

  “That wasn’t a request, rating.” Nathan smiled and placed a hand gently on her shoulder. “Let the doc check you out. That’s an order. Now get going.”

  Abbey moved gingerly toward the nearby hatch, favoring her left side.

  CHAPTER 21

  Date: 14th February, 322 ASC.

  Position: Monitor Insolent, in open space. Four point one light years from the Athenian colonial border.

  Status: Alert Condition One. Awaiting escort handover.

  “Captain, incoming comm from Commander Chappell,” Lieutenant Reiffel said. Bradman nodded, but kept his focus on his readouts. “The FOO reports the squadron has completed their third sweep of the area and has given the egression zone the all-clear.”

  “Very well, D-O,” Bradman said. “Inform Blatant.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  Reiffel opened the wire-thin communications perforation into hyperspace.

  “Blatant, this is Insolent; the egression point is secure. You are cleared to transit.”

  Reiffel tried to predict what the skipper would want next. Her finger hovered over the controls. If Bradman retained his fighter jock lineage, then he would probably—

  “D-O,” Bradman said, “let me see what’s happening.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Reiffel said, suppressing a smile. Fighter jocks could be so predictable. She activated the forward optical scanners and tied them in to the captain’s panel. Her screen showed a clear sea of stars.

  Reiffel received a final confirmation from Blatant and a few seconds later the perforation from hyper opened. From this distance, it looked as if someone had turned on a single golden light, illuminating a tiny dark section of interstellar space.

  Blatant crawled through the perforation at dead slow speed, the bulk of her hull taking nearly fifteen seconds to clear the perforation and fully enter normal space. Fighters sprang from her boat bay, taking up defensive positions around the egress point.

  A few minutes passed before the freighter opened her hyper perforation. Unlike the monitor, this opening from hyper was immense. A full minute passed before the Kyushu Maru exited the egress point. The sheer size of the ship staggered Toni’s senses.

  “Blatant calling, Captain,” Reiffel said.

  She caught the hint of a smile at the corner of the skipper’s mouth.

  “Let’s have it,” Bradman said. Had his tone softened?

  The image of a Monitor Corps officer carrying the rank of commander appeared on their readouts. Around the same age as Bradman, she sported an easy smile set into a handsome face.

  “Good morning, Captain Bradman.”

  “And good morning to you, Captain Delaney,” he replied in the same easy manner.

  “How goes the hunting, Steven?” Delaney asked.

  “The lake appears to have been fished out, Audrey,” Bradman said. “Did your journey from Southern Quadrant go smoothly?”

  Delaney snorted. “If Southern Q was any quieter, my blood would clot.”

  Bradman chuckled. “So, nothing untoward then?”

  “Not a thing, except for the cook trying to poison me, again.”

  “Yes, we have the same problem here.” Bradman kept his next comment on hold, as Delaney’s attention shifted to her D-O.

  Captain Delaney listened for a few seconds, then sighed. She spoke to her D-O and a moment later the screen split in two. On one side of the screen, Delaney’s image remained. On the other half appeared a captain of the Nihonese merchant ship. His neatly arranged hair had long since turned white. The unhealthy grey pallor of his skin said this might well be his last voyage.

  “Captain Bradman, may I introduce Captain Kondo of the Nihonese merchant vessel Kyushu Maru.”

  “Captain Bradman, when may we continue our voyage?”

  Reiffel could imagine Bradman thinking, And good morning to you, Captain Kondo, yet he resisted voicing his thoughts. Nihonese of Kondo’s generation were renowned for their abrupt nature. “We are ready to proceed as soon as you recharge your shield buffers.”

  “Our shields are fine for the next five hours. I dislike this region of space and would prefer to fully recharge our buffers in a more obscure sector. I trust you will comply with my request?”

  Some Nihonese could be insulted with the raising of an eyebrow, so Bradman kept his expression neutral. He nodded to his fellow monitor captain.

  “Captain Bradman,” Delaney said, “do you accept charge and responsibility for this vessel?”

  “I do accept this charge, Captain Delaney, and thank you for your service.”

  “Then I shall bid you good day, Captain, and hope you have an uneventful voyage. Blatant out.”

  “D-O, recover all outriders and prepare for ingression.”

  “Aye-aye, Captain,” Reiffel said.

  The stone face of the Nihonese captain remained set in place.

  Bradman kept his expression just as stony, but Reiffel caught the slightest sigh.

  CHAPTER 22

  Date: 21st February, 322 ASC.

  Position: Monitor Insolent, in open space.

  Status: Escort duties (ongoing). Alert Condition One.

  The pace aboard Insolent had undertaken a significant change in the past week. Following rendezvous with the Kyushu Maru, the boat had assumed Alert Condition Three status around the clock. During hyper egression transitions, this rose to level One. Insolent now had the total responsibility for protecting what many boat jockeys described as a LSMT: a Large Slow Moving Target.

  Transition through hyperspace contained the potential of great risk. The violent forces would quickly destroy any vessel which ventured into their fiery environment, without a complete array of fully functioning energy shield blisters. The power requirements to maintain such protection, while at the same time providing propulsion, environment and a hundred other concerns vital for the survival of vulnerable humans, eventually became too much for any onboard reactor to maintain.

  Every ten hours the freighter’s energy buffers needed replenishment. This required the mini-convoy to egress from hyper and wait while the Maru recharged. The period where vessels were outside the protection afforded by hyperspace was called hyper lag time (HLT).

  During every hyper egression, all five fighters deployed from the boat. Nathan, aboard Outrider Five, had completed scanning his assigned sector. He set O/R Five on a hyperbolic vector to cover the maximum area of space around his assigned sector. Operating in full stealth mode, he made one final sweep with his passive sensors.

  Nathan engaged the flash feed communication and reported to Insolent.

  “Insolent, O/R Five. Zeta sector is clear.” He did not await, nor did he expect, a reply. Narrow-band flash feed transmissions were all but undetectable, but Chappell discouraged overuse.

  “Outrider Five, Insolent.” Toni Reiffel’s measured tone.

  “Outrider Five.”

  “Our large child has her buffers recharged and we are preparing for transition. We will need to make a small course correction, so prepare to go limpet for the next ingression.”

  “Roger, Insolent. Standing by for limpet transition.”

  Nathan continued to scan the region until the Kymu came into view. This transition, for a course correction, would take minutes, so the point fighter would not come aboard.

  With al
l fighters, bar one, secured aboard the boat, Nathan waited.

  “Outrider Five, assume position for limpet mode.”

  “Roger, Insolent.”

  Nathan brought O/R Five into position above the limpet pad, located on top of the boat bay. He lowered his landing gear and hovered directly above the shimmering energy field.

  “Outrider Five, Insolent. Confirm you are in position for attachment.”

  “Confirmed.”

  “Very well, O/R Five. Pad shields disengaging on my mark. Three, two, one, mark.”

  Nathan dropped through the open force field, clamped onto the pad and cut his shield strength down to navigation level. Lowering his fighter’s profile, he locked down the magnetic seals, fastening his boat in place. Specter fighters were far too small to accommodate a hyper generator, what with all that pesky weaponry getting in the way.

  “Outrider Five, Insolent.”

  “Five.”

  “Confirm your Specter is fully in the green and navigation shields are operational.”

  “O/R Five confirms.”

  “Very well, stand by for transition.”

  Insolent engaged her shields, providing an energy barrier between the fighter and the forthcoming ravages of hyperspace. She activated her hydro magnetic wave form generator, creating a perforation into hyper. Nathan averted his gaze as his holo panels struggled to compensate for the immediate change from the darkness of deep space to the shocking brightness of hyperspace.

  Nathan stared over his shoulder to observe the ingression of the Nihonese freighter. The golden reflection from her grey hull made him wince and look away.

  After confirming both vessels were safe to proceed, the Insolent convoy continued at dead slow speed. Nathan dimmed his visor to ebony and sat back to enjoy the ride. When they egressed he did not wish to be suffering from partial blindness for the seconds required before his eyes readjusted to the dark environment of normal space. Death could take him in those few seconds.

  “Outrider Five, Insolent.”

  “Outrider Five.”

  “Be advised, fifteen seconds to egression.”

  “Thank you, Insolent, I will deploy upon egression.”

  Nathan tensed and rechecked his magnetic constrictors. At an egression speed of dead slow, hyper bleed should not be a factor. Fighters had been known to be torn from the hull by an overeager boat jockey exiting hyper too fast.

  A black hole opened and the monitor crossed into normal space. The darkness of interstellar space was total. Black as a nightmare. Nathan turned off the visor shade as they egressed.

  “Outrider Five, Insolent. Permission to come aboard granted.”

  “Roger, Insolent.”

  This, then, would be the pattern of activity for the escort fighters during the next month. As with any naval duty, the unremitting routine could so easily become a sudden chaotic fight for life if you did not keep your wits about you.

  CHAPTER 23

  Date: 23rd February, 322 ASC.

  Position: Monitor Insolent, transiting through hyperspace.

  Status: Escort duties (ongoing). Alert Condition Two.

  Doctor Sylvester Ning had been approaching the age of forty when he finally met his obligations as a loyal Athenian and undertook two years of voluntary military service. He expected an assignment to a battle platform in high orbit above a safe Athenian core world. Or, at worst, a posting to one of the colossal battleships plying the stars between Republican systems. Ning had not planned to be traversing the length and breadth of League space aboard a vessel whose sole purpose was to go out and find trouble.

  With a crew of one hundred and forty-two, Ning’s responsibilities as the boat’s doctor should have been unchallenging. During this time he had come to understand that a hundred and forty-two Monitor Corps crewmembers constituted a very different mix of personnel than he would expect to find on any standard ANS vessel. They were a stubborn, superstitious clique of individualists so fearful of endangering their highly coveted flight status that they developed a paranoia with regard to reporting any symptom that might adversely affect their chances of remaining on active duty. And then there were the fighter pilots. They would fly into combat with broken legs rather than reporting the slightest malady. Whatever reluctance the general crew might have with regard to approaching Ning, the pilots were ten times worse.

  In dealing with today’s dilemma, he would have to put himself in the crosshairs of just such a pilot. Telford might be new to the boat, but he brought with him the same dislike of the medical fraternity as all those before him. With Telford, however, an added edge of malignance accompanied his obvious dislike of medical professionals. Ning would have to find out why. Sometime.

  He stepped into hangar bay two. This was hallowed ground, reserved for those who considered themselves to be above all others who served aboard a monitor escort boat. Crammed into its small area were three of the boat’s lethal Specter fighters. Service crews clambered over the small vessels, busily engaged in their ongoing maintenance and repair duties. Only one group of technicians had little to do. One chief petty officer and two petty officers lounged against a nearby bench while eyeing one of the grounded fighters. Their expressions showed barely suppressed amusement. He recognized Chief Petty Officer Ritchie as the crew chief for Outrider Five.

  “Good morning, Chief,” Ning said, joining the group.

  “Mornin’, Doc.” Her easy colonial drawl would not survive the first week of assignment to a ship of the line. “Come down to help us out?”

  Ning chuckled and shook his head. “No, Chief, I’m looking for Ensign Telford.”

  From the warped expression on Ritchie’s face, Ning could tell that Telford’s dry smile had infected his crew chief. She pointed toward the parked Specter. Following Ritchie’s pointing digit, Ning saw nothing at first, then noticed a short, flat trolley positioned under the starboard dorsal. Two legs poked from the end of the trolley. He debated whether to approach the ensign on his own turf, finally took a quick breath and marched to the exposed legs.

  “Ensign Telford?”

  “That’s my name,” the legs replied casually.

  "I need to have a word with you.” As an afterthought he added, “This is Doctor Ning.”

  For a moment the legs appeared to stiffen, but perhaps he had misread the movement. No reply came from the legs.

  “Ensign Telford, did you—”

  “Yeah, I heard you.” The easy tone vanished, replaced by a bored indifference bordering on rudeness.

  “I would like to talk to you about something that has come to my attention regarding the—”

  “I’m a little busy at the moment … Doctor.”

  A clatter of metal on metal preceded the appearance of the legs’ owner. Telford’s arms were smeared with lubricant. He did not spare Ning a glance, but strode toward his waiting service crew with a large cylindrical device in his hands. After handing the appliance to the crew chief, he clenched his greasy hands onto his hips. Ritchie examined the part and shook her head.

  “Well, bugger me.”

  “I might consider obliging you, Ritchie, if you miss something like this again,” Telford snapped.

  “Mister Telford,” Ritchie said, “I swear to you the diagnostic showed the thruster to be in perfect working order.”

  “And that, Ritchie, is why you listen to your pilot. I could feel that the thruster wasn’t right, and I told you as much. If I had to rely on it in an emergency, it would fail. Little things like that tend to get pilots killed. So, CPO Ritchie, have we learned something today?”

  “Yes, Mister Telford,” she said, relaxing slightly as the edge softened in Telford’s voice. “If the pilot tells me something doesn’t feel right, then don’t trust a diagnostic. Get in and examine the problem to ensure it’s right.”

  Telford stepped in close to the three NCOs and spoke so quietly Ning could not make out what he said. The four of them burst into lau
ghter. He slapped Ritchie on the shoulder and headed to the nearby wash basin.

  He applied a liberal amount of cleaning gel to his greasy arms and hands and washed the slimy mess under a fine spray. While he dried his hands and wiped his face, Ning tried to reach him one last time.

  “Ensign Telford, if you could spare me a minute of your time, I would—”

  “Sorry, Doctor, but I’m a little busy right now. Why don’t you make a time with my secretary and we’ll do lunch next week.”

  He strode to the closest drop shaft and disappeared from view.

  Ning sighed and shook his head. Next to monitor captains, only pilots came close to driving him to frustration.

  ***

  Nathan exited the drop shaft at deck three and walked briskly along the central corridor. When he reached the end, he turned around and walked back. After a few minutes of repetitious pacing, his pulse rate began to steady. What the hell had the quack wanted? Wasting my bloody time, most likely. Why did the doctor get his blood up? Nathan conceded that he disliked doctors of any kind, but his outburst against Ning had been unwarranted. Leaning against the bulkhead, he took several deep breaths. His brutal early childhood had taught him to control himself much better than he had done today. He needed to be on guard for such lapses. Nathan took the drop shaft to deck two, and as his quarters came into view, his LM beeped.

  He keyed his larynx mike. “Telford.”

  “Nathan, could you spare your hard-working D-O a few minutes?”

  “Sure, Toni. What’s up?”

  “How about we meet in the wardroom in five minutes? I’ll buy you a coffee.”

  “No problem. I’ll see you in five.”

  Nathan entered his quarters and changed out of his dirty flight suit. Five minutes later he stepped over the coaming into the wardroom. Toni had not arrived, so Nathan poured himself a cold fruit juice, then took a seat in the empty room.

  He had taken only a few sips of the orange juice when Toni Reiffel stepped through the hatch. The greeting smile fled from his face as Doctor Ning followed on her heels. Nathan made certain to check his breathing. Both officers took seats at the bench opposite him. Nathan tried to keep his emotions in check, but could not prevent the cold glare he sent toward Toni. D-O or not, her ambush would not soon be forgotten.