by PJ Strebor
“Thank you, Tommy. I think so too.”
“You have a wonderful family, Nathan,” Keiko said. “You must be very proud.” A quiet smile accompanied her words.
He smiled and nodded.
The evening progressed along in the same relaxed vein, with discussions ranging from Nihonese politics to the general loathing they felt for Captain Kondo, to matters of family and friends. Nathan gleaned a deeper understanding of the Nihonese psyche on this night than from all of his research. It gave him hope that the rest of his deployment would not be as trying as his first day aboard.
CHAPTER 30
Date: 5th March 322 ASC.
Position: Traversing Bretish Commonwealth space.
Status: Morning workout.
Yuki’s sword came close to getting past Nathan’s guard and striking his throat. He parried her blade aside and called a halt to the Kendo bout.
“Very good, Yuki.” Nathan’s voice echoed around the large workout room. “Remember there are other places you can strike rather than the vital areas. Headhunter armor has a lot more openings than what you’re wearing.”
“Isn’t a kill stroke preferable, Nathan?” Tommy asked.
“Yep, but if you are outnumbered you need to strike wherever there is an opening in order to reduce the opposition’s numbers. A wounded enemy is a lost asset.”
They had been practicing for nearly two hours, and Nathan’s breathing had become labored. Even with the sheath covering the blades, he had come dangerously close to taking some hits capable of putting him out of action. Most of the Nihonese had been studying the art since childhood as opposed to his mere five years.
They spent the next ten minutes discussing the morning’s workout. At the end they rose from their kneeling positions and prepared for some freestyle fighting. Nathan was curious to see how well he matched up against the ensigns when not playing the part of a clumsy headhunter.
Every ten minutes they changed opponents, and Nathan quickly got a firm grasp of how good the Nihonese were. They were more aggressive, he far more patient. At the end of the session, Nathan broke the bout and removed his helmet. The inside was covered in sweat. He toweled his face and tried to dry the moisture from his hair. His new friends had given him an extremely vigorous workout.
Everyone turned when they heard the hatch open. A Nihonese strode into the workout room clad in fighting armor, his sword in one hand, his helmet in the other. The ensigns snapped to attention. Nathan, assuming he was a superior officer, did likewise.
“At ease.” The officer was quietly spoken, but his brown eyes held an intensity Nathan had rarely seen. A half-head shorter than Nathan, he would probably be blown over by a stiff breeze.
“Ensign Telford?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Would you do me the honor?” he asked, gesturing to the fighting area.
“The honor would be mine, Sir.”
“Ensign Kenji, would you be good enough to officiate?”
“Of course, Sir.” He bowed deeply.
The officer walked to the far side of the fighting area, donning his helmet as he went.
When Nathan reached the opposite side, he whispered into Ken’s ear. “Name and position?”
“That’s Hatori, computer sciences.”
Nathan sniffed. Another egghead trying to make a name for himself. He would take it easy on the old man and let him win a few points, just to be friendly. With a shake of his head, Ken sent him a warning. Yes, Telford, don’t get cocky. Egghead or not, he is Nihonese.
The two opponents met in the middle of the fighting area, Ken officiating from the side. Following the traditional bow, they held their swords with the tips nearly touching.
“Are both officers ready?” Ken asked.
They acknowledged.
“Commence,” Ken shouted.
Nathan attacked and Hatori deftly took one pace back and to the side and tagged his helmet as he passed.
“End,” Ken shouted. “Bout to Lieutenant Commander Hatori.”
Nathan’s ears rang from the blow. He considered himself to have above average reflexes, but the old man made him feel like a cripple.
Once again they matched up, sword tips touching.
“Commence,” Ken shouted.
Again Nathan attacked, and rained a fierce volley of strikes upon the egghead. Hatori blocked and parried the strikes aside with ease. Then he went on the attack and Nathan was forced back under an unrelenting and staggeringly rapid assault. Nathan stepped back and to one side and struck at his throat, but the old man saw him coming. Hatori dropped under the blow and struck up at Nathan’s armor under the left nipple.
“End,” Ken shouted. “Bout to Lieutenant Commander Hatori.”
Nathan breathed raggedly and the inside of his fighting suit flowed with warm sweat. Once again he matched up against the Nihonese.
Nathan’s senses were keyed up, and he fought against an uncharacteristic urge to tense up.
“Commence.”
This time, he did not make the first move. Neither did Hatori. They stood with sword tips unmoving for what felt like a very long time.
CHAPTER 31
Date: 14th March 322 ASC.
Position: Monitor Insolent. Traversing Bretish Commonwealth space.
Status: Two days from the Cimmerian system.
Nathan retrieved from the combat sphere. CPO Ritchie, as always, waited to assist him.
“Welcome back, Mister Telford.”
“Thank you, Ritchie. Did I miss anything while I was away?”
“Same old, same old.”
Nathan dropped his gloves into his helmet and stepped onto the gantry.
“So, how was life on Kymu? I’ve heard the Nihonese are a bit strange.”
“They’re not so bad.”
“Nathan.” Whitney strode along the gantry, an enormous grin stretching his face.
“Hello, Whitney. How are you feeling?”
“Never better.” His grin remained fixed and Nathan wondered if it was a good thing. “The doc booted me out of the infirmary the day after you left for the Kymu.”
“Good to hear.”
“I’m glad you’re back. Things have been pretty slow around here.”
“Yeah, I heard fighter operations had been deferred once we came under Royal Navy escort.”
“Yep. All the pilots are going stir crazy. Now you’re back, things will pick up.”
Nathan’s forehead creased. “What makes you say that?”
“Things always seem to happen when you’re around.”
“I’ll have to second that one, Mister Telford,” Ritchie said. She winked and turned away.
“Ritchie, O/R Five has been sitting on her skids for ten days, so everything should be fine, but give her the once-over anyway, would you?”
“Shall do.”
Nathan headed for the stern lift en route to his quarters. They would no doubt feel claustrophobic after the accommodations on the Kymu.
“So, what are the Nips like?”
“The Nihonese are like anyone else, Whitney. Some good, some not so good.”
“I heard they eat with sticks instead of proper utensils. Is that true?”
“It’s their way.”
“Weird.”
Whitney kept prattling all the way to their quarters. When Nathan stepped into his room, it appeared to have shrunk. Whitney had little to say, but simply liked talking. With an inner sigh, Nathan got the impression Whitney had adopted him.
Next time, I won’t rescue him.
“Hey, what’s so funny?”
“Oh, nothing. I’m just glad to be back on the boat again.”
Nathan packed his armor into his locker and stripped off his V-suit.
“Hey, Nathan, guess what?”
“What?”
“Boss finally gave me a call sign.” He reached into his locker and held his helmet out to Nathan. Embos
sed on the front, above the visor, a one-word call sign.
Nathan snorted. “Well, it’s nothing if not apt.”
“I wonder when she’ll tag your helmet.”
“When she’s ready, I should think.”
Nathan headed for the showers and Whitney moved to follow.
“I think I can fly this sortie without a wingman, Lucky.”
***
Two days later, Nathan lay in his rack, reviewing another block of text on Cimmeria. Damn, but they were an impressive race. The only sentient species thus far encountered by Terra Corp’s outward expansion into the galaxy. In typical T-C fashion, they had accepted the Cimmerians’ hospitality, then turned against them. They were originally called the Ubak, and as indigenous races had done throughout Earth’s history, they rebelled against their unfair treatment. As with all who had opposed Terra Corp, their resistance had been brutally crushed.
Seventy-eight years ago, a fleet of Ubak refuge ships had entered the Tunguska Fault. Two hundred and twenty thousand of the Ubak sought, and were granted, asylum. Because of their home planet’s specific environmental conditions, only one of Tunguska’s worlds could properly accommodate their needs: Cimmeria. The early years of support dwindled to a trickle, and for a time the Cimmerians had finally found a home free from human exploitation. For some years the dream held hope, until the discovery of massive quantities of trephine crystal hiding beneath the surface of their world. From then on, things took a turn for the worse.
He brought up an image of Cimmeria. An enormous planet, easily five times the diameter of Athens. A planet-wide inversion layer obscured the geographical features. An asteroid field completely encompassed the planet.
Nathan brought up the section on his DRP. The Massey asteroid field was believed to be the remnants of planets destroyed during the ancient war fought in Tunguska. Only Cimmeria and her single natural satellite survived. Every other world in the system had been smashed to rubble. Over time, the detritus from the cataclysm was attracted to the second-largest gravity field in the system. The stability of the field was the result of two opposing geological factions: the mineral coltak attracts, while the mineral fleder repels. Cimmeria was composed of the same minerals, resulting in this impossible level of stability.
Nathan disengaged his DRP and rubbed his eyes. “Time to see the eighth wonder of Tunguska.” He checked the time and prepared for duty.
CHAPTER 32
Date: 17th March 322 ASC.
Position: Approaching insertion into the Cimmerian system.
Status: Traversing hyperspace. Alert Condition Two.
Captain Bradman stepped onto the bridge and up to the operations station.
“Report.”
“We are approaching the outer marker, Captain,” Lieutenant Reiffel said. “I have notified the Bretish picket of our arrival and they have confirmed our non-hostile status. Kyushu Maru has been informed of our situation and is standing by.”
Bradman was tempted to say “well done”, until he noticed who sat at the helm station.
“Lieutenant, a word.”
He stepped into the briefing room with the young D-O on his heels. Leaning his buttocks against the table, he crossed his arms.
“We have three command pilots on this boat, yet you assign the helm position to Ensign Telford? Are you two having it off?”
“I tried to, but he keeps knocking me back.” Her brief smile disappeared under Bradman’s wilting gaze.
“Are you sassing me, Lieutenant?”
She made no attempt to hide her deep sigh.
“Captain, both Ensign Telford and Lieutenant Valetta are scheduled for helm orientation. They are both earmarked for the fast-track program, as you know, Sir.” Reiffel straightened her back. “With the fighter complement on stand down, I considered this would be a good opportunity for both of them to get their flight hours in the big chair. Telford is next on the roster.”
“Damn the roster,” Bradman snapped. “You are taking us into Cimmerian space with a grommit at the helm. What the hell are you thinking?”
Her jaw set hard, as did her voice. “What I am thinking, Captain, is that I’m doing my bloody job. I don’t expect a pat on the back for that, but I will not stand here and have my professional integrity questioned by you or anyone. Sir.”
So, she’s finally grown a backbone. Bradman had been waiting on this for weeks.
“However, Captain, if it is your judgment that I am not doing my job, then relieve me.”
And there it is, the gauntlet thrown down.
“Watch your mouth, Lieutenant, or I might take you up on your offer.” He rubbed at his mouth to hide a smile. “Very well, he’s your choice and your responsibility.”
“Aye, Captain.” A short pause. “Sir, I don’t know what’s going on between you two, and I would not presume to ask. But respectfully, he’s as fine a young officer as I have ever seen. He’s handled every challenge set for him and done so in an exemplary fashion. It wouldn’t hurt to cut him some slack.”
“I don’t need you lecturing me on the subject of Telford. He’s reckless, apart from being an albatross.”
“I don’t believe in superstition, Captain, but I will take your comments on board.”
She was right, of course, and Bradman knew it. He’s already demonstrated an uncanny instinct for danger. Could he have that much-sought-after special talent?
“Yeah, you do that.”
The way she emulated Telford’s wry smile caused a shiver to run down his spine.
***
Nathan heard the bridge hatch snap open and resisted the urge to glance over his shoulder. He had noted the tone in Bradman’s voice before he and the D-O left the bridge, and could only hope Toni still had a job.
“Helm,” Bradman barked, “position report.”
“Captain, rollover and braking is on schedule,” Nathan said. “We are two point three minutes from the Cimmerian outer marker. Kymu is maintaining position.”
In the following silence, the urge to glance over his shoulder returned. Bradman would be checking his figures, as he should. A minute passed and a low mumbling came to him as Bradman conferred with his D-O.
“Very well,” Bradman said. “Maintain.”
“Aye-aye, Captain. Maintaining.”
The minutes crawled by.
“Captain, boat speed is dead slow,” Nathan said. “Recommend final braking to bring the boat to dead stop.”
“Very well.” No delay this time.
“Captain,” Toni said, “Kyushu Maru is maintaining position and confirms final orders for coming to a dead stop.”
“Very well.”
“Captain, the boat is showing dead stop,” Nathan said. “We are half a click from the egression point.”
“Very well,” Bradman said. “Antonia, inform Kymu to hold position until ordered through. Confirm our clearance with the Bretish outer marker.”
“Kyushu Maru acknowledges and is in a static holding pattern.”
Nathan smiled. Toni was getting the hang of reading the old man. Did he just call her Antonia?
“The Bret picket has confirmed our non-hostile status and awaits our arrival.”
“Very well. Helm, engage hyper generator.”
“Aye, Sir, hyper generator engaged. Perforation opening … now.”
“Helm, take us through.”
“Aye, Captain.”
At dead slow speed, Insolent crawled through the aperture.
“Captain, egression attained. We have crossed into N-space. Maintaining dead slow ahead.”
Now, a full active scan?
“Tactical,” Bradman said, “full active scan.”
“Aye-aye, Captain,” Vasquez confirmed.
“Captain,” Toni said, “comm coming in from the picket commander, Commodore Dilley.”
“Put it through, thank you,” said the captain. “This is Athenian warship Insolent. Captain Stev
en Bradman commanding.”
“Captain Bradman, why have you actively scanned my command, Sir?”
“Please identify yourself,” Bradman said.
“Commodore Dilley, commanding officer of the Royal Navy outer marker picket for the Cimmerian system. Now, why—”
“Good morning, Commodore,” Bradman interjected. “And thanks for asking. Yes, we had a fine voyage from Athenian space. With regard to our active scans of this region? Checking any new egression point is SOP for our navy. I had the distinct impression it was the same for yours. Or have the rules changed recently?”
Nathan shot a glance at Vasquez, whose grin matched his.
The Bret commodore cleared his throat. “Ah, no, Captain Bradman. It is simply a matter of decorum between League allies. It is not considered to be in good taste to actively scan an allied vessel.”
“And what if your picket had been compromised?”
Dilley chuckled. “There is little chance of that, Captain Bradman. Or did you miss the squadrons of destroyers and cruisers that have dogged your course for the last twelve days?”
“They made their presence known. However, it is the standard operating procedure for all ANS vessels to actively ping when they egress. I apologize if our actions have upset you.”
“Think nothing of it, Captain. We of the Royal Navy do not expect others to conduct themselves in a manner consistent with propriety and good breeding.”
“Nice chatting with you, Commodore. Insolent out.”
From three meters away, Nathan could practically feel Bradman’s raised blood pressure.
“Vasquez, where’s my report?” he barked.
“Sir, I read one battleship and four heavy cruisers, all pinging Bretish Royal Navy IFF signatures.”
“D-O, call the Kymu through.”
“Aye, Sir.”
“Helm, clear the egression point.”
“Egression point cleared, Captain.”
Minutes later, with Kymu safely tucked in behind them, the convoy moved to the I/M.
“Captain,” Nathan reported, “readings show dead stop, at the inner marker. Awaiting ingression to hyper at your command. Recommend one quarter speed for one hundred and seventy seconds before rollover. Estimated time of arrival at inner marker, four minutes, plus or minus ten seconds.”
