The Hope Island Chronicles Boxed Set

by PJ Strebor

  The tension in Nathan’s shoulders unknotted.

  “And as for your knack?” Bradman said around a sly smile. “We’ll keep that between us.”

  “Aye, Sir.” He sported a wry smile. “We both will.”

  CHAPTER 74

  Date: 1st April 322 ASC.

  Position: Royal Palace. Cimmeria.

  Status: Remembrance ceremony.

  Nathan tugged at the high collar of his Class A uniform. He did not look forward to the more formal part of the evening, but would do his duty. Giving speeches was something he had tried to avoid over the years.

  The gallery that had been set up for Nathan’s trial had been dismantled, opening up the available floor space. His first beer had gone down a treat, but he badly needed another to calm his nerves. He walked to the bar.

  “Another Occie beer, Mister Telford?” Clive asked.

  Nathan nodded, then took in the enormous palace. All smiling faces, nods in his direction.

  “You’re not too ’appy about your new-found celebrity, are you?”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “Hey, you saved the bloody planet. This,” Clive said, taking in the gathering, “is what you shoulda expected.”

  Clive handed him the ice cold beer, and Nathan took a healthy swig.

  “So, we goin’ to war with Pruessen?” Clive asked.

  Nathan felt his cheeks tuck in. “Haven’t you heard, Clive. They were Talgarnos.”

  “With E-boats?”

  “Captured by the Talgarnos.”

  Clive snorted. “You don’t believe that, do you?”

  “What I believe doesn’t count. The League of Allied Worlds will do anything to avoid another war. If that means making up another ludicrous cover story to bury the truth, then that’s what they’ll do.”

  “Fucking politicians,” Nathan and Clive said at the same time.

  Clive raised his eyebrows and motioned over his shoulder.

  Nathan turned, then snapped to attention.

  “At ease, for goodness’ sake,” Commodore Roussel said.

  Nathan stood at ease, but internally he didn’t like being this close to the Franc captain. Or any Franc.

  “I’ve reread your report with regard to the death of Emile Moreau. I wanted to thank you in person. Your words will be of comfort to his family.”

  “Was he married, Commodore?”

  “No, he’s survived by his parents and a younger sister.” Roussel shook his head. “It’s a pity. He had such great promise.”

  “Without him,” Nathan said, “Cimmeria would be in ashes. He was a very brave man.”

  “Thank you again, Ensign Telford.” He held out his hand.

  Nathan internally recoiled. This one’s for you, Emile. He shook hands with the Franc. Roussel was no fool, and Nathan could tell that he knew the handshake lacked conviction. He nodded before turning away.

  Nathan seized his beer off the bar and downed the entire contents.

  He ordered another beer, and made sure to sip this one. The room was starting to fill up. The skipper and Admiral Barrington mixed with some Bret officers, one of whom Nathan recognized as the destroyer commander who had sent out the alert on the fleeing enemy capital ships. Nathan could not recall her name. Barrington caught him looking, raised her glass and nodded. Nathan gulped and returned the gesture before turning away.

  “Good evening, Nathan,” Captain Haynes said. Nathan turned around and noted that he still wore the uniform and long cloak of the Queen’s Guard. And a light bandage over his ear.

  “Captain Haynes.”

  “I think, after all we’ve been through, you can call me Nigel.”

  “All right, Nigel.” Nathan smiled and shook his head. “Right from the outset, I figured you as the bad guy in this tale.”

  Nigel’s eyes darkened. “That was the job, Nathan. I had to do some … questionable things to maintain my cover. I didn’t like it, but Queen Felicia needed someone on the inside, and chose me as her covert operative.” He brightened moderately. “I’m really glad you stopped me from taking your head.”

  Nathan chuckled. “So’s my wife.” They shared a quiet laugh. “And, ah, sorry about the ear.”

  “The doctors managed to reattach it, so it’ll be as good as new.”

  Nigel straightened his tunic and his back.

  “Her majesty would like a word with you, in private.”

  Nathan gestured for him to lead the way. In an adjoining room he found Queen Felicia and, as expected, General Sobers by her right hand. Nigel left the three of them alone.

  “Hello, Nathan,” she said.

  He bowed formally. “Your Majesty.”

  She glanced at Sobers and sniffed.

  “I think we can forgo formalities, while in private.”

  Nathan nodded.

  “So,” the general asked, around a smile, “are you enjoying yourself out there?”

  “I’d rather stuff a starving squirrel down my pants.”

  They all shared a laugh.

  “Yes, it’s all rather grand, isn’t it?”

  “Hmm. Yes, Your — ah, Felicia, it’s grand, all right. Just not my thing.”

  “Yeah, you’re more comfortable in battle, I’d wager,” Sobers said.

  “It has the advantage of immediacy.”

  “I thought you’d like to know that elections will be held within three months.”

  “You’re dissolving the monarchy?”

  “Not entirely. It will remain as a reminder of poor judgment. A regime of rule by the one has no place in a fair and equitable Cimmeria. All power will be held by the people via their chosen representatives.”

  “Good to hear. You’re a shoo-in as president.”

  “I am quietly confident.” She took a deep breath and sighed. “There’s so much to do. But we shall get there in time. And, as president, if the people appoint me, I shall be free to marry whomever I wish. Something unthinkable as queen.”

  Gareth Sobers snuggled close to Felicia.

  Nathan grinned. How could I have missed that?

  “I want you to know that every Cimmerian owes you a debt of gratitude that we may never be able to repay. Know that you will always be an honored guest of our world. Thank you.”

  “It wasn’t only me, Felicia. Everyone, whether Cimmerian or Bret, Athenian, Nihonese or Franc, put their differences aside to fight for this world. Such is the power of a united League. Any individual world may be vulnerable, but the League of Allied Worlds, working in concert with one another, is unbreakable.”

  “I hope you’ve worked that into your speech,” Gareth said.

  “It took me two days to come up with that line. What do you think?”

  “Speak from the heart, Nathan, and you will never go wrong,” Felicia said.

  Nathan cleared his throat. “So, have the backup emitters been fitted yet?”

  “It will be two weeks, at least,” Gareth said. “The geeks reckon the inner marker will be a mess for at least a year.”

  “Hmm.”

  “In a hurry to leave us, Nathan?” Felicia teased.

  “I have a wife and baby girl waiting back home.”

  “Perhaps you’ll bring them for a visit, one day.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Gareth touched the ear of his headset. “It’s time.”

  Felicia nodded. “Ready?” she asked Nathan.

  He gulped noisily. “Not in the least.”

  “You’ll manage, I’m sure.”

  The three of them stepped into the main ballroom.

  CHAPTER 75

  Date: 30th April 322 ASC.

  Position: Monitor Insolent, in high orbit.

  Status: Pilot briefing.

  “The area around the combat area has been swept clear of debris, so that problem is gone. But to make sure that no difficulties arise, you and your opponent will have your shields up for the entire contest.”
<
br />   “That’s overkill, Boss,” Dash said.

  She shrugged. “Captain’s orders.”

  “Yeah,” Lucky said, “we can’t have the hero of Cimmeria running into danger, can we?”

  Nathan groaned. “Please don’t quote the media, Lucky.”

  Dash chimed in. “You managed to name everyone who participated in the very short war, as one reporter put it, and then went all modest. You deserve your share of the credit, Nathan.”

  The pilots sat in the briefing room, but only Nathan wore a V-suit and light armor.

  “Yeah, firstly the son of Telford, now the hero of Cimmeria,” Lucky said around a grin. “What’s next? Sainthood?”

  “You know I’m armed, right?” Nathan said.

  “I’ve got word from the planet,” Boss said. “The Cimmerians have accepted an offer from the Brets. You’ll be flying against one of their best, Nathan, so don’t lose. We can’t have a Bret beating us, can we?”

  “I didn’t know the Brets had fighter pilots,” Bird said.

  “They don’t,” Boss said. “What they do have are landing boat pilots. They’re specially modified and armed. They have been quite effective in running down drug runners and the like. Commander Sloan is very good. Apparently.”

  “Nathan’ll sort him out. Right, hero?”

  “I swear, Lucky, I will shoot you in the knees if you say that again. And I don’t know who stole my helmet but I want it back now. Fun is fun, but—”

  “This helmet?” Boss held it in both hands. The inscription embossed above the visor brought a smile to Nathan’s face.

  “Cleaver?” Dash said. “I don’t get it, Boss.”

  “I do.”

  Every head turned toward Lucky. “It’s Nathan’s name, right, Boss?”

  Chappell nodded.

  “It’s from an old Earth language — ah, what’s it called again?”

  “Ancient Celtic.”

  “Yeah, right. Roughly translated, Telford means, ‘One who cleaves through the armor of his enemies.’ I looked it up.”

  Nathan wiped the sweat from the back of his neck.

  Dash slapped him on the back. “Finally got your call sign. Cleaver. I like it.”

  Nathan smiled and sent a short nod of appreciation to Boss.

  “All right, Cleaver, are you ready to kill?”

  “You bet.”

  “Let him win one. For Cimmeria. The Kamora’s their fighter, after all.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  Accompanied by the other pilots, Nathan made his way to Outrider Five.

  Silent Running

  Book Three of the Hope Island Chronicles

  PJ Strebor

  Check out news about PJ Strebor at www.space-dock.co.uk

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialog are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2014 PJ Strebor

  Edited by Siobhan Marshall-Jones

  Published by Space Dock

  www.space-dock.co.uk

  Cover Art by Gary Compton

  Keep up-to-date with all Space-Dock titles and get FREE short stories from your favorite authors.

  http://space-dock.co.uk/signup/

  SILENT RUNNING

  CHAPTER 1

  Those whose performance is consistently poor should not be entrusted even with just ordinary responsibilities. — The Emperor Maurice. The Strategikon, c. AD 600.

  Date: 17th June, 326 ASC

  Position: Approaching the Takagi Occlusion. Eleven light-years from the northern frontier.

  Status: Pursuit course.

  Lieutenant Nathan Telford stared through his Specter fighter’s forward holo-panels, into a scene of heart-chilling savagery. Takagi had a fearsome reputation as one of the most dangerous regions of space within the Tunguska Fault. A nightmare of ionized radiation flashed out from the dark, surrounding space and even from the periphery of the disturbance, his fighter shuddered from the turbulence. Takagi was a contained area where matter and anti-matter danced in a violent ballet of annihilation and rebirth, similar to the very dawn of the universe. It reminded Nathan of a ferocious equatorial thunderstorm. Terrestrial lightning or ionized radiation resulted in the same outcome. Death, or a boat too badly damaged to continue the fight.

  He lost contact with the headhunter as soon as she entered the occlusion. Nathan keyed his comm.

  “Courageous - outrider two.” No response. Although well within comm range the monitor escort boat refused to answer his hail. The captain insisted on playing her foolish games. “Courageous - outrider two. Am in pursuit of an enemy vessel. Request that you launch all fighters to support my engagement.”

  His instruments showed they’d received his message, but were stubbornly refusing to respond. No fighters launched from the ill-named boat to support him. Nathan gritted his teeth.

  “Damn my career. I’ll take the bitch to task for this one.”

  He shook his head within his helmet.

  Concentrate on the task, Telford.

  Nathan pushed the throttles into the red. His Specter fighter plunged into the havoc. Almost immediately, the buffeting struck his boat. Sensing a threat from his lower port quarter he adjusted his heading just before a bolt of energy reached out to kill him. Within the massive area of disturbance his comms were useless. As were his sensors. However, his personal sensor, his Prep, could always be relied upon.

  More buffeting. An unusually violent storm, even for the Occlusion. He sensed the enemy ahead and adjusted his heading accordingly. In full stealth mode he closed the range with it.

  Ahead he caught a brief glimpse of the enemy. Nathan continued to close the gap between them while avoiding the multiple dangers posed by the region. Through the jumble ahead he got his first clear image of the enemy ship. An Armadillo class headhunter. A big sluggish brute, lightly-armed but heavily armored. A very difficult ship for a lone fighter to kill.

  If he was sitting at the helm of the Monitor Courageous this would be a simple task. Close with the enemy, utilize the monitor’s superior weaponry and kill her. However, Captain Jardine had chosen to put her only qualified command pilot into a fighter.

  As he closed with the Armadillo he could see clear signs of damage. Multiple vents of fine mist indicated where her hull had been breached.

  His sense of danger, his Prep, burned the spot on his spine between his shoulder blades. He took his fighter above the next eruption of deadly energy but in so doing lost his line on the enemy. Nathan brought all weapons online as he leapt toward the fleeing ship. Finally, they spotted him from his trailing wake.

  Pulsars struck out from her stern chasers, missing him comfortably. A brief gout of fire from her single stern tube; a torpedo launched in desperation. It failed to acquire a lock on and disappeared off to his starboard side to be destroyed by a bolt of energy.

  Waiting for the range to be perfect, he fired his twin pulsars into her starboard engine. Armored baffles deflected his shot. Shit. With her impressive energy shields and thick armor plating, a single fighter couldn’t hope to kill her.

  Dodging the sluggish pulsar fire, he took his fighter above the enemy ship and away from her stern weapons. Extensive damage had been done to her forward sections. She’d taken a terrible beating, her bow weapons array smashed and open to space in several key areas. But what of her hyper generator? Secured behind impressively thick armor and shielding, it could have withstood the terrible battering.

  Positioning his Specter under her keel he played the waiting game. In time the Occlusion thinned out. Soon they would be clear of its interference and could enter hyperspace. Nathan waited, reaching out with his senses. Waiting, waiting. Gradually the dangerous field fell astern as they cleared Takagi. Nathan waited until his senses said the time was right. He pushed his fighter forward bringing her up across the headhunter’
s bow. Sure enough the energy field from her hyper generator shimmered on his forward plates. With no enemy weaponry to hinder him he fired a single SR missile which erupted with a brief gout of flame against her generator. Her capacity to ingress into hyperspace had been removed. She wasn’t going anywhere until extensive repairs had been carried out.

  Now he needed reinforcements to finish the job.

  ***

  Nathan’s Specter streaked into Courageous’ landing bay, coming to a jolting stop as she hit the arrestor field. Minutes later he parked his fighter in her allotted berth in starboard hangar. His crew chief waited for him as he retrieved from the combat sphere. As usual she took his gloves and helmet and helped him unbuckle. Nathan had little to say to her. He had little to say to most of the crew. All handpicked by Captain Jardine, they represented a fundamental shift in the Athenian Naval Service which had reached into and infected Monitor Corps.

  The days of the Corps being the home of the best, most highly trained and professional warriors had taken a severe hit over the past year. Courageous shone as the most extreme example of a cancer eating into the elite ranks of Monitor Corps.

  Courageous did not contain the very best of officers and crews. Jardine, a trenchant believer in the old guard’s outmoded tactical viewpoint had, over the past five months, removed most of the Athenian colonials from the boat, replacing them with inept republicans. Nathan had no doubt that if this trend continued, it would in time mean the end of Monitor Corps as an effective weapon of war.

  Nathan left the hangar bay and strode along the lower lateral corridor. Passing crewmembers took in his furious expression and cast their eyes to the deck. He stopped at the first drop shaft, and reached through the environmental force field before hauling himself inside. Exiting the shaft on deck one he made his way to the bridge.

  The helm officer glanced over his shoulder, took one look at his incensed expression and quickly turned away. The D-O, another ill-qualified republican twit, glanced up from his station as Nathan approached.