The Hope Island Chronicles Boxed Set

by PJ Strebor

  “I didn’t know this was Saint Joan, until I dropped into atmosphere. I recognized the emerald mountains from images I’d seen as a kid. So anyway, I thought, set down, make repairs and head on out. That didn’t work out. My reactor went critical and I had to punch out. My escape pod came down about forty clicks west of here. I saw your base on the way down and headed this way.”

  Nathan wondered if his lying skills, honed whilst a child slave of the empire, would work on this kind of man.

  “We’ve conducted a full sweep of this base and all we’ve found is an unconscious petty officer trussed up in a storage locker. Where’s your V suit?”

  “It was useless to me, so I dropped into a disposal chute.”

  “And your plans?”

  “Kinda making them up as I go along,” Nathan said. “Ah, borrow a ship and get out of here? Something along those lines.”

  Nathan found the Captain’s silence to be more unnerving than his words.

  “An independent trader you say?”

  Nathan nodded.

  “Trading in what?”

  “Aw, you know Captain, whatever people need.”

  “You’re a freebooter.”

  “Entrepreneur, Captain,” Nathan said. “A simple businessman. Buy small, sell large. You know how it goes.”

  “Your story has more holes in it than Pilbaran cheese. Why should I believe you?”

  “The truth’s the only story I’ve got.”

  “Do you have a record?”

  Nathan could only hope that their database was as incomplete as everything else in this facility.

  “Nothing cap’in. All just misunderstandings. I’m no crim, cap’n, just an honest trader.”

  Reinhardt chuckled in a way that caused Nathan’s Prep to flare.

  “So, this ship of yours? Any other crew?”

  “Nope,” Nathan said, “I’m sole owner and proprietor. At least I was.”

  “So, let’s see if I’ve got this right. You just happened to bump into a hylon rift. With all of space to egress into you popped into the middle of our defense grid. And miraculously, you just happened to be wearing a V suit and made your way here. It balks at the percentages.”

  “All right, cap’n you’ve got me. I avoided that death trap in orbit, landed, took a stroll into your base just for the hell of it.” He snorted. “Why else would I be here? This isn’t exactly how I expected my day to turn out, you know.”

  The silence continued for a time before the Captain stood and placed the chair against the wall. Nathan glanced up to see him standing there, a silent sentinel with the power of life and death in his hands.

  “You tell quite an imaginative story, Hans. But I have one core problem.”

  “Which is?”

  “I don’t believe you. I know people, spent my whole life studying them, and I know when someone’s lying to me. And when people lie to me it makes me very angry.”

  Reinhardt pulled his sidearm and pointed at Nathan’s head. Nathan heard the metallic click as the Captain set the weapon to kill setting.

  “I will have your truth or I will have your life. Your choice. I will count to three. One.”

  Nathan stared at him. This kind of man did not waste his time with bluffs. He would die by this man’s hand.

  “Two.”

  Could he be the one? The one whose name he stumbled across when he had level one security access. He knew this man. Or at least he knew the man he used to be.

  “Three.” His finger tightened on the trigger.

  “Chameleon, omega, case black,” Nathan blurted. He hoped he’d recalled the activation code correctly.

  Reinhardt’s face distorted in pain, his pistol clattered to the deck, he gripped his head with both hands. The Captain groaned and fell to his knees, his chest heaving under the assault of some terrible burden. Finally the attack passed. He retrieved his weapon and wiped tears from his cheeks.

  “How did you get my activation codes? Who the hell are you? Rescue party I suppose.”

  Nathan grinned. “You don’t remember me, do you, sir?”

  “Answer my questions. We don’t have much time.”

  “Very well. Spotiswood, Nathan Telford and yes, I’m the rescue party.”

  “How the hell did you, ahh, never mind.” He examined Nathan’s battered face for long seconds. “Yes, I do know you. My final year at the academy, you were that plebe who couldn’t keep his big mouth shut.”

  “Nothing wrong with your memory,” Nathan said. “You saved my neck so many times when Jardine and his crew were trying to get me kicked out.”

  “Yeah, you’re welcome. Pity I didn’t cover myself as well. Otherwise …”

  A life that could have been but wasn’t, Nathan mused.

  “We all knew it was a fit-up, sir. You’d never violate the honor code. That prick Jardine set the whole thing in motion. I got posted to his mother’s ship. You can guess how well that’s worked out.”

  “Yeah, great,” Reinhardt said. “Now what’s your plan?”

  “Easy. Free the prisoners, retrieve the monitor and leave.”

  Nathan motioned to his restraints. His smile faded as the former academy brigade Captain froze in place.

  “Sir?”

  “I can’t. My whole purpose, the reason I sacrificed a normal life, is to this job. Collect any and all intell on future Pruessen plans. If I release you they’ll know who did it. Cover blown, game over.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

  Nathan thought about it for a long moment.

  “When you turn back into Mister Hyde, how much of this will you remember?”

  “It depends on how important it is. There are always traces, lingering afterthoughts, like vague day dreams, unless the intell is vitally important. Why?”

  “Is there a way you can cover yourself and still give me a chance?”

  Reinhardt shook his head, walked away and stood staring at the wall.

  “Nothing comes before the mission. I’m sorry.”

  Nathan wanted to scream at him, ‘we’re all going to die,’ but couldn’t take the chance that one of those supposed afterthoughts could embed itself into Reinhardt’s subconscious. He also desperately needed to know the time.

  The Pruessen Captain walked to the hatch and paused. “Dammit.” He strode back and reached for the restraints.

  “You want a chance?” He pulled the pin from the left-hand restraint and placed it two positions down. “That’s your chance.” He grabbed Nathan’s shoulder. “Good luck.”

  “And to you.”

  At the hatch he turned back. “If you somehow manage to get out of here remember this. In thirty seconds I’ll turn back into Reinhardt. If I see you again I’ll kill you.”

  “You’ll try.”

  A darting smile and he left.

  “Right, now to get out of here.” Nathan felt movement in his left wrist restraint. Not much, but some. He tried pulling his hand free. It gave a small amount but nowhere near enough. Nathan paused and thought about it before making his decision. “Shit.” He started to hyperventilate and seized the collar of his shirt between his teeth. It’s nothing, it doesn’t matter.

  A few more deep breaths and he pulled his hand hard up against the half moon restraint. The hard metal clasp would not break, but brittle bone would. It’s nothing, it doesn’t matter. Blood seeped from his hand but he kept pulling. The pain grew but he knew it would get much worse. It’s nothing, it doesn’t matter. Although he tucked his left thumb under his palm it still remained as the prominent blockage point. With his hand hard up against the cold metal restraint, he bit into the collar and yanked.

  The sound of splintering bone competed with his muffled scream as the hand slipped from the restraint. He kept his teeth set as waves of agony crashed over him. It’s nothing, it doesn’t – “Oh, shut the fuck up.”

  The initial stabbing pain subsided to a steadier, more consistent throbbing glow
of hot agony. Although he didn’t want to, he looked at his hand. Blood, flesh and white bone tearing through the skin. “Fuck that hurt,” he hissed.

  The thumb was useless, the bone shattered. He flexed his fingers and pain answered. The whole hand throbbed with intensity, but part of it functioned. He looped his middle finger through the ring that held the locking pin on his right restraint and pulled. Pain sear through his hand and up his arm but he kept pulling. A scream welled up but he bit it back and kept pulling. “Come on you fucking piece of, ahhhh.”

  Nathan fell back in his chair the pin still hooked around his finger. His vision began to fade and he fought the urge to pass out. He waited for the blinding misery to subside to mere agony then pulled his good right hand free. In seconds the leg restraints snapped open. Stepping unsteadily from the chair he held his ear to the hatch. He heard nothing and sensed no immediate danger. No guard had been posted when they’d brought him in and his sense of danger said that condition remained so.

  Flexing blood into his right arm he tensed for battle. He needed weapons and medical treatment. First he had to escape the security section. Stepping through the hatch he reached out with his senses. Danger at the other end of the corridor. The cell block. Mild danger the other way leading to the stairs. He moved on, his senses on high alert. The office of the security chief loomed. He stepped inside and began rummaging through the draws until he found his gear. With painful effort he strapped his knife to his calf, shoved his monocular into a pocket and retrieved his watch. The dial read five hours twenty minutes to go.

  Opening the hatch Nathan stepped into the corridor. No danger to his right but when he turned to the left his back flared. He crouched down and removed his knife from its scabbard. A guard stepped around the corner, stared at him and fumbled for his sidearm. Nathan threw the knife and charged at him. The blade flew straight, making a soft squishing sound as it embedded itself in the guard’s right eye. Catching the falling body Nathan opened a hatch and dragged the body inside. He donned the guard’s shirt and tunic, gritting his teeth as the soft material brushed against his hand. With shaking hands he took the guard’s security tag, attached the sidearm to his right hip and disengaged the locking clip. He wiped blood from his knife and returned it to the scabbard.

  Sensing no immediate danger he stepped into the corridor and made his way to the stairs. A minute later he walked into the infirmary. The Pruessen doctor, Jahn, looked up from his computer screen. He raised his hands.

  “I’m unarmed, Hans.”

  “On your feet.” The doctor complied.

  He stared at Nathan’s brutalized hand. “Good lord, what did they do to you. Let me take a look at that.”

  Nathan reached for his sidearm. “I need painkillers. Strongest you’ve got.”

  Jahn nodded, stepped to a cabinet and filled a hypo. “This’ll help.” He reached for Nathan’s hand.

  “You first. Into your left hand.”

  “It’s a painkiller not poison.” He sighed. “If I put it into my hand I won’t be able to use it. You know, genius, to treat your wound.”

  Nathan nodded. He made a fair point. “Into your cheek then.”

  Another deep sigh. “That could compromise my vision. This is really strong medicine.”

  “Who’s talking about your face. Give it here and assume the position, doctor. Or will a numb ass get in the way.”

  Jahn shook his head and pulled down his pants. “One shot only. Two is dangerous, the entire vial will kill.”

  Nathan injected him and stood back while he pulled up his pants. Satisfied that the medicine was benign he injected it into his thumb. He groaned with relief as the pain subsided.

  “Now, if you’ll let me do my job, I’ll see what I can do with that hand.”

  Nathan nodded and let the doctor sanitize the area, reset the bone, suture the gash and set a cast. His other fingers lost some of their feeling but, for the time being, worked.

  “How many naval personnel on the base?”

  The doctor tightened his jaw and took a step back, an expression of weary acceptance on his sagging face.

  He might come in handy.

  “Sit on the floor.”

  Jahn complied, all the while watching Nathan’s every gesture. He stunned the doctor, who slumped to the floor.

  Nathan stared at the overhead. A plan began to form.

  CHAPTER 18

  Careful to keep his injured hand clear of the straps, Nathan repositioned the bag onto his left shoulder. His detour to the armory had been most profitable.

  He retraced his path back up the stairs to the second level. Detecting no danger he moved quickly to the brig and used his security tag to open the hatch. He stood in the hatchway to be greeted by a room full of stunned faces.

  “This is a jailbreak,” Nathan said. “Everyone move.”

  Moe got to him first, a thousand questions forming on her face.

  “Later,” Nathan said, handing her a pistol and a pair of I/R goggles.

  Moe noted his damaged hand and anger colored her face. She handed out weapons and goggles to almost every one of the eighty-four remaining crew.

  “Listen up,” Nathan said. “Set your weapons on stun. There’ll be no killing today.”

  Moe stepped in close to him and whispered, “They’re Pruessens, Nate.”

  “I know what they are,” he replied angrily. “I have my reasons.” He couldn’t take the chance that someone would kill the deep cover operative known as Captain Reinhardt.

  “Settle down,” he said. “We are going to take this base, intact. Firstly we find and disable all military personnel. Secondly, we do not make war on civilians.” Even if they are Pruessen.

  A woman, not much older than Nathan stepped forward. “Excuse me, but who are you?”

  “Nathan Telford. And you are Lieutenant Ruvera?”

  “Yes. How did you –”

  “I checked Adroit’s crew roster en-route to Saint Joan.”

  A collective hush fell over the crew. “We’re on Saint Joan?” Ruvera gasped.

  Nathan nodded. She shook herself. “What is your rank?”

  He sighed. “Same as yours, same as Moe’s.”

  Moe cut off her next question. “He is the senior officer here. And command pilot qualified. He’s senior to me by seven months. This is a combat situation and the senior combat officer is next in the line of command. You know the regs better than any of us, Grace.”

  Relief painted Ruvera’s face. “Good. Just checking.”

  “Moe, you know the crew better than me so divide them up into teams of eight and we’ll get about it.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.”

  “Hmm.” He checked his watch. Four hours fifty six. Plus fifteen minutes to get into position before his little surprise.

  While Moe organized the troops Nathan checked out the security section. He found only two CPO’s and a junior Lieutenant on duty and stunned them.

  Back at the brig Moe had the ten teams organized.

  “Team one, with me,” Nathan said.

  Nathan outlined his plan, receiving nodding approval. The teams moved out to their designated positions. He took his team up to level three. Again resistance was light and dispatched without any problem. Where the hell is everyone?

  ***

  Captain Reinhardt could not escape the feeling that something didn’t feel right. He had no evidence but had learned to trust his gut over the years. Could it have been something the prisoner had said? Or didn’t say? Another instance where his memory had become foggy. Strange.

  “Orders, Captain?” the marine sergeant asked. His action squad of ten wore body armor and carried heavy-grade pulsar rifles.

  “Sweep the entire base. Look for anything out of the ordinary. No matter what it is, if it doesn’t feel right, contact me immediately. Do you understand my meaning, marine.”

  “Aye, aye sir.”

  Commander Schmidt stoo
d to one side, arms folded, beneath a disapproving scowl.

  Ten more men were almost suited up.

  Reinhardt grew impatient. Leaving the armory behind, he marched up the stairs to the security section. Using his security tab he passed through the hatch and headed to the comm room at the far end of the floor. He had left a skeleton crew to man the section but could find none of them. Shaking his head he checked the comm logs. Nothing untoward there. Movement made him glance up from the screen.

  “On your feet.”

  He recognized the young man as one of the prisoners. Reinhardt did as instructed.

  “You killed two of my friends,” the young man said. Reinhardt could read a man from his eyes. This one would kill him. He had to act before that happened. “You had your man beat them to death. Preussen fucker.” His nametag read Riley.

  The Captain leaped at him. Startled by the unexpected attack Riley froze. Reinhardt got within a hand’s length of him when the weapon discharged. The pulsar beam tore through his right arm and he dropped to the deck.

  “Now I’ll make you pay,” Riley spat, “you worthless piece of Pruessen shit.”

  Riley centered the weapon, pointing it directly between Reinhardt’s eyes.

  “Riley! Stand down.” A new voice but one that he remembered.

  “He killed Smith and Junice.”

  “I know you want payback. Believe me you’ll get it. But not this way.”

  The newcomer stepped up to the boy and held out his right hand. “Surrender your weapon sailor.”

  Riley wanted to kill him. No question about it. His teeth locked together. Reinhardt braced for death.

  The newcomer snatched the weapon from his hand with a speed the Captain had never seen. He glanced at the pistol.

  “I ordered you to set your weapon to stun.”

  “We need to kill them all. They’re murders.”

  “Report to Lieutenant Okuma. Tell her what you’ve done.”

  Riley glared at Reinhardt.

  “Now sailor.”

  The younger man snapped to attention and marched off.

  He remembered this man. The battered prisoner with the unbelievable story. What did he say his name was? Hans? Come a little closer Hans and I’ll break your neck.