First Comes Duty (The Hope Island Chronicles Book 2)

by PJ Strebor

  Commodore Oscar Draeger had no enemies. Even the all-powerful Imperial Reformation Executive and their brutish cohorts in the Human Resource Service were his friends. Oscar Draeger had nothing but friends and allies. For to be other than a friend to Oscar would invite cruel fate to fall upon you with all of the might the empire could marshal. He commanded the Imperial Pruessen Navy’s Intelligence Special Services Division, and that lofty position added to his power base. Known by many and feared by all, he had been at the top of his game for more years than anyone could remember.

  Even as Pruessen imploded, following the disastrous conclusion to the last war, he had established himself within the new regime. Positioned closely to Emperor Thaddeus, he had nurtured the young leader and in so doing became an indispensable and valued asset, while simultaneously creating the beginnings of a growing power base for himself. Yes, life was good for Oscar Draeger, and none of the fools knew of his real intent, his true ambitions or his relentless devotion to a cause they could never conceive of.

  “Very well, gentlemen,” Viceroy Roth began, “we will begin with a report from Admiral Heller regarding the situation to the southwest.”

  Admiral Heller came from the old school. One of the few senior officers to have survived the debacle of the last war, he, unlike many of his contemporaries, had adjusted to the staggering changes marking the transition from the old republic to the new regime.

  “I am pleased to report to your Majesty,” he said, bowing his head slightly toward Thaddeus, “we have taken the Layden system without firing a shot.” A murmuring of approval resounded around the table. “In the final analysis, the government of Layden chose the most pragmatic approach to their untenable situation and signed the surrender document a month ago.” He shrugged. “It’s taken that long for a courier boat to confirm my best suspicions.”

  “Good news indeed, Admiral Heller,” Roth said. Even when complimenting someone, he maintained his predatory air. “That will go a long way to finally securing our southern flank in preparation for Operation Drawbridge.”

  Roth paused long enough to entice the admiral into saying, “Thank you, Viceroy.”

  “And what of the Talgarno system?”

  Oscar knew Roth was aware of the situation, but at this level of government the game had to be played.

  Heller cleared his throat. “Talgarno is proving to be a harder nut to crack, Viceroy.” He cleared his throat again. “We sent envoys into the system two months ago to negotiate their surrender and, ah, the Talgarnos did not respond favorably.”

  The emperor raised an eyebrow.

  Admiral Heller took a long drink of water but still needed to clear his throat. “A month ago the envoy’s ship returned to Layden and egressed near the outer marker. A boarding party from one of our E-boats went aboard after repeated hails went unanswered. They found that the controls had been set on automatic.” Admiral Heller’s face sagged. “They found what remained of the envoys. Four sacks hanging from the overheads, each containing a head.”

  Viceroy Roth reclined in his chair, puffed up his cheeks and exhaled loudly. “Yes, I’d say that constitutes an unfavorable response, all right.”

  “They know they can’t possibly win against our superior forces, but they would rather die than surrender. Their ferocious Talgarno pride blinds them to the only logical choice. They have seen what we’ve done to other systems that have opposed us, and still they resist. Perhaps when we reduce their society to a smoking ruin they will understand the futility of attempting to stand against the empire.”

  “Yes, no doubt,” Roth said. “What are the projections, Admiral Heller?”

  “Projections are difficult to estimate when dealing with such an intractable adversary, Viceroy.” He cleared his throat and gestured to the younger officer to his right. “Admiral Braun is leading the operation and has had first-hand experience against the enemy forces.”

  Braun sat erect, his hands steady, his eyes clear.

  “If we’re lucky,” Braun began, “we might get away with forty percent casualties, Viceroy.”

  “If we’re lucky, Admiral Braun?” Viceroy Roth’s predatory expression intensified.

  “The Talgarnos have, since the end of the war, adopted a fanatically xenophobic posture.”

  Unlike Heller, this young admiral maintained eye contact with the viceroy, even daring a quick glance at the emperor.

  “They have one of the best modern navies in the north, with experienced crews and solid leadership. Their pathological hatred of outsiders equates our entreaties to a form of societal violation. This is no ordinary enemy, Viceroy. In short, Sir, we can beat them, but it will cost us. Considering the extremism of the enemy mindset, I believe a casualty figure of forty percent to be a conservative estimate.”

  “Have you fought them before, Admiral Braun?” the emperor asked.

  “Yes, Majesty.” Braun waited until the emperor motioned him to continue. “I accompanied a destroyer squadron on a recon sortie to within a half light year of the Talgarno outer marker. Within an hour of egression we were attacked by six small, hyper-capable patrol craft. We tore them to pieces but they kept coming at us. One of them broke through our defense envelope and rammed the destroyer Oldenburg. She survived but will be in dry dock for three months.” Braun shook his head, betraying his admiration. “Damnedest thing I’ve ever seen.” He dared to stare directly at the emperor. “That is the type of insane tenacity we will face when we go to Talgarno, Majesty.”

  “Thank you for a very complete report, Admiral Braun,” Roth said. “Now to move on. Admiral Kneymeyer, I trust the situation on the western front has improved since our last meeting.”

  The rest of the meeting went as all meetings went: some good news and some bad news; those who were obviously competent, like Braun, and others who followed the imperative of high-echelon maneuvering, by first covering their asses before devoting time to actually getting on with the job. Draeger hoped Braun would learn how to deal with this sort of dangerous verbal warfare much better in the future. He was a good line officer, and it would be a pity to lose him because he could not adjust to how the political game worked.

  Two hours later, with all the reports and excuses having been tabled, the meeting broke up. Only the three most powerful men in the empire remained at the table. More than anyone else, these three men had steered the empire from the great abyss and begun its rebirth, from a shattered society into the most powerful entity in northern Tunguska.

  A waiter served coffee before being dismissed. The emperor took a sip of the fresh, hot brew.

  “Where the devil did you get Athenian coffee?”

  Viceroy Roth nodded toward Draeger, who shrugged. “I wouldn’t be much of an intelligence officer if I couldn’t track down some decent coffee for my emperor.”

  “Should we ask how you acquired Kastorian coffee?” Roth asked. The steely glint had fled from his eyes, which now sparkled with mischief.

  “No,” Draeger said.

  The three men exchanged relaxed smiles rarely seen outside of their own company.

  “I like that young admiral,” Thaddeus said. “Braun, isn’t it?” The other men nodded. “It’s refreshing to see such spirit and confidence.” Thaddeus sat for several seconds, pondering. “We used to have that sort of passion and drive, remember? What happened to those days?”

  “The reformation has come at a price to all of us, Thaddeus,” Roth said.

  “Yes, I suppose you’re right, Alder, but it’s a pity. Perhaps one day…”

  “Thaddeus, one day when Tunguska is whole and under the control of one voice, then everything will be possible.” Draeger had been drumming the same party line into the emperor’s head for over twenty years, and still he could sense doubt in the young leader.

  “One day,” Thaddeus said, with a wistful sigh. He shook his head and returned to business. “I read a report yesterday that I found to be a little disconcerting. Apparently the rumor mill suspects that some factions wi
thin the League of Allied Worlds are lobbying to have an amendment to the quarantine threat level. It’s restricted to military vessels so they can pursue raiders across the frontier. What’s your assessment, Oscar?”

  “I wouldn’t worry about that, Thad. There are feelers out, mainly from Athens, but it’s not getting much traction.”

  “So, we have nothing to concern ourselves with?” Roth asked.

  Oscar sniffed. “If they ever get serious about it, I’ll do what I did last time.”

  “Another Delos, Oscar?” Thaddeus looked appalled.

  “Infecting Delos was a means to an end, Thad. The League is weak. They’ll do anything to avoid the possibility of engaging in another conflict that could introduce the plague to their worlds.”

  “All that death,” Thaddeus said.

  “Better them than us.” When will this boy toughen up?

  “Let’s move on, shall we?” Roth said. “Oscar, do you think your cloak and dagger boys can help with the Talgarno situation?”

  “Clearly, Alder, forty percent casualties is unacceptable. So I shall see what we can do.”

  “You’ve performed miracles in the past, Oscar, but I would not be volunteering to infiltrate a barbaric lot like the Talgarnos. They have proven so far to have a decidedly poor sense of humor. A man would have to be crazy to get within reach of them.” He snorted. “I guess crazy is what you and your department do best.”

  “Thank you, Alder. As a matter of fact, I believe I have just the person for such a lunatic assignment.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Date: 15th December, 321 ASC.

  Position: Pruessen Empire. Imperial Pruessen Navy base, Virtus.

  Status: Mission selection.

  The Virtus naval base constituted the most powerful single military force in the Pruessen Empire. The entire moon was solely allocated to the manufacture of ships and weapons and the protection of the Pruessen home systems. An enormous construct with but one purpose in mind: war. Driven by calculated Pruessen pragmatism, the base had grown into an impregnable colossus standing as the cornerstone of Pruessen expansionism.

  A modest portion of the massive facility had been allocated to the Imperial Pruessen Navy Intelligence Division. A relatively small section of the division had been set aside for the exclusive and ultra–top secret Special Services. This was Oscar Draeger’s empire, and with it came power beyond measure. No one told Draeger what to do or how to do it. Some had tried sticking their curious beaks into Special Services covert business and had paid a disproportionately high price for their inquisitive nature. The long years of harsh examples had established Draeger’s roost as one not to be trifled with.

  Throughout the many years of establishing himself at the pinnacle of imperial hierarchy, few had been bold enough or stupid enough to question his time-proven unorthodoxy. None knew of his real purpose. For Oscar Draeger had stood before gods. His diligent commitment to the Family had not gone unnoticed by those he served.

  Draeger had been the first of his generation to venture from the home world of the Family. Many years had passed since he had been trained for his role, for his destiny to unfold and the fruits of his labors to ripen. Thanks to the anti-ageing treatment the Family had provided to Pruessen, he would live to see the day when the Family would once again venture from their home to take their rightful place in control of the Tunguska Fault.

  However, today’s task fell far short of such a grandiose future. The desktop comm buzzed.

  “Yes.”

  “Commodore, your fifteen-thirty appointment is here.”

  “Send him in.”

  When the young man stepped through the hatch, Draeger could see little difference in his outward appearance. The eyes of a born exponent of mayhem were encased in a deceptively boyish face. A robust young man of average build and height, who any Pruessen mother would be well pleased to introduce to their daughters. His record spoke of a totally different character.

  The young associate had done remarkably well over the years, and Oscar could see within him the seeds of greatness. If he could learn to control his passion and rage, he might prove to be one of the most outstanding prospects to come along in many a year. In some ways, he reminded Draeger of a younger version of himself. Still, a lingering doubt remained. Within this lethal young man’s mind dwelt a dark place which had resisted years of purging and years more of brutal training. Even a black-level advocate of his caliber could not enter his dark place. That created uncertainty, and uncertainty bred doubt. So for the time being, Draeger would continue to use him as he did all other associates and advocates within his dominion.

  The man snapped to attention before the wide, polished desk.

  “Sir, Lieutenant Saxon reporting to the commodore as ordered.”

  “No need for that, Orson,” Draeger said. “No one in their right mind would attempt to bug this office. And if they tried, I would know and they would be dead.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  There it was, lingering under the surface. The rage and resentment, the questioning mind which should have been purged from him years ago. Yes, he could be doing my job in a few decades’ time. If I don’t have to destroy him.

  “Your last mission went well, I take it?”

  “Smuggling kesium into Francorum space is hardly a mission, Sir. But yes, the operation went without a hitch.”

  “That’s always good to hear,” Draeger said, with an easy smile. Standing, he extended his hand. “Welcome back, Lieutenant.”

  Again, the associate’s minuscule delay. Draeger could sense him steeling himself to resist. Their hands embraced and Orson tried to fight the invasion. Draeger slapped aside his pathetic attempts to keep him out. Orson fought him until the veins protruded from his temples and sweat dotted his face. Draeger had all he needed from him for the moment and broke contact. When their hands unclasped, Orson gasped in relief.

  “You should know better than to try and keep anything from me, Orson. Haven’t I taught you anything over the last year?” Draeger resumed his seat and waved the younger man to a chair.

  Orson slumped into the seat, wiped sweat from his face and cleared his throat. “I have learned much under your guidance, Sir, for which I am obliged.”

  “Still, you feel within yourself a greater purpose, do you not?”

  “I would always wish to do more than I have for the Family, Sir.”

  “Blind naked ambition is what it’s called.”

  “My only ambition is to serve.”

  “Still, you believe that your recent activities are beneath you, do you not?”

  “Commander Bannister believed I had greater potential.”

  “Bannister is dead, and you know how.”

  There again, the rage bubbling just under the surface.

  “I carried out my mission, Sir. A mission that should never have been attempted with the piss-poor resources we were allocated, Sir. A mission I accomplished, Sir, on the promise of advocacy status, upon its completion. Then to find myself sent back to smuggling drugs into the south? So yes, Sir, I do believe I could be of greater service to those we serve — if, Sir, I was given the opportunity.”

  “Your mission was an unmitigated failure, Lieutenant.”

  Once again, Orson’s control clicked into place. Draeger found his willpower to be extraordinary. He understands I am trying to catch him out, and adjusts in a heartbeat.

  Orson reclined his chair, a leisurely smile concealing his inner agitation.

  “Unmitigated failure, Commodore?” Orson smirked. “That’s harsh.”

  Good, very good.

  “So, young Orson, you think you’re ready to take on greater responsibilities, do you?”

  “I live to serve.”

  “To the death?”

  “If that is the Family’s will.”

  “Well then, I have just the job for an up-and-coming associate like yourself. It will probably get you killed, but such is the price we pay for our service. Don’t you a
gree?”

  “Yes, Sir.” His smile hardened.

  Draeger wondered how long the smile would last when Orson learned what awaited him.

  CHAPTER 11

  Date: 15th December, 321 ASC.

  Position: Pruessen Empire. Imperial Pruessen Navy base, Virtus.

  Status: Initial planning begins.

  An hour later, with the basics of the forthcoming mission memorized, and carrying all the data chips on the Talgarno system that were available, Orson strode to his quarters. What an opportunity. Now he could show the Family he was worthy of consideration for a higher purpose.

  He read the Talgarno reports in detail, twice. Orson’s mind roiled with possible scenarios, and he tossed most of them aside. However, the formation of a working plan percolated deep within his mind, shards of ideas coalescing slowly into what would eventually become a working strategy. Orson needed an edge, a weakness he could exploit.

  The lingering memories of his last major assignment stabbed into his thoughts. The images continued to disrupt his waking and sleeping moments like unwelcome strangers: the mission to test the new energy dampening field; the insane choice of vessel and crew to do so; the sabotage and death of his white-level advocate, Commander Bannister; the butchering of Picaroon’s captain and crew by a force of vastly outnumbered Monitor Corps sailors; the spineless stupidity of the first officer and their final confrontation.

  The incident had happened over a year ago, but the words still rang in his mind as if it were yesterday.

  “This is madness,” he had said to Commander Weiss. “We are in Pruessen space. We have accomplished our mission. The technology works. And you want to wander into a monitor’s torpedo envelope for a handful of children. For God’s sake, let them go.”

  “Shut your mouth, Lieutenant Saxon,” Weiss spat. “I am captain of this ship, not you. Do you have any idea how much those children are worth?” He turned his weapon on Orson. “The Athenians won’t fire on us. Not while they think we have civilians aboard.”