First Comes Duty (The Hope Island Chronicles Book 2) (21 page)

Bradman laughed. “So Jem, what’s the task force commander doing on picket duty? You haven’t been ruffling feathers again, have you?”

“Why Steven, I have always been the soul of polite discretion. And as for my presence here? My backside was getting numb from sitting at a desk, so I thought I’d check in with my old squadron. Besides, I like to be here to welcome you Athenians. Especially you monitor types.”

“Flattering as always, Jem.”

“There’s a reason for my being nice to you.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, I’ve finished my inspection and I need to head back to my flagship. Any chance of giving me a ride?”

Bradman chuckled from the back of his throat. “I’m sure we can manage something.”

“How generous of you, Steven.”

Nathan could hardly miss the wryness in her tone.

***

Bradman finished tying the black cravat in place and took a step back from the full-length mirror. His dress uniform still fitted well, for a man of his years. He scowled as he noted the grey at his temples, which appeared to grow with each deployment. The captain tugged at his waistcoat and stood to attention.

“Not too shabby for an old fart,” he told his reflection. 

His comm beeped.

“Captain.” 

“Captain, Landing Boat One has just come aboard,” Lieutenant Reiffel said.

“Very well, D-O, secure the boat bay and prepare to get underway.”

“Aye-aye, Captain.”

Bradman brushed at an imaginary speck on his collar. Instead of thinking about the pleasantness of his forthcoming meeting with Jemima, he had Telford intruding into his thoughts. The last time Esther Chappell had joined him for their weekly dinner, she could not stop talking about him. She was the best fighter operations officer he had ever worked with. She would occasionally compliment a pilot of “Dash” Valetta’s competence, but the praise heaped on Telford was uncharacteristic. Donny Waugh had had similar flattering comments to make, and Telford’s record from fighter training school spoke volumes as to his natural ability. Bradman’s better self wanted to trust the young pilot.   

Damn, get him out of your head, Bradman.

His comm beeped. “Captain, Admiral Barrington has arrived and would like a word with you.” 

Antonia’s wry tone did not sit well with Bradman.

Well, Bradman, if you don’t want the attitude problem, then stop acting like a horny midshipman in front of your crew.

“Show her into the briefing room, D-O.”

“Aye, Captain.”

As he stepped from his quarters into the briefing room, the hatch snapped open. Bradman subdued a smile. 

“Admiral Barrington, Sir.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. We’ve met.”

“Jemima,” he said, embracing her briefly, “always lovelier in the flesh.”

“So to speak, Steven?” she said with a coy inflection.

While they shared a laugh, Reiffel stood to attention to one side, her face carefully set in neutral.

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” he said, by way of dismissal.

“Sir, Captain Kondo wants to know when we’ll be getting underway.”

“Tell Captain Kondo to … tell the good captain we will proceed when the escort commander is good and ready.”

“In those words, Captain?”

“You’re the boat’s D-O, last time I checked,” he growled. “Use your initiative.”

He caught the barest
tish-tish
from Jemima, and sighed.

“Do what you have to, Antonia. I’ll be out in minute.”

“Aye, Sir.”

When the hatch closed, he sniffed the scent of something new. “Have you done something with your hair?”

“Oh, Steven, you always try so hard, don’t you?”

The scent was unmistakable, and her hair
did
look different, but it was the same flaming red he loved to run his fingers through. 

“Oh, great. I try to pay you a compliment and get patronized for my trouble. Thank you, so much.”

She stepped forward, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply.

“You old troll, I was only teasing.”

“Hey, watch it with the
old
. You’re no spring chicken yourself.”

Ouch! That one will cost you.  

Although middle aged, she maintained her firm body with the same vigorous calisthenic workout he did. A truly formidable woman who had never relied on her beauty. 

“A complaint, Steven?” Just enough censure to make her point.

“You know I’ve always been a sucker for a beautiful woman in a uniform. And a superior officer to boot. Yum.”

Her full-lipped smile told him he had dodged the pulsar bolt, this time. Reluctantly he disengaged from the embrace.

“So what’s happening with Admiral Grace?”

“Nice way to spoil a good mood.”

Bradman maintained his hard-set expression.

“He was appointed two months ago. I retain the position of task force commander, but he is in overall command. Apparently someone back home thought his appointment was politically appropriate.”

“Another great piece of bureaucracy.”

“Can’t be helped.”

“Well, enough of this, I’ve got a boat to run. Would you care to join me on the bridge?”

“What a splendid invitation.” She smiled lasciviously, stepped closer. “And later?”

“Absolutely. But for now, behave yourself.”

Jem pursed her lips, then gave his face a dainty slap. 

They stepped onto the bridge, once again in the guise of professional naval officers.

“D-O, report.”

“Standing by to get underway, Sir. Captain Kondo is unhappy with the delay.”

“Well, I certainly don’t want to upset a sweet fellow like Kondo. Helm, both ahead one-quarter. Take us in.”

“Aye, aye, Sir, answering both ahead at one-quarter,” Telford responded.

Jem leaned in to his ear. “Your helm’s a little young, isn’t he?”

“Ensign Telford has recently been awarded the Ellison trophy. If you’re nervous, go and ride his wing.”

She nodded, then strolled forward until she stood by Telford’s right shoulder. Bradman caught Telford’s nose twitching.

Ha. So she
has
done something with her hair.

***

Nathan heard the soft footfalls and sniffed the sweet scent.

“Good morning, Ensign.”

From a peripheral glance, he saw gold stripes on her lower left sleeve.

“Good morning, Admiral.” 

“So, Ensign, is this your first deployment to Cimmeria?”

“Or anywhere else, Ma’am.”

“I see.”

Nathan checked the stern scans.
Kymu
followed in their wake. Ahead, the first of four huge vessels entered the channel. Over the command frequency he heard Toni’s next transmission.

“Cimmerian harbormaster, this is Athenian warship Insolent. Awaiting clearance.

“Insolent, this is the Cimmerian harbormaster.” A frustrated sigh came over his audio implant. “I’m afraid we’re running a little behind schedule today. Please take up position two hundred kilometers astern of the Francorum convoy. We will get you through a-sap.”

“Harbormaster from Insolent. Transmission received and understood. Taking up position two hundred clicks astern.” 

Nathan started to carry out the order, then paused. Would Bradman want him to…

“Helm, did you hear the last transmission?” Bradman asked.

“Aye, Sir.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

The captain’s order, you old…

“Aye-aye, Captain.”

Nathan maneuvered the boat into line as the second Franc ship entered the Grand Channel. He could not imagine how ships had breached the Massey Archipelago before the construction of the channel. A clear area of space one kilometer square and two deep, it was the only safe passage into Cimmerian orbit. The texts he had studied considered the channel to be the most remarkable engineering feat in the history of Tunguska. The simultaneous destruction of asteroids together with the placement of massive force field emitters ensured no stray debris wandered into the channel.

“Captain, the boat answers dead stop, two hundred clicks astern of tail-end-Charlie.”

“Very well. Maintain.”

“Aye, Sir.”

After checking on
Kymu
, he leaned back and rotated his head until the kink in his neck popped.

Care to give a harassed helm officer a neck rub, honey?

“Tail-end-Charlie?” The admiral’s cool voice nearly made him jump. “What a quaint old Bretish saying.”

He cleared his throat and glanced at her. For an older woman, she was damn attractive. Despite her beauty, the flint in her pale blue eyes spoke of an officer he would not care to cross.

“I read a lot, Ma’am.”

“I see.” Her sly smile suggested more went on behind those startling eyes. “So, what do you think of the eighth wonder of the modern era?” Her head inclined to his readouts. 

“It’s quite an achievement, Ma’am.” He checked his readings, noting the third ship in the Franc convoy had entered the channel.

“Yes, it certainly is.” Her eyes narrowed. “Ensign, your name is Telford?”

“Aye, Ma’am?”

Crap, here it comes. 

“Why does that name sound familiar to me?”

“I wouldn’t know, Ma’am.”

“Hmm.”

The final ship in the Franc convoy entered the channel.

“Excuse me, Admiral.” He focused on his readouts.

“Certainly, Ensign,” she said, and walked off as his comm beeped.

“Insolent from Cimmerian harbormaster.”

“Insolent
,
” Toni responded. 

“You are cleared to proceed into the Grand Channel. Lock on to the guidance beacon and do not deviate from it.” The harbormaster’s bored monotone must be the result of having given the instructions a thousand times before. “Do not exceed dead slow speed. After you exit the channel, the guidance beam will disengage. You must immediately alter course hard to port and take up station in the holding pattern. Acknowledge.”

“Insolent acknowledges.”

While Toni informed the
Kymu
, Nathan locked his navigation controls on to the beacon, then pushed the throttles forward one notch. He double-checked the lock-on which would guide the boat to the exact center of the channel. Even the slightest impact with one of the powerful force field emitters could damage or possibly destroy the boat.

“Captain,” he said, “course locked on to the beacon. The boat is answering to both ahead dead slow.”

“Very well.” 

The denseness of the archipelago blocked most of the light from the distant sun, turning his visual readings into a murky wash. Through the gloom, the mammoth form of the King Charles Battle Platform obscured part of the planet beyond. From this distance, the KC resembled a great rectangular column resting on its side.

Now
that
is sizable.

Exact intel on the battle platform remained classified, but if even the wildest rumors proved to be accurate, the KC could destroy an armada. Two kilometers long, one wide and four-tenths deep, it was the largest military platform within League space. She sat twenty thousand kilometers ahead, halfway between Cimmerian orbit and the Grand Channel.

The guidance beam disengaged, and Nathan hauled the boat over to port with the
Kymu
following. Well to either side of the KC, high Cimmerian orbit was awash with a multitude of huge orbital complexes. Large industrial landing boats created a continuous flow of traffic between the facilities and the surface. Here and there a waiting freighter docked to take on cargo. A hectic and potentially dangerous environment. In the distance was the high orbital holding area for commercial and military shipping.

His readings showed that the KC tracked
Insolent
’s every movement with dozens of pulsar turrets. Ignoring the lethal slab, he set course for the anchorage. 

CHAPTER 33

Date: 19
^th
March 322 ASC.

Position:
Insolent
, in holding pattern, high Cimmerian orbit Bretish Commonwealth space.

Status: Alert stand down.

Nathan’s forward holo panels showed a Cobra-class Pruessen fighter. As he closed with the enemy, his pulsars blasted at its defenses. The moment he pressed the firing stud, his opponent flipped his craft through her axis, displaying her narrowest aspect. Two SR missiles burst from the tubes as a flurry of pulsar fire tore at his fighter. Nathan banked away from the missile while simultaneously sending out a wave of weapons countermeasures. His opponent’s attack had been gutsy but had left him floundering directly within Nathan’s crosshairs. They both fired at the same instant. He sent a sustained focused beam into the enemy’s exposed cockpit, which tore apart. Beams from his opponent stuck his port dorsal, knocking out one stealth engine.

“Got you,” Lucky screamed from Outrider Four. “It’s taken weeks, but I finally got you.”

Nathan smiled as Whitney’s laughter continued. Since the incident in the Triton Archipelago, Whitney had started to listen to advice rather than taking it as a personal attack. Accordingly, his flying had improved beyond measure. Along with his attitude.

“Yeah, Lucky, not bad,” Nathan conceded.

“Sour grapes, Nathan?”

Nathan sighed. Whitney still had a way to go. “Not at all. That was the best piece of flying I’ve seen from you. But Lucky, it got you killed.”

“The way you were waxing my tail, I was dead anyway. At least this way I took you with me.”

“Fair enough.” He wondered how Whitney would react against a real enemy firing real weaponry.

If Nathan had learned nothing else from the past three days of TFI sessions, he now knew Bradman honored a fair bet made. The day after settling into the high orbital holding pattern, Bradman let his birds fly.

Once again the combat sphere showed its adaptability. Any scenario could be displayed during training exercises, showing any vessel in any combat scenario. The chances of running into a Pruessen presence was minimal, but Nathan found shooting up a Cobra to be cathartic.

“Outrider Five, Insolent.”