First Comes Duty (The Hope Island Chronicles Book 2) (40 page)

“Perhaps, perhaps.” The computer expert went to work, his fingers a blur across the controls. “There, try that.”

“Ah, how do I…”

“Here, thruster control, here pitch and yaw, here roll over.”

“And the abandon ship alert?”

“Here.”

Nathan snorted. Sure enough, it was a big red button behind a safety shield.

Clive returned. “Captain, please go with this man. He will take you to medical facilities.”

Cowdry’s knees buckled and one of Clive’s ’droids scooped him up.

“Landing Boat Fourteen,” Clive ordered the machine. “So, Mister Telford, what’s the word.”

“The word, Clive, is prepare to abandon ship.”

“You’re kiddin’?”

“The computer system on board this station has been compromised. The only person capable of fixing it is as crazy as a cut snake. This thing has killed and will kill again if it’s not stopped. So I’m going to stop it.” He keyed his mobile computer. “Compad, scan station’s personnel.”

“Scanned.”

“Report the number of personnel not contained within landing boats.”

“Three personnel not aboard landing boats.”

“Chief Petty Officer, I have an assignment for you.”

Clive straightened his back. “Yes, Sir.”

“As soon as you hear the abandon ship signal, get everyone off this station. Make for the far side of the planet as fast as you can. If you can make contact with Admiral Barrington, tell her what’s happening.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be right behind you. And Clive” —he held out his hand— “thanks for everything.”

“A genuine pleasure, Mister Telford.”

“Now go.”

Am I doing the right thing? What if there’s no follow-up attack? What if—

“Shut the fuck up, Telford,” Nathan muttered.   

Under his command, the station began to roll over, her guns facing away from Cimmeria.

That’s something, at least.

Nathan had to correct the maneuver twice to allow for the station’s enormous momentum. He stared through the solid rectangular block of clear composite. With the station now pointing in the right direction, the Grand Channel rested at center of the view plate, twenty thousand kilometers away. At such a distance, he could visually detect no enemy activity. However, the screaming pain between his shoulder blades said that condition could soon change.

He made a circuit of the C and C, stopping at a console he remembered from his tour of the station. He examined the displays.
Weapons control?

“Poly, can you give me optical magnification of the Grand Channel.”

“Yes, Ensign Nathan Telford.”

Nathan palm-slapped his forehead. “Do so. And Poly, call me Nathan.”

“Yes, Nathan. Optical readings are available from your current tactical station.”

Nathan took a seat, located tactical readout and activated its optical function. Leaning over the viewing hood, he examined the channel. At this distance, he could not confirm what his senses were telling him.

“Poly, increase magnification by one hundred percent.”

“Confirmed, Nathan.”

On his readout the channel grew, the giant force field emitters trailing away to the far side of the Massey Archipelago. The channel looked inert, with no navigation lights showing.
Could that mean they are not expecting an arrival?
Nathan could discern little through the murky space that sat between him and the other side. Just a whole lot of grey. Then, in the far distance, movement.

“Increase magnification by fifty percent and augment image.”

“Confirmed, Nathan.”

He caught a glimpse of something as it disappeared from view. 

“When is the next ship scheduled to arrive at the I/M?”

“Next scheduled arrival is the Oceanian convoy, in approximately seventeen point seven hours.”

“Poly, scan the I/M and report.”

At his last word, a ship passed by his optical scanners.

“I detect a vessel on the other side of the Grand Channel. Destroyer class, configuration unknown.”

Destroyer? A scout for the main force?

“Poly, is the destroyer pinging League IFF?”

“Negative, Nathan.”

“Conclusion?”

“Insufficient data to form a conclusion.”

“Proposal. Any vessel in League space not pinging League IFF must, by definition, be declared hostile.” 

“That is possible, Nathan.”

Nathan groaned.

“Poly, examine your prime programming and define your purpose.”

“My prime purpose, as defined by my programming, is the protection of all League personnel and assets. But much has changed since my last reprogramming.”

“Still, Poly, your prime function is to protect Cimmeria. Is that not so?”

“Affirmative, Nathan.”

“Poly, warships not pinging League IFF must be considered hostile. As such, your prime function compels you to take such actions as are required to protect Cimmeria.” Nathan took a breath. “Confirm.”

“Nathan, my programming is in conflict. I must analyze further.”

“Yeah, you do that, you…” Nathan caught himself. Poly needed therapy.

Right,
then. 

Nathan stepped to the helm station. Both hands were needed to push the rows of thrust levers into the red. The station did not budge. He checked the controls. Power to the engines registered on the readouts. 

Nathan chuckled at the obvious. This was not a monitor, but a giant slab weighing seven million tonnes. Building momentum would take time.

“Nathan,” Poly said, “you are in violation of standing orders with regard to the geosynchronous position of this station.”

“Poly, you did the same. Then you fired on the Bretish fleet.”

“I have no knowledge of such actions. Please, Nathan, return the station to its geosynchronous orbit.”

Did she say
please
? Perhaps Emile was wrong. This could be a date after all?

“Give me total control of this station, including all weaponry, and I will comply with your request.”

A sharp click made him turn to the control panel. The thrust levers had snapped back to zero. He pushed them forward again.

Through the view panel, the Grand Channel appeared to be no closer.

Click.

“Damn.” Again the thrusters had reset to zero. A small change to the horizon, only a few degrees off center, a slow and inexplicable alteration. Using the pitch and yaw controls, he corrected. Then the station began tilting to starboard, and he corrected. Once again he pushed the throttles forward, and waited, watched.

Click. 

What did Cowdry say? He didn’t want Poly killing anyone, so he clipped her leash?  So, in theory she couldn’t kill anyone. Probably the reason he had made it this far without getting fried. So she couldn’t kill, at least not in the conventional sense: the landing boats should be safe. He hit the big red abandon ship button. A slow, pulsing alarm sounded. Now the personnel would be safe regardless of what happened to him.

Nathan leaned on the throttle controls with both hands. He felt the resistance as Poly tried to reset. Then the station began to pitch over to starboard.

“Shit, where’s an octopus when you need one.”

Nathan found himself in a fight to the death with a computer that wanted to live. In order to destroy her, he might well have to stay with her until the end.

His back flared. He stared through the view panel. Nathan could just make out the rough silhouette of an E-boat, coming through the channel.

CHAPTER 65

Date: 24
^th
March 322 ASC.

Position: Cimmerian inner marker. 

Status:  Talgarno battleship
Emaonon’s Vengeance
. Alert Condition One.

Commodore Becklin’s fleet formed into a line astern configuration. 

“Commodore, all ships on course for the Grand Channel.”

“Very well.”

The E-boats would scout ahead, but with the battle station in their hands he foresaw no difficulties. Yes, today would be a very good day indeed.

“Commodore, flash feed from the strike force commander. Text only, Sir.”

Becklin nodded, then tapped his readout.

Commodore Becklin, my task force will be with you shortly. Hold for my arrival. Admiral Peter Braun, Commander, Strike Force.

Becklin slammed his hand down on his console.
No. No, the bastard’s trying to rob me of my rightful tribute.

It was he who had seen to the nosy Bret destroyer. His idea to have E-boats scouting for his fleet. Now he had to wait. For what? To share the prize with some upstart young glory hound. He’d been fighting for the empire when Braun still sucked on his mother’s teat. Wait? No, after a lifetime of service, this would be his reward.

“Comm, signal to the fleet. Form up in line astern on the flagship. We are attacking Cimmeria. Long live the emperor.”

***

Concealed behind an enormous asteroid, HMS
Sword Mistress
maintained her covert vigil. To aid her silent scrutiny, a small, powerful sensor buoy, tethered to the ship, sat just above the asteroid, relaying intel with regard to the KC’s intentions.  

Admiral Barrington’s worst fear, that the KC would pursue her force, had, so far, not eventuated.

“Captain, I’m getting some pretty screwy readings.”

Captain John Richards looked up from his panel. 

“Tactical officer, you’ll have to do better than
screwy
.” Beside him, his first officer stifled a snigger.

“Sir, taking into account the limited capabilities of the sensor buoy, my readings indicate that the King Charles Battle Platform has rolled over, and is heading, under full power, toward the Grand Channel.”

He leaned across to the first officer’s station.

“What do you think, Chris?”

“I’m pretty well educated, and a better than fair poet, and one day I might write a sonnet about this.”

Richards snorted.

“If the station was heading toward us, I would have volumes to say. Including that we should run away screaming. But this? I’m totally baffled. And that, Captain, is my report.”

Richards wondered how much more
screwy
this day could get.

CHAPTER 66

Nathan could make out the E-boat clearly as it closed the range.

“Damn, damn. If only I had weapons.” 

Click.

Nathan switched from holding the yaw controls, back to the throttles.

“Fucker.”

The Pruessen E-boat glided past the impotent battle station, turning to port. In the distance, he could make out another one heading in. 

“Compad, are all personnel clear of the station?”

“Negative. One person remains on the station.”

“Yeah.”

Click.

“Right. That’s fucking it.”

Nathan began tearing cabinets apart until he found what he was looking for. Drawing his Bretish sidearm, he selected minimal setting and fired at the malodrite bonding strips he held in his left hand. They would melt under gunfire, then cool and harden.  

He held the thrusters in place until the metal cooled. Gingerly, he released his grip. The controls shuddered, but could not reposition.

Nathan glanced up as the second E-boat passed by.

A few minutes of intense work completed the task: all controls locked into place.

The station’s shields activated.

Poly knows I’m trying to kill her?

A third E-boat streaked past and, as with the others, turned to port. Behind it, well into the channel, something followed. Something really big.

***

Emaonon’s Vengeance
led the fleet into the Grand Channel.

“Commodore, I’m getting garbled transmissions from E-715. Something about the battle station.”

“Scan into the channel. Report any anomalies,” Becklin ordered.

“I’m getting inconclusive readings at this time. Something’s not as it should be. I’ll continue scans.”

***

Nathan slammed his fist onto the control board. The battleship quickly closed with the station and was well within range of her weapons.

“Poly, enemy vessel approaching. Destroy it immediately.”

“Nathan, I am unable to comply. This unit cannot kill.”

“Then activate the weapons console and I will ... protect you from the invaders.”

“Negative. You would use the weapons to kill. Under the parameters of my reprogramming I cannot kill, or by my actions or inactions allow others to kill.”

So that’s what Cowdry meant by snipping her leash.

“Fucking Asimov,” Nathan spat.

The first battleship passed and turned to starboard. Nathan counted a total of twelve enormous warships passing by. He wanted to scream his frustration to the world. The station had still not reached the channel.

Could there be more ships coming?

He returned to the tactical station. Through the viewing hood, he saw nothing for a minute, then — there, a destroyer. The E-boats scouted for the battleships, so it was a fair assumption that the destroyer would do the same for … what? The main force? Or simply reserves?

Damn, if only I had weapons.

“Nathan, my readings show that this station will impact the Grand Channel in five point two five minutes. You must alter course.”

Nathan wished he could get his hands around Poly’s throat and choke her into submission. 

“Poly, are you there?”

“Yes, Nathan.”

“You are picking up my transmission clearly?”

“Yes, Nathan.”

“Good. Now fuck off.”

CHAPTER 67

Date: 24
^rd
March 322 ASC.

Position: Cimmerian outer marker.

Status:  Talgarno battleship
Serenity’s Spur
. Alert Condition One.