First Comes Duty (The Hope Island Chronicles Book 2) (20 page)

He brought up an image of Cimmeria. An enormous planet, easily five times the diameter of Athens. A planet-wide inversion layer obscured the geographical features. An asteroid field completely encompassed the planet.

Nathan brought up the section on his DRP. The Massey asteroid field was believed to be the remnants of planets destroyed during the ancient war fought in Tunguska. Only Cimmeria and her single natural satellite survived. Every other world in the system had been smashed to rubble. Over time, the detritus from the cataclysm was attracted to the second-largest gravity field in the system. The stability of the field was the result of two opposing geological factions: the mineral coltak attracts, while the mineral fleder repels. Cimmeria was composed of the same minerals, resulting in this impossible level of stability.

Nathan disengaged his DRP and rubbed his eyes. “Time to see the eighth wonder of Tunguska.” He checked the time and prepared for duty.

CHAPTER 32

Date: 17
^th
March 322 ASC.

Position: Approaching insertion into the Cimmerian system.

Status: Traversing hyperspace. Alert Condition Two.

Captain Bradman stepped onto the bridge and up to the operations station.

“Report.” 

“We are approaching the outer marker, Captain,” Lieutenant Reiffel said. “I have notified the Bretish picket of our arrival and they have confirmed our non-hostile status. Kyushu Maru has been informed of our situation and is standing by.”

Bradman was tempted to say “well done”, until he noticed who sat at the helm station. 

“Lieutenant, a word.”

He stepped into the briefing room with the young D-O on his heels. Leaning his buttocks against the table, he crossed his arms.

“We have three command pilots on this boat, yet you assign the helm position to Ensign Telford? Are you two having it off?”

“I tried to, but he keeps knocking me back.” Her brief smile disappeared under Bradman’s wilting gaze.

“Are you sassing me, Lieutenant?”

She made no attempt to hide her deep sigh.

“Captain, both Ensign Telford and Lieutenant Valetta are scheduled for helm orientation. They are both earmarked for the fast-track program, as you know, Sir.” Reiffel straightened her back. “With the fighter complement on stand down, I considered this would be a good opportunity for both of them to get their flight hours in the big chair. Telford is next on the roster.”

“Damn the roster,” Bradman snapped. “You are taking us into Cimmerian space with a grommit at the helm. What the hell are you thinking?”

Her jaw set hard, as did her voice. “What I am thinking, Captain, is that I’m doing my bloody job. I don’t expect a pat on the back for that, but I will not stand here and have my professional integrity questioned by you or anyone.
Sir
.”

So, she’s finally grown a backbone.
Bradman had been waiting on this for weeks.

“However, Captain, if it is your judgment that I am not doing my job, then relieve me.”

And there it is, the gauntlet thrown down. 

“Watch your mouth, Lieutenant, or I might take you up on your offer.” He rubbed at his mouth to hide a smile. “Very well, he’s your choice and your responsibility.”

“Aye, Captain.” A short pause. “Sir, I don’t know what’s going on between you two, and I would not presume to ask. But respectfully, he’s as fine a young officer as I have ever seen. He’s handled every challenge set for him and done so in an exemplary fashion. It wouldn’t hurt to cut him some slack.”

“I don’t need you lecturing me on the subject of Telford. He’s reckless, apart from being an albatross.”

“I don’t believe in superstition, Captain, but I will take your comments on board.”

She was right, of course, and Bradman knew it.
He’s already demonstrated an uncanny instinct for danger.
Could he have that much-sought-after special talent?

“Yeah, you do that.”         

The way she emulated Telford’s wry smile caused a shiver to run down his spine. 

***

Nathan heard the bridge hatch snap open and resisted the urge to glance over his shoulder. He had noted the tone in Bradman’s voice before he and the D-O left the bridge, and could only hope Toni still had a job. 

“Helm,” Bradman barked, “position report.”

“Captain, rollover and braking is on schedule,” Nathan said. “We are two point three minutes from the Cimmerian outer marker. Kymu is maintaining position.”

In the following silence, the urge to glance over his shoulder returned. Bradman would be checking his figures, as he should. A minute passed and a low mumbling came to him as Bradman conferred with his D-O.

“Very well,” Bradman said. “Maintain.”

“Aye-aye, Captain. Maintaining.”

The minutes crawled by.

“Captain, boat speed is dead slow,” Nathan said. “Recommend final braking to bring the boat to dead stop.”

“Very well.” No delay this time.

“Captain,” Toni said, “Kyushu Maru is maintaining position and confirms final orders for coming to a dead stop.”

“Very well.”

“Captain, the boat is showing dead stop,” Nathan said. “We are half a click from the egression point.”

“Very well,” Bradman said. “Antonia, inform Kymu to hold position until ordered through. Confirm our clearance with the Bretish outer marker.”

“Kyushu Maru acknowledges and is in a static holding pattern.”

Nathan smiled. Toni was getting the hang of reading the old man.
Did he just call her Antonia?

“The Bret picket has confirmed our non-hostile status and awaits our arrival.”

“Very well. Helm, engage hyper generator.”

“Aye, Sir, hyper generator engaged. Perforation opening … now.”

“Helm, take us through.”

“Aye, Captain.”

At dead slow speed,
Insolent
crawled through the aperture.

“Captain, egression attained. We have crossed into N-space. Maintaining dead slow ahead.”

Now, a full active scan?

“Tactical,” Bradman said, “full active scan.”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” Vasquez confirmed.

“Captain,” Toni said, “comm coming in from the picket commander, Commodore Dilley.”

“Put it through, thank you,” said the captain. “This is Athenian warship Insolent. Captain Steven Bradman commanding.”

“Captain Bradman, why have you actively scanned my command, Sir?”

“Please identify yourself,” Bradman said.

“Commodore Dilley, commanding officer of the Royal Navy outer marker picket for the Cimmerian system. Now, why—”

“Good morning, Commodore,” Bradman interjected. “And thanks for asking. Yes, we had a fine voyage from Athenian space. With regard to our active scans of this region? Checking any new egression point is SOP for our navy. I had the distinct impression it was the same for yours. Or have the rules changed recently?”

Nathan shot a glance at Vasquez, whose grin matched his.

The Bret commodore cleared his throat. “Ah, no, Captain Bradman. It is simply a matter of decorum between League allies. It is not considered to be in good taste to actively scan an allied vessel.”

“And what if your picket had been compromised?”

Dilley chuckled. “There is little chance of that, Captain Bradman. Or did you miss the squadrons of destroyers and cruisers that have dogged your course for the last twelve days?”

“They made their presence known. However, it is the standard operating procedure for all ANS vessels to actively ping when they egress. I apologize if our actions have upset you.”

“Think nothing of it, Captain. We of the Royal Navy do not expect others to conduct themselves in a manner consistent with propriety and good breeding.”

“Nice chatting with you, Commodore. Insolent out.”

From three meters away, Nathan could practically feel Bradman’s raised blood pressure.

“Vasquez, where’s my report?” he barked.

“Sir, I read one battleship and four heavy cruisers, all pinging Bretish Royal Navy IFF signatures.”

“D-O, call the Kymu through.”

“Aye, Sir.”

“Helm, clear the egression point.”

“Egression point cleared, Captain.”

Minutes later, with
Kymu
safely tucked in behind them, the convoy moved to the I/M.

“Captain,” Nathan reported, “readings show dead stop, at the inner marker. Awaiting ingression to hyper at your command. Recommend one quarter speed for one hundred and seventy seconds before rollover. Estimated time of arrival at inner marker, four minutes, plus or minus ten seconds.”

“Care to make a wager on your estimates, Ensign?”

Nathan was temporarily struck mute by Bradman’s radical change of tone.

“As the captain pleases.”

“A week’s wages, perhaps?”

Nathan considered the wager. “With the small fortune paid to captains, and the meager pittance granted to lowly ensigns, it hardly seems fair. However, I would be willing to wager a week of my pay against flight time for the pilots, Sir.”

Bradman actually chuckled.

What’s gotten into the old man?

“Done. D-O, you’re my witness.”

“Aye, Sir.” Toni sounded as bemused as Nathan felt.

“Very well, people, same as before.”

Following their short hyper jump, the convoy came to a dead stop at the inner marker three minutes and fifty four seconds later. Bradman chose to make no further comments on the subject of the wager. Following the same uncompromising protocols, they egressed into N-space.

“Captain, egression attained. We have crossed into N-space. Maintaining dead slow ahead.”

“Maintain,” Bradman said. “Tactical, full active scan.”

Moments later Vasquez reported. “Captain, I read five heavy battleships, Hammond class, all pinging Royal Navy IFF signatures.”

“Very well. D-O, advise Kymu
to egress.”

“Captain,” Vasquez said, “the picket has actively scanned us and gone to action stations.”

Bradman snorted. “Whoever is in charge is running drills on incoming shipping even if they’re authorized. Damn good idea.”

“Cimmerian harbormaster,” Toni said, “this is Athenian warship Insolent, escorting Nihonese vessel Kyushu Maru.”

Tied in to the command frequency, Nathan counted the lag time before the reply came through.

“Insolent, Cimmerian harbormaster.”

“Harbormaster, Insolent and escort request permission to enter the shipping lanes for approach to Cimmerian orbit. Please advise us of any conditions applicable to our entry.”

“You’re in luck, Insolent. No outward traffic at this time. You may proceed to the channel.”

“Thank you, harbormaster, proceeding. Insolent out.”

“Helm, recommended approach course.”

Having prepared in advance, Nathan displayed the third of his options onto his navigation screen. He made certain to take into account
Kymu
’s extreme momentum and Tunguska’s unique compression barrier. He suspected the skipper would already have run the numbers. 

“Sir, recommend the Kymu proceeds at full ahead, maintaining for four hours. At that time she will reduce speed to one quarter for three hours, before cutting forward thrust to zero. Compression resistance will bring her to dead slow by the time we arrive at the Grand Channel. Helm will match speed while maintaining a separation of twenty clicks from the freighter. Sir.”

“Very well, helm. D-O, send same to Kymu.”

The back of Nathan’s neck warmed. Instead of the expected disagreement, the captain’s confirmation was as close to a compliment as he would get.

The journey toward the planet dragged, but this close to the primary, no vessel could hyper into Cimmerian near-orbit and survive the gravitational shear. He kept his attention on his readouts. Nathan did not expect the drones aboard
Kymu
to do anything but rigidly adhere to the escort boat’s instructions, but kept an eye on her anyway.

Thirty minutes from orbit, he could not help but be struck by the scale of the Massey Archipelago and the enormous planet it encompassed. 

The Bretish picket sat well out from the stable asteroid field.
Insolent
had been within their weapons envelope for an hour.  

“Captain, I have an incoming comm from the commander of the inner marker squadron.”

“Put it through,” Bradman said.

“Insolent, this is Captain Blake, Royal Navy battleship squadron 244. Welcome to Cimmeria.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

“How was your trip, Steven?”

“Uneventful, thank you, Toby. I’m surprised to see you on inner picket duty. I thought you were slotted for the outer defense post.”

“Ah, yes, well, we’re under new management, so to speak. Commodore Dilley has been assigned to that post.”

“Whose brilliant idea was that?”

“Admiral Grace was appointed two months ago to oversee the finality of the King Charles project. He brought the commodore with him.”

“Grace? Some nitwit appointed Grace? My Lord, I thought you Brets had more common sense than that.”

“It is not my place to make such assumptions, Steven. Excuse me for a moment.” Following a short pause, Blake continued. “The task force commander would like a word with you.”

“Put her through.”

Nathan could hear the grin in his voice.

“Good morning, Captain Bradman.” The female voice was welcoming and devoid of arrogance.

“Good morning, Admiral Barrington.”

“So, Steven, I see you’re still maintaining your standard operating procedures?”

“You can never be too circumspect, Jemima. I see Toby is still running drills. Damn good way to maintain a taut picket.”

“Indeed so, Steven. I only wish I could convince Commodore Dilley to do the same.”

“Ah, Jemima, you’re the task force commander. Ever consider ordering him to do so?”

“Many things have changed since your last visit, Steven. Dilley reports directly to Grace. I’ve been cut out of the loop.”

“Just the sort of brilliant thinking I’d expect from some political pencil pusher like Grace.”

“I cannot comment on the actions of my commanding officer, as you know. But if you could read my mind, you would be shocked.”