First Comes Duty (The Hope Island Chronicles Book 2) (35 page)

I’m getting used to that look.   

Felicia cleared her throat as if trying to make logical sense out of gibberish.

“Storm the royal compound. To what end?”

Nathan felt a stirring of surprise that she asked.

“It is my intention to break into the compound, steal the king’s Kamora fighter, use it to gain access to the KC Battle Platform, and try to stop what I believe is the prequel to a limited, but no less destructive, invasion of your world.”

Gareth shook his head and chuckled. “Damn, Telford, you’ve got a set of balls on you. Meaning no disrespect, Your Majesty.”

“None taken, Gareth. And you’re right: he has gonads the size of locally grown coconuts.” She considered him for a time before saying, “All right, Nathan. Convince me.”

CHAPTER 54

The landing boat approached from the south at high speed, her keel brushing against the tall grass.

“Pretty good flying, for a Bret,” Lucky said.

Nathan nodded.

The LB came to rest outside the compound, discharged its cargo and took off, heading to the southern horizon. Nathan, Lucky and CC went out to welcome the newcomers.

Admiral Barrington had offered him a company of Royal Marines with a senior officer in charge. Nathan admired the fighting qualities of the Bret marines, but for his plan to stand a chance, he needed exponents of a different style of mayhem. His special relationship with the Cimmerians sealed the deal. 

Nathan greeted the Nihonese warmly and introduced them around.

“So Ken, did your captain give you any grief?”

“He tried to stop us, Nathan,” Yuki said.

“So,” Tommy continued, “we told him to get stuffed.”

The assembled group laughed, except for the two officers standing back from the rest. Nathan recognized Lieutenant Commander Hatori from the
Kyushu Maru
, but had only a vague memory of the young man beside him.

“Welcome all,” Nathan said. “It would be best if we moved inside now.” He pointed skyward. “There are eyes everywhere.”

As the group of young men and women strolled into the cavern, joking and laughing with the Athenians, Nathan wondered how well they would do in the forthcoming engagement. They were better exponents of the sword than he, but how would they translate practice into facing an enemy that outmassed them by two to one? How would they handle the blood, the death?
How many of them will I get killed?

Nathan shook the unpleasant prospect aside as he approached the remaining officers.

“Commander Hatori, welcome.” They shook hands.

“Like everyone else, I’m out of uniform, so you might as well call me Jin.”

“Very well, Jin.” He turned to the other. “And you are?”

“Lieutenant Emile Moreau, on detached duty from the battleship . Sir.”

“Nathan,” he corrected. 

He recalled where he had seen Emile before. “You were on the King Charles with Commodore Roussel, were you not?”

“Yes, ah, Nathan. There for the inspection and later to learn about the computer system.”

Nathan blinked. “So, you’re the computer expert I requested? The best and most experienced person with regard to the workings of the Polyphemus computer network?”

The young officer’s face drooped, then hardened moderately as his chin rose. “Outside of a small group of Bretish personnel, there
are
no experts on the workings of the Poly. I happened to be the closest thing available at the time.”

“Jin, what do you think?”

“As computer systems officer, I consider myself fairly proficient at my job. Emile is light years ahead of me, both in practical applications and the theoretical. Don’t let his age fool you, Nathan, he is quite brilliant.”

Yes, fair point. Tuck your prejudice aside; you have a job to do.

“Very well.” He noted the luggage stacked behind the newcomers. “Is all that yours?”

They nodded.

“Let’s get it inside.” Nathan helped Jin with a large container and reached for a backpack sitting beside it.

“I’ll take that,” Emile snapped, wrenching it from Nathan’s grasp.

“Please yourself.”

His Prep warned him with a tiny spark of caution.

CHAPTER 55

Nathan attempted his regular meditation exercise to calm his roiling mind. The questions, constant questions, blocked his efforts. Then the nagging doubt intervened. Could his insane scheme actually work? So many unanswered questions, so many potential pitfalls, so many lives depending on his judgment.

Am I leading them to their deaths? For nothing? 

He sat on the edge of his cot and slapped the heels of his hands against his head. It only resulted in antagonizing his growing headache. He slipped his shoes on and made his way to the makeshift mess.
Stop thinking, stop thinking.

In the mess, the urn had turned cold. Nathan hunted around until he found a large bottle missing its label. Sniffing the contents, he winced. Wine, perhaps?

The wine tasted as if it had been strained through dirty socks. He was on his second mug when the buzz caught up with him. Peripherally, he spied someone walk past the opening, stop and turn back.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Gareth asked.

“Wish I could.”

Gareth joined him, picked up the bottle, took a sniff and grimaced.

“This stuff will kill you.”

“Want some?”

Gareth smiled and found a mug. They sat for some time without talking. Nathan rubbed his temples.

“Hard to sleep before a battle, isn’t it?

Nathan nodded.
Now or never.

“Will you tell me about my father’s time on Cimmeria?”

Gareth stared at him. “You really don’t know, do you?”

“The records of his time here have been classified.”

“Very well.” Gareth took a long sip of the bitter wine. “Our war of independence had been underway for ten bloody years. We knew if we could hold out, we would win. With opposition growing against the war among League members, it was just a matter of time before popular opinion and political necessity brought the war to an end. 

“The Bretish government of the time knew it as well. With ruthless determination to maintain their hold over our mineral rights, they appointed a new governor to change things on Cimmeria.

“I count many Brets as friends. They’re not a bad lot. But Marcus Davenport was anything but a friend to Cimmeria. A political appointee, granted absolute power over our world. His handling of what he described as the Cimmerian question became as brutal an exercise in misused power as has ever happened in Bretish history.

“Detention without trial. Internment camps. Near slavery of the population. This must sound familiar to you.”

It did. Nathan nodded.

“Davenport’s absolute control extended to the military. He ignored any entreaties toward a peaceful compromise, and crushed suspected dissidence without mercy. Then he decided to send a message to the loyalists who were fighting for their home world.

“Davenport had the navy bomb the town of Aldershot. Razed it to the ground. Why? He suspected it to be a rebel enclave. No proof, suspicion only. Six hundred civilians killed.

“My God.”

“The rebels stepped up their efforts. In response, Davenport bombed another town, and another and another. He appeared to have little regard for the mounting civilian death toll.

“During this period the monitor Brazen arrived. Athens’ contribution to the war effort. Like all other League worlds, opposition to the war had risen to fever pitch within the Republic. 

“Wishing to spread the blame, Davenport ordered Brazen to launch her fighters against a suspected rebel town. Windermere. On this particular day, Brazen’s helm officer commanded her fighter squadron. His name, as you may have guessed, was Lieutenant Commander Lucas Telford.”

Nathan could imagine, in his mind’s eye, every interlinking detail. 

“Having served on Cimmeria, on temporary assignment with Athenian marines, he knew of the corruption endemic to the Bretish administration. He asked for target verification. Brazen’s skipper, not a bad fellow from what I’ve heard, tried to get it but was ordered to proceed with the bombing by the commander of the coalition forces.

“He passed the order on to your father.” Gareth snorted. “Any other officer would follow orders, but Lucas had doubts. He had no verifiable proof that Windermere posed a threat, and having seen the indiscriminate bombings of civilians, he took pause. Lucas ordered his squadron to maintain their position, and overflew the town, searching for proof of alleged rebel movement. Hovering his fighter above the town square, he invited fire. No anti-aircraft fire came from Windermere. Townsfolk and children gathered in the square and waved at him. It could have been a trick, but it wasn’t. Somehow he knew it. Lucas returned to his squadron and told them of his suspicions. Such was the level of respect they held him in, the other pilots formed a pact, refusing to proceed with what was a morally questionable order. The coalition commander became furious and ordered
Brazen
’s captain to fire a nuke — a nuke, mind you — at the town. Her captain refused outright.”

“As he should. Orbital bombardment is outlawed under the Oceanian Accord.”

Gareth nodded. “The story could have ended there, but Davenport ordered artillery brought up to level the town.” Gareth shook his head. “Lucas and his squadron buzzed the artillery, sending out calls to cease their movement toward Windermere. They refused. Now, this is the fun part.

“Your father lands his fighter in the town square. There’s an image somewhere of him standing on the wing of his fighter, addressing the townsfolk. It’s quite iconic. Anyway, he pleads with the people, telling them what’s coming their way, and tells them to evacuate the town. Records of what he said are mixed, but the results are not. The people believed him.

“Windermere is no more, destroyed by artillery. But every citizen of that town is alive today, and through their children the story is passed on. How a soldier sent to their world from far away stood, for one day, on the side of compassion and humanity.”

Nathan took a long gulp of the rancid wine, washing down an enormous lump in his throat
.

“Details of what happened to your father, after his stand, are unknown to us. I would like to think that he was commended for his humanity, but as we both know, the world doesn’t always treat heroes fairly.”

Nathan sat for some time, staring into his cup. Finally the constriction in his throat eased.

“Thank you, Gareth. I think I’ll try to get some sleep now.”

CHAPTER 56

Nathan’s conversation with Gareth had laid some demons to rest and helped lull him into an uneasy slumber. However, questions and an ever-increasing number of “ifs” assailed him, making sleep difficult. If this worked, then this would work, but only if…

If, if, if. They could drive a man crazy.

He awoke with a headache which continued throughout the day as the strike force prepared for the mission.

“Just drink it, Ritchie.”

“But Mister Telford, it tastes like shit.”

“I know what it tastes like, now drink up.”

Indeed the concoction did taste like shit, but it was also absolutely necessary.

Lucky awaited his turn. “So, the doc’s sure this stuff won’t harm us?”

“Cimmerians administer it to their young if they suffer from severe congestive problems. So it will help us cope with the thin air and the murderous gravity better than anything Doc Ning can provide.”

“Yuck,” Ritchie said, pulling a face. “Do I get a sweet now?”

“Off you go, Lucky.”

Sniffing the potion, he grimaced.  

Nathan had taken the first drink, and after twenty minutes he could feel its robust effects: lethargy gone; senses on high alert; the bone-crushing gravity, although still present, lessened.

Ten minutes later, they assembled in the briefing room. More of a briefing
cave
, really. In the day since his conversation with Felicia Ambrose, the resistance had assembled a small force of seasoned veterans. Nathan wondered if a combined force of Cimmerians, Athenians, Nihonese and the token Franc could accomplish a mission requiring fifty times their numbers.

“Everyone settle down and listen up,” General Sobers ordered. “Your Majesty,” he said, stepping aside.

Felicia stared at the small band of freedom fighters, the tiniest of sighs slipping from her lips.

“Thank you all for getting here on such short notice. Today’s operation is fairly straightforward, yet the risks to everyone in this room are grave. Once you’ve heard the details, I will condemn no man or woman for wishing to withdraw their support.” She took her seat. “Nathan?”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Nathan stepped forward, activating the wall-mounted screen as he did. Dismayed gasps came from some of the Cimmerians as they saw their target.

“For those of you not familiar with this layout, it’s the security compound attached to the Royal Palace.”

People began shuffling their feet.

“As Queen Felicia has pointed out, today’s mission is quite straightforward. Our force will breach the security and acquire one of the Kamora fighters.” He used a pointer to highlight the intended target area. “Latest intel indicates that they are most likely to be here, within the hangar area on the eastern side of the main compound. Emile Moreau and I need to get aboard the first prototype.”

“Why?”

“Fair point.” Nathan said. “I’m going to steal it, fly to the KC, and—”

“Yeah, I got that part in the pre-briefing. Why the first prototype?”

“Name?”

“Errol Logie, formerly major with the 58
^th
regiment, Cimmerian Special Forces, under the command of Brigadier General Gareth Sobers. And you?”

Nathan chuckled at his bold and brassy attitude.

“Who, me? I’m an ensign attached to the monitor Insolent. A pilot on my first deployment.”

Errol shook his head.

“And my name is Nathan. Nathan Telford.”