First Comes Duty (The Hope Island Chronicles Book 2) (18 page)

“Very well. Helm, ahead two-thirds.”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” the helm officer replied.

Everyone took ingression into hyperspace seriously, and with good reason. One mistake could spell the end for the crew. Yet Nathan had seen more animation from ’droids.

The age of the crew struck him as odd. The majority were well into their fifties, and in many cases much older. A couple of junior officers dotted the bridge and were prominent within a sea of grey and white hair. Every bridge officer wore Class A uniforms. If they were half as uncomfortable as Corps issue, then it was inhuman to expect the crew to function properly while being strangled.

Within twenty minutes of ingression, the pace began to ease off. Quite rightly, all systems were carefully monitored during the initial time within hyperspace.

“Captain,” the helm officer said, “speed is now two-thirds. Recommend I bring the ship to station-keeping thrust.”

“Very well, helm.” For the first time the captain turned to his first officer. He noticed Nathan but chose not to acknowledge him. “Commander Chida, the bridge is yours.”

Chida acknowledged as the captain dragged his considerable bulk from his chair. He leaned in and spoke to his first officer. Chida nodded and the captain disappeared into his ready room. 

Nathan tried not to smile, and forced a cough to cover a short laugh. Never in his life had he encountered an entire crew who suffered from such severe rectal dysfunction. Perhaps he would be unable to get that smile out of Tabei after all. 

Commander Chida personally inspected every main station on the bridge. Finally satisfied with the state of the ship, she motioned to Nathan. He came to attention before her and waited for the next move. She examined his face briefly, in an appraising manner.   

“Follow me, Ensign,” she said quietly.

Nathan and Chida stepped into the ready room, stopping before an enormous mahogany desk. The captain reclined in a large, comfortable chair, his arms resting on the desk, his cravat fully undone.

“Captain Kondo, may I introduce Ensign Telford from the Athenian monitor Insolent, on board your ship for ten days of cross-cultural orientation.”

The captain leaned back, rested his hands across his ample stomach and ran his eyes over Nathan. His all-knowing expression immediately rubbed Nathan the wrong way.

“So this is the hero of the Genevieve Incident?”

Nathan did not care to recall the bloody mission, but assumed, for whatever motives he had, the old captain had done so deliberately. Kondo did not appear to care for him in the least. Could it be that, as with a lot of old style Nihonese, he did not trust outsiders?

“I asked you a question, Ensign Telford. I might only be a civilian in your eyes, but I am still master of this vessel.”

Nathan blinked, feigning surprise.

“My apologies, Captain Kondo, but I heard no question. Only a statement quoted by one of the idiotic news nets.”

Chida bristled as the captain’s mood darkened.

“Oh, come now, Ensign, don’t be so modest. Only a midshipman and you fought off all of those nasty headhunters. And with a sword, no less. You must give some instruction to my officers. I am certain they could benefit from your experience.”

“I would never presume to instruct a Nihonese in the art of Kendo, Captain. That would be … silly.” He grinned. 

The captain stared at his first officer.

“Captain, with your permission, I will commence orientation for this officer.”

“Yes, Commander, why don’t you do that.”

Nathan followed her onto the bridge, through the main hatch to the lift. 

“You were highly disrespectful to the captain. Even though you’re Monitor Corps, you should show a little restraint.”

“Meaning no disrespect to
you
, Commander, but the man is an ass.”

Chida cleared her throat. “He is of the old school and, as such, can be a little, ah, challenging at times. But he was right about one thing. He is master of this vessel and deserves the respect accompanying the position. Are you reading me, mister?”

“I hear you, Commander.”

“Good, now try to stay out of trouble and I will see you in the wardroom at eighteen hundred for evening mess.”

Nathan contained his irritation within a curt nod, then headed back to his quarters. 

CHAPTER 29

Date: 4
^th
March 322 ASC.

Position:
Kyushu Maru
, in hyper transition.  

Status: Down time. 

The officers’ mess had barely half filled by the time Ensign Ishida Kenji entered. After eight hours on duty, the collar of his dress uniform dug into his neck like a dull blade. He could hardly wait to get back to his quarters and rip the stupid rag from his neck.

Kenji stood in line with the other officers, alert to the strict proprieties. Any form of socialization not of a formal type was frowned upon within the mess. Ken eagerly awaited Wednesday. Steak night. Today, however, he had two equally unpalatable choices: the steamed fish or the fried chicken in a bed of steamed rice. Choosing the lesser of two evils, he decided on the chicken. The chef usually undercooked the fish. 

“Good evening, Chef. May I have your delicious chicken and rice, please.”

“Certainly, Ensign.” He laid the meal before him, bowing absently. “I hope you will enjoy this humble offering.” 

“Thank you, Chef, for your efforts,” Kenji replied, returning the bow.

Three times a day, the same maddening ritual.

He found a vacant table and began picking at his meal with chopsticks. Ken had not used the odd implements since high school, and did not appreciate having to do so now. Of course, he knew why: yet another of a growing number of arcane rules set down by the captain. If the old man had his way, he would happily journey back in time and live in sixth-century Nihon. Kenji wished the captain could find a time machine to allow him to do so. Of course, to speak openly of his feelings was unthinkable. The old people on board would tear him to pieces. 

Yuki took the chair opposite him. She had also opted for the chicken.

“Good evening, Ensign Kenji,” she said, with a short bow.

“Good evening, Ensign Okamura.” 

Within five minutes Keiko and Tommy joined them. The only young officers on board the freighter maintained their sanity by meeting in the privacy of their quarters to actively express their shared loathing for the ship and its cadre of prehistoric officers, but for the moment they kept their mouths shut. The meal continued in the same boring way, as it had done yesterday and would do again tomorrow.

That all changed when the Athenian walked into the mess. This must be the Ensign Telford he had heard about.

Kenji envied the obvious comfort of his snug-fitting, black flight suit. The Athenian stopped by the hatch and glanced around. Walking through the mess, he smiled and attempted to catch the eyes of the other officers, without success. He walked to the serving counter and had a few words with the chef.

The chef’s eyes grew wide with rage as he stretched to his full height.

“Poison?” he bellowed. “You call my food poison?”

Telford held conciliatory hands before him and smiled. It did little to improve the situation. Kenji would not have been surprised if the chef had leapt over the counter with a sharp cleaver in hand. The Athenian apparently tried to placate the chef, but the maddening grin, which came close to becoming a laugh, refused to leave his face. Commander Chida came through the hatch, and her face contorted at the sight of the grinning Athenian and the enraged chef. 

She strode to the service counter and intervened. Discussions took place and ended with Chida bowing to the chef. Telford offered a token nod, trying, unsuccessfully, to contain his amusement. He and Chida took their seats and the commander leaned across the table and spoke to him, emphasizing her words with thrusts from a chopstick. Telford nodded, but his maddening smile kept intervening into the conversation. Finally satisfied, Chida began her meal of chicken. Apparently no one cared for the steamed fish.

The newcomer glanced around the mess before asking Chida a question. The commander pointed to the implements on his tray. Telford held a chopstick in each hand, stared at Chida and asked something. The table of ensigns could not hear what he said, but his dazed expression was so comical they all developed coughing fits at the same time. 

Despite strict mess protocol, every eye had fallen on the newcomer. Chida remedied the situation by turning a cold eye on the attendant officers. All heads snapped back into line with their plates.

Finally, something to break up the routine.

***

Nathan returned to his quarters after evening mess and fell onto his spacious rack. He had never had such a stressful meal in his life. How many other mines would he step onto over the next nine days? Rubbing his hands across his face, he started to chuckle. What else could he do?

“This ship’s a madhouse.” In the instant of recognition, Bradman’s genius hit him squarely between the eyes.

The captain knew that a traditional reaming would have little effect on him, but ten days aboard this flying lunatic asylum would be far worse than any conventional dressing-down. The bastard had bided his time for nearly a month, and as soon as they were within the relative safety of Bretish-controlled space, he struck. Brilliant. No wonder he had a reputation as the finest tactical mind in the Corps. Bradman’s name had appeared on the academy’s tactical excellence plaque thirty years before Nathan’s. 

He laughed so hard, tears began to flow. He gave one last guffaw as he walked into the head and splashed cold water onto his tear-stained face. As he reentered the main room, the hatch chime sounded. Could it be the chef coming back for round two? He stopped two paces from the hatch. “Ad-mit.” 

The hatch slid open to reveal four young officers standing to attention. Their obvious youth singled them out from the rest of the officers in the mess, and he recognized one of them from the bridge. 

“Ensign Telford?” The ensign was as tall as Nathan, with a similarly robust physique.

“Yes.”

The Nihonese twitched nervously and glanced around him before continuing.

“We are members of the ship’s self-defense squad, and we request your permission to discuss your Kendo techniques, as employed against the, ah, unknown pirate force.” He paused, expectantly. “If you could spare us a few minutes of your time we would be most grateful.”

So this was the other side of the Nihonese coin. Nathan suspected they wanted to talk about more than sword techniques. These were his generational peers. He nodded slowly while a wry smile creased the left side of his face. Stepping aside, he ushered them into the room with a wave of his hand.

Standing at attention before him, they began the formal introductions.

“Ensign Ishida Kenji.” He bowed from the waist sharply.

Nathan placed his hand to his heart and bowed slightly in acknowledgement.

“Ensign Keiko Misiti.” A head shorter than Nathan and pretty as a pixie.

“Ensign Tomita Haruki.” He had the sort of face that would readily lend itself to smiling. If such conduct was allowed on this anally retentive bucket.

“Ensign Yuki Okamura.” Almost as tall as Nathan, she had a quiet beauty and stillness he found most appealing.

“Pleased to meet you,” Nathan said. “Feel free to remove your jackets and those dreadful cravats. Kick back and relax. I’m Nathan.”

The tension disappeared and smiles appeared without effort. They tore the strangling cravats from their necks, and Ensign Kenji held out his hand.

“Call me Ken.”

The others followed his lead.

“I’m Keiko, Nathan.” Soft hands, but a firm handshake.

“Tommy.” Sure enough, his smile lit up the room.

“Hello, Nathan, I’m Yuki.”

They removed their jackets before taking seats.

“Nathan,” Ken said, “we’re off duty until twelve hundred tomorrow. How about you?”

“According to Commander Chida, I have what she calls a free-flowing arrangement.” He shrugged. “I guess she means I set my own hours. Why do you ask, Ken?”

Yuki reached into the side pocket of her jacket and removed a flask. “We are the unofficial welcoming committee,” she said, with a guarded smile.

Nathan grinned broadly and brought glasses and ice.

Flasks appeared from other coat pockets.

Nathan opened the first flask, took a sniff of the dark brown liquid and smiled. “Caledonian whiskey?”

Tommy grinned and winked.  

“I’m glad to see there are a few human beings on this tub.”

The Nihonese nodded their agreement.

“When I first heard I had been assigned to the Kyushu
Maru,” Tommy said, “I thought this would be the highlight of my career.”

“We all thought the same way,” Keiko added.

“After four months on this ship, we realize this was a huge mistake.” Ken’s mood became serious. “We have all put in for transfers when we get home.”

“So what’s the problem?” Nathan asked. “I’ve heard Nihon is quite a progressive society, but what I’ve seen on this ship goes against everything I’ve been led to believe about your planet. Is this the norm?”

“No way,” Ken spat. “There are elements back home who would like to see us dragged back to the ancient times of feudalism, but the progressives hold the reins of power. Thank God.”

Nathan wondered if any of them would answer the next question.

“So why is this ship so … ah, backward?”

“Kondo,” Ken said. “That old bastard must have used up every favor he had with the Mercantile Board to swing this command. The rumor is that this will be his last voyage as captain. Apparently this is his going-away present.” Ken shook his head angrily. “This could have been a dream assignment for all of us, but that strict old man has surrounded himself with believers in the old doctrines and turned this voyage into a nightmare of ridiculously strict subservience.”   

“I’ve met the captain, and he seemed like a perfectly reasonable sort of guy.” Nathan took in the sea of shocked faces with a blank expression, then smiled crookedly. The four Nihonese fell back in their chairs, laughing.