First Comes Duty (The Hope Island Chronicles Book 2) (19 page)

“I was on the bridge when you went into the captain’s day cabin with Chida,” Ken said. “I don’t know what you said to Kondo, but when he came back onto the bridge, his face was still red with rage.”

“You get that.” 

“Nathan, are you at liberty to discuss what happened during the Genevieve mission?”

“Yes, I’ve been cleared. But I don’t think I could add much to what has been covered in the official report.”

“The energy-dampening field they employed on the headhunter ship,” Yuki began. “Has anyone come up with a solution?”

“If they have, they’re not telling me.” He smiled. “But I am but a lowly servant of the League of Allied Worlds.”

“As are we all,” the ensigns chorused, then laughed at their silliness.

“We only know what we’ve picked up from the news nets. As we read it, a small group of Athenian sailors took on a force twenty times their size and won the day,” Ken said. “How was that done?”

Nathan sighed and shook his head. “Well Ken, for a starter, don’t believe everything you hear from the news nets. The odds were closer to eight to one. For another thing, we had an advantage they were not expecting. We had an unusually large number of cutters on the boat.”

“Cutters?” Keiko asked.

“Ah, yes, the new slang. A ‘cutter’ is a term to describe someone who has undertaken training germane to EDF warfare. At the academy, Kendo is a popular, but not mandatory, course. By a fortunate coincidence, Truculent was brimming with Kendo exponents, so the ratio of cutters to headhunters was relatively high. Even so, we had to improvise on the run. The battle steel axes were one such example.”

“And the incendiaries?” Tommy ventured.

“Precisely.” Nathan smiled at the recollection. Marine Sergeant Redpath had been appalled at the notion of a lowly midshipman going berserk with incendiaries within the tight confines of the headhunter ship. Although he had ordered Nathan not to use them, when the opportunity presented itself, his use of the dangerous Molotov cocktails gave the outnumbered teams a big edge.  

“And the bows you and the other middy had with you?” Tommy continued.

“That was a turn of luck. But it was still a close-run thing.”

“Still, Nathan, odds of eight to one are pretty steep,” Ken said. “What was the deciding factor?”

“Superior training, teamwork and discipline.” He smiled ruefully. “And a heavy dose of good luck. You also need to bear in mind these were headhunters and not regular navy personnel. If we ever encounter Imperial marines, who have been properly trained in swordplay, the encounter could turn out quite differently.”  

“So why do you think Pruessen sent out some of their most advanced technology on a headhunter ship? Why not use it on a regular Imperial warship?”

Nathan rubbed at the bump on his right eyebrow. “Now
that
, Yuki, is a good question. I’ve heard much speculation on the subject. Some ideas have merit and others are absolute rubbish. What do you think?”

“I can think of a couple of reasons,” Yuki said thoughtfully. “They laid a trap for your boat and you fell into it. A headhunter getting the better of an Athenian monitor would be proof positive the technology would work under any circumstance. So if it was a prototype, and if it was being tested in combat, then what better match-up could you have? The scum of Tunguska versus the finest small navy in the League. Of course, that’s speculation.”

“There is a massive amount of speculation flying about, but no real proof. At the end of the day, we find ourselves with more questions than answers. Although I tend to lean toward your interpretation of the events. It was too well planned to be anything but a set-up.”

“So, what’s the answer?” Ken asked.

“More and better training is one way to go. I expect the eggheads will sort out the tech eventually, but in the meantime we have to be prepared for a reoccurrence and further extension of this technology. The Athenian Naval Service has expanded its unconventional warfare training course to include countermeasures to the broadswords used by the Pruessens. As I am sure I don’t need to explain to you, Kendo is not an art you learn in a few months. And not everyone is temperamentally suited to the discipline required.”

“So keep training and hope for the best?” Tommy asked.

“Train hard, fight easy,” Nathan quoted.

“Speaking of training,” Ken said, “we have scheduled a Kendo training bout for tomorrow morning. Would you care to join us?”

“You could show us how headhunters fight,” Yuki said.

“I would be honored.”

“Maybe you and I could have a bout?”

The prospect of attempting to match up against Nihonese in an art they had studied for years caused Nathan to change the subject. “Hey guys, would you like to see my family?”

They all agreed they would. Nathan retrieved the hard copy of Livy and Ellen from the bedside table and passed it around. The ladies cooed over the baby, and the men made sure not to say anything untoward with regard to his wife, although Tommy had to make at least one admission.  

“Wow, Nathan, your wife’s a knockout.” Beside him, Ken nodded.

“Thank you, Tommy. I think so too.”

“You have a wonderful family, Nathan,” Keiko said. “You must be very proud.” A quiet smile accompanied her words.

He smiled and nodded.

The evening progressed along in the same relaxed vein, with discussions ranging from Nihonese politics to the general loathing they felt for Captain Kondo, to matters of family and friends. Nathan gleaned a deeper understanding of the Nihonese psyche on this night than from all of his research. It gave him hope that the rest of his deployment would not be as trying as his first day aboard.

CHAPTER 30

Date: 5
^th
March 322 ASC.

Position: Traversing Bretish Commonwealth space.

Status: Morning workout.

Yuki’s sword came close to getting past Nathan’s guard and striking his throat. He parried her blade aside and called a halt to the Kendo bout.

“Very good, Yuki.” Nathan’s voice echoed around the large workout room. “Remember there are other places you can strike rather than the vital areas. Headhunter armor has a lot more openings than what you’re wearing.”

“Isn’t a kill stroke preferable, Nathan?” Tommy asked.

“Yep, but if you are outnumbered you need to strike wherever there is an opening in order to reduce the opposition’s numbers. A wounded enemy is a lost asset.” 

They had been practicing for nearly two hours, and Nathan’s breathing had become labored. Even with the sheath covering the blades, he had come dangerously close to taking some hits capable of putting him out of action. Most of the Nihonese had been studying the art since childhood as opposed to his mere five years.

They spent the next ten minutes discussing the morning’s workout. At the end they rose from their kneeling positions and prepared for some freestyle fighting. Nathan was curious to see how well he matched up against the ensigns when not playing the part of a clumsy headhunter.

Every ten minutes they changed opponents, and Nathan quickly got a firm grasp of how good the Nihonese were. They were more aggressive, he far more patient. At the end of the session, Nathan broke the bout and removed his helmet. The inside was covered in sweat. He toweled his face and tried to dry the moisture from his hair. His new friends had given him an extremely vigorous workout.

Everyone turned when they heard the hatch open. A Nihonese strode into the workout room clad in fighting armor, his sword in one hand, his helmet in the other. The ensigns snapped to attention. Nathan, assuming he was a superior officer, did likewise.

“At ease.” The officer was quietly spoken, but his brown eyes held an intensity Nathan had rarely seen. A half-head shorter than Nathan, he would probably be blown over by a stiff breeze.

“Ensign Telford?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Would you do me the honor?” he asked, gesturing to the fighting area.

“The honor would be mine, Sir.”

“Ensign Kenji, would you be good enough to officiate?”

“Of course, Sir.” He bowed deeply.

The officer walked to the far side of the fighting area, donning his helmet as he went.

When Nathan reached the opposite side, he whispered into Ken’s ear. “Name and position?”

“That’s Hatori, computer sciences.”

Nathan sniffed. Another egghead trying to make a name for himself. He would take it easy on the old man and let him win a few points, just to be friendly. With a shake of his head, Ken sent him a warning.
Yes, Telford, don’t get cocky. Egghead or not, he is Nihonese.

The two opponents met in the middle of the fighting area, Ken officiating from the side. Following the traditional bow, they held their swords with the tips nearly touching.

“Are both officers ready?” Ken asked.

They acknowledged.

“Commence,” Ken shouted.

Nathan attacked and Hatori deftly took one pace back and to the side and tagged his helmet as he passed.

“End,” Ken shouted. “Bout to Lieutenant Commander Hatori.”

Nathan’s ears rang from the blow. He considered himself to have above average reflexes, but the old man made him feel like a cripple.

Once again they matched up, sword tips touching.

“Commence,” Ken shouted.

Again Nathan attacked, and rained a fierce volley of strikes upon the egghead. Hatori blocked and parried the strikes aside with ease. Then he went on the attack and Nathan was forced back under an unrelenting and staggeringly rapid assault. Nathan stepped back and to one side and struck at his throat, but the old man saw him coming. Hatori dropped under the blow and struck up at Nathan’s armor under the left nipple.

“End,” Ken shouted. “Bout to Lieutenant Commander Hatori.”

Nathan breathed raggedly and the inside of his fighting suit flowed with warm sweat. Once again he matched up against the Nihonese.

Nathan’s senses were keyed up, and he fought against an uncharacteristic urge to tense up.

“Commence.”

This time, he did not make the first move. Neither did Hatori. They stood with sword tips unmoving for what felt like a very long time.

CHAPTER 31

Date: 14
^th
March 322 ASC.

Position: Monitor
Insolent
. Traversing Bretish Commonwealth space.

Status: Two days from the Cimmerian system. 

Nathan retrieved from the combat sphere. CPO Ritchie, as always, waited to assist him.

“Welcome back, Mister Telford.” 

“Thank you, Ritchie. Did I miss anything while I was away?”

“Same old, same old.”

Nathan dropped his gloves into his helmet and stepped onto the gantry. 

“So, how was life on Kymu? I’ve heard the Nihonese are a bit strange.”

“They’re not so bad.”

“Nathan.” Whitney strode along the gantry, an enormous grin stretching his face. 

“Hello, Whitney. How are you feeling?”

“Never better.” His grin remained fixed and Nathan wondered if it was a good thing. “The doc booted me out of the infirmary the day after you left for the Kymu.”

“Good to hear.”

“I’m glad you’re back. Things have been pretty slow around here.”

“Yeah, I heard fighter operations had been deferred once we came under Royal Navy escort.”

“Yep. All the pilots are going stir crazy. Now you’re back, things will pick up.”

Nathan’s forehead creased. “What makes you say that?”

“Things always seem to happen when you’re around.”

“I’ll have to second that one, Mister Telford,” Ritchie said. She winked and turned away.

“Ritchie, O/R Five has been sitting on her skids for ten days, so everything should be fine, but give her the once-over anyway, would you?”

“Shall do.”

Nathan headed for the stern lift en route to his quarters. They would no doubt feel claustrophobic after the accommodations on the
Kymu
.

“So, what are the Nips like?”

“The
Nihonese
are like anyone else, Whitney. Some good, some not so good.”

“I heard they eat with sticks instead of proper utensils. Is that true?”

“It’s their way.”

“Weird.”

Whitney kept prattling all the way to their quarters. When Nathan stepped into his room, it appeared to have shrunk. Whitney had little to say, but simply liked talking. With an inner sigh, Nathan got the impression Whitney had adopted him. 

Next time, I won’t rescue him.

“Hey, what’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing. I’m just glad to be back on the boat again.”

Nathan packed his armor into his locker and stripped off his V-suit.

“Hey, Nathan, guess what?”

“What?”

“Boss finally gave me a call sign.” He reached into his locker and held his helmet out to Nathan. Embossed on the front, above the visor, a one-word call sign.

Nathan snorted. “Well, it’s nothing if not apt.”

“I wonder when she’ll tag your helmet.”

“When she’s ready, I should think.” 

Nathan headed for the showers and Whitney moved to follow.

“I think I can fly this sortie without a wingman, Lucky.”

***

Two days later, Nathan lay in his rack, reviewing another block of text on Cimmeria. Damn, but they were an impressive race. The only sentient species thus far encountered by Terra Corp’s outward expansion into the galaxy. In typical T-C fashion, they had accepted the Cimmerians’ hospitality, then turned against them. They were originally called the Ubak, and as indigenous races had done throughout Earth’s history, they rebelled against their unfair treatment. As with all who had opposed Terra Corp, their resistance had been brutally crushed.

Seventy-eight years ago, a fleet of Ubak refuge ships had entered the Tunguska Fault. Two hundred and twenty thousand of the Ubak sought, and were granted, asylum. Because of their home planet’s specific environmental conditions, only one of Tunguska’s worlds could properly accommodate their needs: Cimmeria. The early years of support dwindled to a trickle, and for a time the Cimmerians had finally found a home free from human exploitation. For some years the dream held hope, until the discovery of massive quantities of trephine crystal hiding beneath the surface of their world. From then on, things took a turn for the worse.