First Comes Duty (The Hope Island Chronicles Book 2) (26 page)

“That’s fine with me. But we ship out tomorrow morning, and as much as I would love to take this little one with me… ”

“We’ll take care of it then,” Doucet said. “You’ve obviously located the diapers, so I’ll show you where everything else is.”

A short time later Nathan entered the small alcove set aside to the five humans for the night. Placing the bag of baby supplies on the floor, he slumped heavily onto the cot. Doctor Ning had said the shot given earlier would last for twenty-four hours. He already felt the weariness working its way into his bones.

Emma finally nodded off, and Nathan leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes for a moment. The baby squirmed in his arms, waking him. Yawning, he rubbed his eyes and checked on her. She wasn’t happy.

“What’s up now, darlin’?” The surrounding chill answered his question. Nathan rubbed her back to get some circulation going.

Three of his shipmates huddled by a small heater, staring at him with half-formed smiles. He yawned again and chuckled as Emma copied him. “You rascal, yes you are.” 

“I’ve heard of a girl in every port, Mister Telford,” Carpov teased, “but this is too much.”

The group laughed as he got to his feet and pushed toward the heater’s inviting warmth. Emma clung to him as he moved closer to the only heat source in their little den. Carpov and Ritchie suspended professionalism.

“She’s so cute,” Ritchie said. “What’s her name?”

Nathan held her at arm’s length. “This, ladies and gentlemen, is the Princess Emma.”

“So where did you find her, Nathan?” Lucky asked.

“She kind of found me. Didn’t you?” Tiny noises came from the back of her throat. “I think that’s baby talk for ‘Yes Nathan, I did.’ ”

Even Lucky’s tough façade began to melt.

Nathan held back another yawn. “What time is it?”

“Two hours after sunset,” Ritchie said. “We were going to roust you earlier, but you two looked so content.” Sheepishly she asked, “Can I hold her?”

“Do you want to go with Auntie Ritchie, darlin’?”

Ritchie smiled and held out her hands and once again Nathan’s shirt tightened across his chest.

“That’s strange.” Ritchie looked crestfallen. “Kids normally love me.”

“Cimmerian children are different in many ways, Chief,” Doctor Ning said, as he closed the curtain to their den. Rubbing his hands together, he joined them. “When Corinne told me a human had been adopted by an infant Cimmerian, I thought she was joking. It almost never happens.”

“Maybe Nathan’s got a banana in his pocket.” Lucky’s smile dissolved under the withering glare of the two female non-coms.

“Talking of food,” Ning said, “is anyone hungry?”

“Me,” Lucky said.

Within a low-ceilinged cavern, the humans lined up for the communal meal. A smattering of elderly locals sat around rough-hewn tables, huddled over their bowls. Some of them interrupted their subdued conversations to sneak glances in his direction. Nathan prepared the baby formula and warmed it by the hearth. Having tested it against his skin, he offered the bottle to Emma, who latched on to the bottle with both hands.

“Who’s a hungry girl then? Emma is.”

Ritchie placed a steaming bowl next to him, before sitting with the rest of the group. The doctor had excused himself, he said, to deal with other matters. Juggling the infant in one hand, he tasted the soup. It contained vegetables of some kind, suspended in a watery broth. At least it was warm. He sighed as he finished. Emma happily worked away at her bottle.

Periodically he caught toffee-colored eyes stealing glimpses in his direction. Nathan suspected humans did not turn up for dinner every night. A human holding a Cimmerian baby must also rate as an oddity. 

Nathan could not tell the age of the Cimmerian who disengaged from his group and made his way to the hearth. He appeared old, but something in the way he moved spoke of an ageless vitality.

“May I share your heat?” he asked.

“Of course,” Nathan said, and peeked at the baby. She had finished her bottle, so he placed her over his shoulder and began gently patting her back. 

The newcomer gestured to the only remaining chair, and Nathan nodded.

“I am Gareth,” the Cimmerian said. “You are Athenians?” 

“We’re Monitor Corps,” Lucky said.

“Ah, yes, we have heard about monitors.” He examined his hands for a moment. “Some of your ships served here during the war.”

“Yes, my father served here during the war,” Lucky said.

“Oh, really?”  

“Yeah, he was a marine.”

“We may have met then.”

“Did you serve during the war, Gareth?” Nathan sensed something from him which did not feel right. Not dangerous, as such, just different.

Gareth gazed into the hearth and sighed. “It was a long time ago.”

“Still to this day my father has nightmares of his time here,” Lucky said. “He told me many times about Cimmerian infantry.”

“Oh?” A faraway expression came to Gareth’s eyes.

“He said you could find no finer or braver soldiers than Cimmerians, anywhere within Tunguska. I’ve spoken to veterans from the war, and they pretty much say the same thing. It must have been a time of great valor and noble battles.”

“That is one take on it, Ensign.”

“What’s your take on it, Gareth?” Nathan asked.

His features hardened. “There is nothing noble in seeing entire populations bombed out of existence.” He lowered his head to the hearth. “At least that’s what I’ve heard.”

Nathan finally tired of this game. 

“I heard that Cimmerian infantry were all cowards who shat their pants in battle.”

Gareth half-rose from his chair, his eyes ablaze.

“Why, Gareth,” Nathan said, around a wry smile, “you have a military bearing to you, sir.”

The Cimmerian nodded, acknowledging Nathan’s trap. He cleared his throat as he resumed his seat. “I served.”  

“Yeah, but on whose side?” Nathan chuckled and Gareth grinned sheepishly and shrugged. 

“As I said, it was a long time ago.”

Emma burped and Nathan gently tapped her back.

“I’ve heard, Gareth, that these mountains,” Nathan said, glancing around the grotto, “are impervious to sensor scans, even at short range.”

Gareth nodded. “There are minerals beneath the planet’s surface which create a scattering effect on sensors. All high-tech equipment as well.”

“Fleder and coltak?”

“I see you’ve done your research,” Gareth said.

Nathan found it difficult to read Cimmerians in general and this one in particular. 

“I’ve researched your world from those times. A bunch of malcontents with long swords and bad attitudes took on and beat the most powerful military coalition since the Franco-Pruessen war.” Nathan leaned forward. “That is the stuff of history.”

“I believe your original home world has similar stories, does it not?”

“Huh?” Lucky said.

“I think Gareth is talking ancient Earth history,” Nathan said. “The, what was it called … Indo-China war? The most powerful country of its time stuck its nose into what was essentially a sovereign country’s internal politics, and got bloody. And lost. Yeah, I would say there are parallels.”

He attempted to bait Gareth, and the Cimmerian saw him coming. “You are quite the historian, Mister …?”

“Telford. Nathan Telford.”
As if you don’t know, you old fraud.
Nathan would bet a year’s pay on the Cimmerian being ex-military.  

“It has been a pleasure meeting you, Telford.” Gareth stood and they shook hands. “Perhaps we will meet again?”

“Perhaps.”

Gareth nodded to the rest of the humans before strolling from the grotto.

CHAPTER 36

Doctor Ning awoke with a start. Beside him, Corinne continued to shake his arm.

“Time to go, Sylvester.” 

“Hmmm.” Dragging his body from the bed, he stretched the kinks from his back. “Typical woman.” He yawned. “Use me up, then throw me out. Charming.”

Corinne chuckled with a deep throatiness which made him want to climb back between the warm sheets. “If you don’t get going, you horny old saw-bones, you’ll miss your boat.”

“Might be worth it,” he mumbled, as he got dressed. 

Leaving happier times behind him, Ning walked into the loading dock, rubbing his hands together. From his trips to Cimmeria, he knew that the approaching dawn would burn the frost from the surrounding jungle within the hour. Hopefully the return journey to Port Kingsford would not be as disagreeable as the one out.   

“Mornin’, Doc,” Ritchie said, handing him a steaming cup.

“Thanks, Chief.” He sipped the weak tea, wincing at its bitterness.

Three members of the group stamped their feet in an attempt to encourage some blood flow.

“Where’s Telford?” 

“He’s dropping his little darling off at the kids’ hospital,” Ritchie said.

Ning glanced up as the great doors at the entry to the cavern rumbled aside. From the outside, strong arms pushed against the doors’ weight. A group of armed Cimmerians appeared. At the sight of the soldiers, one of the local Cimmerians stopped in his tracks, then bolted toward the hospital.

The group of humans huddled around Ning. “What’s going on, Doc?” Carpov asked.

“I don’t know yet,” he said. “I don’t suppose we can contact Insolent from here?”

“ ‘Fraid not,” Carpov said. “We’re too far from the landing boat’s base transmitter to get though the inversion layer.”

With the doors now fully opened, eight armed troops entered the cavern. They did not appear to be rebels, nor did they resemble Cimmerian marines.

Corinne ran from the corridor and stopped beside Ning, breathing raggedly. 

“Sylvester?”

“Not sure.”

Corporal Carpov slapped her hip where her sidearm would normally rest.

The next figure to pass through the entrance wore a long, dark blue cape draped over his beige uniform. 

Carpov leaned into his ear. “A problem, Doc?”

“More than you can imagine,” Ning said. “Tell everyone to take it easy.”

He and Corinne stepped forward to meet the intruders.

Corinne forced a hard smile. “Captain Haynes, rather early in the morning for the King’s Guards to be out, isn’t it?”

“No rest for the wicked, Doctor Doucet.” His voice was, as Ning remembered, deep, as was expected for a Cimmerian, but lacquered with a spoonful of impending threat.

“Good morning, Captain,” Ning offered. “I don’t know if you remember me, but I am—”

“I don’t care who you are, outlander,” he said quietly, and turned to Corinne. “Doctor Doucet, a little bird tells me you are harboring rebel sympathizers in your midst.”

“I am harboring refugees, Captain.” She raised her chin defiantly. “Politics are left at the front gate. Perhaps your little bird needs to get his eyes checked.” 

Haynes smiled, but as Ning remembered from their last encounter, it had the effect of chilling the blood. 

“Perhaps, Doctor,” he said. “We will know presently.” He nodded to a sergeant. The eight troops marched up the angled walkway and into the corridors.

“For God’s sake, Captain,” Corinne shouted.

“I will find my rebels if I have to tear your pathetic little camp to pieces. I know you have been supplying medicine to the rebels. We took some of your wares from the bodies of their dead.”

“The rebels take what they want because your fine soldiers refuse to protect us. And now, you accuse us of harboring rebels? You’re a damn fool, Haynes.” 

“Watch your mouth, outlander,” Haynes shouted. “You are no longer our masters. You do not dictate to us.” 

“Captain Haynes, watch
your
mouth, Sir,” Ning shouted back. “Doctor Doucet is a Francorum national, and my companions and I are Athenians. We are representatives of the League of Allied Worlds Humanitarian Organization and anything you do today
will
be reported.”

Haynes threw his head back and laughed from the pit of his stomach. “Do whatever you wish, Athenian, it will make no difference. We are our own masters, and Cimmeria bows to the demands of no one.” While he talked he strolled up the inclined walkway, stopping less than a meter from Ning.

Movement from behind made Ning turn. An elderly male, roughly held between two guards, was dragged into the cavern, his face calm, his eyes cast to the ground.

“I found this one, Capin’,” the guard said. “No identity disk, but we’ve recorded his mark.”

The guard forced the right sleeve back from his prisoner’s forearm, showing a faded laser tag burned into his flesh. “We’re running it through the system now, Sir.”

“Very good, Corporal,” Haynes said. “Any others?”

“Dunno, Sir, the rest of the squad are checking the place out. But Capin’, there’s only women, kids and oldies here by the look of it.” 

“Then look harder,” Haynes shouted.

The guard blanched, as much as a Cimmerian could, and ran back into the cavern.

Corinne walked over to the old Cimmerian, with Ning following.

“Are you all right, Paul?” she asked.

“I’ve been through this before, Doctor Doucet.” His world-weary tone said volumes as to his acceptance of an unjust status quo.  

The guard grabbed Corinne by the shoulder, hard enough to make her cry out, and threw her to the floor. Ning, forgetting all of the cross-cultural training, landed a right cross on the guard’s chin. Grimacing, he held his throbbing hand. The guard grinned while leveling a pulsar rifle at him.

Carpov came from nowhere, twisted the rifle from the guard’s hands and hit him in the throat with a powerfully aimed elbow. The guard staggered back as the rifle clattered to the ground. A pulsar blast hit Carpov in the back, throwing her limp body to the floor. Haynes stared along the barrel of his sidearm, pointing the weapon at Corinne.   

Whitney swung an arm around Haynes’ neck and wrestled for his sidearm with the other.

Haynes shrugged him off as if tossing back his cape. Ritchie rushed at the Cimmerian, only to be brushed aside by a huge backhand. Whitney charged again, ducked under the backhand and drove his fist into the Cimmerian’s stomach. Haynes doubled up, air exploding from his lungs. Whitney drove three good hits into his face, then wrung his fist. The guard captain threw a side kick, striking Whitney in the chest. He disappeared over the edge of the landing dock.