Captain Hawkins (The Jamie Hawkins Saga Book 1) Read online

  CAPTAIN

  HAWKINS

  H. Peter Alesso

  Novels by H. Peter Alesso

  hpeteralesso.com

  THE JAMIE HAWKINS SAGA

  Captain Hawkins © 2016

  THE HENRY GALLANT SAGA

  Midshipman Henry Gallant in Space © 2013

  Lieutenant Henry Gallant © 2014

  Henry Gallant and the Warrior © 2015

  Commander Henry Gallant © 2016

  CAPTAIN HAWKINS

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 H. Peter Alesso

  All rights reserved.

  Printed in the United States of America.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, without prior permission in writing from the publisher.

  VSL Publications

  Pleasanton, CA 94566

  www.videosoftwarelab.com

  Edition 1.01

  ISBN-13: 978-1539376361

  ISBN-10: 1539376362

  DEDICATION

  Hope gives some the courage to fight,

  but hope is a fragile thing.

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1 Call to Arms

  Chapter 2 Only the Brave

  Chapter 3 Tainted Verdict

  Chapter 4 Far Away

  Chapter 5 Fight or Flight

  Chapter 6 A Friend

  Chapter 7 Hatching a Plan

  Chapter 8 Twist of Fate

  Chapter 9 Hijack

  Chapter 10 Man of Destiny

  Chapter 11 Captive

  Chapter 12 President Victor

  Chapter 13 Rush into Danger

  Chapter 14 Special Forces

  Chapter 15 Spindrift

  Chapter 16 Mixed Signals

  Chapter 17 Masquerade

  Chapter 18 A Reckless Gamble

  Chapter 19 A Fair Trade

  Chapter 20 Matters of Trust

  Chapter 21 Homecoming

  Chapter 22 Alssya

  Chapter 23 Rodríguez

  Chapter 24 Tarija

  Chapter 25 Overlapping Lies

  Chapter 26 In Harm's Way

  Chapter 27 The Bad Seed

  Chapter 28 An Unwitting Choice

  Chapter 29 All In

  Chapter 30 One Man

  CHAPTER 1

  Call to Arms

  The black of night had fallen, but Jamie Hawkins couldn’t sleep. Although the surgeons had patched up his many wounds, the remorseless pain persisted, even now, months after his medical discharge from the Marines.

  BAM! BAM! BAM!

  Hawkins sat up, his heart pounding.

  Who could be at the door at this hour?

  Not bothering to turn on the lights, he made his way through the darkened country home to the front door, where he found his neighbor, tall scrawny seventeen year old Joshua Morgan, gasping for breath.

  “Captain Hawkins, come quick! Come quick, or they’ll all be killed!”

  “Who? What are you talking about, Joshua?”

  “I’ve just come from the city—it’s a war zone. People are dying,” Joshua’s voice broke. “The hospital is taking care of the wounded and sheltering women and children, but its force shield is buckling.” He finished in a breathless rush, “It’s only a matter of minutes before it fails.”

  A troubled frown creased Hawkins’s face. Their mothers had been friends and he had known him since Joshua was born.

  Has the boy been drawn into the turmoil?

  Hawkins had listened to the broadcasts throughout the day, absurd in every detail; the demonstrators declared that they were only protesting injustice, while the government insisted the violence was a last resort against rebels.

  Which is the greater lie?

  “I told one of the doctors, I knew someone who could help. My flyer’s right outside, sir. You must come,” begged Joshua, his expressive eyes pleading.

  A more sensitive man, who possessed his insight, might have agonized over what was happening in the capital city. Though Hawkins was not unsympathetic, past adversity had left him more hardboiled and cynical than most.

  “That’s not my concern anymore,” he said.

  Joshua’s desperate voice squealed, “You’re a veteran. You could make a difference, sir.”

  Hawkins put his hands on his hips, threw back his head, and barked, “Ha!”

  Then, voicing a deep inner passion, he asked, “What difference can one man make?”

  As a Marine, Hawkins had been a hot-blooded warrior, always quick to action, so at this moment of great upheaval, his reluctance to act in the face of frenzied violence surprised him. He ran his hand over the long, jagged scar that marred his chest. One thing was certain, the foolish mutinous passions of the people could only lead to ruin.

  But the look that spread across the boy’s face was indescribable—it was as if he had just lost his hero.

  “All right then, if you won’t come, at least tell me how to maintain the shield,” said Joshua, with daring and persistence beyond his years. “I’ll go back alone, but you must tell me what to do.”

  “You have no idea what you’d be getting yourself into. All hell has broken loose. Can’t you see, you can’t contribute anything worthwhile, and most likely something terrible will happen?”

  “I must go back! My mother is a volunteer at the hospital,” said Joshua, throwing back his shoulders. With a determined jerk of his chin, he challenged Hawkins’ gaze, pleading. “Please. Tell me how to fix the shield.”

  Hawkins opened his mouth, but the words froze on his lips. The boy’s courage was a splash of cold water in his face, stinging his sense of honor. It wasn’t in his nature to send this boy to certain death—for Joshua could never accomplish what had to be done—nor to let innocents die with the hospital’s destruction.

  A gritty resolve washed over Hawkins. He said, “Let’s go.”

  ***

  Hawkins skillfully maneuvered the single-seat flyer at breakneck speed, his brown leather pilot’s jacket flapping behind him. Joshua clung desperately to Hawkins’s waist, blinking his eyes against the rain that slashed his face as the motorcycle-like vehicle roared through the dark sky.

  Below them Newport was a madhouse—ablaze with scores of savage fires that lit up the horizon. Just hours before, the capital of Jaxon had been a vibrant city, renowned for its culture and history, thriving with business and commerce, home to over a million inhabitants going about their ordinary daily lives. Now it was a battlefield.

  Though his home was a mere two dozen kilometers outside the city, several sharp mountain peaks intervened, one tremendous one flanked by two smaller ones, causing Hawkins to race the engine of single-seat turbojet to gain altitude. The engine strained, sputtered, and caught again, its whine rising to a shrill pitch against the altitude as it climbed steeply to three thousand meters.

  When they reached the outskirts of the city, they descended to a hundred meters, skyscrapers rose in their path, and without hesitation Hawkins swung the turbojet over a paved highway that connected the suburbs to the planet’s capital. The road was choked with traffic—pedestrians, motorcycles, trucks and cars. People of every description swarmed below: disheveled housewives and construction workers, unskilled laborers and local tradesmen, reeking hobos and sharply dressed businessmen, young and old, men and women alike, all seeking safety. Some carried cherished possessions while others brandished antiquated bullet guns; the government had already confiscated most laser and plasma weapons
. This teeming mass of human unhappiness snaked along its chosen path intent on escaping the terrifying violence.

  Is Joshua’s mom in that mob? Hawkins wondered.

  Those still in the city suffered under a shower of high-explosive aerial bombs intermixed with artillery shells. As sirens wailed everywhere, Hawkins saw bombers overhead dropping death from the skies and heard almost constant artillery fire in the distance. He couldn’t tell who was doing the shooting.

  After his initial reluctance to come, now that he was here Hawkins agonized over whether he would be too late. A nearly impenetrable wall of smoke, flame, debris, and explosions forced them to a crawl, adding heart-wrenching minutes to their journey.

  Every few minutes another wave of jets roared overhead and a new barrage of artillery shells rocked the city. The raging fires pulsed, like the blind fury of an agitated beehive. Small fires exploded into big ones right before his eyes. Big ones dwindled under the valor of firemen, only to flare up again a few moments later.

  The city’s civil-defense shelters already overflowed with refugees. Many citizens had left their homes, defying the flames to run to bomb shelters throughout the city, only to find there was no room for them. In addition to widespread death and injury, everywhere Hawkins saw evidence of psychological trauma—children sat in rubble next to their dead parent’s bodies, adults wandered aimlessly, dazed and bleeding. With panic spreading and raw nerves eroding by the minute, it was impossible to gauge how much more the citizens could take. The people prayed for a respite—but they had little hope for mercy on this night.

  Hawkins heard the crackling of the closest flames and the screams of both victims and firemen. Smoke blurred his vision and seared his lungs. Nevertheless, he kept going with Joshua clinging to his waist.

  “Ack! Ack!” Joshua choked on the acrid air. “Here cover your mouth with this handkerchief,” yelled Hawkins over the uproar.

  EEEEEEERRRR!!!

  The sirens wailed.

  Hawkins cursed.

  “Oh, no,” said Joshua. “Are we too late?”

  “We’re almost there,” said Hawkins.

  Detonations overhead shook the buildings around them. The sky was alive with a deadly dance of destruction.

  BOOM!

  Then another—

  BOOM!

  This time the explosion sent shrapnel hurtling into the flyer and its occupants. The engine sputtered and died, and Hawkins needed every bit of his piloting skill to make a controlled crash landing between two burned-out buildings. As they struggled to disentangle themselves from the mangled flyer, flames surged from the engine. Scrambling to their feet, Hawkins and Joshua were barely half a dozen meters away before it exploded.

  Despite their cuts and burns, they set out on foot for the hospital, braving the misery of suffocating black smoke, scorching heat, and particle dust that swirled around them.

  They felt as if they had stepped onto another world. The greatest fires were directly in front of them, whipping hundreds of feet into the air. Smoke ballooned up in great clouds. Desperate people pressed against the entrance to a nearby shelter—safety lay on the other side. A uniformed guard barked uselessly through a megaphone, “Remain calm! Don’t push!”

  Farther down the street, Hawkins watched soldiers break through the defensive ring of some diehard demonstrators, sending them fleeing in every direction. He couldn’t quite make out the shouted invective, but he could read one oversized banner as it fell:

  “Beware the Wrath to Come!”

  EEEEEEERRRR!!!

  Windows rattled as an artillery shell exploded nearby, scattering what remained of the crowd.

  Finally, Hawkins and Joshua reached the hospital entrance. Black curtains were drawn across the windows to keep shattered glass from sending shards into the street.

  As they ran toward the building, they saw the hospital’s shield collapse while a barrage ‘walked’ its way directly toward them. The nearby shells were distinct and sharp, while those far away were soft and muffled. The ground shook under their feet.

  They ran into the hospital main entrance.

  They dashed through the door. An excitement—not fear, not horror, but rather awe—swept over Hawkins. Lining the hospital’s corridors were groups of wounded, terror-stricken fugitives from the battle, as well as innocent civilian victims of the indiscriminate explosions. Only a few nurses tended to the injured in the aisles. He saw parents trying to reassure their frightened children. One mother held a screaming baby in her arms while her other children whimpered, clutching at her skirt.

  Where will this trail of suffering end?

  He didn’t recognize any of the many faces he passed, but hands stretched out, grasping at him, imploring him for help.

  On nurse asked, “Please, will you help me move these patients out of the corridors?”

  He shook his head, mumbling as he raced past, “I’ve got a vital job to do, but I’ll come back.” He made his way through the hospital toward the power generator and force shield control center in the basement of the facility. Several inches of water covered the basement floor, one electric outlet was shooting sparks, most of the lights were out, and the few remaining ones flickered.

  Sloshing through the dim corridor, Hawkins ran smack into a slender young brunette in surgical garb. She gaped in shock as the apparition emerged from the chaos. In his pilot jacket, tanned rawhide trousers, and knee-high leather boots, he looked like a dashing swashbuckler of olden days—not at all what she was expecting.

  When she saw Joshua behind him, she recovered her wits and gasped, “Thank goodness Joshua brought you. I’m Alyssa Palmer. I was beginning to despair that help would ever come.”

  Hawkins said, “Doctor, I need access to the power control room to restore the force shield. Can you get me through the security locks?”

  A minute later, she punched her security code into the access pad on the heavy security door to the control center.

  Since the shield had already collapsed, the hospital was dangerously exposed and every minute counted. Despite the heavy weight of responsibility, Hawkins’s mind was already processing a plan.

  Hurry!

  Fortunately the hospital shield was similar to combat force fields he had trained on. His eyes scanned the equipment, assessing and diagnosing the damage to the deflector field. Quickly recognizing the lack of parts and tools at hand, he sent Joshua to get them from an ancillary supply room. After what seemed an eternity, Joshua returned and Hawkins set to work. Before long, backup power generator coughed, then caught and purred contentedly.

  When the shield indicator flickered to life, Alyssa’s eyes lit up as well. Her hands gripped Hawkins’s arms and she said, “Thank you. Thank you.”

  With relief, she returned her attention to the many injured victims in desperate need.

  With the shield once again protecting the hospital, its inhabitants had a moment of reprieve, even while the city continued to cry out in pain.

  After setting the shield controls to automatic, Hawkins returned to help. He moved patients from the corridor for the harried nurse. He found Joshua consoling his mother in a waiting room. Not wishing to intrude, he wandered around the hospital until he walked into the main triage clinic, a large room boasting ultramodern diagnostic, monitoring, and regeneration equipment.

  He watched one patient being lowered into a regeneration chamber, very much like the one he had spent considerable time in the previous year. An oxygen mask was placed over the patient’s mouth and nose. Tubes in the veins allowed chemicals and nanobots to be pumped throughout the cardiovascular and endocrine systems. The nanobots handled preprogrammed internal microsurgery and cell repair throughout the body. Electrical sensors wired into the spinal column controlled the brain and nerve functions, while others monitored heart and lungs. Under AI control, organs and nerve function could recover from even severe trauma.

  Across the room, he saw Alyssa caring for a young girl. He sat down quietly on a chair in t
he corner and watched.

  The child’s tears streaked down her cheeks. A significant part of her body showed severe burns, and a deep gash on her leg bled freely.

  Alyssa said, “Don’t be afraid. It’s going to be all right. I’m going to make the pain go away and fix your leg, good as new.”

  Her gentle, soothing touch calmed and reassured the child despite the tubes and wires attached to her body.

  Alyssa said, “A little stick,” and with a sonic needle she injected local analgesic into the burn and wound areas. A laser scalpel cut away the burned tissue. She dabbed a healing gel over the burn area. Hawkins recognized the medical patch from a soldier’s battlefield kit; it helped to relieve pain and promote healing. Finally, with a few rapid motions, she deftly sutured the wound. Throughout the procedures, she spoke in a soft voice to distract the girl.

  “My parents were both physicians. I used to sit in the corner of their clinic—just like that man,” she said, nodding at Hawkins.

  “I watched them perform minor miracles through modern medicine. It was then that I made up my mind to be a doctor, like them, so that I could take care of little ones,” she said, smiling and poking the child in the chest, “just like you.”

  Before the girl knew it, the ordeal was all over. As Alyssa put the final touches on her bandage, the tears stopped and her frown turned into a smile.

  “Thank you,” said the child, hugging Alyssa around the neck.

  “Nurse,” called Alyssa. A nurse came and led the child back to her anxious parents, who had been waiting nervously outside the room.

  She watched the child leave and sighed, “They’re gone now—my parents.”

  Hawkins nodded sympathetically and said, “I lost my parents early, as well.”