Captain James Heron: First into the Fray: Prequel to Harry Heron: Into the Unknown of the Harry Heron Series

by Patrick G Cox

  “Captain, Entry Port Desk, sir. Ms Hollister is here. On her way to your office as per instructions, sir.”

  “Very good. Thank you.” He raised an eyebrow to Richard Grenville. “The plot thickens. I just hope it isn’t something disastrous.” The door slid back and Adriana sashayed into the office. “Ms Hollister is here, Captain.” Adriana stepped outside to allow Theresa to enter.

  “Thanks, Adriana. Ms Hollister, glad you could make it. This is my Executive Commander, Richard Grenville.” From Richard Grenville’s expression, James deduced that ‘Ms Hollister’ was, as he suspected, a pseudonym, and Richard knew her.

  “Good to see you, again, Richard.” The visitor extended her hand. “It’s been a long time.”

  “It certainly has.” Commander Grenville recovered quickly. “What brings you to our little corner of the galaxy, Ms Hollister?”

  “The new particle beam weapon this ship is being fitted with. Certain questionable people are very interested in getting their hands on the details, and we need to make sure they don’t.”

  James interjected. “I was told that might be the case, but Commander Petrocova is the person we need. She and her team have been preparing the installation.” He indicated the chairs. “Make yourselves comfortable, and you can brief us on this.”

  “Thank you, Captain. Actually, it’s useful that Richard is here, and perhaps we could have Val Petrocova in as well. It will save a bit of time.”

  The Captain keyed his link. “Adriana, please ask Commander Petrocova to join us.”

  “You’ve named your service unit Adriana?” Theresa Hollister blurted, followed by a chuckle. “Sorry, I’m just … I don’t think I’ve come across an SU with a name.”

  “She chose it herself.” His expression gave away nothing as he added, “I suspect these service units as well as the ship’s AI are a great deal more sentient than we realise.” The tone suggested it was not for discussion, and whatever her role or rank in Fleet Security, Ms Hollister recognised it.

  “You may be right. Often wonder about it myself.” She met his gaze. “As you’ve guessed, I’m not just the latest Unit Director on Fleet Acquisitions, and nor are my team. We have a problem, and it concerns the new particle beam weapon among several other matters. We’ve uncovered the reasons behind the shortages of components and the changes of specification, and the party is going to get very dirty indeed.”

  Marcus stared out at the sea off the coast of New Caledonia. The surface some distance from where he stood showed a strange upwelling pattern, and the whole area around it was discoloured, as if something massive was stirring up the seabed.

  “What the devil is doing that?” he said to Heiko. “Too big to be a pluerodon.”

  “Could be a subsidence, and a bloody big one.” He gazed at the ridge behind them. “You don’t think it’s something they’ve done, do you—those Johnstone bastards?”

  “Wouldn’t put it past them, Heiko.” Marcus moved toward his transport. “Come on, we better get out of here before we’re told we’re spying, or whatever their latest gag is to try to force us to give up.”

  “With you on that. When is Petra coming home? Have you heard from her?”

  “If she can get a place on the Trader tomorrow, she’ll be home the day after, assuming Hurker doesn’t pull any more of his little games.” Marcus gave the vehicle the instruction to return to the plant. “I wish I knew what the hell was going on. The Council are all running scared, and now Hurker, Glinka and Hamadi from the bank are all on the Community Board—except none of us in the community voted for them.”

  “Yeah…” Heiko Fahrer hesitated. “Word is the Board co-opted them.”

  “Yeah, the way Hurker thinks he got a share of Grover-NewCal Foods.” He grinned. “Bastard doesn’t know I record every conversation we have, and one day I’ll nail him and take it all back.”

  An eruption in the water drew their attention. Marcus hit the stop command to take a look. “What the hell?”

  “Get us out of here!” yelled Heiko. “Quick! That has to be something to do with that lot up the ridge. I don’t know what the hell they’re doing, but you can bet they don’t want us to see it!”

  “Damn right.” Marcus activated the manual controls. “Strap in, I’m taking the alternative route!” He punched new instructions, and the vehicle changed direction and took them inland away from the coastline. Aware of the risk he was taking, Marcus asked, “Who have we got in the village we can trust, Heiko? I think we need someone who can monitor what that bastard Hamadi at the bank is doing with our accounts, or plant something that allows us to hear what Hurker and his cronies are talking about when they meet.”

  Heiko hesitated. “I’ll sound out my daughter. She works in the bank. And there’s old Milner. He’s still sore about losing his job when the bank was taken over.” He watched the road ahead as Marcus skilfully navigated the rough terrain. “What have you got in mind?”

  “I don’t know yet. We can’t fight the bastards, and it looks like they hold all the cards, but we can’t just let them walk all over us. We’ll have to be very careful, but there must be some way we can put a spoke in their wheels and make it look like they screwed up themselves.”

  Heiko laughed. “You bet there are, plenty of ways.” He hesitated. “But we’ll have to be very careful. After that bust-up in the meeting, a lot of people might think ratting out a neighbour will earn them some credit.”

  “That’s what worries me. So we’ll play this very carefully. Sound out a few people you really trust. I’ll do the same. Don’t say anything they could use against us. Just see how they respond, and we’ll take it one step at a time.” Marcus paused as the transport module entered the town, now renamed Johnstone. “The Confederation must know what is happening here, and if they do, they have to send the Fleet to sort it out. We can make sure that when they do, we have the evidence to put Hurker, Hamadi, and their bosses behind bars.”

  Chapter 10

  Martian Excursion

  Yelendi Dysson’s face lit up when she entered the restaurant on the main plaza of the only active settlement on Mars, adjacent to the Olympus Mons Base, and saw Felicity seated alone at a table.

  Perfect opportunity.

  She walked over to greet her.

  “Felicity, what a pleasant surprise!” Yelendi took a seat opposite Felicity and signalled the android waiter. “I do hope you’re fully recovered.”

  “Thanks, Yelendi.” Felicity Rowanberg smiled politely. The woman had a nerve, but despite what she knew about her uninvited table guest, she played along. “Yes, a few hours in the med-unit and a couple of days in recovery—I was lucky, I suppose. No one seems to know why they attempted to kidnap me and beat me up.” Keep your face pleasantly neutral, she reminded herself.

  “So I hear. Captain Heron’s intervention—and the way he put them out of action—seems to have prevented the police from talking to them.” Yelendi lifted her shoulders in a brief shrug as if to say, So there’s that little complication, and gauged Felicity’s response to her next comment. “There’s an extremely violent man lurking beneath the urbane exterior of Captain James Heron.”

  Felicity didn’t concur, and busied herself with studying the menu, but Yelendi watched the telling expressions flit across Felicity’s face.

  Felicity decided to press a few buttons of her own. James Heron’s assault had masked the fact that she’d put up a determined defence herself, and that played to her advantage, as it hid her own ability at martial arts. Injuries weren’t the only thing preventing the thugs talking. In fact, they’d already sung like canaries to Fleet Security, who now had them in custody.

  She looked directly into Yelendi’s eyes. “Captain Heron does practice martial arts, you know. It keeps his reflexes sharp and his muscles toned. He merely responded to the situation based on his training. I wouldn’t call it violent.”

  Yelendi nodded. “There’s a rumour that he’s special forces.”

  “Really?
I know he’s a very respected senior Captain—his people have a lot of admiration for him.”

  “So I’m told, but I can’t help wondering if their admiration is inspired by a touch of fear.” Yelendi took a sip of her drink and leaned back. “I was thinking, my organisation can use someone like you, someone who knows exactly how to set up systems, troubleshoot and persuade staff to stick to the procedures. We’ve had a bit of a problem finding and keeping dedicated people, and a large staff turnover has left some important gaps. Would you be interested in considering a good position?”

  Felicity didn’t respond right away. So that’s the game. They’re trying to recruit but make it look legitimate. “I don’t know … I’ve never considered going outside the Fleet for employment … you know, pension, medical insurance, generous leave time, all the benefits that make up for some of the inconveniences of having to go wherever Fleet needs me.”

  Yelendi smiled. “Of course, but think of it this way. We’ll give you almost double the salary plus all the usual benefits. We could probably even make good any loss of pension rights.” She watched her companion’s reaction. “And there are some possible bonuses as well.”

  “Double the salary? That is tempting.” Felicity played her part carefully. “What would I have to do to qualify for a bonus?”

  “Oh, you know, meet targets, make sure your team deliver, that kind of thing.” Yelendi smiled. “There might be the odd special task as well, but nothing you couldn’t deal with in your sleep, I expect.”

  “It certainly sounds tempting.” Felicity kept her expression neutral. “Let me sleep on it for a while. I never make big decisions on the spur of the moment, and I have an employment contract with the Fleet, which would require giving several months’ notice.” She smiled. “I have to do everything by the book. You know what we administrators are like.”

  “Of course, I understand.” Yelendi’s personal link chirped an irritating parody of a tune that Felicity had liked until now. “I have to run. Give me a call when you’ve considered my proposition.”

  Stepping out of the ship’s landing shuttle, Captain Heron studied the interior of the huge domed Planetary Disembarkation Dock as he returned the salute of the Lieutenant and his accompanying Rates.

  The Lieutenant in charge greeted him, his eyes flicking to Ms Hollister and Commander Petrocova, who accompanied Captain Heron. “Welcome to Mars Base, Captain. Your transport is ready to take your party to the Base Command Centre.”

  “Thank you.” He smiled. “I see the Base dock is now fully enclosed. Better than the old system of leaving the shuttle out in the dust storms and boarding in EVA suits.”

  “You bet, sir. Reduced maintenance of the shuttles immensely.” Indicating a door directly ahead, the Lieutenant added, “Your transport is through there, sir. Sergeant Phalaborwa will take you to it.”

  “Thanks. We better get going. Lead on, Sergeant.” Flanked by Commander Petrocova and Ms Hollister, he followed the Marine Sergeant to a waiting transport and, exchanging salutes with the Sergeant, climbed in. “Well, I’m damned,” he said when he spotted the driver.

  The driver grinned. “Welcome to Mars Base, Captain.” Commander Brandeis, dressed as a Marine Corporal, greeted him as the transport gathered speed. “We’ll go to Base Command first, then we’ll change transport to our other facility.”

  James Heron laughed then glanced at Ms Hollister. “You people do love your cloak and dagger stuff, don’t you? Does anyone other than Mr Brown know what the devil you have hidden anywhere?”

  Theresa Hollister smiled. “We hope not. We use parts of the abandoned settlement on the other side of the planet for training our specialist teams, but a lot of the original settlement developments are abandoned as well, and no one visits them. You can hide a lot in a place like this.” She paused. “The Chief will brief you himself, Captain, but some rather unpleasant things are happening, and a large number of politicians and bureaucrats are involved. As the Chief says, we don’t trust anybody until we know exactly who they’re playing for. There’s a few in your crew on our list of possible players for the other side, and as for the constructors—”

  “Who exactly is the other side?” James interrupted.

  “The Chief will have to explain that.” Ms Hollister watched the Captain’s unreadable expression, thinking she wouldn’t want to play poker against him.

  “I look forward to what Mr Brown has to tell me, Ms Hollister, and I’m interested to learn why Commander Petrocova needs to be here.”

  “It’ll become clear, Captain, when the Chief briefs you.” Theresa Hollister paused as Commander Brandeis guided the transport into a parking position. “You’ll be taken up to the Adjutant’s office, and he’ll see you to the Chief.”

  James Heron’s sense of the ridiculous surfaced. “Do any of you actually trust anyone? Each other, perhaps?”

  Commander Brandeis grinned, setting the transport pod in motion. “It’s part of the training, sir. We don’t trust ourselves most of the time. The Chief calls it creative paranoia.”

  Theresa Hollister smiled. “He’s probably right. We only trust our immediate teams because we’ve chosen them.” She laughed. “And we trust the Chief, of course.”

  “I’ve made the first contact with Ms Rowanberg. It will be a lengthy process, but I think I can win her over. Recruiting her will give us an in-road to Captain Heron.” Yelendi Dysson smiled at the figure in the hologram. “He seems to be quite taken with her. I’ve noticed they regularly visit a restaurant together.”

  “That’s good. He’s extremely well connected. His brother-in-law is slated to be a rising star in the Irish government, and possibly the Confederation.” Her caller paused, and in that brief moment, it struck Yelendi once again that the Chairman was not the most imposing figure. You’d probably miss him in a crowd, yet he was possibly one of the most powerful people in any organisation.

  “He also has a reputation for being extremely loyal,” he added. “Take care how you go about this.”

  “I will. The Rowanberg woman is very cautious now, ever since her brush with those thugs. Do we know who was behind that? Because they very nearly derailed everything we’ve worked for.”

  “It won’t happen again. The fool who hired them is no longer in a position to interfere.”

  The tone in the voice chilled her. She knew that ‘no longer in a position’ did not just mean the poor sap had been sacked. “Ah, I see. Right, I’ll keep working on Ms Rowanberg then. She seems guarded but interested. It will take a while to persuade her to work for us.”

  “Then don’t push it. There’s enough time. We still have Fuchs to keep us in the picture.”

  “True, but he’s careless and overconfident. It’ll be his downfall if he’s not kept on a tight leash. I’m taking steps to ensure he doesn’t learn anything that might compromise our operations here.” Yelendi paused. “There’ve been a few new appointments to the Fleet Technical Team. I think they’re about to install a new super weapon, a high penetration scanner, they call it. Our people have been trying to get data on it.”

  “Good. Keep at it. We want the specifications, drawings and the schematics—all of it. There’ll be a double bonus for the team that gets this information to me.”

  Mr Brown’s office was sparsely furnished, nothing to suggest the identity or the role of the occupant. He greeted Captain Heron and Commander Petrocova, and gestured to a cluster of leather chairs.

  “Captain, Commander, good of you to come.”

  Captain Heron found the irony of the greeting amusing, but kept his expression formal. Two could play this game.

  “Thanks for the invitation, Mr Brown. An interesting installation you have here. Not on the plans in the Base databanks, I should think.”

  Mr Brown laughed, a short bark. “Of course not, Captain. Oh, and the Base Adjutant is always one of my people.” He paused. “You’re probably wondering why this is necessary.” The raised eyebrow suggested some confirmation was expected.


  “It did cross my mind, sir.”

  “Put simply, the placing of our suppliers and our own internal research, development and construction facilities in private hands has put the Fleet at risk. For some time now we have known there is a very sophisticated operation working to undermine our governments. The privatisation of services is a large part of it. Did you know that civil policing is now run by several contractors? The same applies to a wide range of government operations.”

  James Heron nodded. “I was aware of it, sir, and of the problems it’s creating. My sister and brother-in-law are members of the legal profession, and they’ve shared some concerns with me.”

  Commander Valerie Petrocova watched the exchange with interest. Her background and cultural heritage growing up in Russia had given her a visceral interest in politics. A keen observer of events, she was not above taking action herself when she believed it was justified. As she watched the faces of her commanding officer and the mysterious Mr Brown, her instincts warned her that what she was hearing was important, if not central to whatever was happening in the democracies. As the older man continued, she began to connect his words with news reports of political actions and events at home.

  “Quite, and it doesn’t end there.” The Admiral paused. “This is for your ears only. Most of the contractors are supposed to be independent, but they’re not. They are all taking orders from an outside group. How they’ve got round anti-trust laws we have yet to discover, but the truth is that this controlling entity is not friendly to the Fleet, and it appears to have a large number of politicians and bureaucrats under its control. It also has links to an organisation known as the Pantheon. You might’ve heard of them.”