“I’ve heard the name,” said James, his mind connecting the dots. “Some sort of crime group that uses the names of mythological figures for their agents to keep them anonymous, even to each other.”
“Correct. They specialise in assassination.” Mr Brown paused. “So, to put things in perspective, the Fleet Board decided some while back to put a few key research and development projects off the table. One of them is the particle beam weapon on the plans as a high penetration scanner. That isn’t what it is, but that’s the impression we hope to give. Commander Petrocova, you will be responsible for its installation, and once you’re able to get onto the test range, Captain, you and your ship will have the privilege of test firing the first full-sized unit. What you will have on Vanguard is probably the most powerful weapon humanity has yet created. That is the reason our contractors and their controller want to get their hands on it. Whoever has it has a game-changing weapon, and we are absolutely determined not to let it fall into the hands of the people behind this takeover.”
James took this in. “Do we know who these people are and what they hope to achieve, sir?”
“We know some of them, but we have to move very carefully. We also know what their aim is, and it isn’t good for the Confederation, the North American Union, the World Treaty Organisation or anyone else. I’ve moved a lot of my top specialists into positions on the dock and in your crew, Captain. Theresa knows some of them, and you already know one or two.” His smile flickered briefly. “We have your back, as they say.” Abruptly, he stood. “Time you and I made an appearance in public. Commander Petracova, you and Ms Hollister have an appointment with the team installing your new weapon.”
“Yes, sir.” Valerie Petrocova stood as Ms Hollister rose.
“You’ve quite an interesting task ahead, Commander. You’ll be given the schematics for the weapon. Guard them carefully. Only those you trust with your life should have sight of them.”
“Peter sends his greetings.” Petra Grover walked around the desk and kissed her husband. “He gave me a few things for you, and was delighted with the video you sent him of the meeting—and the steak cultures.”
Marcus grinned. “I know the kind of steak he’ll have his replicator turning it into as well. Any idea how he plans to use the video? How was it in Pangaea City?”
“Strange. I’ll tell you about it at home. The good news is our regular customers are keen to stay with us as long as we can get the cultures to them as needed.”
Hefting her bag, Marcus led the way up the footpath to their domestic dome. “How is Fionn getting along?”
“He’s doing well in his courses, but I’m worried—he’s joined a student group protesting the takeovers and civic restrictions the Governor is imposing.” She squeezed his hand. “Just like his father, he can’t abide injustice or bullying.”
“He’ll have to watch it. There’s some rumours going round about Kodiak’s security police. Thugs, the lot of them.” Activating his door control, he stood aside for his wife to enter the dwelling built into one side of the biodome that formed their home. “I better warn you as well, remember how Olmeg took out a loan to expand his business?”
“Loan? Oh, don’t tell me it’s gone bad on him.”
“Bad? You could call it that. They hiked the interest rates, and now they’re threatening to foreclose unless he takes in a partner to run it. One of their people, of course. He wants to sell, but the only buyer is offering less than half the value. Hamadi says their man will run the firm on behalf of the bank until the loan is redeemed.”
“The dirty bastards. Can’t we help him?”
“I’d love to, but we have to play this one carefully. Hurker is suspicious, but so far is keeping his end of the deal. We don’t want to go back to all the problems with shipments going bad because of delays, and the inspections, and all the rest of it—the only good thing is we don’t owe the bank anything. We haven’t anything to spare, but I think there may be a way to stay ahead of that bastard Hamadi. I’m working on it with a couple of other folks.” Embracing her, he said, “It’s good to have you back.”
“It’s good to be back. Something bad is happening everywhere. The atmosphere in Pangaea City is unbelievable. No one trusts anyone else, no one wants to talk, and you get the feeling you’re being watched everywhere. Even Uncle Peter was being very careful, and that says a lot. You know what he’s like normally.”
“You warned Fionn?”
“Yes, but I get the feeling Peter has him in hand.” Kissing him, she grinned. “He says that video is just what he needs to get things moving, but he wouldn’t say how he’d use it or get it to whoever he intends to share it with.” She laughed. “And he sent something for you. Pour me a nice hot cup of redbark while I retrieve it.”
“That’s it? This is the business end of that shielded projection tube running through our lower hull?” Commander Petrocova stared at the odd-shaped unit. Comprised of several large cylindrical chambers grouped around a central tube wrapped in what looked like high voltage coils, it didn’t resemble a weapon. It projected menace, but it looked more like a propulsion unit than a weapon. “What the hell does it actually do?”
The supervisor smiled. “Ah, now that is easily answered, Commander. It is based on the principle of particle acceleration. Essentially, the target is torn apart by its own atoms as they are ripped out of their molecular structures.” He smiled at her expression of fascinated horror. “You are looking at the end product of almost eighty years of experiments and theoretical development.”
“Yikes. It’ll be carried on our starships?”
“Yes. Vanguard and her sisters are the first to have it, and it will be fitted to all future ships.” The engineer moved closer to the device. “We’ll dismantle it and ship it up to you piece by piece. The reassembly will be straightforward, as we will send you each section in the order in which it is to be installed. Once it’s ready, I’ll bring you the final components, the starter, and the controller units. Those are installed within the ship.”
“My technical team will work alongside yours, Commander,” Ms Hollister interjected. “They’ve been on this project since it went underground. They know it inside out, and they’ll train your people on it as they work.”
“When do we begin?”
“We have it scheduled for seventy-two hours from now.”
“I’ll have my people ready.” Val smiled. “I hope I have enough time to study these schematics!”
Chapter 11
A Night to Remember
“Ms Rowanberg is here, Captain.”
“Thanks, Adriana, show her in please.” James Heron glanced round his quarters. As always, everything was immaculate and in place. He stood as the door slid back and Felicity walked in looking very attractive in a tailored outfit of radiant blue. James felt his pulse quicken as he took in her femininity, her form-fitted dress and her subtle perfume.
“Thanks for coming, Felicity. Things have been a bit hectic for us both these last few weeks.”
She laughed. “That’s true. Everything now installed?”
“Oh yes, and now my Weapons Commander is impatient to try out her latest instrument of destruction.” He held a chair for her, then took his own as his android steward poured a glass of her favourite wine. “Thank you, Victor,” he added, nodding to the SU droid.
Felicity watched the interplay with amusement. She’d discovered that the Captain was an incredibly complex man. Ruthless when he needed to be, sentimental over anyone close to him, dedicated to his ship and crew, and very firm in his views on social justice, which was somewhat surprising in a man who had been born into a family of moderate wealth. Contradictory in so many ways, extremely gentle when relaxed, and always controlled even when angry. He was polite but never obsequious, a leader in every sense of the word, and he treated his superiors and inferiors in rank equally with respect unless they’d shown themselves not deserving of it.
“Do you have names for all the d
roids?” A small smile played at the corners of her mouth.
“No, only those I am in regular contact with.” His eyes showed his amusement. “You should meet Herbert, our family droid. My sister insists he is our butler. He’s been in the family since we were children. Rather funny, really. He’s been upgraded several times, but still treats us as if we were children. He can be a bit old fashioned, but I expect that is the result of having been programmed to my father’s likes and dislikes.” He laughed, and his face softened at the memory of his father. “Poor Herbert, he was something of a novelty when we got him, and we used to take delight in trying to get him to perform actions we knew were beyond his technical limits.”
She smiled and winked. “We certainly knew who to blame for some of the jokes played on a certain group of midshipmen on our training voyage to the Oort Cloud and back. You gave us all a hard time, but we enjoyed it, and it was damned good training.”
“I wonder who would have been unkind enough to do that to a bunch of midshipmen on their first training run?” His eyes betrayed his laughter. “I suppose it was a little mean to put you all through an emergency evacuation drill with your escape launch in a bay open to space.”
The meal progressed amid laughter, reminiscences and companionship until the Captain suggested they move to his sitting room. “Some music perhaps? You choose, just tell Vanguard what you’d like. The ship’s in listening mode.”
“Tell Vanguard? Oh, that’s right, this ship has been fitted with the new advanced AI network.” Making her choice, the ship confirmed it before playing her selection in the background, a combination of easy listening and prog rock with a definite dance beat, which quickened James’s pulse even more. He had to restrain himself from imagining her dancing to it.
Felicity’s eye caught the series of ship models in a display along one bulkhead, and she crossed the room to study them.
“Wow, these are really amazing. All these are Vanguards?” She felt the rhythm of the music and moved slightly to it as she gazed at the display.
James was practically breathless at this point. My God, could you be any more tempting? He moved to stand next to her. “Yes, these are all Vanguards. There were earlier ships, but I could find no details of those in the records.” Indicating the first, the beautifully made sailing ship, he said, “This is the fourth HMS Vanguard, a 74-gun ship of the line built in 1748. As you can see, the development of succeeding Vanguards was quite rapid, with this giant, the ninth, launched in 1944. It was the last battleship and the last surface vessel to bear the name.”
“What a contrast, but you can see how they evolved.” Indicating a sleek submarine, she asked, “Were they all sub-surface after that?”
“Yes, and interestingly, you can see the similarity between that and the ship we’re building here.” He smiled and put his arm across her shoulders, and she settled a little closer to him as they stood together. “This ship is the fourteenth Vanguard, and the first that will never sail on or under any ocean. Quite something to be a part of, isn’t it?”
“Definitely,” she mused, as a small brass plaque caught her eye. She read it aloud.
“In loving memory of Henry Nelson-Heron, midshipman serving aboard His Most Britannic Majesty’s ship Spartan seventy-four guns. Lost at sea in a sea-fight with two frigates of the French Fleet the 30th day of November in the year of our Lord 1804. Born 20th May 1789. Died at sea 30th, November 1804. Also to the memory of Ferghal O’Connor, boy seaman and sometime stable boy in this Parish, friend and companion of the aforesaid Henry, lost in the same sea-fight. Born 11th February 1787 and died at sea 30th November 1804.”
She turned to gaze up at him. “Was he your ancestor? He can’t have been more than sixteen, yet he was a midshipman. What a tremendous responsibility!”
“Fifteen and a half, to be exact. He went off to sea aged twelve according to the family records. He was the younger brother of the man I descended from, also a James.” He smiled and removed his arm to reach for the plaque and hold it in his hands as his thumb traced the inscription in the brass. “I’d like to have met Henry. An aunt had a few things that supposedly belonged to him, particularly a seaman’s chest, and it always fascinated me. Have you ever visited Nelson’s ship—the three-decker preserved in Portsmouth, England? Life aboard those ships would be unimaginable today—and certainly nothing as luxurious as this Vanguard.”
He put the plaque back in its special display rack on the shelf and tucked her arm in his to lead her to the settee.
“What made him go to sea at that age?” she asked, as they settled comfortably together. “Did the family send him off to tame him?” She nudged him as a teasing grin crossed her lovely face.
“I get your drift!” he replied, and flushed a little. “Not from the little we know about it. Apparently his parents were set against it, but he was a determined fellow and got his way.” His arm slipped across her shoulders again, and she tucked her feet under her and snuggled closer to him. “I often wonder what a lad like him would make of a ship like this one.”
“We’ll never know, but I think he’d be amazed.” Her lips brushed his cheek gently. “I don’t think I’ve ever said a proper thank you for coming to my rescue, James. I thought I was done for that day. I was careless….”
“Lucky I saw what was happening.” His mouth found hers, and he kissed her tenderly. “And there’s no need to thank me, Felicity. You’ve been a real tonic for me—and I don’t mean the work.”
She reached one arm across his chest and slid the other around his neck as she eased herself into his lap. “Would it be assaulting a superior officer if I held him like this and kissed him properly, do you think?”
He chuckled. “Depends on the officer and the circumstances, but I don’t mind,” he murmured in a low, husky voice.
“Chairman, we have a report from the Mars Construction Dock that the specialist team from the Fleet have installed the so-called high penetration scanner on the Vanguard. According to the reported description, this is the super weapon they’ve been developing, but none of our people have been able to get near it, and we can’t find any schematics for it in the build portfolio. Our team leader is working to get the details on it, but so far without any success.”
Consortium Rear-Admiral Gratz studied the display. “Mr Ashworth is right, that isn’t a scanner.” He scratched his chin as he viewed the image of the weapon from every angle in 3D. “It does resemble something it was rumoured was being developed, but that weapon was suddenly terminated because it was considered impractical. There’s a lot of speculation in the archived media about the cancellation.”
“So why did our people not acquire it? What makes it different?”
“It’s a high energy beam weapon, a bit like a particle accelerator, except the particles are carried in a tight field at the sort of velocities that completely disrupt the atomic structure of anything it hits.”
“I want the information on it, and I want NOW!” The Chairman’s anger showed in his face. “Why wasn’t it acquired when we got control of WeapTech? How did they manage to hide something like this?”
Several of those present avoided eye contact. Bob Gratz noted this, but responded. “It was one of several projects cancelled by the Fleet Armaments Committee about a year before the privatisation of WeapTech. It was the subject of a vast amount of money and research. The committee ruled that it be defunded and the prototypes destroyed. There may be something about it in the archived material held by WeapTech.”
“I’ll have the archives searched, Chairman.” The Director responsible for the Consortium’s armaments industries nodded to the Admiral, relieved he’d not had to explain the lack of knowledge. “Perhaps Mister—Rear-Admiral—Gratz can spare some time later to give me the details of what needs to be looked for.”
“Certainly, Mr Ramagupta.”
Making eye contact with the Chairman, Bob continued. “We did acquire one of the projects they cancelled, and it will even the score quite
dramatically. It’s a screening device. Ships fitted with it are invisible to all scanners and imagers. What can’t be seen can’t be targeted. Fleet cancelled it on the advice of one of our leading developers—they believed him when he advised that it could not be made to work. So the committee ordered it scrapped. Dr Foster, however, already had a working unit, and now we have it.”
“Ah, yes. Excellent. At least that’s one thing done right. I want it fitted to all our ships as rapidly as possible.”
When the last of the visitors had departed, Ari Khamenei told his secretary, “Arrange a meeting with our contact in the Pantheon. An anonymous venue. We must have that weapon, and I don’t believe our people will get it alone—Fleet Security will already be aware of some of them. With the Pantheon involved, we may be able to distract Security long enough to let our people in.”
Ari Khamenei settled into his seat aboard the corporate yacht and glanced around in satisfaction. His meeting with the go-between for the Pantheon had been satisfactory. A commission had been agreed. Certain obstacles to the acquisition of the plans and specifications for the Fleet’s secret weapon would be removed, and the plans obtained.
He accepted a glass of expensive whisky from the steward.
“Ashworth, advise the Director of Security that I have engaged a specialist team to take care of certain interferences in our plans.”
Yes, sir. Will they acquire the information on the Vanguard’s primary weapon? I believe the Director has a team working on it … we should inform him….”
“No, don’t inform him. If his people are any good they will learn that others want to get their hands on the plans.” His smile was cold. “It will incentivise them.”
Captain James Heron: First into the Fray: Prequel to Harry Heron: Into the Unknown of the Harry Heron Series Page 13
