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

by Patrick G Cox

  “Yes, sir. May I suggest I do so once we leave the system, sir? I will arrange for it to be sent by a drone left in the system.”

  “Yes, do so.” Ari Khamenei smiled. “Perhaps suggest I am going somewhere else.” He didn’t leave anything to chance, and didn’t like to advertise his whereabouts even when he was on Solaris. “Keep them guessing.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Ashworth retired quietly to his office. The Chairman had a number of enemies. You didn’t get to his position without making a few, but Mr Khamenei believed that strength lay in never caring who lost, as long as he triumphed. Ashworth prepared the messages, made sure they were encrypted, then programmed the chip to be launched in the drone.

  Alone in his luxurious lounge, Ari Khamenei relaxed. The Pantheon could be relied on to remove the key obstacles to the conduct of his plans to discredit the Fleet and their starship programme. If his own people didn’t manage to acquire the information he wanted on this super weapon, the Pantheon would. He considered the agents his Security Director had on the Dock. Efficient to date, but hardly aggressive enough in enforcing discipline.

  Well, the Pantheon team would remove the people responsible for the exposure of the substitutions, no doubt about that. They’d proved themselves incapable of following instructions. This Captain Heron was also far too efficient, as were the new head of administration for the Fleet and one or two more. It would send the right message to any waverers in both the Consortium Board and the Dock. He savoured the whisky, his thoughts turning to Pangaea. Firm action to remove those who had failed in DockCorp would serve as a useful warning to those whose incompetence was delaying his plans for the colony.

  Pleased with himself, he ordered dinner.

  When the video was finished, Marcus stared at the ceiling and sighed. He took a swig of redbark to bolster his nerves. “Peter’s asking a lot.”

  “He said so, love, and you know he wouldn’t ask if he didn’t have absolute faith in you on this.”

  “Yes, but this could get us both in a lot of trouble.” Standing, he prowled around the room. “Heiko and I are exploring what we can do to make things difficult for Hurker and his cronies, and this fits in with that, but it could cost us everything we’ve built here—and it could cost Fionn his chances of finishing university and getting a good start in his chosen career at the very least.”

  “Fionn said you’d worry about that, and he said to tell you that you’re too late. He’s working with Uncle Peter.” She waited for the explosion.

  Marcus spun around to face her. “He’s abandoned his studies?! Is he mad?”

  She laughed. “Easy there, honey, it’s not that bad. And no, he’s not mad, but he takes after someone very close to me right now! His position as a student in advanced bio-culture allows him to have access to a lot of the materials and information Kodiak’s goons would be suspicious of anyone else seeing or doing, especially as his course takes him on field trips to study the planetary flora and fauna.”

  He nodded. “Okay, so let’s say I agree. What then? If I hear about something or see something, how do I get it to Peter? What will he do with it?”

  “He’ll tell you how when you agree. I have no idea how he’ll get it off world with the hypercoms entirely controlled by Interstellar Communications Corp, but I don’t really want to know either, because knowledge can be dangerous. Sometimes ignorance really is bliss.” Petra took a sip of her drink. “I expect he has someone who can do it for him.”

  “True!” Marcus said with a laugh, and sat down next to her again. “I always thought old Pete was being a little sparing on the details of his time with the Fleet. Yes, I expect he has someone he can count on.” He glanced at the chip containing the message from his wife’s uncle. “I’ll do it.” He hesitated then added, “And here’s something he might be interested in. A few days ago Heiko and I were out at the headland. Something bloody strange is happening out there underwater. I have no clue, but Pete might know what’s going on. Looked like the seabed was being disturbed or something. Whatever it is, it’s something pretty big, and our ‘friends’ up the hill”—he made air quotes to convey his sarcasm—”don’t want anyone snooping around it. When I went out that way yesterday, I was stopped by a patrol and made to turn back. Some cockamamie story about the area being a security zone.”

  Petra frowned. “Peter said something about submersible ships. I think he’ll definitely be interested to hear about this. Now, tell me what you and Heiko have been plotting.”

  “Nothing concrete yet, but we want to set up something so we know what that bastard Hamadi is up to, and we can sabotage him—and Hurker’s games as well.” He grinned. “Here’s a thought—you know how you’re a whizz with our management systems. Well, I’ve got an idea of how we might make use of your special skills. In fact, you have all kinds of special skills….”

  “You are too naughty!” Petra teased, and she laughed as he swooped her into his arms and smothered her with kisses.

  Felicity woke feeling rested and more alive than she had in a long time. The warmth of her companion as he lay curled into her back felt good, and she wished it could last forever. She reveled in the blissful memory of the Captain’s lovemaking. He knew exactly how to satisfy her. He could give me everything I could ever wish for, in the bed and otherwise, she added in her thoughts.

  She sensed he was also awake, and rolled over gently to face him.

  “Good morning, sir,” she teased. “I think we broke about half the Orders for Conduct last night.”

  He gave her a sleepy smile, and it melted her heart.”Good morning, beautiful. Who cares about the Orders of Conduct—besides, there’s nothing in them that says an officer may not form a liaison with a partner in a civilian post, or a post not under the officer’s direct command, so I think we get a pass.” She sighed contentedly, and her hand explored his chest as she wrapped one leg over his and snuggled even closer. “It’s been so long, and I don’t think last night was enough to satisfy me….”

  With a low moan of desire, his mouth found hers, and they pressed close to each other. She could feel how much he wanted her, and her own desire matched his.

  They both needed the release in their lovemaking, and afterward, they lay in each other’s arms for a while, neither wanting to break the spell. Finally, Felicity whispered, “I don’t want to get up and face the day, but duty calls. I need to get in the shower, James, and then you’d best as well—HoDs meeting at eight, remember.”

  “We could always save water and take a shower together,” he said with a teasing grin, and Felicity looked at him with a dare in her eyes then quickly said, “I call first dibs on the hot water!” She leapt out of bed and hurried to turn on the shower as James chuckled and crawled out of bed to follow her.

  “Your wish is my command!” he said, and relished the saucy look she threw over her shoulder at him.

  Chapter 12

  Face-Off

  Dylan Raddeck looked up as a shadow of a very large, very tall man fell across the restaurant table. It wasn’t his usual choice of venue on the construction dock. Filled with construction workers, technicians, junior administrators and maintenance operatives, the atmosphere was noisy and boisterous, and the decor was bold and brash, deliberately designed to appeal to those more interested in the entertainment than the quality of the food.

  “Were you followed?” Dylan asked as the man took a seat across the table from him.

  “Nah, no one would suspect me. Why should they? Twenty years in the Fleet, exemplary record—all the usual bull. Besides, nobody pays much attention to mere Warrants.”

  Though he wore civilian clothing, Master Warrant (Weapons) Dupré had the bearing and appearance that proclaimed a military background. “Security reckon they’ve got the thing sewn up anyway.” He laughed. “But you aren’t the only one interested in getting hold of it.”

  “Still pays to be careful. You really don’t want those guys after you.” Signalling the android waiter,
Dylan asked, “Have you eaten?”

  “Nope, and I assume you’re buying, so I’ll have a nice steak—all the trimmings.”

  Dylan tried not to let his contempt show as he listened to the instructions for how the steak should be cooked and served, and what his ‘guest’ would drink with it. He wondered what Master Warrant Dupré thought he would get out of his treachery. Did he really think the Consortium—if he even knew who or what that was—would do anything to make his life better? Did he really think they even cared? Didn’t he realise that the people running the Consortium had no interest in the welfare of the regular people of society, who they considered beneath them?

  Maybe Master Warrant Dupré was motivated by greed and the desire to “stick it to the man,” but unfortunately, he would be the one stuck in the end. Dylan knew this, but he also knew he couldn’t explain it to Dupré because the man was convinced he was doing the right thing.

  When the android waiter had taken the order and departed, Dylan asked, “Did you say that another group is trying to get their hands on the specs for this weapon? Any idea who?”

  “Yes and no, and I don’t know who. Just overheard some of the dock people saying some newcomers were sniffing around the ship’s weapons outfit, and they mentioned something about a high-penetration scanner.”

  Dylan digested this. His contact at Solaris had mentioned something about the Chairman hiring an outside group for something. Could this be it? He’d have to alert Yelendi. “Did you get a look at the unit and the schematics?”

  “Not possible. Those are under triple security lock, but I did get some images of the units as they delivered them and assembled them.” The Warrant studied Dylan as if he were taking the measure of the man. “A set of schematics will be uploaded to the ship eventually, but I know who has the chips they’re stored on—and I know where.”

  “Who has them?”

  “There’s a Ms Hollister, Head of Research—a civil engineer, though I think she must have been in uniform at sometime. She has oversight of the installation team and is part of the development group. The word is she’s here to investigate the problems we’ve had with cheap substitutions, but I reckon that’s a cover for this scanner weapon they’re installing. She keeps the chips with her and only produces them when needed. She keeps them in a special wallet inside her jacket, and she never leaves the compartment while they’re in use.”

  “So you can’t get hold of them to duplicate?” Dylan huffed out a breath in frustration. “Never mind, we’ll have to tackle it the hard way then. Where does she keep them when they’re not on her? Any guesses?”

  “I’d put money on a secure safe—she’s that kind of person, hyper-vigilant.” He pushed a data card across the table to Dylan. “The images are there. Have fun with it. Meanwhile, I’m going to have a little fun with this slab of meat.” Tackling his steak as if he hadn’t eaten in a month, he enjoyed several mouthfuls then took a swig of his drink. “Now that’s a damn good steak,” he said with a slightly greasy grin, and Dylan cringed inwardly.

  Dupré said, “Good luck with this, Raddeck. If what I hear on the grapevine is right, you’re going to need it—and not just against them.”

  Dylan considered the multiple layers of meaning in Dupré’s flippant wish for good luck. There’d been a couple of fatal ‘accidents’, one involving a plasma cutter in the hands of a supposedly very experienced operator.

  Throughout the remainder of their meal, Dylan made light conversation in an attempt to fish for information that the Master Warrant seemed all too happy to give, apparently unaware that he was being recorded.

  Theresa Hollister stepped out of her shower and knew she was in trouble. The intruder said nothing as she snapped off a shot and Theresa went down, crashing to the floor, her towel wrap falling open as she fell.

  “Now find those damned chips—quickly!” Three operatives emerged from their hiding places. A professional assassin, Bast, as she styled herself in homage to the Egyptian cat goddess, left nothing to chance. She’d been planning this for a week and knew almost everything about her victim’s movements and habits. She’d gained entry to the suite and planted several devices while searching for the safe that she was certain Theresa Hollister be used for the data chips. Snatching up her victim’s business jacket, she went through the pockets then checked the lining. “Damn. We’ll have to crack the safe .”

  “Do you know where it is?” one of the team asked.

  “At the back of this cabinet. I’ll open it. It’s keyed to her DNA and triple locked, but I’ve got just what I need.” She signalled a member of her team. “Bring her over here. We have to use her to open it. Need her eyeballs and fingerprints.”

  Two of her team grabbed the unconscious Theresa and dragged her over to their leader. Bast studied the secure cabinet then retrieved a small instrument from a concealed position on the door jamb. “Standard safeguards. It needs her irises, fingerprint DNA and a vocal command for voice pattern confirmation. Okay, boys, hold her up. I need to peel back her eyelids and aim her at the scanner. Hurry!”

  Bast gripped Theresa’s hair, raised her head, moved her face close to the scanner, and used her other hand to lift her eyelids. A set of lights on the unit changed from red to green.

  “That’s got her eyes, now I need her left hand. Middle finger on the pad, and don’t get your fingers on hers or anywhere near the pad.”

  One of the team holding Theresa lifted her arm, extended the limp finger and pushed it onto the pad taking care to avoid contact. The second light changed colour.

  “Good. Now use that vocal replayer.”

  The remaining team member activated the recorder, and they heard Theresa’s recorded voice saying, “Open sesame.”

  The door cracked open. Unnoticed inside the security unit and fixed to the roof of it, a small unit blinked an ultra-violet light.

  Bast wasted no time. Dropping her victim’s head, she snatched the door open and grabbed the contents. “Clear out!” she ordered her team. “We’ll sort out what we need once we’re clear of here. We’ll split up and meet on Mars.”

  The audience of Captains, Commodores and a smattering of Admirals stood as the Commander-in-Chief, World Treaty Fleet, Grand Admiral Thorsten Sonderburg-Coburg-Helsingborg strode into the briefing auditorium, his staff trailing in his wake. Of Danish descent, he was an imposing figure. He was tall and lean, and even at the closing end of a long and distinguished career, he retained a full head of iron-grey hair. Positioning himself behind the podium, he faced the gathered officers.

  “Please be seated.” He waited until everyone was settled before he began. “I decided that gathering all of us in one place for this briefing would save time. Those of us in transit, on station, or on patrol are with us on the hololinks.”

  The Flag Captain signalled confirmation that the links were active and everyone was present.

  “You are all aware that there has been a concerted campaign in the news media and certain political circles for the reduction or disbandment of the Fleet. This has seen a number of projects delayed or put on hold due to political pressures. I do not need to tell you that the Fleet Board and the World Treaty Council have resisted this strongly, but we need to examine and refute the accusations charged against us—not least the charge that our project management is poor, corrupt and wasteful.”

  An angry murmur growled through the audience.

  “We have, in fact, exposed a number of anomalies in contracts, particularly those involving new construction and the operation of our repair ships. Steps are being taken to recoup as much as we can, but proving the fraud is a sensitive operation. There is a further element to this campaign that impinges directly upon our operations and our core purpose. It grieves me to say this, but some of our own people are working for an as yet unidentified enemy. This enemy is threatening the governance of the colony worlds.”

  “I knew there was something behind the demands for private fleets and security forces,” muttered the C
aptain seated next to James Heron.

  “You are all aware that there have been serious problems in the supply of essential spares, and the construction of the Vanguard Class starships is being hampered by delayed delivery of key elements and substitution of parts that are not made to specification. Fleet Security have now identified the causes of these and a few other problems, and we are confident it will be resolved. Two of the construction docks are to be taken back into direct Fleet control immediately, and others may follow as soon as certain obstacles to our doing so are removed.”

  “Hear, hear,” resounded through the auditorium, accompanied by a burst of applause.

  “That brings me to the final part of this briefing. Several of the colony worlds are in turmoil. The cause is thought to be a heavy-handed approach among the individual governing bodies, most of which have contracted the security services of private paramilitary providers. However, there are other elements involved, such as the seizure of mining and mineral rights and their reallocation to several interplanetary corporate operators, and the mass relocation of settlers from prime agricultural sites, which have also been reallocated to multi-planet corporate operators, with the settlers either moved to less suitable sites or turned into employees on their own land.” He paused. “Each of you will receive a briefing pack with the relevant assessments at the end of this session. We have to remember that we, the Fleet, are essentially contractors to the WTO signatories, each of whom provides the ships we deploy. Some of those signatory governments are now asking why they cannot simply engage suitable ships from the contractors used by the colonial governors. That is why the Board has instructed me to brief you, and to assure you they are working to resist any such move.”

  The angry buzz took a while to die down. When it did, the Flag Captain was at the podium. “Please disperse to the briefing sessions indicated on your links, but I need Captain Heron and Captain Boland to accompany me to the C-in-C’s office.”