Ari Khamenei wasn’t a man who forgave failure either. Half the time he seemed reasonable and very pleasant, but then you saw the other side of him when things went wrong—and that was something you didn’t want to see too often.
Well, if you have to hand out bad news, choose your day and your time carefully. He straightened up and keyed a direct link to the Chairman.
“The final trials have gone far better than expected, thanks largely to your Heads of Department,” the Admiral remarked as they relaxed in the Captain’s quarters resplendent in Mess Undress uniforms.
“You’re right, sir. I’ve been a bit distracted, and they have pulled everything together magnificently.” The Captain was hardly in the mood for a formal dinner. His mind was on Felicity Rowanberg, still in a secure medical facility. He would have preferred a quiet dinner with her, even if it meant eating off bed trays. He certainly wasn’t happy that no one had managed to trace the damned assassin behind the abduction.
“I’m still concerned about Ms Rowanberg’s abduction. If they tried it once, who’s to say they won’t try it again, and perhaps with more success the next time. All the attempts to change specifications, sabotage systems and steal the spec for the PBW is just the tip of the iceberg. Taken with the whole political situation at home, and now on the colony planets, this is going to be one hell of a showdown when it eventually comes to a head.”
“You’re right, James, and I agree, it’s going to get worse.” The Admiral understood exactly how the Captain felt. He raised his glass. “I have to say that you have made your mark here. You’ve dealt with all the problems in an impressive manner, and it isn’t every day a starship Commander—especially a senior one—takes on a team of assassins and wins. The Grand Admiral will be making his own views known on that in due course.” He smiled. “Hopefully, once you get the Vanguard into commission, it will be plain sailing.”
“Thank you, sir.” James Heron toyed with his glass. “It hasn’t been the easiest appointment so far, but I’ve a damned good team. They’ve been absolutely first class.”
“The Admiral tells me they are already taking steps to counter the sabotage and the misinformation, but that will take constant vigilance.”
“Quite.” Captain Heron swirled his glass. “I don’t intend to make things easy for the Consortium.” Taking a drink, he changed the subject. “My Engineering Commander is satisfied with the Vanguard’s power plants, though she feels there may be a few things still to find.”
The Admiral sipped his drink appreciatively. “Your Engineering Commander may be small and petite in stature, but I think a few of the staff here won’t be keen to get on her wrong side again in a hurry. I could use her on my staff, you know. Think she’d be interested in a transfer?”
“Mary?” He grinned. “She just might be. You could ask her at dinner, though I should, of course, object to her taking it, sir. I think my need is greater than yours, with respect. New ship, untried tech on board—I need the very best here.”
The Admiral studied him for a moment over the rim of his glass, a smile twitching the corners of his mouth. “I could insist, but I take your point. I might just demand her services in future—rank does have some privileges.”
“Of course, sir.” The Captain knew the Rear-Admiral well, and this was a game they often played. He took a different tack. “Fritz tells me that the AI system exceeds everything the designers expected. In fact, he’s convinced the ship is at least partly self-aware.”
“So he told me. I must admit since they began fitting these implants into us senior officers, I have occasionally wondered about it. Sometimes I only have a passing thought of where I can find the information I need, and it appears on my screen or tablet. It’s a bit disconcerting.”
“I know what you mean—it happened a couple of times today in the Control Centre. I had just begun to assemble a request for performance data and it appeared on the display, likewise when I was wondering about the vector and orbital distance as we swung round Neptune, and there it was on the display.”
“Interesting.” The Admiral nodded. “Worth raising a few questions with the AI team when the opportunity arises.”
The Admiral’s gaze spotted the brass plaque among the models. “Ancestor of yours?”
“Yes, brother of one of my forebears. Story is he disappeared from his ship in the middle of a sea battle with the French in the year 1804. The disappearance was unexplained. One day, when I have some free time, I want to learn more about him and find out what happened to him.” He grinned. “One day.”
The Captain’s SU Adriana entered. “Your dinner is ready in the Wardroom, Captain. The officers are waiting for you and the Admiral.”
“Thank you, Adriana. Advise them we’re on our way.”
The Admiral watched the door close behind the titanium-plated figure, still without a uniform. “I think I’d find her a distraction,” he commented with a smile at James. “We certainly didn’t have SUs as attractive as that on our early ships!”
“Quite,” was all James proffered with a smile as they tugged their jackets into place.
In the Wardroom, Captain Heron raised his glass. “A toast to our ship Vanguard—may she be all we know she can be.”
Three decks below the Wardroom, the ship’s Coxswain, a Chief Master Warrant Officer, surveyed the dining room and nodded in satisfaction. Everyone was here, barring the gangway dutymen. He tossed back his drink and said to his companion, “Something to celebrate alright. She performed like a thoroughbred. And the Owner certainly knows how to look after the people He’s paid for the bar tonight, with a few limitations.” He grinned.
His companion, the ship’s Regulating Master Warrant chuckled. “An’ my lads are enforcing it.”
“Well, they’ve earned a knees-up, so let’s get to work on it. Looks like the Chief Steward’s SUs are ready.”
“Yup.” The ship’s policeman nodded. “But I notice you’ve put all the lads that really need a clear head tomorrow on ship duty so they will at least be fit for work.”
“Yes.” The Coxswain frowned. “And the rest of them better be too, or they’ll be taking a transfer. Our strike squadrons start arriving tomorrow. We’re getting 617 and 854 in first, and the handling crews better be spot on.”
“True,” the RMW responded. “There’ll be no room for mistakes loading them. The barges are flipping huge.”
Chapter 25
Another Piece of the Jigsaw
The big transport ship eased into orbit with the help of several tugs. Her name emblazoned on her flanks proclaimed her to be NECFA Reliant, and she had hardly come to rest when she signalled through the voice coms that she was carrying a full cargo of strike craft, fighters and interceptors for the Vanguard.
Receiving the call, the duty Commander, Richard Grenville, Executive Commander and second in command, grinned. “Welcome, Reliant, that couldn’t have been better timed if you’d tried.”
“We do our best!” said the Reliant’s Captain. “And I must say that you certainly look impressive in my displays—even more than you do on all the news channels.”
“We aim to please.” The Executive Commander’s tone was more than a bit droll. “The last few days have been challenging with all the news reporters scurrying about trying to get a better story than everyone else. Thank God we’ve been able to send them all ashore while we ship the squadrons. If I have to answer one more question about why we need such a powerful warship when we haven’t encountered any hostile aliens, I shall personally introduce them to some hostility, alien or otherwise!”
The embarkation of the strike squadrons was a demanding process and by no means an indication that the ship was ready to be commissioned. It meant she was approaching readiness to commence the lengthy and involved working-up process which would see the crew and all the many specialist TechRates finding their feet. For many months yet at least a part of Vanguard’s complement of officers and crew would include dockyard specialists and other pers
onnel sent along to fine-tune and carry out alterations while she underwent extensive trials. Being the lead ship of her class, Vanguard would inevitably have some installations or systems that did not perform as they were supposed to. These had to be tracked down and corrected, and the lessons learned would transfer to her sister ships still in build.
Flight Commander Gray surveyed the huge hangar deck, even larger in appearance with all its interlocked blast and pressure doors withdrawn as the various squadrons, interceptors, attack craft and patrol craft were sorted into their storage and maintenance bays.
“Impressive,” he remarked to his number two, Lieutenant Commander Karl Pedersen. “Probably won’t see it like this too often though. In transit we’ll keep the doors closed, and if there is a need to transfer anything, it will be on a door opened/door closed basis.”
Karl Pedersen nodded. “Of course. But you have to admit there can’t be many spaces as big as this in any other ship.”
From their vantage point in Maintenance Control, a glass box located at the midpoint and three quarters of the height of the bulkhead from the deck on which the various interceptor craft were being arrayed, they could look the full width of the ship and into the launch-ready holding areas in the upper decks of the two lateral fins. To launch interceptors’ twelve external doors needed to be opened. six on each fin, and all internal doors with access to the launch bays would be closed. A similar arrangement at the aft end of the fins meant that the landing bays were isolated from the internal compartments while landing was in progress.
“Yes,” Nick Gray agreed. “It makes me nervous to see all the doors open like this. One slip and we’ve got real problems.” He looked down at the lower deck. “This cross-over space is going to be useful as our primary maintenance workspace, but I like having the main workshop areas outside of it. After all, we don’t want to risk compromising the ship if there’s a problem during repair of one of ours.”
“Too right, Boss.” The Lieutenant Commander took in the bustling scene. “I’ll have a word with the Master Warrant and see what we can come up with, though I think Two-Two-Three Alpha Oscar Charlie is going to be our main service area, like it or not.”
Nick Gray nodded, his attention on a crew maneuvring a large ship’s barge into a parking bay. He nudged Karl and pointed in that direction. “Look at that barge. It’s bigger than some of the patrol craft we have in commission.”
“That thing is massive,” said Karl. “Oh well, that’s the Exec Commander’s headache, not ours.”
Nick Gray looked at the rapidly filling hangars and felt a twinge of annoyance. “There isn’t going to be much room to play with here.” He checked his tablet. “It’s looking pretty crowded already, and another fifty are due to arrive. Guess we’ll figure out a way to cram them all in. At least it’ll keep our TechRates on their toes.”
“Ms Rowanberg is here, Captain.” The distinctly robotic but nearly human voice of Adriana broke into his thoughts.
James Heron rose to his feet. “Felicity, this is wonderful. They let you out of the MedCentre at last?” He met her with a hug and a kiss. “They wouldn’t let me visit, and I had no way to communicate that to you. In fact, I’m more or less confined to the ship until they locate Bast. I hope you didn’t think I was avoiding you.”
“I would never think that, James. As soon as they stopped poking and prodding me to make sure I was healthy and well, I asked if you could visit.” She accepted the seat he offered. “And now the Chief wants me off the station and back at Headquarters.” She grimaced. “Says it’s at least until they have Bast put down.”
“Put down? Interesting wording, but then she is rather like a rabid animal.” He pulled back a sleeve to reveal the thin armour underneath. “The Boss has me wearing this damned armour suit just in case.” He paused as the SU steward placed drinks and a small bowl of delicacies before them. “Thank you.” Turning to Felicity, he asked, “When does he want to whisk you away?”
“Tonight.” Her tone had an edge of bitterness to it. “I’m to leave in a barge he’s sending to the ship, and I’ll be taken to HQ by a patrol ship.”
“Damn. You’ll stay in touch, though? Perhaps consider taking a holiday with me in Ireland once I can take some leave after the work-up of Vanguard is complete.”
She smiled, her eyes betraying her emotion. “I’d love that, James.” She paused. “I’m asking for a transfer back to normal duties. I had a lot of time—a hell of a lot of time—to think while I was being held captive. Made me realise a few things….” Her voice trailed off, and she let her eyes tell the rest as she gazed at him full of love.
He reached for her hand. “Yes, I can imagine. Was it very bad?”
“Physically? No, but mentally … at least my training took the worst of it and gave me some help. I stayed focused by doing yoga, and I spent the rest of the time thinking of you.”
She looked up at James in a way that made him want to protect her forever.
“James—Captain—can I ask a favour?”
He could barely find his voice when he spoke. “Just James, and you don’t need to ask.”
Tears trickled down her cheeks. “Will you hold me in your arms? Just hold me?”
His arms went round her, and he drew her close. “That’s one thing I will do with the greatest pleasure, my dear, any time you need it.”
Yelendi looked up, startled. It took a moment to register who her visitor was. “Ms Hollister? You’re alive?” She recovered. “What brings you to this cruise to nowhere?”
“Yep, here I am, alive and well. Reports of my demise were for purposes of expediency.” Theresa Hollister smiled. “As for what brings me aboard, you do. I’ve come to see if we can do a little deal and rescue you from this splendid isolation.” She gestured at the luxurious surroundings of the yacht. “After a while even this sort of luxury palls if you’re bored. I’m Theresa or Terri, by the way.”
“Yelendi. I was just wondering how I was going to rehabilitate myself. Tricky, especially as I’m probably not persona grata in a lot of the circles I might have been able to call on in the past.”
Terri nodded. “Good point, but I might be able to help you there, in return for a favour or two.”
“Of course, but I don’t see how you can—”
“—There are a number of ways, actually, but let’s put cards on the table first.” Theresa watched her companion and noted the mixed responses. “Let me start by identifying myself as Commodore (Covert Operations) Fleet Security. Theresa is my given name, the surname is one of convenience.” She paused. “Like yours. We know who you report to and that your role is in fact similar to mine.” She held up a hand. “No need to confirm or deny, and, no, we have not been eavesdropping on your coms from here. Lieutenant-Commander Timms would never do that. Like me, he has his orders.”
“I see.” Yelendi recovered herself quickly. “I knew I was blowing my cover and probably my position when I approached your Commander Brandeis on the Dock. I still believe the ideals my people are working for, but I’m in stark disagreement with the current Chairman, who believes the only way to achieve his lofty goals is to use force. When he hired the Pantheon, I knew that I had a decision to make. I am not prepared to be associated with those mercenaries at any point in my life, not now or ever.”
“Yes, we thought that was how you saw it.” Theresa smiled. “The Pantheon has been a problem for a long time. A bit like the mythical Hydra, though. Kill one of the bastards, two others take their place.”
“Yes, even my Director disagrees with the involvement.” She laughed. “If he knew where I am holidaying while your people deal with Bast, I think he’d probably have a heart attack.”
“He won’t know from us, so unless you choose to tell him….” Theresa let the thought hang for a moment. “Moving on to other matters, I’d like to make a proposal, and you have plenty of time to consider it. If you reject it, no more will be said—but, as I said, we do know who you are, just as you know wh
o I am.”
Despite herself, Yelendi laughed. “I’ve got to hand it to you, Theresa—Terri. That sounded like a warning or possibly a threat, but, yes, I take your point, and I’m well aware I would probably not be here and alive if your Admiral hadn’t intervened. So, yes, I’ll consider your proposal, but I won’t sell out my people.”
“We wouldn’t expect you to do that.” Theresa leaned back in her seat. “I’m sure you’re aware how the internal politics of any organisation can cause it to do some things that are, shall we say, undesirable to many within it. Our proposal is that you may, from time to time, wish to share some insights of that nature. Oh, and we might have something we’re pretty sure your side would be interested in, of course.”
“That assumes I’ll be able to retain my position after this little excursion.”
“Ah, yes. I might be able to give you something that will reassure your Director on that score.”
“We’ve had a lucky break. We now know how Bast tricks the DNA checks—and why it was always slightly vague.”
Admiral Burton, aka Mr Brown, looked up. “Tell me.”
“Remember those two we killed on the Vanguard? One of them had a small container of what looked like an ointment of some sort. It contains a DNA string from the TechRate he was mimicking. The gel base that contains it masks the user’s DNA and imposes the copied strand—which is what our automated DNA readers look at. This explains why the results of our DNA scans are always slightly ambiguous.”
“Is there a way to beat it?”
“Our people are working on it. There may be a way to recognise the masking agent, at least that’s what Head of Research thinks.” The Lieutenant smiled. “If she’s right, she thinks it will be quite easy to program the scanners.”
“Good. Tell them to … No, don’t, they’ll be aware how important it is. Tell them I said well done.” He laughed. “That’ll scare the living daylights out of them.”
The Lieutenant grinned. “I’ll do that, sir.”
“Contact the Hyperion and ask her Commander if my message was delivered.”
Captain James Heron: First into the Fray: Prequel to Harry Heron: Into the Unknown of the Harry Heron Series Page 27
