The Captain laughed. “The LPSL certainly do. There seems to be no end to the many ways you annoy them just for being alive and breathing.”
Harry nodded with a wry smile, and the Captain chuckled.
“So the Montaigne Show—what was your impression of the place? Do you think Montaigne is aware of the live editing that goes on to manipulate what’s seen and heard by the audience?”
“I’d say not, sir. His producer certainly didn’t inform him that they were not in control of their broadcast. I’d have heard them tell him on his private link, and afterward he showed no indication of knowing otherwise.”
The Captain leaned back in his seat and studied Harry. “Did you allow the recordings of your contacts with the Niburu to be viewed by the audience?”
“Yes, sir, but without the additions and alterations someone had imposed.” Harry paused. “Commodore Roberts and her team have all the material I blocked, sir.”
“So she informs me, Harry. She also tells me that your actions saved her people a lot of work, and gave them the path they needed to get past the DigiCorp Media’s security system. They got everything they were looking for, and a great deal more.”
“I see, sir.” Harry had mixed feelings about this. He’d acted only to prevent his own reputation and that of the Fleet being maligned by the subliminal messages and images he’d blocked. Now it seemed the Fleet’s Secret Service had used the opportunity for a wider purpose, something he’d never considered or intended. “May I know why they were so eager to gain access?”
“I can’t reveal it all because I don’t know it all.” The Captain sat up straighter. “DigiCorp is a very large umbrella organisation, and DigiMedia is possibly the largest source of news and information on Earth and among the colonies. It is being used to spread false ideologies and beliefs that run counter to everything the North European Confederation stands for, as well as the North American Union and the World Treaty Council.” He paused. “It seems that your appearance on the show was to have been the start of a new wave of disinformation—and you prevented it. That’s annoyed some very important people, though they don’t seem to realise it was you. Once they see the documentary on you and your friends, however, they might make the connection.”
Chapter 2
Heart’s Desire
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Mary flung her arms around him as he stepped from the transport.
“Ah, finally, there you are, my sweet handsome space pilot alien warrior television star!” She laughed at his expression, and her kiss was so full of passion that it nearly made him unsteady on his feet. “Aw, my poor baby, look at you. Your course must have been tough—you look worn out.” She hugged him again, briefly, and adding teasingly, “You were wonderful on the Montaigne Show. Monty was right—you’re a natural!”
“Well, I don’t know about all that,” Harry protested, but his cheeks flushed with pleasure at her praise.
Mary wrapped her fingers around his upper arm with a gentle tug. “Come inside and tell us all about it. The whole family is waiting. Are you now officially on leave?”
“Yes, at last.” Harry squeezed Mary’s waist, reluctant to release her. “Eight weeks, and then I’ll receive a new posting.” He grinned. “Their Lordships suspected the show would be used as a cover for something. Thankfully, I was warned and prepared for what I met.” He shrugged. “Hopefully, that will be an end to my involvement in any of it.”
“The women of Planet Earth are clamouring to see more of your handsome face on screen, but I agree with you,” said Mary with a grin. “Besides, they can’t have you because you’re mine.” She winked, and he grinned as they crossed the threshold and stepped into the house.
Theo was the first to greet them. “Harry, good to have you home again. I caught the tail end of your conversation, and I have to warn you, Monty has been in touch to say how delighted he was to have you on the show. James was on the link as soon as it was finished. He said to tell you well done. So I expect it has met with approval and acknowledgement that you dealt with a tricky situation so well.” He smiled. “I want to hear about anything you discovered in their system. I suspect they’re still wondering why they lost control of it. My team are very interested in some of their manipulations.” He caught his wife Niamh’s eye. “But I think it will have to wait. You and Mary want some time alone, I expect.”
Niamh grinned as Harry wrapped her in a hug and leaned into her like a small boy glad to be in the comfort of home again. “Welcome home, Harry. You relax for now. We’ll catch up later. Oh, I can have Herbert prepare a special dinner with all your favourites if you’d like,” she added.
“Thank you, Aunt Niamh, that’s so kind of you, but may we have something simple today? I have something special in mind with Mary tonight.” He caught Mary’s eye and smiled, and was thrilled when the look she gave him in return was excited, eager and curious all at the same time.
The dinner was the perfect climax to a wonderful few weeks in each other’s company. The chef had prepared all of Harry and Mary’s favourite dishes and presented them with perfection and elegance. Now they lingered over their coffee and liqueurs. The candle burned low, and the waiter withdrew quietly after serving the aperitif. Harry hoped this would be the perfect moment.
“Mary, I have been wanting to ask you this for a long, long time—”
He caught his breath as she met his gaze across the rim of her cup. Carefully she placed it in the saucer, hoping this was the moment she’d been waiting for. “And what might that question be, Mr. Heron?”
He reached across the table and took her hand in his. “Dearest Mary, will you consider accepting my hand in marriage? Will you agree to be my wife?”
His earnest expression and the formality of the question amused her even as her heart leapt. She couldn’t resist a gentle tease though. “If I were assured that you would not immediately vanish off into the outer reaches of the galaxy to stir up some new danger for the human race, I might be persuaded, sir.”
“I think I may safely give that assurance, though the Fleet will certainly send me to some exotic places in future, of that I’m certain.” He kissed her hand. “At least for the next two months of leave I will be earthbound, and then I’ll have a shadow post at a base. I surely cannot stir up any trouble with such a boring duty assignment.”
She laughed. “With your temper? I wonder if your senior officers really know what they have in you.” Her expression softened as she met his eye. “Do you, Mr. Heron, accept my desire to continue with my career? I will make a very poor wife in the mould of the women you knew in the eighteen hundreds.”
Harry hadn’t considered this aspect. In his way of thinking, his wife would settle at home and manage his household while he went off to find the wherewithal to provide everything they needed. His expression showed it as he stammered, “Of course, but … do you wish to? I can assure you my income is more than adequate.”
She smiled. “It’s not about income, Harry. You have a career, and so do I. You have many women in the Fleet, some of them Admirals. They enjoy the fulfillment of their careers as I enjoy mine.” She could see he hadn’t considered that those women might be married. She changed tack. “Did you know that Niamh is a highly qualified barrister?”
He looked surprised. “No! I mean, yes, but Aunt Niamh doesn’t have Chambers or take cases. She manages the house for Theo and the rest of us …” He trailed off when he realised how weak his argument sounded, and he grinned sheepishly.
Mary laughed. “She gave up her career when Theo accepted the position as Chief Justice, as there could be a conflict of interests if she continued her practice.” She gripped his hand. “You should ask her about it sometime to learn how she feels about having to sacrifice her career.”
He frowned and nodded. “I will. I can quite see it will not have been easy for her to do so.” He held her hand lightly and smiled. “Mary, I know I am very old fashioned in man
y of my notions, but these last months showed me very clearly how much I missed not being able to talk to you, to hear your voice or to sit beside you and just be in your presence. I cannot imagine not having you by my side for the rest of my life.”
At this point, Harry stood from his chair, took a small jeweler’s box from his pocket, and he knelt on one knee next to her chair. Mary let out a little gasp as he presented her with a gorgeous, sparkling diamond ring.
“Mary, my dearest darling, will you marry me? Will you give me the honour of being my wife?”
Mary smiled and held out her hand as he slipped the ring on. “Oh, yes, Harry Nelson-Heron, I will marry you, and this ring—it’s so beautiful, and such a perfect fit! I love you so much, my darling. Yes, a thousand times yes!” She stood from her chair and he stood with her, and they embraced and shared a kiss, utterly oblivious to the restaurant patrons looking on with happiness at their joy, though they were seated a proper distance away in this somewhat private section of the restaurant.
When Harry and Mary heard a few murmurs of approval, they separated and smiled in embarrassment, and took their seats again.
“I’m so glad you said yes, Mary. I was rather worried that for some reason you wouldn’t have me.” Harry’s relief was evident.
“Of course I’ll have you, Harry. You’re the only man for me, but let’s be clear on this: I will not give up my career, and there will be times when I must tour and you will be away with the Fleet. I will marry you on condition that you are able to accept that.”
Harry’s face lit up. “I accept your condition, my dearest, with no hesitation.”
Mary gazed at the lovely ring. It was antique in design, six brilliant diamonds of an old-fashioned cut clustered in a circular mounting around a large center diamond, all sparkling with brilliance and clarity in the candlelight. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “It looks antique, a true one-of-a-kind. How did you ever find such a treasure?”
Harry beamed with satisfaction. “I had it made on Planet Lycania. It is a copy of the ring my mother wore. I have been unable to trace any of the old family heirlooms I would have wished to bestow upon you, so I resorted to a copy. It is not exact, but as close as I can manage from memory.” He caught her bemused expression. “Is it acceptable? If not, I will have something else made for you.”
Mary laughed aloud at this, a delightful cascade of sound, much to Harry’s complete confusion. “Oh, Harry, of course it’s acceptable. To me it is every bit as precious as an heirloom because you had it made especially for me.”
Mary’s acceptance of his proposal was tempered by the fact that they could not marry for at least twelve months. It appalled him, but he resigned himself to the delay. The worst-case scenario, which he didn’t like to consider, was a delay of up to eighteen months. It would take at least a year to gather and submit all the legal documentation and obtain the necessary permission to marry, primarily because of his pieced-together birth and ancestral records. The other factors involved her schedule, his postings, coordinating the schedules of everyone invited, and arranging the venue for the ceremony. Then there was the problem of where to hold the reception, and Monty Montaigne wanting to film a sequel to his documentary during this time, with Harry as the main character study in it.
Harry tried not to be gloomy about their prospects on this fine day, a rare one of glorious sunshine glinting off the verdant Irish green hills. He and Mary were stretched out on the soft grass on one of those hills gazing at the clouds and planning their future together.
“Twelve months…” Harry murmured, and sighed with frustration. “It can’t possibly take that long, not even for the wheels of bureaucracy to churn, and eighteen months is unthinkable.”
Mary rolled over and propped herself on one elbow to gaze into his blue eyes. “Darling Harry, we’ve been together for over five years now, and for most of that we’ve been half a galaxy apart. At least now, for some of the time anyway, we’ll both be on the same planet. The time will fly by, and we’ll be so busy with all sorts of exciting preparations! You’ll see.” She kissed his cheek and snuggled closer as he wrapped his arm around her.
“You’re right, I know, but you’ll be on tour for some of it, and I’ll be posted. I suppose I was hoping to be your husband much sooner than that.” He turned his mischievous schoolboy expression toward her and winked.
She laughed. “We’ll see each other regularly, don’t worry. As long as you don’t find some new danger to stir up, we’ll be fine.” She ruffled his hair. “Come on, even in the year eighteen-whatever you couldn’t just rush out and get married. I read somewhere that you had to get all sorts of permissions from various authorities and, of course, the convention was to have at least twelve months between the engagement and the wedding.”
Harry sat up at this point, all business. “Not true. If we were living in 1804, I could apply to the Bishop for a Special Licence and be married without Banns or waiting.” His eyes shone down at her with mischief. “Or we could elope to Gretna Green—a short sail on Extravagance from here—and be married over the anvil in the blacksmith’s shop without all the fuss and bother.”
Mary sat up with a jolt. “And deprive my parents and friends of the pleasure of attending the wedding? Not for anything in the world!”
Mary’s sweet laugh trilled as she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him so exuberantly that they tumbled together into the soft cushion of the grassy hillside.
“Besides, there’s plenty we can do to pass the time until we’re married,” she murmured, and they were lost in each other’s arms without even a fleeting thought that it was a good thing they had this little slice of the Irish countryside all to themselves that day.
Chapter 3
Obstacles
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Kharim Pasha Al-Khalifa studied the hologram of his caller with contempt. Senator Samland thought herself important, and her arrogance grated. The purpose of her call: she wanted him, as head of the Pantheon, to undertake a commission. A smile flickered as it occurred to him that she was on the payroll, under various code names of course, of at least five of his multi-planet corporations. She thought she was playing one against the other in the belief that it would put her at the head of the government she wished to install.
It amused him to know this, and to know that she was not seeing a hologram of him, but rather a representation of Zorvan, a god of time in Persian mythology. As leader of the Pantheon, he took great care to keep his real identity secret, and those of his fellow gods and goddesses, as they referred to themselves. In fact, he was probably the only person who knew the true identities behind certain key members of the Pantheon, and he took extraordinary care to keep it that way.
She was not hearing Kharim’s voice as they spoke, but rather a warped version of a generic male voice that sounded authentically real.
“We have decided, Senator,” he said, “that your commission is worthy of our attention. We will instruct our agents to make contact with these aliens, the Charonians, through the privateers, as you call them.” He wondered if she knew the Charonians were a thoroughly nasty race, parasites in a sense, though they were very skilled at manufacturing some incredible alloys, and kept the secret to their work under tight control. “We will persuade their leaders of the benefits of working with you. Our usual rates will apply, and the credit will be placed in the banks we designate.”
“Good. The transfers will be made as soon as we get the information.”
“I trust the demise of Senator Polonoski and his associates met with your contract requirements, a spectacular and very public death as requested.”
The Senator hesitated. Should she play ignorant or play along? Oh well, it was too late now. “Oh yes, that. I understand it was a catastrophic failure of their transport shuttle. Yes, very satisfactory. Just enough evidence to indicate it was not an accident, but disturbing enough to make clear to other waverers that we will not tol
erate any breach of allegiance.” Senator Samland was an ambitious woman, and still smarting over the debacle of the Montaigne Show. Their intention had been to present Heron in the worst possible light as a typical “warmongering” representative of the Fleet, but of course Harry had thwarted their attempts.
“I may have another problem for your attention, Zorvan, but I will need to consult my partners on it.”
“Excellent, so glad we could deliver satisfactorily, and of course we will consider any further commissions. We’ll speak again soon.”
He killed the holo link and pondered their conversation. His agents among the Charonians had provided a great deal of information. The wealth to be gained from their alloys would triple his already immense holdings, but the Charonians were demanding the provision of suitable hosts in exchange. The Senator might not be aware of this because, as with most self-important arrogant people, she considered any possible downside to her plans a sign of weakness.
He touched his link. “Bahram, is my transport ready? I’ve no wish to be late for the gala dinner. Remind me which of the charities it is again. There are so many to keep track of, and after a while they all seem the same….”
“Commander Heron? Very pleased to meet you at last.” Felicity Roberts indicated an armchair. “Please, sit down.”
Taking the offered chair, Harry settled into it. “Thank you, ma’am.” The sign on the door said this was the office of the Director of Surveillance Operations, but his hostess displayed no rank and no indication of her role. He recognised her as the woman his relative and one-time guardian in this century, Admiral James Heron, kept a portrait of next to a photo of his deceased wife, and Harry knew there was something more than friendship between them. Beyond that, he knew very little about her.
Harry Heron: Hope Transcends Page 2
