Harry Heron: Hope Transcends

by Patrick G Cox

  “I’m afraid I can’t make that time, sir.” The Lieutenant looked defiant. “I have another appointment then.” He paused for effect. “With the Admiral.”

  Harry held his gaze. “It is not entered in your schedule of activities, Mr. Banks. Perhaps you would be kind enough to explain why.”

  The Lieutenant flushed. “It’s a private matter…sir.” He added the ‘sir’ to his response with obvious reluctance.

  Harry maintained a tight grip on his temper. He was beginning to dislike the man intensely. “As your commanding officer, any requests to see the Admiral should be passed through me. I realise I have barely come aboard and am still an unknown entity to you, Mr. Banks, but I should have been informed. I have no desire to continue our working relationship on the wrong foot, but we do not see eye to eye on a number of points. That concerns me. It will affect the operation of this ship, and I am not about to let that happen.” He watched the emotions chase across the other man’s face. “Now, Mr. Banks, I’d appreciate a little openness from you. If you have some objection to being in my command, please say so now.”

  The Lieutenant looked down. “I’ve asked for a transfer, sir, and the Admiral’s secretary slipped me an appointment.” He met Harry’s gaze and continued in a rush. “My brother served in the 36th Corvette Flotilla against the Niburu. His ship was one of those lost in the final assault you led against the mothership.” His anger showed. “Was it really necessary to throw away all those ships in an attack that must be rated with the Charge of the Light Brigade back in eighteen whatever?”

  For a moment Harry was speechless, his anger rising. His voice controlled and quiet, he asked, “Do you consider our sacrifice to destroy that mothership futile? Do you suggest that I found it easy to have to lead such an attack?”

  The Lieutenant blinked, surprise registering in his expression. “No, sir.” He swallowed and recovered. “It’s just that some of your ships were already so badly damaged they should have been abandoned, but you ordered them to attack anyway. I’m sorry, sir, perhaps the Light Brigade was the wrong analogy. The Niburu Queen—the mothership— was, according to some reports, already fatally wounded by then.”

  Harry controlled his temper. “Your analogy is offensive. We had no way of knowing if the Queen was succumbing, and we could not leave it on the assumption that it would recover.” Harry saw the other man’s doubt. “Perhaps you do not know, Mr. Banks, that every one of those ships would have been released from the attack had they indicated they felt unable to make it. I would not have accused anyone of cowardice or dereliction of duty. My own ship was not space-worthy. As senior officer and leader, I was doubling up aboard 1002, and her people would not hear of withdrawing.”

  He paused, remembering how close he’d been to dying when the ship suffered a major hull breach. “Every man, woman and alien aboard those ships had volunteered for that last attack. No one was under compulsion or orders to be there. So many volunteered that they drew lots, and the losers begged the winners to change places.” He drew himself up to his full height and held the other man’s eye. “It was a privilege to lead them, and I will not have their memory besmirched with allusions to stupidity or such futile events as the cavalry charge at Balaclava.”

  The Lieutenant seemed to wilt. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t know. My brother was very special to us—the baby in our family. It was his first ship, and his death broke my mother. She was totally opposed to his joining the Fleet, but he was adamant.”

  Harry pushed his anger back, the memory of a youthful Lieutenant Banks in his mind. “I see. For that, I can only offer my sympathies and condolences, inadequate as they are.” He nodded. “If you genuinely feel you cannot serve under me, I will not insist on your doing so. Keep your appointment with the Admiral. You can put the development progamme on my tablet, and I will study it later.”

  “Thank you, sir. I appreciate your telling me about the attack. I didn’t know they were all volunteers.”

  “Few would—it was not widely advertised. As I said, it was a privilege to be the leader of such people.” Harry touched the ribbons on his chest. “These belong to them.”

  Commodore Roberts watched the approaching barge. Everything about it appeared normal, and she hoped the display her own ship was putting on—opening the docking bay, preparing to receive the barge—was equally as convincing. “Let them dock and make the first move. I want to see what’s lurking out here.”

  “We’ve got the cargo ready for them. They’ll be able to see the pallets and the handlers as soon as they line up on the entrance.”

  “Good.” She watched her displays. The barge was closing normally, transponder active, usual lights and markings showing … she switched her attention to the mining platform. The swarm of autonomous mining droids had changed position. They seemed to be moving as a single body, as if in formation. “Where’s that shadow you’re tracking?”

  “Moving right, ma’am. Keeping those bots between us and him.”

  “Time for the cavalry to show up then.” She keyed her pad and watched as the initial white display went green. “We’ll see,” she murmured.

  The power surge as four frigates dropped out of transit around the Thermopylae created a flicker in the displays, and then the frigates were between the freighter and the platform, the leader contacting the platform controller as if all was perfectly normal. Behind the cluster of mining units, a large object vanished, leaving only the signature of her transit.

  In Thermopylae’s docking bay the sudden arrival of the frigates seemed to throw the barge pilot into confusion. He set his vessel down heavily, and not in the position the dock master indicated. There was a short delay after the dock hatches closed and while the atmosphere stabilised, and then only seven men disembarked.

  “What brought that lot out here?” demanded the leading man in the uniform of a platform supervisor.

  “Beats me,” responded the dock master. “You know the Fleet, they’ve always got to show off.” He proffered a tablet. “Who wants to sign for your gear? Want us to load it for you? Or are your guys going to do it?”

  “We’ll take care of it.” The supervisor signalled his team, who lounged about as if they hadn’t a care in the world, but as the dock master noted, they were watching him closely and everything around them.

  “All yours then.” He grinned. “The sooner you load it, the sooner we can get to our next port of call.”

  Chapter 6

  Back on Track

  _________________________

  “Barge is away, Commodore,” said the dock master. “That bunch of cutthroats weren’t too keen when we suggested we should help them get it stowed, and even less happy when Kurt suggested we might come back this way and stop off for some R and R.”

  “How many did you get to see?”

  “Seven, ma’am.”

  “Funny, our scanners picked up twenty on her, and we’re getting the same readings now.” She hesitated. “Were any of them out of sight at any time?”

  “Only while they were on the barge loading the cargo. Why, ma’am?”

  “Just a hunch. And we’re sure it was the same seven the whole time? Have the docking bay searched. I’ve a feeling they may have left us something, and I don’t like unsolicited gifts.”

  “Will do, but I’m pretty sure it was always the same seven.”

  “Okay, we’ll run the image record. The AI will alert us if there were any switches.” She leaned back in her chair expecting her TechRate to get on it right away. When he didn’t, she said, “Rod, you heard that—run the check. They’re up to something.” She sat up as a thought occurred to her. Addressing the Scan Operator, she asked, “Are the frigates running their scanners?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Right, run our high-intensity scan on that platform, and then do an all-system scan. I’ll warn the frigates to cover it with theirs.”

  The TechRate drew her attention.

&nb
sp; “Yes, Rod?”

  “System identifies nine people in that crew, ma’am.” The TechRate displayed the nine imges. “Two of them swopped places a couple of times during the loading process.”

  “Right, so they were up to something. Run a high-intensity search of the dock for any tracking or tagging devices. “Then, get me a secure channel with HQ. The boss was right—there’s something fishy going down out here.”

  “Can you spare a moment, sir? I’d like to inform you on the outcome of my meeting yesterday.”

  Harry set his notes aside. “Of course, Mr. Banks. Have you had a decision from the Admiral?”

  The Lieutenant took the seat offered, his expression neutral. “In a manner of speaking, sir. He refused my request.”

  “I see.” Harry waited. Better to let Banks volunteer the information than press him for it.

  The Lieutenant sat on the edge of his chair and contemplated his hands. “The interview with the Admiral didn’t go well. He more or less put me on warning and chewed me over.” He met Harry’s eye. “I thought he might have informed you, sir.”

  Harry shook his head. “No, he has not sent me any message, nor do I expect one.” He smiled. “Very well, if you are to remain my Executive Officer, we had best get to know each other a great deal better. If you still feel strongly that you cannot work with me once we have the fitting out completed, I will personally take up your case for reposting if that will help.”

  The Lieutenant looked surprised. “Thank you, sir. That’s generous of you.” He stood and smiled. “I should tell you, sir, that I looked up the reports submitted by the corvette flotillas … I was wrong, sir.”

  “Then there is nothing more to say on the matter, Mr. Banks. We must now concentrate on our new ship and the needs of the men in her.” Harry stood and offered his hand. “Perhaps you’d care to join me for dinner. Shall we say tomorrow at nineteen hundred?”

  “That’ll be fine, sir. I appreciate the invitation.” Mr. Banks rose to leave, but before he departed, he added, “Thank you, sir.”

  For some minutes after the Lieutenant’s departure, Harry sat staring at the bulkhead. He wondered whether he was doing the right thing offering the man a fresh start. There was a hint of wariness to Mr. Banks, a sense of lingering resentment that caused Harry to wonder how genuine he was in his appreciation of his posting as Executive Officer. Harry would have to keep his finger on the pulse of this situation. The ship deserved better than a command team unable to reach beyond personal prejudices.

  Felicity stared at the recovered device. “One thing is certain,” she finally said. “That gadget was not manufactured by humans.”

  “We agree, ma’am. We think it’s a tracking device, but it’s unlike any we’ve ever seen. Somebody wants to be able to find us once we leave.”

  “Damn. That’s going to make things difficult. On the one hand, I don’t want them tracking us, but on the other, we want to know who it is.” Felicity paused. Her superior, currently using the code name Mr. Green, had been clear: Do nothing to alert the other side that they had detected the device.

  “It’s the only one you’ve found?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am, it’s the only one.”

  “Right. And it isn’t transmitting anything?”

  “Nothing we can detect, ma’am.”

  “Monitor it. It’ll very likely send some sort of signal as soon as we enter transit.” She paused. “The people from that barge—we’re sure they’re all human?”

  “Those that we saw—yes, ma’am.” The agent hesitated. “At least their scan readouts were human, except—”

  “Except what, MW?”

  “Well, ma’am, there was something odd about some of the readouts we got from that barge. All the crew gave the sort of reading you get from humans, but with something else.” He scratched his head. “Some of them gave a stronger reading.”

  She touched her link. “Time to go,” she said to Mike Frey. “If we hang around, they’ll smell a rat. Inform me the moment that thing shows any sign of activity. Alert our shadowers that we’ve been tagged by someone.”

  She turned back to the Master Warrant. “Show me those readouts, MW. You should have flagged it immediately.”

  Harry arrived aboard at two minutes before eight in the morning, pleased to see all the officers waiting. He’d enjoyed his dinner with Arno Richthofen, an old friend who, due to a bionic arm and leg, was driving a desk now. They’d had a very pleasant evening in a restaurant owned by Detleff Werner, one of the men who’d been part of the crew that helped him and Ferghal capture the notorious Heemstra and his partner, Katerina de Vries. It had been a very pleasant reminder of just how strong the bonds of friendship were, and of how much he, Ferghal, and Danny had adapted to their new circumstances.

  Accepting coffee from the android steward, Harry took a seat, deliberately not at the head of the table, and smiled at the others. These coffee sessions had helped break the ice between him and his crew, and gave him an invaluable chance to get to know them. They appeared to be somewhat more relaxed than they had been when they first met him, which pleased him.

  “Our Weapons Officer will join us at eleven—she’s had a rough trip and only disembarked at three o’clock this morning.” He glanced at their faces, gauging the reactions. He didn’t mention he’d been at the dock to meet her. “I felt she might need a little sleep before she faced the lot of us.”

  An easy chuckle rippled among the team, and Lieutenant Jakobsen said, “I’ve not served with a Lacertian before, sir. What are they like?”

  “Very quick in their movements, intelligent, extremely efficient and loyal to a fault.” He thought about the way they always managed to get one of their people aboard any ship he served on. “Of course, they are very different from us in the way they think and react to situations.” He grinned as he studied their faces. “Oh, and they are rather like the chameleons we have on Earth. They can blend into any background and become almost invisible.” He sipped his coffee. “Difficult, of course, when they are in uniform, but very effective when not.”

  Jenny Matlock caught his eye. “You have a gene splice from their DNA, sir. It was on the documentary they did on you.” She paused, a grin forming. “Does that mean you can sneak up on us that way?”

  Harry laughed with them. “No, though I have the feeling that might be useful sometimes.” His grin widened. “The gene splice enhanced my body’s ability to heal any injuries I get, and it affected my cyberlink.” He glanced at them all, seeing their interest. “Yes, I have a cyberlink implanted in my brain, put there by the Fleet. The genesplice the Johnstone researchers did while they held me captive on planet Pangaea a few years ago caused it to malfunction in an interesting way. It was a difficult experience with a lingering gift, as it were. To put it simply, AI networks perceive me as an extension of them as long as I am in fairly close proximity, which means I am able to interact directly with them internally, in my thoughts. Sometimes an AI reads my thoughts and acts upon them without receiving specific direction from me.” He smiled at their expressions. “It can be disconcerting for my officers and crew—and quite difficult for me at times.”

  “Thanks for the warning, sir.” Jenny grinned over the edge of her coffee cup. “Is that how you and Lieutenant Commander O’Connor brought that freighter home a few years ago? Just with that cyberlink? He has one too, right?” She glanced at the others. “One of the construction crew was talking about it the other day. Said they couldn’t figure out how anyone had managed to get anything on it to function.”

  “I’m afraid we did get somewhat over enthusiastic in our destruction.” He pulled a face. “But we had to do everything ourselves, directly through the cyberlink, to get her home.” He straightened in his chair. “Now, I think we had best get to our programmes for today. I have Mr. Carrera’s latest assessment and schedule before me. Have you all received a copy?”

  The others confirmed their receipt and he
pushed his coffee cup aside. “Who wants to kick off? What are we dealing with today?”

  “That tracking device activated as soon as we went to transit, ma’am.” The ScanTech frowned. “It’s using a bloody odd frequency though.”

  “Monitor it. Anyone following us yet?” Felicity looked up from the station at which she’d been studying the anomalous scans of the barge. “Register that frequency, and make sure we can detect anyone using it or any sort of coms channel associated with it.” She turned back to the life scans. “See those five? There’s more than one life form showing.”

  “That’s what we meant, ma’am. It’s the sort of result you get if a woman has a child in her arms, but these don’t read as children or human, though the main signature is human.”

  “Ma’am, we’ve got a ship on intercept course.” The ScanTech frowned. “At least, I think we do. Never seen a scan signature like it in hyperspace.”

  “Show me.” Felicity studied the scan. “Record it.” She touched her link. “Garry, have you got that tracer rigged up as I instructed?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Attached to a missile as you ordered.”

  “Launch it to run our current course, then drop us out as soon as the signatures diverge.”

  “Think it’ll work, ma’am?” asked the Lieutenant in charge of the scan teams.

  Felicity frowned. “I don’t know. I think their scanning technology might not be that good in hyperspace, hence the need to attach a tracker to a target. Hell, our scanners are only this good thanks to the tech the Siddhiche shared with us during the Niburu War.”