“You could be right. Okay, if you take that side, I’ll operate these.” He handed over the tools he’d been using. “Give me a second—I’ll get another set.” He reached into a cabinet and drew out a small case. “My father’s.” He smiled. “I only use them for special tasks. Let’s get to work.”
On the fifth attempt there was a soft click, but instead of the helmet releasing, a small panel low on the back of the neck opened and revealed a line of symbols.
“Ah,” breathed Jack. “Now that’s my specialty. You okay in there, sir? We’ve got a key panel to open here, and a code required to open it.” He studied it carefully. “You know, since they made sure we wouldn’t have the tools to open this panel, I’m betting they didn’t bother to code this with anything special.” He punched in a sequence. This time there was a louder click, and the two halves of the helmet parted.
The Mechanist seized the two halves at the front and back and pulled them apart, then raised it clear of Harry’s head. “Got it!” he exclaimed as Harry took his first uninhibited breath in quite some time. “Fantastic workmanship.”
The Warrant Officer stop short and stared at Harry’s matted hair, tangled beard and dirty face. “Looks like Mike and I have a barbering job if we can get these folk to let us have the kit, sir.”
Grinning, Harry wiped his hands across his face and stroked his ten-week growth of beard into some sort of order. “I’ll take you up on that as soon as possible. No wonder these folk think we’re savages come to spy on them.” He turned to the Mechanist. “Thank you, Mr. Leonard. You have no idea what a relief it is to be free of that damnable device.”
The man smiled. “A pleasure, Commander. If you follow me, I can show you where to wash. I’ve only some scissors, but you’re welcome to use them if you like.” He turned to look at what Mike was doing. “Your servant seems to be dismantling that machine. I better go and see what he’s doing.”
Harry frowned. “Servant? Mr. Dorfling is no servant of mine, sir. He is a highly specialised TechRate of the Fleet.” He indicated the Warrant Officer next to him. “And Mr. Proctor is a programmer of considerable skill. His position aboard my ship is as the second most senior non-commissioned officer. He answers only to me or my Executive Officer, the First Lieutenant.”
“I’ve been wondering about that,” Medico interjected, joining them. He shrugged as they all looked at him. “Have you never wondered why, since the tribal wars started, we have all been compelled to take up our parents’ occupations?”
The Mechanist frowned. “Yes, I suppose. But the explanation is always the same: it is the best way to preserve civilisation and ensure these skills are not lost.” He shrugged. “You’ve only to look at how the desert tribes have lost the ability to manufacture little more than simple tools and weapons to see that.”
“There!” Mike announced in triumph. “I knew I could get it going.” Several lights glowed where before there had been blank opaque panels. “It’ll take a while to build up the charge in the power packs again. I hope you don’t mind, Mr. Leonard, but I’ve taken a feed off your hydraulic press—the cable looked like the best option.” He wiped his hands on a rag. “Should be able to run a test signal in an hour or so, but it’d be best if we left it to charge the cells for about four hours. Then we can check all the circuits are still good.”
He looked at the astonished faces of the two local men in their rather crude outfits of animal hide and rough woven fabric. “These Mark 1 units were over engineered on everything, quadruple redundancies, back-up circuits—you probably could have built one about a third the size. It’s the power cells that take up most of the space.”
The Mechanist had an expression of awe on his face. “My grandfather said it had lights in it—he’d seen them as a child. But the lights dimmed then went out completely before he grew to his youth.” He touched the face of the unit with his fingertips. “What did you say it can do?”
“It’s a communications unit,” Harry interjected. “It uses radio waves to transfer information and messages between places, people and ships. These were written and spoken messages.” Harry paused when he saw their stunned faces. “I can hear it because the program is still active, though very archaic.” He turned to Jack. “Do you think you can program it to send out a distress call for us?”
The Warrant Officer grinned. “Dead easy, sir. Just let me at it as soon as it’s fully charged. They’ll hear the signal clear across the galaxy—eventually.”
Medico and the Mechanist exchanged glances. “I think our esteemed Captain may have some problems with that,” murmured Medico. “We’ll have to think of a way to throw them off the scent.”
“I heard that, Medico, and that’s mutiny talk.” They turned to find the Enforcer and his three subordinates at the door, their weapons ready.
Chapter 17
Disclosures
_________________________
“Don’t be a bloody fool, man. We’re on the brink of discovering something really important. Put those weapons down and take yourselves out of here.”
“Get out of the way, Medico,” the leader snarled.
Harry noticed they all had breathing masks on with their weapons loaded and ready to use, and he silently cursed the fact that his ankles were shackled.
“Just because you’re the only Medico here doesn’t mean you can do as you please. Anybody can learn how to treat the things you deal with.”
“Really? But that would break the precious structure of society you’re sworn to preserve, wouldn’t it? Who did you fancy replacing me with, yourself? Can you extract a poisoned bolt from an Enviro crossbow or distill the venom of a sand dragon?” He waved at the machines around them. “Can any of you build, repair or maintain any of this?”
“Maybe not, but we all heard you commit mutiny.” The man sounded less sure of himself.
“Come, come, Mr. Enforcer,” Harry intervened. “Mutiny is a very serious charge, and surely seeking the truth about certain matters is not treason.”
“I knew it was a mistake to take those fetters of’n you!” He signalled one of the others. “Get them chained up properly again, and do the same with Medico and Mechanist. Mutiny is mutiny.”
“No,” said Leonard. “I’ve had enough of your bullying.” He closed a hefty switch. A loud snap and shower of sparks signalled an electrical contact. The Enforcers collapsed to the floor, shouting and struggling against the magnetic pull of the large steel plate they were now attached to by their weapons and armour. Both Harry and Jack, also standing on the plate, were held fast by the manacles on their ankles, but Mike Dorfling remained free, and stood there grinning from ear to ear.
Leonard moved forward. “Doc, if you’ve got some of that sleeping stuff, now would be a good time to use it. My generator can’t take this load for long.” He grinned. “I’d make sure you’ve no iron on you when you approach them though.”
Medico laughed. “I have some, but Captain will have the rest of his goons up here as soon as he suspects anything.” He watched as Harry and Jack were released from the manacles, which freed them from the firm grip of the magnet. “Okay, I’ve an idea. I’ll knock this lot out then go down again and tell the Captain a convincing story about how they’ve been contaminated. I’ll alert the others too. Maybe we can pull this off.” He produced a vial. “If we don’t we’ll hang for it.”
Leonard shrugged. “Let them. Without your patching them up and keeping the workers alive, and without me keeping the machines running, it won’t be long before they have no electricity, no water supply and no air circulation. I’ve dreamed of finding out how this stuff works for far too long to let them smash it up now.”
As Leonard spoke, Boris the doctor was busy dumping a measure of the contents of his vial into each of the Enforcers’ breathing packs. The four men stopped moving within seconds of receiving the dose. “Not the best way to administer this,” he said as he recapped the vial, taking care not to inhale the fumes himself. “I�
�ve probably hit them with enough to sleep for several hours, and when they wake up, they won’t be able to string a sentence together for a few more.” He pocketed the vial. “I normally administer very small doses, but even then, the patient goes into a state of euphoria. A dose like this will probably give them hallucinations for a week.”
Jack Proctor had by now removed the fetters from Mike as well. “I’ve a suggestion, sir.” He held up the manacles. “Let’s give them a taste of their own medicine.”
“Good idea, Warrant. But let’s get them out of that armour first.” He turned to Leonard. “Is there somewhere we can use to secure them in case anyone comes looking for them?”
Ten minutes later the Enforcers were confined in a small chamber at the rear of the main workshop. Stripped of their armour and secured with the manacles they had used on Harry and his men, they were not going to be a problem anytime soon.
“Their disappearance will be noticed, and then there will be trouble,” Leonard advised. “Help me hide that communicator device, or Captain and his thugs will order it destroyed.”
“Warrant, see to it. Where do you want it, Mr. Leonard?”
“I’ll show you.” The man smiled. “My name is Leonard, or just Leo to my friends. Mister is reserved only for the council families.” He led the way and moved a large machine aside—to Harry’s interested eyes, it pivoted once the securing bolts from the other three corners had been withdrawn—to reveal a concealed chamber below. “My great grandfather created this after the first mutiny. Thought it might be useful to have a workshop none of the Enforcers or the Council knew about.”
A ladder allowed access, and it took a little effort to lower the coms unit to the floor below, but it took no time at all to connect it to a power source.
“Give me ten minutes, sir. I’ll program the unit to broadcast a distress call as soon as it detects any ship transmissions nearby.”
Harry nodded. “Very well, but perhaps set it to broadcast a short message on the hour every hour, then to transmit a homing signal as soon as someone responds. Can you do that?”
“I’ll need longer, sir, but yes, I can do it.”
“Then carry on, Mr. Proctor.” Harry turned to the mechanist. “Now, Leo, sir, the Captain mentioned some artefact kept in the Observatory. Is this it?”
Leonard smiled. “No, Commander. They don’t know about this one, and if anyone ever did, they’ve forgotten about it by now. The one in the Observatory is much bigger.”
“Can we see it, please?” Harry asked. “If, as I suspect, you are the descendants of some early colony ships sent out in the days before hyperspace travel, this artefact may contain information which, had it been available before this, might have led to a more equitable society here. At the very least it may tell us where you originate and when.”
“This way, then.” Leo indicated a door on the far side of the workshop. “No one ever goes up there anymore.” He laughed. “We had a telescope there once, but a previous Captain had it dismantled. He thought the study of the stars was a waste of time, and decided the lenses would be better used in a weapon—which never worked properly, no surprise there.”
“Why not?”
“The light source was too weak, but at least it made a good illuminating device that allowed us to see the enemy in the dark.” He paused. “A pity they destroyed it in the process. We haven’t been able to grind glass to the sort of finish it needs to make a replacement.” His expression betrayed the weariness he felt on a regular basis as he coped with the ignorance among the leaders. “The artefact is this way,” he said, as he led them into a cavernous dome that housed the skeleton of a massive telescope.
“Good news at last, James.” Grand Admiral MacQuillie’s hologram steadied. “The coup attempts have failed. There’s still some unrest in places, and a number of people who considered themselves untouchable by their national governments are under arrest.” The Commander-in-Chief paused. “The trials will prove very interesting.”
“I expect so, sir.” Admiral Heron hesitated. “Have they managed to identify and arrest everyone involved?”
“Most but not all. Some very powerful and extremely wealthy people are implicated, which means we’re dealing with a lot of political manoeuvring and challenges to its authenticity.”
James nodded, his anger building. “Of course they’d try that one. Next they’ll spread the word the whole thing is a fake … yes, I know the system. Will they succeed in getting away with it, sir?”
“Not if anyone can help it, James. A tribunal of some of the world’s top legal experts will go through every argument with a fine-toothed comb. I doubt anyone will succeed in discrediting them. Of more concern is the view by Fleet Security that the list includes at least some of the Pantheon—which gives them an interest in assassinating or negating the prosecutors and the people who authenticated the list.”
“Then we had best make sure we deal with them first.”
“Correct. Hans Grünberg is on the task. Now, any trace yet of that uncle-nephew of yours? Hans says the Pantheon have a contract on him.”
“Nothing yet, sir, but Lieutenant Commander O’Connor and his squadron are narrowing the field as we speak, and they’ll take him to a secure area.”
“Good, that leaves us just the task of dealing with the Pantheon and their Charonian allies.”
“This is amazing, sir. It’s the central core unit of the Mark V Ship Management system.” Mike Dorfling walked round the octagonal steel and aluminium structure. Standing around twelve feet in height, it was a full three feet on each of the eight sides. “They must have stripped it out of the ship when they got here, but why didn’t they take the subsidiary units as well?” He set to work opening a panel. “As I thought, sir. Whoever brought this here intended to get the rest of it, and powered this unit down to preserve it.” He flicked a switch. “There’s still a little power left.” He emerged from the opening. “If we can get some power in here, I can get this up and running.”
Leonard was looking astonished, and not a little frightened. “The artefact is off limits to everyone. No one is allowed to touch it. It is said that opening it will result in us all dying of some sort of strange poisoning.”
Harry laughed. “I should think that is because someone, at some time, discovered what it could tell people—and wasn’t going to allow them to hear it.” He paused. “How long have your tribe had control of all this?” Harry’s gesture took in the entire site and the artefact.
Leonard considered. “A long time, certainly five or six generations.”
Harry tapped a plate on the inside of the panel the TechRate had removed. “This plate says that this is the ship management system from a ship called the Centaur II. It says she was launched on her quest in 2083, which means, unless I miss my guess, she cannot have travelled more than a few light years to reach this place.” He paused, frowning. “That must mean that your people arrived here a little over a hundred years ago.” He had another thought. “How old are you?” His private estimate was that their guide was probably well over fifty years of age. “On Earth there are considered to be three or four generations to a century, yet you speak of seven or eight in that period.”
The mechanist looked surprised. “I’m not sure of my age in your measurements. We measure our lives in cycles of the suns, and I’m in my twentieth. A long lifespan is considered thirty cycles.” He shrugged. “We age very quickly. Medico says it was different once, and we had a much longer lifespan.”
Harry digested the information. If he guessed correctly, a cycle must be close to an Earth year, which meant these people were ageing at around twice the normal rate.
“How long is a cycle?” Harry asked.
“Since this planet has no satellites, and the seasons are regulated by the suns, the ancestors had to do something else, so there is a device in the Command House cellar that measures the length of the days and the cycles. Everyone’s birth is recorded aga
inst it.”
Harry made a mental note to see this instrument when there was an opportunity. He asked, “How many of you are in this place?”
“We’re about four hundred officers, specialists and crewmen, perhaps two hundred more prisoners from the other tribes. They’re used mainly in the mine or to feed the furnaces that provide steam to power everything.” He frowned. “There used to be a few thousand of us, but birthrates have been falling for a long time. Medico says it’s to do with inbreeding and the radiation we get from the suns.” His frown deepened. “And if the Hunters are to be believed, there are very few Enviros or Mutineers in the desert. The band that attacked them when they brought you back must have been desperate. They lost most of their people.”
Harry gave this some thought. “How long is a day here? On Earth it is twenty-four hours, but other planets have twenty-seven, twenty or other variations. Your days seem much shorter.”
Leonard frowned. “If your hours are the same as ours, then our day is about two-thirds of yours, with two hundred days in a cycle. We’re in the hot season now, with both suns visible. It is cooler when one passes behind the other—that’s when we finally get some relief from the relentless heat.” He grinned. “There’s some water on the surface then—and some of the plants even have colours.”
The hissing sound of depressurised air followed by the whir of fans interrupted them, and a mechanical voice said, “Centaur II on standby. Function is lost to all systems except core memory. Repair and maintenance is required to restore functions.”
Mike Dorfling emerged beaming from ear to ear. “They really built these units to last, sir. Shall I see if I can get it to tell us anything?”
Harry felt stunned for a moment. After being isolated from a computer network for so long, he was almost overwhelmed by the streams of code that filled his head.
Mike looked at him and said, “What is it, sir? Are you alright?
“Ship shape, Mr. Dorfling. Merely adjusting to the streams of code filling my brain once again. I’ll have to learn how this one operates so I can communicate with it.”
Harry Heron: Hope Transcends Page 17
