Harry Heron: Hope Transcends

by Patrick G Cox

  The Canid studied him with a quizzical expression. The Lacertian spoke first. “Sword Wielder, the Sersan sends her greeting and thanks. You have earned my people’s respect—again.”

  “My Council have commanded me to tell you that they make you Leader of the Packs.” Regidur made the gesture of respect and lowered his head. “May I be the first to place my Pack under your command, Leader.”

  “Pity about Ms Willingford-Smythe. I gather she stood no chance at all against Lieutenant-Commander O’Connor.” The Council Chairman grimaced. “For the best, I suppose. Her parents are decent people. A top family, patrons of a number of charities, and her exposure as a murderous assassin has broken them.”

  James Heron hesitated. How typical, now the danger appeared to have passed, the politicians were already rehabilitating themselves and those at the heart of the entire affair. As ever, they were closing ranks, defending their own and putting out the word that it was all the work of a few rogue elements, now safely dead or facing trial. The fact that Catherine/Kali’s parents could feign such innocence, even though they had been funding her ‘hobby,’ was utterly astounding to him. No thought at all for the millions killed, maimed, displaced and dispossessed by their entitled little aberration.

  “She was a murderer, Chairman, armed and threatening to kill a helpless man. The Lieutenant-Commander has a rather direct approach to such threats. We must keep in mind that he grew up and received his early battle training in the late 1700s.”

  “Quite, quite. From what I’ve heard, though, he’s a man of extremely violent behaviour.” The politician shifted uncomfortably. “Witnesses are saying he showed no mercy as he led the attack to free the hostages, and several prominent psychiatric experts agree that his ruthless behaviour—”

  The Admiral’s patience snapped. “Yes, I’ve heard their opinion. Damned fools the lot of them, and, in case you’ve forgotten, all in the pay of various organisations that have been deeply involved in this latest unpleasantness, as you call it, or in the previous one. I believe my brother-in-law is preparing libel actions against three of them, and complaints of professional misconduct have been laid against several more. No, I give them and their supporters no credence at all.”

  “Even so—”

  “Lieutenant-Commander O’Connor acted as he saw necessary. None of these witnesses and so-called experts know him, have worked with him, or have ever talked to him. Their opinion is not worth a damned thing.” His face reddened with suppressed anger. “As for those in the LPSL demanding he be tried for murder—I plan to deal with them myself, unless the Board acts against them on behalf of the Fleet.”

  The Chairman looked shocked. “Admiral, I object to that wholeheartedly!”

  “I expect you do, Chairman. However, let me make myself absolutely clear. During the last several years, and at least the last three major conflicts, my people—the men and women who man our ships, do the fighting, and give their lives to protect you and the scum that infest our media—have been maligned, hounded and sacrificed to the political, commercial and ideological interests of a small group of people of dubious intent. The LPSL is a festering wound, a refuge for every malcontent and misguided idiot on the planet. It is time it was exposed as the fraudulent front it is for the men of power and money who use it to manipulate public opinion and policy to their advantage. The yacht belonging to Al-Khalifa has a second AI, and the information it contains is nothing less than revelatory. It confirms everything our Security people got from the Harmony Voyager.”

  “Ah.” The Chairman’s bluff and bluster seemed to deflate. “That will create some difficulties, of course, and a great deal of distress for a number of people.”

  “I think it will have a lasting impact on all human society, Chairman, not just on the ones revealed in the files.”

  Harry’s eyes flickered open. For several seconds he struggled to work out where he was, then a familiar face swam into focus.

  “Keiron?” he croaked. “I made a real mess of it, didn’t I? Have I caused you a great deal of trouble? What happened to the others? Ferghal? Danny?”

  “Easy, old man. You gave us one hell of a scare.” Keiron grinned. “Do me a favour—next time I’m posted to look after you, remind me to resign my commission immediately! I never want to have to face your uncle-nephew-admiral for letting you get shot up again!”

  Despite the difficulty he was having breathing, and the pain that wracked his entire body, Harry grinned. “He hauled you over the coals?”

  “No, worse. He listened to my report, then he complimented me on the operation on the Charonian ship and on securing the Hobhouse. He never even hinted that he thought I’d balled it all up letting you go aboard that damned ship.”

  Harry chuckled and ended up coughing. “I know exactly what you mean,” he gasped. “Where’s Ferghal?”

  “Asleep. Ferghal, me and Danny have been taking it in turns to sit with you.” Keiron smiled. “I doubt there’s any head of state getting the protection and care you’re enjoying, Harry.” He moved aside to let the Surgeon-Commander take his place. “Now do us all a favour and recover quickly!”

  Chapter 36

  Recovery

  _________________________

  A shadow falling across his open book brought Harry out of his reverie. Glancing round to find the cause, he stared in surprise then broke into a wide smile of pleasure.

  “Mary! And Aunt Niamh, by all that’s wonderful. When did you arrive? How did you get here?”

  The two women laughed. “So many questions, Commander Heron.” Mary leaned down to kiss him before he could struggle off the recliner. “We arrived this morning on the Regina Coeli, and I’ll be accompanying you back to Earth.” She made space for Niamh to embrace him, and pulled two chairs close to the recliner.

  “No, Harry, don’t try to get up.” Niamh was stern. “I’ve had a long talk with your senior surgeon, and he tells me you’re healing very rapidly, but still need a long recuperation with lots of rest.”

  “I’ll confess that I am impatient with the restrictions they place on my moving about, but I must obey if I am to recover fully.”

  “Certainly, but in time, and slowly, Harry. The wound was a dangerous one, and you almost lost a lung. The Surgeon-Captain is convinced it is only the Lacertian genes that saved you, and that made the regenerative work possible.”

  Mary seated herself on the other side of the recliner and took his hand in hers. “No arguments, Commander. The Admiral himself has instructed us to see that you don’t strain yourself, that you obey the medical instructions—and that I get you home and in shape for our wedding.” She held his amused gaze. “And I intend to do just that. You aren’t going to wriggle out of marriage so easily, you know, not even in this day and age.”

  With a laugh, Harry relaxed. “Wriggle out of marriage? Nothing could be further from my mind, my darling Mary. Not even the Pantheon could keep me from fulfilling that ambition.”

  “Well, the first priority is to get you fit and able to take part. Have you been following the news?”

  “Only since they let me out of the med-unit three days ago, though, of course, I have seen various things through the network here.” Sipping a glass of water, he frowned. “I have seen the debates about the new constitution and the new democratic arrangements, and the reorganisation of the bureaucracies. Theo seems to have been busy.”

  Niamh laughed. “Very. He is seeing it through, and when this is all over, he will resume his practice.” Changing the subject, she said, “Have you seen any of the news reports about Ferghal?”

  “Not a great deal.” His brows drew together. “Most of what I’ve heard is complete rubbish.”

  “As you say.” Niamh sounded relieved but anxious. “He is being charged with killing that woman. In consultation with the Fleet, we’ve decided the only way to stop it is to put it in front of a court.” She checked Harry’s response with a firm hand on his shoulder. “I am his
Defence Barrister, and believe me we have a defence that will be unshakeable.” Her own anger showed in her expression. “I can’t wait to get some of the so-called experts on the stand.”

  “But it’s outrageous that he has to defend himself at all!”

  Mary wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “I agree, my dearest. So do most people who know Ferghal. Trust Niamh, the Admiral, and the Advocate Admiral’s people. Ferghal will be fine—his defence is in the hands of some of the best legal minds in our society.”

  Niamh smiled, but it was a particular smile that Theo, the Admiral and Niamh’s closest friends recognised as one that arose from absolute certainty of trouncing the competition. Harry caught a glimpse of it and recognised it.

  “As I said, Harry, leave it to me. Things will be exposed that those pressing this ridiculous claim will wish they had never disturbed. I have a few nasty surprises in store.” Standing, she smiled again, and the slightly scatty-maiden aunt expression was back. “Now, I have to attend to some business, so I will leave you with Mary.” Kissing his cheek, she straightened and gathered her things together. “I need to meet with Ferghal now, but I’ll see you again this evening.”

  “We’ve gone through all the information and recordings of the failure of the Charonian ship’s AI, Commander, and we think we’ve discovered what happened.” Leaning back the Rear-Admiral smiled. “There are one or two aspects I’d like you to explain first though.”

  “Certainly, sir, if I can.” Harry still felt a little guilt at having corrupted the mothership’s network to the point that it killed almost every living creature aboard it. “My intention was to cause them some difficulty, not to bring about a complete failure.”

  The Admiral acknowledged this with a slight nod. “We appreciate that, and, as it happens, your interventions were no more than a minor problem for their system. No, the real problem was your subconscious. That’s what caused the complete corruption, not your instructions.”

  “My subconscious? I don’t think I understand you, sir.”

  “I don’t think we’ve got a complete idea yet either.” The Admiral stared at his tablet for inspiration. “I think the best way to describe it is in purely computing terms.” He stood and displayed a schematic on the viewscreen. “As you know, the ships’ AI systems use some very complex algorithms to think and learn. They think in purely logical processes, but our brains are a little different in the way we process material, recall data and so on. The latest versions of AI are closer to us than the early ones, but they still don’t quite perceive things as we do.” He paused, smiling. “As you can see the inner workings of our AIs, I’m sure you already know most of this.”

  “Indeed, sir.”

  “So you’ll know that a large part of what the AI is actually doing is fairly basic stuff: running essential systems, monitoring drives, maintaining equilibrium and so on. Most of it could be handled by simple single-purpose and function units. We let the AI run these programs since that allows it to keep all the vital functions in order and to take steps to correct any fault, such as in battle when the ship is damaged.”

  Frowning, Harry acknowledged this. This was all well known to him; after all, even now, sat in the Admiral’s office, he was connected to the AI running these headquarters and could hear it managing, and in some instances bullying its subsystems. He knew that the AIs saw him as a sort of mobile extension, not entirely unlike the serving androids that carried out all the cleaning, serving and other menial tasks around them.

  “Okay, good,” said the Admiral. “I figured you were well-versed in all this. Now, the neurological researchers tell me that our brains are doing something similar when they run the functions—or rather oversee the functions—of every part of our body. We aren’t even aware this is happening, except, of course, when something malfunctions.”

  Light dawned for Harry. Slowly, an expression of amazement filled his face as he sat back in his chair. “Oh.” He shook his head. “Oh dear. So my—er—subroutines somehow got mixed into their network, and it tried to run them itself?”

  The Admiral laughed as he seated himself again. “In a nutshell, yes. We haven’t quite figured out why this doesn’t happen to our ships. It’s something we need to work on, as we need to know before it happens to us.”

  “Ferghal has been fully exonerated. All charges dismissed without reservation.” Mary’s excitement radiated as she rushed to greet Harry at the door. Flinging her arms around him she almost had them both on the floor. “Niamh demolished three of the experts. It was magnificent.”

  Harry had deliberately gone sailing since Niamh, Mary, Theo and the Admiral had forbidden his attending the court, and he was unable to watch it on the news channels because it made him so angry.

  “Good! I trust she has destroyed them utterly for the future as well.”

  “I think that is a very safe bet.” Mary laughed. “The first fellow looked sick and defeated by the time she’d finished, and the third lost his temper. Oh, you should have seen it. One of the prosecution’s key witnesses withdrew his testimony, and another changed his stance completely under cross-examination. That alone almost destroyed their case.”

  “By the sound of it, I’d probably have caused a riot and destroyed her performance.” Holding her close, Harry smiled. “You know how impatient I get with these so-called experts and their overblown opinions and theories about us.” Planting a kiss on her mouth, he lifted her in his arms and spun her around. “I missed you, you know. Seven whole days alone with nothing but my sailboat Extravagance is a long, long time. No news channels, no word of what was happening to Ferghal. I’d like to have been there to demand satisfaction from those blackguards.”

  Mary touched his lips with her finger. “That’s why we wouldn’t let you attend.” She grinned. “Let me finish.” They settled together into a comfortable corner of the sofa. “So, anyway, Niamh maintained her poise and confronted him with something he’d written that completely contradicted what he’d just told the court. When he blustered, she got him to contradict everything else he’d said.”

  Harry’s laugh lit up his face. “Oh, yes! What happened then?”

  “Then she put her own experts on the stand and they completed the job. Oh, it was magnificent. Even the judge, after the determination had been delivered, congratulated Ferghal on his bravery and his quick action in saving you.” She turned her face up toward him and planted a kiss on his mouth. “Now we can really begin to plan our wedding. Ferghal is cleared, Danny will be home soon on leave, and life is just perfect now that you are fully recovered, my dear.”

  A contented glow spread through his being as he accepted a cup of fresh tea from Herbert, the android butler. Mary was right, life could finally return to normal. They could get married, create their own home, perhaps have children. He was recalled to the present by Mary nudging him.

  “I’m sorry, darling, were you speaking to me?”

  Mary laughed. “Yes, but you were galaxies away, as usual. I asked whether you’d enjoyed your sail.”

  “Oh, yes, very much. Perfect weather, perfect breeze, and the sea was like glass.” He smiled. He wasn’t going to admit that he still wasn’t fully fit, and had found it very tiring and a little difficult at times to sail his beloved Extravagance, even with a hired crew. “It was good to be out on the water and to have the time to think.” He sipped his tea and placed the cup and saucer on the table then leaned back. “Yes, it was very good. Tiring, but good to be away from computers, AIs, news channels and all the other things happening around us.” He leaned down and wrapped Mary in a kiss that nearly took her breath away and held the promise of many more to come.

  Chapter 37

  Wedding Bells

  _________________________

  Harry sat in the ancient cathedral of the Holy and Indivisible Trinity, Downpatrick. Its quaint eighteenth century enclosed pews, built for the noble families that paid for the cathedral’s reconstruction, now held th
e guests for this long-delayed and much anticipated wedding. The magnificent organ, set on the screen at the western end, played quietly while the choir fidgeted in their gallery. Next to him, Ferghal, resplendent in his Fleet Dress uniform, fiddled with his service sheet. Beyond him, Danny, like Ferghal and Harry, in full dress uniform, listened critically to the organ.

  “You’ve the rings to hand?” Harry asked.

  “Aye, for the hundredth time!” Ferghal patted his pocket. “You can trust old Fergie to never let you down.” He grinned as he looked around at the packed congregation. “Now, if we were in our own time, the Lord Castlereagh or another would be for havin’ me thrown out, so he would.”

  “Perhaps, but he’d have me to reckon with first. And thankfully, those days are long gone.” Harry touched Ferghal’s arm. “I believe I’ve not said a proper thank you for your care of me these many months. It is a little late, my friend, but thank you.” He looked up as the organ fell silent. “Hallo, I think we are about to begin.” He caught sight of the Canid delegation and next to them a group of Lacertians, and suddenly the amusing side of Ferghal’s remark about the noble families who once populated the services here struck him, and a laugh escaped his lips.

  “What amuses you now?”

  “Look yonder, my friend. Were the noble Lord Castlereagh here now, he’d not be concerned about your presence!”

  It was fortunate that the organist launched into the wedding march Mary had chosen, “Tuba Tune” by John Stanley. The massive tuba and bombard stops covered Ferghal’s guffaw as they rumbled into life. Everyone rose to their feet and faced the door as Mary, radiant in an ivory chiffon and satin gown, stood beneath the organ and waited for the exact moment in the music to enter the church on the arm of her father.