Awakening Threat

by Patrick G Cox

  “For that, at least, I must be thankful, then.” The persistent beep of an alarm finally penetrated his thoughts. “What is that?”

  “The monitors on your MedUnit have registered that your system is in distress.”

  “Harry? Can you hear me? What is wrong, old man?” Rubin moved into Harry’s view.

  “I think I had a nightmare, Rubin.” Harry paused. “I’m sorry if I have dragged you out of your berth with my bad dream.”

  “Must have been one hell of a dream, Harry. Your heart rate is raised, your adrenaline levels are way up, and as for all the stress markers …” Rubin paused. “Look, I’ll have to give you something to calm everything down. Try to relax, and then we better hear what you dreamed.”

  Niamh activated the holo-screen a few minutes before the nightly newscast to give herself time to pour a cup of tea and settle into a corner of the sofa. She tucked her feet under her and increased the volume when the news anchor began the broadcast.

  “The League for the Protection of Sentient Life has announced the departure of their Peace Fleet today. It goes forth in the face of opposition from several world governments, and will carry its message of peace to the Niburu. A spokesman for the League said this was intended to be a declaration of the majority opinion that this war was unnecessary. It was provoked by the irresponsible actions of certain Fleet officers and fuelled by misrepresentations and misunderstandings.” The view changed to show a motley collection of ships entering transit, including at least one small passenger liner. “The League hopes that the Fleet and its allies will heed the will of the people and refrain from intervening while they win the confidence and trust of the Niburu.”

  “Damned fools,” Niamh muttered. She shifted position on the sofa and moved to close out the screen when she heard a familiar name mentioned in the next report.

  “In other news, just in, the chairman of Barcor, and one-time director of security for the Consortium, has died. Mr. Sean Barclay was a key player for the Consortium during the late war, but resigned his post to take charge of the family corporation. A subsidiary of Barcor, IP Investments, is a major financial supporter of the League for the Protection of Sentient Life, and the now discredited Dr. Stolt received much of his research funding from trusts managed by IP Investments and Barcor. In a statement by a spokesperson for Barcor, it is reported that a nephew of the late chairman has taken control of the company. He has declared his intention of reviewing and curtailing certain research activities as a matter of priority. Mr. Eon Barclay is reported to be opposed to further funding of the LPSL, and favours a different approach to that of his late uncle. The chairman of the Consortium, Hr. Dieter Bokelmann, conveyed the Board’s condolences to the family and offered support to the new chairman in his efforts to deal with the tragedy. The death is believed to have been the result of a major heart attack.”

  Niamh leaned back in her chair, her mind in a whirl. So this is what Theo hinted at. The Barclays are still up to their old tricks. She sat up straighter when a new thought registered. She remembered how persistently Eon Barclay stalked and tormented Harry during their tenure at Fleet College, but despite such wretched behaviour, Harry saved Eon’s life during the war between the Canids and the Consortium on the planet Lycania.

  She’d have to talk to Theo about this, the sooner the better.

  Chapter 24

  Transfer

  Harry felt drained. He was exhausted, but at least he was out of the med unit and reclining in a hospital bed. His throat—and certain other parts of him—was still tender, and his voice was a hoarse croak due to the various tubes and inserts used to keep him alive and fit. At least he was now able to speak, to move and to walk. He turned his head and was pleased to see Roberta Klonowski awake in the next bed.

  “I feel as if I’ve been twenty rounds in a bare knuckle bout with a champion,” he croaked. “How are you?”

  Roberta made two attempts to get her voice above a rasp. “The same, I think.” She smiled weakly. “But I can move again. Where is Anton?”

  “I think he’s still in a med-unit. He did not cope well with the situation.”

  “I got pretty damned desperate myself.” Roberta stared at the bulkhead.

  “As did we all, Roberta. I was not much better, even with being able to talk to the ship without the caps you wore.”

  The door slid back and James Heron walked in, his smile lighting up his face. “Now that’s a sight I’ve waited far too long to see. Harry, next time you decide to take on an enemy, let me know first. I’ll make sure I leave the galaxy. Niamh has been giving me hell.” Hearing Roberta emit a little croak of laughter, James acknowledged her with a smile. “Glad to see you’re doing better, too, Roberta. We need all the intelligent scientists we can get, and you’re one of our best.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Roberta said, and Harry smiled. “She is that. As to how I’m doing, don’t tell Aunt Niamh that the next time I encounter one of these creatures, I am likely to live up to the League’s image of me. I do not intend to endure this helplessness again.”

  Admiral Heron smiled. “I’m glad to hear it.” To Roberta, he added, “Dr. Klonowski, I hope your recovery is as swift as the surgeons think is likely.”

  “So do I, Admiral, but another day or two in these surroundings wouldn’t go amiss the way I’m feeling at the moment.”

  An attractive nurse passed through the room and Harry practically lit up when she glanced at him with a smile.“ The Admiral chuckled inwardly, especially considering the reason he was visiting Harry that day. “Before I forget, a certain Irish lass has been abusing signal traffic—and the carriage rules.” He handed a thick package to Harry. “I expect you’ll want to read these. We’ve also been swamped with messages of support from your fans and admirers, offers of marriage, offers to nurse you, and other favours I won’t mention.” He paused, a smile hovering on his lips, his eyes sparkling. “I took the liberty of asking Adriana to politely refuse them. I felt it wasn’t fair to your fellow sufferers. Besides, Mary wouldn’t approve.”

  Harry blushed crimson, and Roberta laughed. “Serves you right, Harry. It was self-inflicted, Admiral. He could have thrown the dear Palmer to the Niburu and run for it, but of course he didn’t.”

  Len Myers joined them. “True, but without his sacrifice and yours, we probably wouldn’t have cracked this so quickly. The good news is the serum that Martin and his team have developed is now being reproduced. It will be distributed to all the colonies and the medical facilities throughout the Fleet.” Len Myers smiled at them both. “You were magnificent patients, you know. But you didn’t have a choice, I suppose.” He hesitated. “Thanks to you, though, we’ve got the means to deal with this infection.”

  “Yes, well said, Len,” said the Admiral. “And I’m glad you didn’t feed Greg Palmer to the Niburu – his work on the Siddhiche messages has been invaluable in getting the antidote – but don’t tell him I said so! Roberta, you’ll be joining your team on Beagle, and so will you, Harry, but only for a passage to Copernicus 4.” He paused, his eyes giving away his pleasure. “I’m transferring you and several other officers from her to the 36th Corvette Flotilla. The latest batch of corvettes is completing there. Once you’ve worked them up, you’ll join the Prinz van Oranien as a part of her group.”

  That’s Ferghal’s ship! Harry thought, but he merely looked pleased at the news.

  Len stepped forward. “They’re still my patients for now, however, and by the look of them, they need some rest or we’ll have to put them back in the med-units.”

  “I take the hint, Surgeon Rear Admiral.” James Heron sketched a salute. “You’re right, of course.” He winked at Harry. “I’m only the Fleet Commander, so I’ll have to wait for you to be returned to my command, Lieutenant.” He patted Harry’s shoulder. “You’ve earned a break. I’ll see you once Surgeon Admiral Bligh here lets you out of bed.”

  It felt good to be back aboard the Beagle. The ship welcomed him with what Harry felt was
genuine warmth. Three weeks of intense rehabilitation therapy, plus the Lacertian gene spliced into his DNA by the Johnstone researchers on Pangaea, had him back to fighting fitness. Roberta and Anton faced at least another week before they could return to full duties. Anton’s case was complicated by his adamant refusal to return to Dr. Palmer’s team, which meant the Fleet had to find a suitable assignment for him.

  “Welcome back, Harry,” said the Beagle. “It’s good to know you are fully recovered. Aesculapius was surprised that you understood how to work with us so well, and now he misses your company.”

  “Thank you. He was a bit aloof at first.” Harry smiled at the memory. “But we got to know each other better.”

  “Your friends are in the wardroom. We are leaving for Copernicus 4 as soon as our escort signals that it’s ready.”

  “Thanks, I’ll join them later. I think I’ll see the Commander first.”

  “Harry, good to see you. I’m glad you’re back. You’ve received your new orders?”

  “Yes, sir. The Admiral briefed me himself.” Harry hesitated. “I should congratulate you, sir. I understand you are to be Senior Flotilla Leader.”

  “Yes. I’ll have the 36th and 37th Flotillas under my command.”

  He reached across the desk to shake Harry’s hand.

  “Congratulations to you as well, lad. You’ll have 847. She’s one of the new batch—a bit cramped, I’m told, because she’s got a lot of new weaponry tucked into her, but she’ll be yours to command.”

  Harry beamed. “Yes, sir. I’ve been looking up her specifications. I think I shall enjoy this posting immensely.”

  The Commander nodded. “We have quite a challenge ahead of us. These corvettes were originally intended as short haul escorts and planetary defence—then someone realised they were ideal for close combat delivery of some hefty weaponry. Working up is going to be interesting for us all, I think.”

  “A good challenge, sir. These last weeks have been trying. I have no desire to repeat that experience, but I hope this new post will give us an opportunity to repay the discomforts we and others have suffered and are suffering.”

  “I think you can count on that, Harry.” The Commander paused. “Dr. Palmer and some of his supporters are still aboard and will remain. They don’t seem to have changed their views a great deal. Take care how you deal with them. The hysteria back home is being manipulated by the League and one or two others who see an opportunity to run their own agendas. Let the politicians deal with them.”

  Harry couldn’t help himself. He laughed. “Oh, fear not, sir, I shall be as pleasant to him as possible. My aunt has told me what she and her charities are planning. I don’t think I’d wish to be a supporter of the LPSL once they get going.”

  The Commander grinned. “Good. Now, we’ve set up a planning room in the conference space. I’ll have you, Korinna, Kallie, two of the engineering people, six warrant officers and twelve of the TechRates transferring with me. The owner has decided to relieve us all, as far as possible, so we can begin the process of preparing for our new commands and roles. We’ll kick off at o-nine-hundred ship time tomorrow.” He handed Harry a tablet. “It’s damned good to see you back on your feet and back aboard with us, Harry. It’s an omen, I think.”

  Harry’s cabin was exactly as he had left it; even his last, unfinished letter remained exactly as he had placed it, tucked into his writing folder. He looked up as his big Canid friend filled the doorway.

  “Hello, Regidur, good to see you. Is all well with you?”

  “Better, now you are returned, Leader.” The Canid made a gesture. “Your opponent remains a fool. When will you assert your station over him?”

  Harry had to think about the meaning of this question. He blinked and smiled. “In my way and in my own time. That is my way.”

  “You have been assigned your own command. I wish to accompany you. Sci’antha wishes this as well.”

  “I’m flattered, Regidur, but that is a decision for the Admiral. Have you made this request to his staff?”

  “Your ways are strange, Leader. Advise me how this is done.”

  “It is not difficult, my friend. Request an interview with the Commander and tell him what you’d like to do.” He smiled. “I’m sure he will support your request and take it to the Captain who will ask the Admiral.” He smiled. “You can see why we call this the chain of command! I don’t think he will refuse you, though. Sci’antha’s people have made such requests before.”

  “Then I go to the Commander.”

  “If you wish, I will accompany you. I could add my request to yours.”

  The Canid let out a literal bark of laughter. “I thank you, but I have faced more ferocious opponents.”

  Harry had not been exactly idle during his enforced incarceration. He’d explored a number of things, even finding a way to follow what was being said about him on the news channels. His initial fury had given way to a cold, calculated desire to obtain redress. When he’d stumbled across a serious study of psychological warfare by a Chinese authority, it gave him an idea. He kept to himself the fact that he’d found a way to insert some subliminal messages into anything in which the LPSL was mentioned on the news channels. It had taken a lot of cajoling of the ship and the Provider on Lycania to achieve this, but it was done, and it seemed to be having an effect. The LPSL’s support appeared to be slipping at last.

  The briefing with the Commander had taken all morning. He’d then spent the afternoon going over the crew lists with his new Coxswain, recently advanced Chief Master Warrant Willi Mann, his pilot on the visit to the Niburu ship. Then he’d spent some time going over the command specification and weapons fit. Now, having had his dinner, he sought a little relaxation in the lounge adjoining the wardroom.

  The strident tones of Dr. Palmer alerted him to the scientist’s approach. Conversations stilled as all eyes turned to where Harry sat apparently engrossed in a book. Conscious of the tension in the room, he smiled to himself and reached for his glass. He carefully took a sip just as the man entered the room. With his back to the door, Harry couldn’t see the other’s expression, but he judged, from Palmer’s tone of voice, that he had not been noticed. He grinned and returned to his book. The only vacant seats were adjacent to his.

  He looked up and smiled as the doctor sat heavily, still talking to his companion. “Good evening, Doctor. I was hoping to see you. You’ll be delighted to know that both Roberta and Anton should be joining us again soon. They need a little longer to recover, not having the benefit of the Lacertian gene I supposedly enjoy.”

  For a moment, Palmer was speechless. He swallowed and his mouth opened and shut. “Oh. Lieutenant. I didn’t expect to see you again. I mean…”

  “I’m quite resilient apparently, or so the surgeon tells me.” Harry smiled and raised his glass. “Can I get you a drink? I was about to replenish my own.” He signalled a steward. “I’ll have a refill of the mixed fruit, please. Put the doctor’s drink on my account as well. I believe you enjoy a whisky at this hour, Doctor. Your usual?”

  “Er, yes. Yes, thank you. Very kind of you.” He regarded Harry suspiciously. “You’re fully recovered?”

  “So the medics tell me.” Harry waited while their drinks were placed on the low table. “I am glad we have this opportunity to meet. My enforced inactivity gave me plenty of time to study several most interesting papers.” He sipped his drink. “Two written by you and some of your colleagues, and one by a Doctor Stolt. They were all fascinating, the latter especially so as it had a personal interest. I’ve not, to my knowledge, met the author, but he appears to have made a detailed study of me.” He smiled. “I found myself utterly amazed at how poorly I understood myself.”

  “Yes, well, of course, he’s an acknowledged expert in his field.” Palmer shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “He’s made a number of important studies of historical figures by analysing the influences on their psyche and the reasons they adopted certain behavioural patterns.” />
  Harry nodded, still smiling. “So I learned. Quite remarkably, he even seems to have been able to discern that my unhappy relationship with my father drove me to sea.” He sipped again. “I fear my dear papa would be surprised to learn that.”

  Missing the irony completely, Dr. Palmer relaxed. So Heron acknowledged the truth at last. “It must have been a very difficult decision.”

  “Oh, on the contrary, the difficult part was persuading him I had no desire to enter the army, the law, or the church, the traditional family careers for a younger son.” Harry laughed. “My poor mama was convinced I would be the victim of shipwreck or scurvy if I did not meet a violent death at the hands of mutineers.” He paused. “She could not have imagined what befell us in the end. It was completely beyond our understanding.”

  “Quite.” Dr. Palmer seemed unable to work out what Harry was leading toward.

  “But enough of me. Obviously, I shall have to sort myself out and remedy the deficiencies in my character. I really found your paper on the Canid society fascinating.” Harry regarded his companion with a studied look of false admiration. “Clearly my eighteen months among them gave me not one tenth of the understanding you display in your paper.”

  Around the room, the conversations lagged as Palmer responded. “Well, the study of alien civilisations is a very complex matter. We studied a wide range of recordings recovered from the Consortium base there, of course. The most valuable records were the reams of research done by their archaeologists and the xenobiological teams who studied their nomadic lifestyles. It took many months of work and analysis.”

  “I should think so. I shared the paper with Regidur, as I felt sure he would find it interesting to see how you perceived his people and society. He found it fascinating and wondered which of the packs had hosted your researchers during their stay.” He turned to look Palmer directly in the eye. “How long were you or your team there, sir?”

  “There? You mean on Lycania?” Palmer waved a hand dismissively. “We weren’t. There was more than enough field record and observational material on hand to assess a rather primitive society. It would have been worthwhile, but we knew that the Canids hadn’t been in prolonged contact with the Consortium’s people, and then, of course, you did such fine work among them. Your skills and the knowledge you brought to them completely changed their society, I shouldn’t wonder.”