The door slid open, and Harry did his best to make a show of self-assurance despite feeling overwhelmed by all the strangeness. His knees felt like water, but he gritted his teeth, determined not to show his uncertainty.
Entering the apartment, furnished as a sitting room, he noted that it—in common with all those he had passed—had no windows and no openings to the sea or sky. He swept off his hat as he’d been taught when he saw a tall man rise from his comfortable seat and walk forward. Harry’s eyes widened, first in surprise, then in suspicion and fear. What trickery was this?
“F-F-Father?” he faltered, staggering as he almost fainted. Commander Curran caught Harry just before he stumbled to the point of hitting the floor.
He was helped into a comfortable seat. Recovering quickly, he made to rise, but the doctor firmly prevented it. The man he had mistaken for his father stood beside the doctor, a worried frown on his face as he studied the youth.
Len Myers said, “I wondered if he might have this reaction. There is certainly a strong resemblance to you, sir. Let’s give him some room, or we’ll swamp him with our sheer weight of authority.” To Harry he added, “Take it easy, lad. Now, let me introduce our Captain. Captain Heron, may I present to you Midshipman Henry Nelson-Heron.” He paused, studying the Captain’s face. “Or, as I believe he prefers, Harry.”
Harry struggled to his feet, his face ashen as he brushed aside the surgeon commander. He bowed and said, “Sir, my apologies for my unseemly behaviour. I do not know what came over me, but for a moment I mistook you for my....” His voice trailed away as his voice quivered.
“No apologies necessary, Mr Heron.” The Captain smiled and indicated the chair. “Please sit down. I believe we are related, so there is no surprise that I might look so familiar to you, especially in these circumstances.” He waved a hand at the assembled officers. “My Heads of Department all wanted to be here when we met—I think in the hope that some secret would be revealed. Ghouls, the lot of them.” He glared in mock anger as they laughed.
“Thank you, sir.” Harry swallowed hard. This was beyond anything he could have imagined. Was this some unkind prank? Deciding to play out the role he thought he must, he asked, “May I know what your intentions are for my men and me?”
“Well, Mr Heron,” the Captain said, taking a seat next to Harry. “That is a little difficult and may take a while to work out. In the meantime, I will make you and your men officially members of this ship’s company, and we will do everything we can to help you adjust. Commander Petrocova over there—” Harry found himself facing the penetrating gaze of a striking woman “—is our Weapons Officer. She’s responsible for the midshipmen and cadets aboard, and until further notice, she will be your commander. We also have a scientific team on board, and they have a great deal they wish to discuss with you.”
He paused as one of the mechanical figures Harry had seen elsewhere passed round a tray of drinks, which Harry noted were in tall frosted glasses. Distractedly he accepted one, torn between politely thanking the machine and listening to the Captain. “I want you to work with them as much as possible, and, in a day or two, we will show you round and teach you about our ship and its operation.”
“Thank you, sir,” was all Harry could think to say, adding, “But Captain Blackwood will wish to know what became of us, sir—Ferghal, Danny and me—if he has survived the French ships’ attack. I have no idea what happened to the Spartan. I wish I understood how we landed here....”
“Very well said, Harry,” replied the Captain gently, using his visitor’s first name in an attempt to put him at ease. “I think I can put your mind at rest on that one. During the engagement, Spartan sank L’ Revolution and captured the Mistral. They also recaptured a ship called the Minerva of the Honourable East India Company, which the French had captured during the night. Spartan was badly damaged, but was—” He caught the eye of Surgeon Commander Myers and hastily corrected himself. “—is being repaired in—” He consulted something that looked like a slate to Harry’s eyes. “—Delagoa Bay.”
He turned to the others. “Now team, I would like a few minutes with Harry alone. Len, I’d be glad of your staying for a moment.”
“No worries, Boss.” Nick Gray grinned. “Fritz can frighten him later, and so can the rest of us. Can I have the power back online in my hangar please, Mary? I promise not to let anyone pull so much in future.”
The small engineering commander gave him a mock glare of consternation followed by a smile. “Only if you can tell me that bunch of lunatic scientists and Marines have finished playing with those guns and cartridge cases they found.”
“Und vy am I supposed to scare him?” growled an immaculately uniformed commander on the other side of him. “I haf no intention of this.” His grin and laughing eyes and wink to Harry belied his serious tone, and he deliberately put on a comically thick accent in a spot-on mimicry of his own whenever he was riled up and about to let fly with a string of German imprecations.
The group filed out, with Richard Grenville the last to leave and joining in the good-natured banter, which had, as it was intended, distracted Harry and given him the chance to relax in the Captain’s presence.
IN THE CORRIDOR, VALERIE PETROCOVA was the first to comment. “I think we will have some interesting things to learn from that young man.”
“Why do you say that?” enquired Nick. “He’s going to find it tough to adjust to our technology at his age.”
“I don’t think he’ll have much trouble,” mused Fritz. “He did not seem fazed by our presence, and the rank gap certainly isn’t what worries him. I think he will be interesting to watch—perhaps he will have trouble with the tech, but perhaps not. Young minds learn quickly.”
“Be interesting to see his reaction to space,” commented Mary. “That will be something he won’t expect. In a way,” she added reflectively, “I don’t envy him or his friends.”
“He may surprise us all,” commented Richard dryly. “His reaction to the Owner was certainly interesting. After that, I doubt much will surprise him. Now, have we still got any major defects from our little transit problem?”
The team laughed and gave him a negative answer, as he had expected, and scattered to their various departments.
NOW THAT HE WAS SAT WITH THE CAPTAIN and the surgeon commander, Harry found the Captain studying him. He made to speak, but the Captain waved him to silence, saying, “Please sit down, Harry. I have quite a bit to ask you and perhaps to tell you. Some of it may have to wait until we have more data.”
“Data, sir?” asked Harry, puzzled.
“Ah, of course, modern word,” said the Captain, half to himself. “I mean information, Harry. Another glass of juice?”
“Thank you, sir,” said Harry, his thirst telling him he should make the most of this. His stomach growled, and he remembered he’d not eaten for some time.
“Right.” The Captain watched as Harry accepted the glass from the mechanical steward and thanked it. He’d heard the growl of the boy’s stomach.
“When last did you eat?”
Harry smiled. “Some time ago, sir. We had ship’s biscuit before we cleared for action, and I do not know how long we have been here.”
“We’d better fix that then. Len, will you ask Adriana to order something?” He turned back to Harry. “It is very difficult to know where to begin. First, let me say that a very unusual occurrence has brought you and your companions here. As far as we know, it is not possible to return you to your ship, so we have to find a way to help you settle in.”
Harry nodded and said, “May I speak, sir?”
“Of course, Harry.” The Captain leaned back in his chair. “Is there something you want to ask?”
“Yes, sir,” replied Harry, his face betraying his alarm. He could hardly fathom the possibility of never returning to his ship. It took great effort to keep his voice steady. “Did I understand you correctly that we cannot return to the Spartan.
..?”
“I’m afraid not. It seems the event that brought you here cannot be repeated or reversed.” Seeing the boy’s eyes widen in alarm, the Captain added, “We can hardly wrap our minds around it either, Harry. Such an event has never occurred—at least not that any of us are aware. So, it seems that you and your men will have plenty of time to get to know us and how we sail this great ship.”
Frowning as he took in the weight of this information, Harry remembered something important. “Your name, sir—it is the same as mine, and your resemblance to my family is strong. May I ask, sir, are you also from Ulster?”
“As it happens, Harry, yes—I am from the same place as yourself, in fact.”
“Should I know you, sir? I know all my cousins and their families, but I do not think I have the pleasure of knowing yours.”
“Hardly to be wondered at, Harry.” Tapping the arm of his chair, the Captain hesitated, staring at the bulkhead, wondering how to explain. “It’s a long and perhaps difficult story to understand.” Glancing at Len, he continued. “We are blood relatives, Harry. From what we have been able to get from our records, you were born in 1789 on May twentieth in Downpatrick. I was born in what you know as Bangor in the year 2162 on October the second.”
Harry felt the blood drain from his face. He felt faint. “How can that be, sir? It is surely 1804. I am but recently turned sixteen, and must serve at least another eighteen months before I can hope to sit for a lieutenant’s examination.” Struggling to grasp the enormity of what he’d just been told, he said slowly, “By what you say, I must be some four hundred years your elder. That cannot be!”
“You haven’t actually aged four hundred years, Harry. It is as though you have leapt forward in time. We’re not sure how. We are attempting to work out what if anything can be done about it. In the meantime, you and your companions will be treated as members of my crew. We will give you duties and teach you all about the functions of this ship. You are, I think, an intelligent young man and a brave one.” Pausing, he laughed as he recalled Harry’s first sign of defensive action aboard the ship. “There certainly aren’t many men would attack a detail of Royals in full battle armour with a sword and a fire extinguisher.”
Colouring, Harry tried to make light of it. “I could not allow the French to take us without a fight, sir. I was not to know they were Bullocks, sir. They resemble no members of the Corps I’ve encountered.”
Nodding, the Captain smiled. “I should think not. Their equipment has changed quite a bit since your day, one of the many things you’ll have to learn. I shall expect you to help Danny and Ferghal adjust to this.” He held Harry’s gaze for a moment. “You are their officer, and I shall expect you to show them the way.” With a smile, he finished. “I hope to learn about the family from you. There’s a great deal I want to know, and who better to learn it from than my great-uncle twelve times removed?”
Harry nodded, still stunned by the revelation. “I shall do my best, sir.”
“Good, I can’t ask for more, Harry.” He changed the subject to lighten the mood. “Captain Wardman informs me that you were exceptionally helpful to him earlier today, and showed yourself to be both knowledgeable and capable in disarming the cannon that came with you when you arrived. Those guns could have caused serious damage to this ship. And the cartridge cases your powder monkey brought with him have enough explosive in them to do significant damage. Well done.” The Captain smiled.
“I was surprised that Captain Wardman did not know the procedures himself, sir,” Harry said in a quiet voice, hoping he didn’t sound disrespectful.
“The simplest explanation is that we no longer use cannon and gunpowder. We tear things apart with beams of supercharged particles and self-propelling projectiles. We have harnessed the power of the suns and can obliterate a small planet, but we can still be killed just as easily by a charged cannon simply because none of us ever learned how to load or fire one.” He smiled at the bewildered expression. “I can see I have confused you again. We will teach you how to use our machines. I’m sure you will learn rather quickly. I think you will find that interesting.”
“Yes, sir,” said Harry, his uncertainty showing. “Sir, you and all the others speak of us being on a ship, but it is like no ship I have ever seen or been aboard. I have observed no gun ports on its decks. I do not see any windows in your great cabin. Why do I feel no movement in the deck? Can you not look out upon the sea from inside this great ship?”
“We can look out, Harry. We have windows, or at least the impression of them.” He spoke to his link. “Vanguard, display mode, please.”
The whole of the bulkhead in front of them changed colour, apparently dissolving to become an opening. A black void with a small, and to Harry’s eyes, strange cylindrical object with great fins keeping pace with, and apparently keeping station on them, was the largest object in view. Several smaller objects beyond and ahead of it gave perspective and distance. All were wrapped in a strange phosphorescent glow, putting Harry in mind of the dolphins sporting in the bow wave of the Spartan in the Indian Ocean. He felt he was staring into a bottomless pit, almost as if it was trying to draw him in, and he had to fight down his instinct to draw back from it.
“There, that’s why I don’t bother keeping it in display mode while we’re in transit at this speed. There is nothing visible to our eyes except objects travelling at our own speed—like that ship, the Bellerophon, a name I think you may recognise.”
Harry studied the object and shook his head, noting that it resembled a great whale more than a ship. “I know the name, sir, but that cannot be the Billy,” he said with confidence. “I served on her and would know the old Billy Ruffian anywhere, and that,” he indicated the screen, “is most assuredly not she!”
He looked very surprised when the Captain and the surgeon burst into laughter.
To the ship, the Captain said, “Vanguard, cancel display mode.” He indicated the ship models behind Harry. “She’s a Bellerophon, alright, Harry, but unlike the ship you would recognise of that name.” He pointed to the model of the seventy-four-gun HMS Vanguard, then to the submarine. “She’s a starship like this one.”
Studying the models, Harry noted the progression of the ships’ designs from the full rigged seventy-four to the odd-looking ship with massive weapons in turrets, to the sleek tubular shape of what the Captain had called a submarine and to the present ship with four great fins. Suppressing his concern, he turned to face the Captain. “I see, sir. She is a very different ship indeed.”
Without realising it, Harry had passed a serious test in their eyes. The two officers exchanged glances, and Len nodded. They now felt certain that he would be able to make the adjustment fate had demanded of him.
Chapter 8
Old Manners, New Ship
A
t the entrance to the isolation lab, Harry paused at the sight of his companions, both now very smartly turned out. “Well, Ferghal, I see you are fully recovered, and already promoted. The Captain did not mention his appointing you to his gig crew, so I must surmise that this is in recognition of your talents.”
Ferghal grinned in response, rising and touching his forelock in salute. Held at his side was a wide brimmed straw hat with a broad black ribbon embroidered with the name Spartan in white. “Aye, Master Harry, they have done similar for you, I think—or should. If my Da’ could but see me now, he’d be bursting with pride, I’m thinking.”
“And so he should.” Grinning, Harry added, “You’ll make Admiral before we know it.”
“Please, sor,” Danny asked, knuckling his forehead in imitation of Ferghal, “be I in the Captain’s gig wit’ Ferghal?” Now dressed in probably the first new clothes of his life, he wore an identical outfit to Ferghal’s—loose white trousers and white stockings with black shoes on his feet, possibly the first pair he’d ever worn. Beneath their well-tailored navy blue jackets, they wore smock shirts with alternate white and blue horizontal
stripes and neatly tied loose black neck cloths. A hat identical to Ferghal’s lay on the console next to Danny.
“I know not, Danny.” Harry hid his smile. “If opportunity serves, I shall ask.” The thought of the small boy perched on a thwart and handling a long oar was something he could picture in his mind’s eye—and the consequences. Then he remembered the black void in the window. The captain of this ship would need a different style of gig.
Len watched in fascination as the two older boys lapsed into the soft accents of their childhood years in Ulster. The sharper accent of Danny spoke of a different region and was harder to follow. After a few minutes, Len interrupted their conversation.
“Now then, lads, I expect you’re hungry, and it’s been an exciting day. I know that I’m hungry. We’ll get some food, and then I’ll show you to the quarters we’ve allocated for your use. I want you to get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow, a lot of people will want to talk to you, and you’ll need to be rested. You’re all still my patients for now, so let’s go.”
“Thank you, sir,” replied Harry, acutely aware that he was extremely hungry despite the light snack he’d enjoyed in the Captain’s quarters. “I would like some dinner, and I’m sure Ferghal and Danny will need some as well.”
Len smiled. “I imagine you are pretty hungry. It’s over thirty-six hours since you arrived.”
Harry’s stomach growled. “Ah.” Then it hit him. “Thirty-six hours, sir? A day and a half? What o’clock is it now?”
“It’s now almost nineteen hundred—ah, seven o’clock in the evening,” Led replied, correcting himself when he realised the youth would have no concept of a twenty-four-hour clock. “I’ve arranged a meal for us in the med-cent staff canteen.” He stood aside to let the boys precede him. “Here we are. In you go.”
“Nay, Danny, officers first.” Ferghal was firm, holding Danny to one side. “We’ll follow you, if it pleases you, sir.” He touched the brim of his hat and held it in salute.
Harry Heron: Into the Unknown Page 7
