“Aye, sir, but only the signal telescope.”
“True, this one is a bit bigger.” Ben Curran indicated a small tube protruding from the body of the larger tube. “That’s the sighting scope, and these,” he touched a series of Vernier control wheels, “are the focus adjustments.” Beckoning to Ferghal to move closer, he said, “Your task, Ferghal, is to keep the telescope pointed at the target. You will have to follow the cross wires on this sighting scope here.” He indicated the controls and the manner in which the target could be brought into the cross wires and tracked using the controls. “Think you can do it?”
“Aye, sir.” Ferghal studied the control mechanism. “It is simple enough.”
“Harry, once you have the telescope on the target and the best focus you can get, I want you to use your eyes. Note everything you can about it. We can’t use the image recorders because they’re electronic. You’re going to have to memorise what you see and then sketch it for me. Clear?”
“Aye, sir. Perhaps if Ferghal could look as well, he could make a model of it.”
“Good plan. Yes, we can try that if we can hold the target long enough.” He studied both of them. “Right, here we go. Ferghal, lift the scope out of its housing and bring it to this bearing.” He held out a tablet with a directional bearing and an angle of depression. “Harry, watch the sighting scope. You are looking for several small triangular objects. As soon as you see them, take the scope to maximum magnification and get a good look at one. Got that?”
“Aye, sir.” Harry peered into the telescope.
For the first few minutes, the view remained black, and then a glow flickered and swam into view followed by another and another as Harry adjusted the focus and the magnification. Suddenly, he was looking at an object that reminded him of the fiendishly painful Portuguese Man o’ War jellyfish they had encountered in the Great South Sea. He studied the ship in the telescope for as long as he dared then signalled Ferghal to take his place. When Ferghal withdrew his eyes, Ben Curran stepped in and said, “Thanks—let me have a look.”
Placing his eyes to the eyepieces, he took a long look, drawing a sharp breath as he took in the sight of their elusive shadowers. To himself he said, “Right, you buggers, didn’t know we still had the means to look at you directly, did you?” Turning to Harry, he held out a pad of paper and a set of drawing implements. “Have you seen enough to do a decent sketch of it?”
Harry nodded. “I think so sir. What is it?”
The commander grinned. “We call it a phantom ship, and there are more of them. Elusive blighters, this is the first time we’ve had a good look at one. They seem to be able to sense any attempt to use electronic equipment to see them, so I wondered if they would be able to evade a manual approach—and they can’t—all the better for us. Can you do a sketch for me now? Do you need anything else?”
“No, sir, this will suffice.” Harry tested the paper between finger and thumb. “This is extremely fine drawing paper, sir. Have we a supply of it?”
“You can get as much as you like,” Ben said. “It took a while to get the replication system to get it right. Will it do?”
“Oh yes, sir.” Smiling, Harry selected a pencil and set to work. The commander and Ferghal took the opportunity to study the strange ship in the telescope’s sights. Ferghal made several motions with his hands, which puzzled and amused the commander as he watched. Then he realised the youth was fixing proportions in his mind as he studied the strange craft.
Several times Harry verified the details for his sketch until he was finally satisfied with the result.
The commander studied it for a moment then took another look through the telescope. A broad grin on his face, he clapped Harry on the shoulder. “Fantastic work, Harry, absolutely spot on. With this sketch, we finally know what they look like and what they’ve been hiding. Ferghal, house the scope and I’ll show you lads possibly the most amazing sight you will ever see.”
With the telescope secured, Ben led them into a semi-circular area where the boys’ eyes were drawn upward at the bulkhead that formed a half dome above them. Ben positioned them at the centre of the curve and said, “Ready, lads? This is the only place on the ship, besides the Command Centre, where you can get this view.” Touching his link, he ordered, “Vanguard, display full sweep view ahead.”
The bulkhead and domed cover faded to reveal the forward end of the great ship, her vast bows and the great fins either side of them bathed in the luminescence they had previously seen enveloping the ships now visible on either beam. Several smaller escorts hung suspended in view ahead and on their flanks.
“Remarkable,” Harry said under his breath.
“Is all that really out there?” Ferghal asked.
“This is a projection, of course,” Ben explained, “an image we call a hologram. The colours are generated by the computer to look familiar to our eyes. This is how the Flag Command Centre sees the space around the ship at all times. When we drop out into normal space, it’s how we see things in the Navigation Centre and in the Command Centre as well.”
Enthralled, they gazed at the huge fins extending on either side of the great ship. Harry rapidly sketched the scene, flipped a page and quickly drew the ship to starboard and then the one to port. Fascinated, Ben watched as he did so, noticing that Ferghal, once again using his hands and fingers to estimate sizes and distances, appeared to be taking measurements.
When the pair had apparently seen all they could, he stepped forward, saying, “When we drop out of hyperspace, I’ll bring you up here again so you can see the whole of creation laid out above, below, behind and on both sides of you. That, my lads, is probably the most beautiful sight anyone can ever see. But, time to get back to work.” He gave a command and the view vanished as the bulkheads and deckhead returned to their opaque state.
CAPTAIN HERON STUDIED HARRY’S DRAWINGS as he listened to Commander Curran’s explanation of how they had deployed the optical telescope to spot their shadowers. Ben described how Harry and Ferghal had trained the telescope with precision and studied the ships, Harry to make a sketch and Ferghal to produce the model that now lay on the Captain’s desk.
“Well done, Ben. Good thinking to use the telescope manually and without any of its systems powered up. I expect they must be able to sense any electronic activity in our scanning equipment. Using an optical scope and focusing it manually thwarted them quite sufficiently, I should think. Well done.”
Ben chuckled. “I have to thank Val Petrocova. She mentioned a twentieth-century manoeuvre called the Crazy Ivan, in which submarines tailed enemy ships in their blind spots, and that got me thinking about detection gear. I doubt I’d have thought of using the telescope in that manner without her idea.”
“I’ll be sure to thank Commander Petrocova as well, and I’m glad you thought of using Harry and Ferghal—those boys have a real eye for detail.” The Captain had a faraway look in his eye. He leaned back, his expression thoughtful. “Ben, scan this drawing into the ship’s record and get the model imaged in as well. Get Harry or Ferghal to help you make the images as realistic as possible. I want it to look as if we have imaged the real thing, and then I’ll send an image transmission to Fleet Command with a request for ID. I mean to find out more about them, preferably before we reach Pangaea.”
“Will do, Captain.” Gathering the painting and the model, Ben added, “I’ll get on it right away.”
Chapter 17
Training and Readiness
“HOW GOES IT WITH YOUR ELECTRONIC equipage, Ferghal?” Harry asked as they reported for zero gravity training.
“Well enough, Master Harry.” Ferghal grinned as he stepped into one of the extra-vehicular activity (EVA) suits. “I’d not have believed any man, even the Reverend Mr Carrigan, had he told me I’d one day be required to work with materials and instruments I need a powerful glass to see.”
“Nor I,” Harry said, laughing as he stepped into his bulky EVA sui
t. “But I think our schoolmaster aboard the Spartan would beg to have access to all that we have learned and seen here.” He finished closing the suit and added, “Are these suits not a marvel in themselves? I find it interesting that they are remarkably like the suits used to dive upon the wreck of the Royal George.”
“Aye, you have the right of it, Master Harry.” Ferghal frowned, recalling the leather, canvas, iron and copper suits they’d seen in Portsmouth. “Though these do a great deal more, and are not dependent upon someone pumping air to us.” He stood to attention as Sub-Lieutenant Zamfras, assigned to their training, entered and returned Harry’s salute.
“I see you’re suited up. Good—I’ll get mine on, then I’ll check yours.” Finding all in order, he said, “Today we’ll use the training compartment to do a zero gravity exercise. You’ve had the theory briefing, and I know you both earned excellent scores when you were tested on that, so now we’re going to try moving about in real suits in a zero gravity environment.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” the pair chorused.
“Will it be in a vacuum as well, sir?” Harry asked.
“Not this time, Mr Heron. We’re fully suited up so you can get used to it. Once we’re in place, I’ll contact Engineering and have the anti-gravity shut down, and we’ll go through some manoeuvres so you can get the feel of it. Ready? Good—follow me then.”
Leading them through the large training hall past groups of Royal Marines engaged in a variety of drills, they arrived at an identical space in which a number of Royals were going through what appeared to be a complicated dance, but which Harry now recognised as a form of unarmed combat training.
“AG Control, Sub-Lieutenant Zamfras. Training for EVA commencing.” He glanced at the symbols on the bulkhead. “Shut down AG in compartment one zero fiver bravo zero four zulu sub alpha.”
Through his suit communication system, Harry heard the voice of the controller repeat the address and the order, and then, “AG shutdown.”
Harry, the instructor and Ferghal remained firmly deck bound—not so the Royals in the adjoining space. The sight of the Bullocks (as he thought of them from the term used in his time) suddenly airborne and careening off each other, the bulkheads and the deckhead made him and Ferghal laugh. The sub-lieutenant frantically cancelled the instruction and corrected the address.
The order was repeated, and suddenly, Harry and Ferghal were unrestrained by any sensation of weight, while next door, the unfortunate Royals crashed to the deck.
“Damn...sorry, guys. There’s going to be hell to pay about that! Still, the Royals can take a few bumps and bruises in their stride.” Switching coms channels, the sub-lieutenant spoke privately to someone else then switched back to address Harry and Ferghal.
After a shaky start, the rest of the instruction went well. Later, in the gunroom, Harry remarked to the others about the most important lesson he’d gained from the experience. “In the absence of gravity,” he said in an oratorical tone, “I’m afraid Sir Isaac’s Third Law of Motion has the most vicious bite.” He was rewarded for his performance by a hearty round of laughter, especially when he confided that he’d almost put the sub-lieutenant out of action in an overly enthusiastic attempt to perform an acrobatic manoeuvre.
HARRY AND FERGHAL’S TRAINING sometimes put a strain on them and on their trainers. They often made mistakes, sometimes with hilarious and occasionally painful results. They both had the bruises to show it, and their training supervisor had the elevated blood pressure to prove the stress of the endeavour.
“Tech, that’s a missile projector, not a bloody cutlass!” The warrant officer steadied Ferghal’s arm. “Keep it firm under your elbow and let the laser sight lock to the target. He watched his protégé reposition the unfamiliar tube correctly. “Now, the targeting and firing switches are right under your hand, just where you need them. Got it?”
“Aye, aye, sir.” Ferghal carefully positioned his hand on the grip.
“Right. It isn’t loaded, so press the target selection pad to choose your aiming point on the range. When you get the ACQUIRED signal, press the firing button.”
Ferghal followed the instruction and sighted the holographic image of a vehicle. Beneath his hand, he felt the pulsing signal that told him the target was acquired. “Targeted, sir.” He pressed the firing switch, and the hologram vanished in a bright flash.
“Good. Well done.” The supervisor took the weapon. “Only, in the real world, they don’t just vanish. When these things fire for real, the missile is ejected using a magnetic pulse, and the propulsion motor ignites about twenty metres to your front. There’s a huge kick as the missile leaves the tube, and it’s a good idea to be somewhere else when the motor fires—as Mr Heron discovered.” Ferghal grinned and shot a sideways glance at Harry, who was more intent on fiddling with something than he needed to be. He would give Ferghal his due later, but they would have a good laugh about it.
Harry and Ferghal exercised at fencing, though their version was more akin to cutlass drill, and it left the training supervisor sweating in anxiety in case they injured one another.
Watching Harry exercise his fencing against another midshipman, the instructor shook his head. “I’ve never seen anyone put so much aggression into a foil. Look at that — he’s disarmed his opponent with the most unconventional attack I’ve ever seen.” Signalling the piste umpire, he called a halt. “Are you alright, Mr Murphy? It looked like you took a thrust to the wrist.”
Ruefully, Paddy Murphy rubbed his wrist. “I did, sir. Harry went right through my guard and took me by surprise.”
“So I saw.” The instructor turned to Harry. “You’re only trying to score points with the foil, Mr Heron. Your technique is lacking finesse, and while it’s bloody effective, it’s getting a little dangerous.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” His concern evident, Harry nodded to his opponent. “Sorry, Paddy—have I inflicted a wound?”
“Not this time.” Paddy adjusted his gauntlet and lifted his foil. “Want another pass? Just remember, you don’t get promotion these days by killing off the folk ahead of you on the list!”
Laughing, Harry adjusted his visor. “I’ll try to remember.”
“Please do.” The instructor stepped back and found that Commander Curran had joined them.
“Having fun, Miles?” Ben asked.
“Evening, sir.” The lieutenant grimaced. “Trying to persuade Mr Heron he isn’t leading boarders on the piste.”
Nodding, Ben agreed. “You do know that Harry has been in fights—so has Ferghal—where they’ve actually used a blade in anger. Ferghal apparently killed someone with a cutlass before he was sixteen, and when Harry was thirteen, he killed a man with that short sword he calls a dirk.” Pausing he watched the training officer’s expression. “Ah, I see you didn’t know. To them, the purpose of drawing a sword against someone is to disarm, disable or kill if necessary—not to score points on an electronic counter.”
“Bloody hell...no, I didn’t know, but I suppose I should have guessed. Thanks, I’ll have to sit down with them and explain the finer points.” He sighed. “At least we now have them ‘Fit to deploy—supervised’ in EVA, and on any other outside activity.” He grinned ruefully. “I think they’ve taught us almost as much as we’ve taught them.”
Ben nodded. “Yes, I think it’s been a steep learning curve for them and for us.” The five months in transit had been demanding, but the three youths had risen to the challenge, and then some. “They’re almost caught up on the knowledge side of things. Now it’s all the practical stuff.”
“We have them at least capable of deploying under supervision on some tasks now—but please don’t remind me of that little mishap with the anti-gravity exercise. Sub-Lieutenant Zamfras isn’t going to live it down for a long, long time.”
“I won’t.” Ben laughed. “Damn, looks like Paddy Murphy’s going to need patching up this time.”
CAPTAIN HERON RUBBED HIS TEMPL
ES. The transmission of Harry’s painting and the image of Ferghal’s model had provoked a response, just as he’d hoped. Now it seemed the Siddhiche were trying to tell him something. He stared at the latest folder that had mysteriously appeared in his personal computer files.
“Fritz? Come up to my office please. I have another gift from our ghost in the machine.”
“On my way, sir.” Fritz Dieffenbach shut his link, gathered his tablet and made for the door. “Sebastian, I’ll be with the Captain—deal with anything that comes in while I’m gone.” The lieutenant acknowledged as Fritz ducked out and the door shut behind him. It worried him that these Siddhiche seemed able to access and generate files without using an interface. It wasn’t some sort of virus program, and it wasn’t coming in through the hyperlinks or any other receiver channels, so it had to be internal. But how were they doing it?
Arriving at the Captain’s suite, he smiled at Adriana, and wished for the thousandth time that his personal droid could be as beautiful. Rank has its privileges, he thought with a wry grin.
“Go straight in, sir, he’s waiting for you,” said Adriana.
“Is it bad?” Commander Dieffenbach hesitated, his hand hovering on the door control.
“I’m not sure about bad, sir, but the Captain has expressed concern.”
Stepping through the doorway, the commander stopped and saluted. “You wanted to see me, sir?”
“Take a seat, Fritz. Yes, I need some help unravelling this.” Captain Heron waved a hand at the display on his screen. “The ship says the language is based on calculus. I can comprehend the images, but what the devil they represent—that’s what we need to figure out.”
Harry Heron: Into the Unknown Page 17
