Harry Heron: No Quarter

by Patrick G Cox

  Alert to some skulduggery, Harry asked, “Has there been any request for the release of this record to any other party? A legal request perhaps?”

  “There has been. One arrived thirty-two minutes and seventeen seconds ago, but will not be processed until authorised with the resumption of office activity in six hours.”

  “When was the record altered? Was it before or after the request arrived?”

  There was a fraction of a second’s hesitation. “The request arrived ten minutes, two seconds after the alteration to the record. There is one for Ferghal O’Connor as well, and his record has also been altered.”

  Harry saw the pattern immediately. “Please restore the record to its unaltered state, and block any attempt to change it unless I have seen the change and know who is changing it.” He hesitated. “Keep the altered records in a file only I can see — or better, can you forward them to my Aunt Niamh?”

  “To change the records is contrary to my protocols, even though this record is unauthorised. I am required to alert my maintenance officer to such inserts and await their instructions.”

  “Correct. But the altered record is unauthorised — you told me yourself — and the request is from the people who have every reason to seek to discredit Ferghal and me. It may be released in this form to our enemy before your maintenance team can remove it. Our aunt is in touch with our legal adviser and will know how to deal with this.” Harry hesitated. “I need you to send an alert to the Fleet security officer investigating the attempt to abduct me as well.”

  For several seconds there was no response. “I have complied with your request, Harry. I have verified your suspicion as to the purpose of the alteration, and restored the record to the unaltered version. I have alerted the Security Commander and forwarded the alterations and the disclosure request to Niamh L’Estrange.”

  With a sigh of relief, Harry relaxed. “Thank you.”

  “PHEW!” EXCLAIMED KEIRON AS THE CLASS EMERGED from another intensive session with Hugh the Unhinged, the students’ nickname for the instructor in fusion reactors and weapons systems. “I’m really looking forward to the cruise. Anything to get away from the classrooms for a bit!”

  “You can talk,” groaned Senzile. “I reckon I’ve lost almost seven kilos with all this rushing about — and I have another two assignments to complete for tomorrow. All these instructors seem to think they are the only ones giving us extra studies.”

  “I wonder what ship we’ll be sent to,” mused Elize. “I heard there is a brand new heavy cruiser working up — the Der Grosser Curfirst or something — be interesting to see what she’s like.”

  “Pity it’s only a two-week cruise,” said Howard. He punched Harry on the arm. “Captain Bligh here is bad enough with his demands on the sloop, and Ferghal’s got us rowing like galley slaves in that whaler. I think he wants to water-ski behind it sometimes.”

  The group laughed.

  Harry wondered if his friends knew the whole story of Captain Bligh and his epic voyage in an open boat as well as his supposed failures as a captain and colonial governor. He decided not to mention it.

  Elize smiled at Harry. “How do you and Ferghal get through all the assignments so fast? I saw that you guys have handed in all the required work for this week already.”

  Harry shrugged. “I try to get them done as soon as they’re assigned. That way the subject is still fresh in my mind, and Ferghal works with me some evenings doing his, usually while the rest of you are already in your bunks.” He grinned, idly sketching a portrait of Elize on his pad.

  Elize caught a glimpse of his sketch and recognized herself. “So, am I really that pretty, then?” She flashed a brilliant smile and made Harry blush, which delighted her even more. “Let me see!” She sidled closer, but Harry deflected and stuffed the small sketchpad in his pocket.

  “An artist never reveals his work until it’s finished,” he said, returning her smile.

  “I’ll get that sketchpad one way or another!” she bantered.

  Ferghal joined the group. “Master Warrant Winkworth says we are scheduled to join a new heavy cruiser for our training cruise next week.” He grinned, unknowingly echoing Keiron when he said, “I shall be glad to escape the classroom for a bit and have some real work for a change.”

  “Don’t bet on it.” Keiron laughed. “Our schoolies will be coming with us and are bound to have plenty of teaching to fit in — and more assignments.”

  An exclamation from Elize drew everyone’s attention. “Look at that!” She held up her tablet to show a photo in a news report. “Those damned Consortium pirates have hit another freight hauler, a Dutch registered ship, Twee something. According to this they seized her after booking a passage on her as passengers, then took control after she went into transit.” She quickly skimmed the article. “And that’s not all — they put the crew into a hold then opened it to space. The bodies were found by one of our patrols near Ephesus Minor only because one of the victims must have had a survival beacon.”

  “Those bastards!” Ferghal exclaimed. Being confined was all too recent in his memory, but at least he’d managed to free himself and live to tell the tale.

  “There was a tablet with the First Officer’s passenger list and manifest. Apparently this isn’t the first time they’ve done this either!”

  “They seem to be pretty ruthless when it suits them, is all I can say,” exclaimed Howie. “Turns out they have a hell of a lot more ships than we thought. I heard they attacked a remote base in the Alpha Centauri Sector a couple of weeks ago and captured it. The damaged frigate that got away reported there was at least one starship and several heavy cruisers involved. You don’t build those sorts of ships without someone noticing. And where is the money coming from?”

  Senzile had been quiet to this point. “Yes, and the worst of it is no one seems to know exactly who is behind it or where they are based — or even what they are really after. My father tells me the City is saying that a commercial enterprise is trying to seize a monopoly on trade to the stars, but there’s a rumour they are really after complete control of government. The bureaucrats and politicians are keeping very quiet about it.”

  “Up to their ears in it themselves no doubt,” grumbled Keiron. “Look at this,” he said, tapping the headline of another news report. “There’ve been several more ambushes of our ships. It says their forces seem to know exactly where our people are and the strength of our ships.”

  “So it appears,” remarked Harry, peering over Keiron’s shoulder at the report. “It’s almost as if they are reading our signals.” A loud voice interrupted their discussion, and they turned to see Midshipman Barclay bearing down on them.

  “Heron, I’ve been looking for you.”

  “And you have found me, it seems, right where I belong.” Harry eyed him calmly, his demeanour alert but relaxed.

  “Well, not for much longer.” Barclay’s smirk betrayed that he considered Harry to be in some trouble. “Lieutenant Haäkinen has bad news for you and your sidekick.” Barclay shot a withering glance in Ferghal’s direction. “The Commander is not impressed with your message — and your latest assignments are trash as well. Good luck — you’ll need it.” He sneered with smug satisfaction.

  Harry and Ferghal exchanged a perplexed glance. “What do you mean message? And what is wrong with our assignments?” demanded Harry.

  “What I said, fossil. I quote: ‘Heron and O’Connor’s assignments are complete garbage, and I am not amused by the abuse of the comlink to send me impertinent messages’ — our beloved Commander to your Divisional Officer.” Barclay laughed. “Better run along to the Lieutenant, Harry, there’s a good boy.” He turned and sauntered away, obviously very pleased with himself.

  “I don’t believe that bastard,” growled Keiron. “How come he’s carrying the message anyway? How’d he get into the picture?”

  “He’s Duty Orderly today,” said Elize, her eyes boring into B
arclay’s back. She hoped he felt her disdain. Even the way he walked with a cocky strut annoyed the hell out of her. “He must have been eavesdropping on the Lieutenant. He just can’t resist having a go at you, can he, Harry? Pity you can’t give him the lesson you gave Laschelles.”

  Harry didn’t comment on the fencing incident. Instead, he said, “I suppose I had better go and see the Lieutenant, but I think it strange that he did not use the comlink to summon me.”

  LIEUTENANT HAÄKINEN GLANCED UP WITH A PERPLEXED frown as Harry entered. “Yes, Mr Heron?”

  “Mr Barclay said you wanted to see me, sir. He mentioned a problem with my assignments and something about a message to the Commander.”

  The Lieutenant’s frown deepened. “Did he? Very well — since you’re here, we’ll discuss it. Someone sent the Commander a message purporting to be from you. He was not pleased, but the Comms Department have traced it to an unknown source that doesn’t carry your ID code. Just be aware and alert to this tactic. As for your assignments, you have, I believe, back-up copies?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. We will leave the altered versions in place.” He handed Harry a data chip. “Store your copies on this and give it to me personally.” He smiled suddenly. “Oh, and you might like to ask the AI to alert you of any further attempts to interfere with your work. Tell Mr O’Connor to do the same. It will save us a lot of effort in future.”

  WEEKS OF TRAINING AND RUN-OFF COMPETITIONS honed the Yotties’ skill afloat and on the drill competitions. They were determined to be the class that reversed the tradition that the Yotties took the academic and course prizes, but not the Regatta Cup. This coveted trophy was awarded for the best class performance in sailing, rowing, gymnastic display and the hair-raising Field Gun exercise. The last almost always went to the Field Engineers class, it having been revived as an exercise in a modified form and based on a popular and prestigious competition run by the former British Royal Navy.

  The exercise itself had arisen from a long forgotten colonial war in the last years of the nineteenth century when the guns of a Royal Navy cruiser had been landed at a place called Durban. From there they had been sent, with their gun crews, overland on specially built gun carriages across the African terrain to relieve a besieged town called Ladysmith.

  “We’ve a secret weapon in the Field Gun. With two Lacertians in the squad, we can’t lose!”

  “They’re incredible.” Ferghal grinned. “I’ve two in the whaler, and we’ve one in each of the dinghies.”

  Harry looked up from his chess game. “As Ferghal and I experienced first hand, their home planet is a bit more watery than Earth, and they are seafaring people.” To his opponent, he added, “Checkmate in three moves. Would you care to concede?”

  “What? Three moves?” Howie glared at the board. “Oh. Damn.” He laid the king on its side. “I didn’t see that coming. Damn it, Harry, you sneaked that knight into place five moves ago, but I didn’t see the threat until you moved the bishop. How do you do it? You’re worse than playing against the AI.”

  “I hope not.” Packing the pieces away, Harry smiled. “We’ve Hugh the Unhinged in fifteen minutes. I think we’d best hurry.”

  “Misery awaits.” Howie smirked. “I’d been so engrossed in trying to beat you at chess, I’d actually forgotten about old Hugh. I wonder what he’ll spring on us today?”

  Chapter 11 – Der Große Kurfürst

  The class disembarked from the ship’s barge into the large hangar space of the heavy cruiser NECS Der Große Kurfürst. Smaller than a starship, the cruiser packed a very powerful armament and carried a squadron of interceptors. The ride from the College to the lift station and then to the platform dock had gone smoothly, and the transfer to the cruisers’ barges was a simple evolution.

  A commander watched as the Britannia and Dreadnought classes disembarked and assembled their equipment. Strolling forward he acknowledged the salutes of the two Lieutenants, with four of the cruisers’ midshipmen following behind.

  “Hello, Jaakko, still at the College, I see.” He cast an eye over the class. “We will have to show them what it is really like instead of all that theoretical stuff you teach them.”

  The Lieutenant grinned. “With respect, sir, you were my Divisional Officer, and I can still quote your words when we went aloft for our training cruise.”

  “You have a most inconvenient memory, Jaakko. It will get you promoted one of these days.” The Commander glanced about him. “Have you got your people split into groups yet?”

  “Yes, sir, in accordance with the standing instructions.”

  The Commander laughed. “Of course, I trained you properly.” Eyeing the classes of cadets standing at attention, he announced, “I am Commander Scheer, Executive Officer. Welcome aboard Der Große Kurfürst. We are a heavy cruiser and the most recent addition to the Fleet. My assistants today are Midshipmen Arno Richthofen, Rudi Ecker, Hans Lange and Haakon Knutson. They will show you to your quarters in the midshipmens’ berth and introduce you to the ship’s stations.

  Keiron nudged Harry. “I wonder if Richthofen over there is a relative of the Lieutenant Commander of the same name serving on Ramillies.” He froze when the Commander fixed him with an enquiring stare.

  “You have a question, Midshipman—?” The Commander waited for Keiron’s name.

  Keiron snapped to attention. “Whitworth, sir! No sir, I was just making an observation to Mr Heron, sir.”

  “In future, Mr Whitworth, I would appreciate it very much if you would refrain from talking while I am, as you gentlemen say, interrupting.”

  “Yes, sir,” replied Keiron, trying hard to suppress a grin at the humorous way the Commander had made his point.

  AS MIDSHIPMAN ARNO RICHTHOFEN LED THEIR GROUP TOUR, Harry paid particular attention to the Navigation and Weapons centres. The tour included a huge open compartment with a grassy lawn, flowering shrubs and other plants, which provided a natural environment for relaxation. Harry thought the official name interesting — the environmental lung space — but Midshipman Richthofen said everyone called it the park, which Harry also found curious.

  “It’s been found that we all need something like this for our mental and physical health, so they’re adding vegetation spaces to older ships.” Midshipman Richthofen paused. “It supplements the algae filter tanks and beds and is quite pleasant as a place to relax.”

  The tour continued to the power and reactor rooms then on to the flight control centre. Harry and the others began to get a good feel for the complexity of these vast ships, something Harry had appreciated aboard the Vanguard, but this ship, being half the size, really gave him the opportunity to appreciate just how complex it was.

  He was gazing at the controls when he heard someone speak his name.

  “Hello, Harry.”

  Harry turned. “Ute!” He glanced with surprise at the insignia of a Lieutenant on Ute’s uniform. “Beg pardon, Lieutenant! I was just thinking about the Vanguard, and here you are. The last time we saw each other, we were aboard that fine ship.”

  Ute Zimmermann grinned. “So we were. Welcome aboard, Harry. I’m still getting used to it myself, being a Lieutenant and all that saluting and yes ma’aming.” She grinned.

  “Congratulations,” Harry said, shaking Ute’s hand. “Fine uniform.” She now wore the rank markings of an Interceptor Pilot Lieutenant. “You might recall my friends Ferghal and Danny. Ferghal is with the Engineering group, and Danny is at school in Dublin. I thought you were still on Vanguard, ma’am.”

  “See, there we go with the ma’am already!” Ute laughed. “At ease, Mr Heron,” she teased. “A month ago I got a signal re-posting me to the DGK. It’s quite a challenge because she is so new. What’s new with you? I expect you’re having fun at the College and can look forward to being posted to a ship soon yourself.”

  “I hope so.” Harry grinned. “We’ve completed our first three months, and when we go back, it wi
ll be for the run-down to the exams, and then there’s the enquiry.”

  “Enquiry? Oh, that one. Hans and Paddy are on notice for that as well.” Ute gestured round the Flight Command Centre. “What do you think of our ship?” To Midshipman Richthofen, she said, “Want me to explain the Flyco, Arno?”

  “Thanks, Lieutenant.”

  Ute wasted no time pointing out the displays, communications stations, tracking systems and the monitors for the hangars and launching bays. “Well, that’s it. Any questions?”

  As no one had anything to ask, Arno thanked her and pointed his charges toward the door.

  To Harry, Ute said, “With Arno guiding you round, you’ll get a good run-down on the targeting and weapons arrays, but you don’t want to fly with him in the pilot’s seat.” She winked. “He’s a navigator, and his flying skills need a little work.”

  Everyone looked at Arno, who grimaced and said, “Okay, okay, macht euch nur lustig über mich. Ich bin eben nicht mein Bruder!”

  The other midshipmen laughed, knowing exactly how Arno felt about the on-going competition with his brother, an exceptional pilot, but Harry didn’t understand German, so Ute translated it for him. He didn’t see the humour in it. “I think that’s a bit unfair. It isn’t as if we can all be interceptor aces. Some of us don’t want to be.”

  “Touché, Harry.” Ute laughed. “You are right, and we shouldn’t tease him. Arno, it seems that Mr Heron may not be as impressed with us flybies as we’d like you all to be.”

  The midshipman smiled. “It isn’t easy following my brother through the service. He is one of the flight leaders on Ramillies at present, and an acclaimed ace. I prefer operating the principal weapons targeting.”

  “Well, you and Harry should get along very well then, Arno,” said Ute. “He helped us design the visual sighting aid for the interceptors at Pangaea.”