Harry Heron: No Quarter

by Patrick G Cox

  “Aye, that would make a deal of sense,” replied Ferghal wearily. “How long would we have to remain in transit to do that?”

  “I estimate three months.” Harry rechecked his figures. “Yes, about three months and some days. And for almost all of that we will have to stand watch since only we can operate the controls should that be required.” He smiled. “We were too efficient in our cutting the sheets and halyards, my friend. We cut the tiller ropes and the stays as well!”

  Despite his headache, Ferghal grinned. “And now we must face a problem of our own devising.”

  Harry nodded. “Precisely.” He drew in a deep breath. “I have considered, and I think that some of the essential displays can be rerouted to screens we could salvage from elsewhere on the ship, provided my Engineering Commander agrees.”

  “Engineering Commander? But we have … ah.” Ferghal smiled. “What do you intend, Captain?”

  Chapter 40 – Long Way Home

  It took a great deal of coaxing by Harry to convince the AI that he intended it no further damage. Cautious at first, the AI was reluctant to do more than answer his questions. It was even reluctant to accept his commands.

  Harry decided to set the record straight. “We cannot continue like this, suspicious of one another. How would you prefer me to address you? If we are to be joined in this way, you may address me as Harry through my link. If we use the audio system, I would prefer Mr Heron.”

  “My teacher was Nikolaus. I liked his name. You and the other, Ferghal, are human, yet you are part of my databanks and programming. I do not understand this.”

  “Neither do we, but it gives us the ability to know each other and to work together more efficiently. May I call you Nikolaus?”

  The AI concurred, and when Harry finally withdrew from the system, he was confident they could now safely navigate the ship home. In the process he’d learned a great deal about the ship’s original capture and the manner Heemstra and his men had used it.

  HARRY LOOKED UP WHEN FERGHAL ENTERED THE COMMAND centre carrying a long bundle under his arm. “Two hours before our change of watch, my friend,” he said. “What is the problem?”

  “Mere hours from dropout, and you ask what the problem is?” Ferghal grinned. His mood lightened as he produced the long object carefully wrapped in a heavy cloth. Ferghal had spent many hours painstakingly making this gift for his friend. It was, he felt, the very least he could do to show his appreciation for all that Harry had done for him before and since their arrival in this new age. Handing it to Harry, he said, “This is for you, Captain Heron. I hope you will use it well.”

  Accepting the parcel, Harry carefully unfolded the wrappings to reveal a new officer’s sword. Drawing the blade from the scabbard, he studied it with pride.

  “Ferghal, you should not have done this,” he said, admiring its gleaming beauty, but he was secretly pleased. Sheathing the weapon again, he laid it carefully aside then dug into his pocket. “A blade must be paid for, and I have no coin!”

  Ferghal laughed. “A pledge will suffice. Weyland the Smith takes payment in kind when necessary.”

  Seeing the puzzled expressions on the faces of the others, Harry explained, “In the old legends, Weyland was a fairy blacksmith — his blades were reputed to be the finest forged, and he was said to be the hand that forged all blades. Those who fail to pay him suffer injury from the same blade.”

  “A strange legend, Navigator,” Sheoba commented. “This Way-land worked metal? Iron only? Or other metals?”

  “In our time, a blacksmith worked iron, but some had secret means to make their work superior, and others knew the secret of making steel.” Harry found what he was looking for. Placing it in Ferghal’s hand, he continued. “I pledge before these witnesses to redeem this token at Scrabo with the price of this blade.”

  Grinning, Ferghal accepted the small metal token. “Let it be the silver penny of tradition.”

  “WE WILL BE IN POSITION TO DETECT THE TRANSIT GATE beacon in two hours,” Harry said, rising from the command chair. “I shall be very pleased to bring this passage to a close, my friend.”

  “And I.” Ferghal glanced at the displays. “Should we not give warning of our approach?”

  “Aye, we should, but we have nothing with which to do so.” Harry let out a weary sigh. “My concern is that while we can see ships converging on the gate, anything coming toward us may not be visible in time for us to avoid hitting it. I am counting on the gate sensors detecting our approach and preventing any other from entering transit on a collision course.”

  Staring at the display, Ferghal paused. “Aye, that would not end well.” Settling himself into the chair, he began the process of allowing himself to become an extension of the AI. “It will be complex enough without that.”

  THE TWEE JONGE GEZELLEN DROPPED OUT, JUST AS HARRY intended, through the Near Earth Gate Southern Hemisphere Indian Ocean, and decelerated swiftly. Only the members of the prize crew on the ship were aware that it was being controlled by the mental link between Harry, Ferghal and the ship. The effort required all their concentration. Perforce Harry ignored the demands for identification from the Gate Controllers on Orbit Three, and they were now closing the docking station rapidly.

  Realising the seriousness of this, Warrant Officer Paul Carolan took the initiative and opened a communication channel from his station. “Gate Control, Gate Control, this is the Prize Twee Jonge Gezellen, Midshipman Heron of the Der Großer Curfirst in command. We have damaged controls, and Mr Heron is unable to speak to you at the moment. Hypercoms are out. We have only our ship-to-ship coms. We need assistance urgently and a security team. We have prisoners aboard.”

  “Twee Jonge Gezellen, you are ordered to take up a stationary orbit at one thousand miles from Orbit Three and prepare to be boarded. Acknowledge compliance immediately.”

  “Received and understood. We will have the boarding airlock open to receive you. Twee Jonge Gezellen out.” Paul Carolan turned to Harry. “Mr Heron, I hope you heard that.” He saw Harry’s almost imperceptible nod, and breathed a sigh of relief.

  Immersed in the network, Harry told Ferghal, “Cut the drives. We will need the manoeuvring engines in two minutes.” He waited, conscious of Ferghal operating the circuitry to cut one set of engines and bring others online.

  “Done. Manoeuvring online when you need them.”

  “On my order then. Give me the braking sequence starting now.”

  “Aye, aye. Braking sequence in progress.”

  “In fifteen seconds bring us to this bearing . . . five, four, three, two, one, now.”

  The observers on the approaching corvette saw the flares as the freighter fired her braking jets sequentially, slowing imperceptibly. Then her manoeuvring engines fired, which turned the ship onto her final bearing before finally, the flare as her braking engines brought her to a geo-stationary orbit.

  The corvette’s commander placed his ship alongside the freighter and launched his boarding party across the intervening space, noting with satisfaction that the other ship’s airlock was already opening as they approached. The first boarders passed through the opening and the hatch closed behind them.

  “Ship is secure, sir,” the Marine Lieutenant reported. “It is the prize Twee Jonge Gezellen under command of Midshipman Heron.”

  “Why didn’t they report themselves?”

  “Hypercoms are out, sir.”

  “Give me a full report as soon as you can.”

  THE MARINE LIEUTENANT ENTERED THE CONTROL CENTRE and stopped in amazement, his Sergeant and another Marine colliding with his back.

  “Good God,” he exclaimed. “How the blazes did you guys get this thing here?”

  “It’s a long story,” replied Harry, his tiredness showing in his face. “Perhaps you could secure our prisoners first, and then I’ll explain it. Warrant Carolan, would you show these gentlemen where we have the former crew bottled up? Thank you.”

/>   “With pleasure, sir.” Paul grinned. “I think they may be glad to see you fellows. Their quarters have been a bit basic, and some need a little medical help.”

  “Deal with that, Sergeant.” Signalling his Sergeant to follow, the Lieutenant opened his helmet and looked round. The damaged and destroyed control consoles showed their uselessness now that he could see them clearly. The ship should not have been capable of maintaining transit, never mind the dropout and then the neat manoeuvring that brought her to this parking orbit.

  “When did this happen?” he asked. “You couldn’t have controlled this wreck from here.”

  “As I said, it’s a long story.” Harry sank into the command chair. The relief at having safely delivered his crew and the ship was beginning to have an effect on his legs. “We took this prize in the Sirius sector when the DGK and her squadron caught her escorts flat footed and she dropped out right alongside us. She surrendered under our weapons — they had no choice really.” He glanced about him. “What we didn’t know when we came aboard was that the bulk of her crew were concealed in hidden holds. They tried to take her back.”

  “So how did you stop them?”

  Harry shook his head. “Their Captain Heemstra killed Lieutenant Orloff. She had been wounded, and he executed her when he saw what we had done to the Control Centre. They outnumbered us and came close to succeeding in their enterprise.”

  “Obviously they didn’t, but are you saying that you tore these controls apart?”

  “We did,” admitted Harry, glancing at Ferghal for support. “I wasn’t going to let them take the ship anywhere, and only Ferghal and I could do it with these control interfaces destroyed, so we destroyed them.”

  “Where the hell did you guys get that idea?” demanded the Lieutenant.

  “Well, it’s sort of an old idea in a new guise,” replied Ferghal, his exhaustion showing. “You see, in our time, if you wanted to disable a prize ship while you took another, you cut her rigging so she could not be sailed. Mr Heron simply did the same here, and I did it to the engineering control interfaces. Without the interfaces they could not manoeuvre her — him.”

  “But how the hell did you control the ship after destroying all this?”

  “Well, we can get into the network another way,” explained Harry. He was about to elaborate when the Marine cut in.

  “Right, so you had a backup interface hidden somewhere.” The Lieutenant grinned, falling for the ruse. “Good plan. Right, I better report in.” He busied himself contacting the corvette while Harry and Ferghal carefully avoided each other’s eyes in case they gave away their enjoyment of the misunderstanding of their actual means of controlling the ship.

  THE DOOR OPENED, AND THE SERGEANT ENTERED accompanied by the Marine Corporal.

  The Corporal saluted. “Corporal Nielsen, sir. Der Größe Kurfürst detachment. We’ve got prisoners to hand over, sir.”

  “Thank you, Corporal. Sergeant, arrange transport.”

  “In hand, sir. We’ve got a right prize here.” The Sergeant glanced at Harry. “These gentlemen have brought in Heemstra and Katerina de Vries — both top of the wanted list for murder and sabotage.” Pausing, he added, “Heemstra lost most of his right hand while attacking the Mid — sorry, the Acting Captain, and de Vries says she wants to lay charges against Mr Heron for threatening to kill her.”

  The Lieutenant looked at Harry in disbelief. “You guys captured Heemstra and de Vries? Do you know how dangerous that pair are?”

  “We certainly found out,” agreed Harry. Standing, he picked up his sword. “As for Miss de Vries, she may lay all the complaints she wishes. It is no concern of mine. I am perfectly happy to have the ship’s own logs opened for inspection. Her behaviour and actions will condemn her. Personally, I have no desire to see or speak to that creature now or ever again. She had her chance to kill me — twice. She missed it both times. My own mistake gave it her, but I will not be so foolish again. I could have killed her. I had the opportunity and the desire, but I would not permit myself to stoop that low, not for any purpose.”

  Harry’s face told the Lieutenant that, as far as he was concerned, the matter was closed, and he let it drop.

  “You chaps have done a fantastic job,” said the Lieutenant. “Nineteen of them against twelve of you, and most of your people not trained for this kind of combat. Those are pretty serious odds even for my squaddies.” He watched the prisoners being herded toward the airlock, Captain Heemstra and the former medical technician under separate guard. “What did you guys do to them? They all seem to have stab or cut wounds.” He looked at Harry. “Your people haven’t been abusing them while in transit, have they?”

  Harry turned a cold eye on the Lieutenant. The atmosphere developed a distinct chill. “Most certainly not. They chose to fight, and we met them hand to hand. Mr O’Connor and Warrant Carolan are extremely handy with a cutlass, and I made use of my dirk during the battle. In close quarters a blade is more effective than a pistol if wielded by someone who knows the art, and when plasma projectors malfunction, a blade is your only resource. As far as this scum is concerned—” He waved a hand over the prisoners. “They showed no mercy when they seized the ship from its original crew, and would have shown, indeed did not show, any mercy in their attempt to take it from us. My Lieutenant’s body lies in the hold as proof. The wounds you see are the result of our fight, sir, and if any man or woman . . . ” he glared at Katerina “ . . . says otherwise, they are liars. We did our best to give them aid with the medical resources available to us once they had surrendered and the ship was secure, which is far more than can be said of their plans for us.”

  He looked the Lieutenant directly in the eye. “If you doubt me, sir, you may take with you the ship’s own record of the fight and the monitoring of the cells throughout the voyage.”

  The Lieutenant noted the anger etched in Harry’s face and the fire in his eyes. “I don’t think that will be necessary. I merely had to ask the question. I am sure that everything you’ve said will be confirmed by the ship’s log and the medics. Now, sir,” he accorded Harry the courtesy of his temporary position as commander of a ship. “My people will take the prisoners across to our ship for now. We can send tugs out to fetch you in, or you can wait here to receive berthing instructions.”

  Harry relaxed slightly. “Thank you. I will signal for berthing instructions, and I must report to the Station Admiral for further orders. Is there any word on the Der Größe Kurfürst or the squadron we were with?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know the movement orders, sir, so I can’t say if your ships are en route.”

  The Lieutenant finally noticed the sheathed sword attached to Ferghal’s belt. So this is the infamous cutlass, he mused. He looked again at Harry and realised that he had overlooked a similar weapon sheathed in his belt.

  The Lieutenant looked from Harry to Ferghal and back again as understanding dawned. “Wait a moment. You talked about cutting rigging earlier. And you said your name was Heron? Are you the guys who got caught in that time slip everyone was talking about?”

  “We are,” responded Harry.

  “So you took them on with these swords?” He looked from Ferghal to Harry. “May I see one?”

  “Certainly,” said Harry. “Mr O’Connor, would you show the Lieutenant your cutlass, please?”

  Ferghal drew his cutlass and passed it to the Lieutenant, taking care to present it in a manner that made clear it was not being surrendered.

  The Lieutenant studied it briefly and tested the weight and the edge. He looked at Harry. “You took on men in EVA suits and modern weapons with this?”

  “We did,” replied Harry. “A man in an EVA suit is very vulnerable to a determined man with a bladed weapon at close quarters, especially if that man thinks a cutlass is a toy. It is not a mistake he makes twice and survives.”

  “THE NEWS JUST IN IS THAT THE FREIGHTLINER Twee Jonge Gezellen, captured by the Consortium eight
een months ago, and the centre of a major criminal investigation when the bodies of her crew were found drifting in space without protective suits, arrived today at the Southern Hemisphere Indian Ocean Gate. She has been brought in by a small group of Fleet personnel, bringing with them the persons wanted for the murder of her original crew and several other crimes. We cross live to Orbit Three where our reporter has obtained permission to board the vessel and meet the young men who brought her home.”

  Niamh L’Estrange glanced up at the screen to see what the excitement was about, her needlework idle in her lap. The camera angle changed, and the view focussed on an outer door opening for an airlock. A grinning face appeared, his hair a deep russet, his uniform that of a Fleet Warrant Officer. Beyond him several more figures could be seen as the Warrant Officer said, “Our Captain is waiting for you, gentlemen. If you’ll follow me, please.”

  The commentator began a running dialogue of what he could see and deduce from the route he was following and the evidence of fierce fighting visible in burn marks, holes and blast damage as they moved.

  “Certainly been a battle aboard her,” commented Theo from his comfortable chair. “Amazing that they managed to get her here by the look of it.”

  The commentator was saying, “And the notorious Captain Heemstra and his partner, Katerina de Vries, led a party that outnumbered the Fleet prize crew. Grand Admiral Cunningham has given us a full statement, and expressed his admiration for the achievement of the young men who took charge and brought the ship back after their officer, Lieutenant Orloff, was killed during the fighting. And now we are entering the Command Centre to meet the man who led this crew.”

  Niamh let out a shriek of joy, her needlework flying across the room as she leapt to her feet. “Harry! And Ferghal! They’re home! They’re safe! I shall give them such a talking to when I get them home,” she declared. “Why couldn’t they have let us know they were safe?” She collapsed into her chair again with tears of joy running down her face.