Captain James Heron: First into the Fray: Prequel to Harry Heron: Into the Unknown of the Harry Heron Series

by Patrick G Cox

  “Yes, sir.” De Ridder studied the nearest man. The damage to his EVA suit suggested it was very unlikely the occupant was still alive. The suit was torn in several places, and the state of the power pack suggested it was nonfunctional.

  In a suite registered to Mr Selwyn Cardington, Bast watched the small holo projection of the destroyed Shield Power Room. “Damn, they’re using an MK-Fifteen search droid.” She laughed. “Oh well, not a bad score. Two maintenance specialists who won’t be doing any more repair work here.” She watched with professional interest as the droid went through its routine. “Well, Mr Robot, I can’t risk you finding my little spy in the wreckage.” She pressed a remote command unit.

  The small flash and puff of smoke almost went unnoticed by everyone as Mr Brown and Lieutenant De Ridder threw themselves behind piles of wreckage to escape the fallout. The searching droid simultaneously located an explosive device and deployed its shields.

  Yelendi Dysson studied her visitor while listening to his sales pitch. It was a nuisance being stuck here on Mars, especially as she couldn’t contact her team without risking detection. The young man looked as if he maintained his fitness. His build was slight but athletic, a sportsman, she guessed, probably tennis or squash. Certainly a gym user, but he wasn’t bulked out like a weight-lifter; he was toned more than well-muscled. There was something quirky about him, but she couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

  “There’s not a great deal I can do at present, Mr Cardington,” said Yelendi. “I am, after all, Head of Client Liaison, not Purchasing or Planning. The company isn’t planning to expand the bio culture plant at present, and, as I explained to your company a while ago, there has been a moratorium on any new orders or changes of specification.”

  “I appreciate that, Ms Dysson, but perhaps you could put me in touch with your corporate planners. Our new system has several advantages.”

  Bast was enjoying herself. As a bio-genetic engineer, this persona and real-world career as a sales operative for the family owned company selling bio-culturing processes and equipment gave her legitimate reasons to visit some extremely secure facilities. Her current guise as her own twin brother, conveniently buried several light years away, though she’d managed to keep his ID records ‘alive’ thanks to some careful bribes and inducements, needed very little bio-tech work to maintain. Her skill in gene manipulation made possible the disguise, and in her ability to create prosthetics and biologically engineered films to cover hands and other areas, enabled her to temporarily mimic someone else’s DNA. It was a process not without risks, and she was always careful to avoid extended periods in such a disguise, but they had been identical twins, which made the mimicry fairly easy.

  Bast continued her sales pitch. “Our new process is more efficient, reduces operating costs and gives a product that meets all quality and health standards.” She watched the other woman’s face. “There is a possibility it could provide a less expensive unit for Fleet ships, as our units do meet their specifications.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. It may be of interest to our Purchasing Director, and I’ll mention it to the Fleet Project Manager.” Yelendi paused. “I think I can set up a meeting for you—if they can get the generators and shields working again soon.”

  “Strange that they should have failed like that.” Bast played the innocent.

  “Failed? It was sabotage—and it’s costing a fortune to repair, plus all the lost time due to the restrictions on surface operations.”

  “Sabotage? Oh surely not.” Bast acted surprised.

  “Well, that’s what it looks like to me and many others.” Yelendi changed her expression. “It almost took out some Fleet Security types, though, so I guess there’s some positives to it.”

  Bast was barely able to suppress the gleam in her eye when she heard this news. “Fleet Security people were injured?”

  “That’s what I hear.” Yelendi looked up as a tap on the door interrupted her. “Oh. Felicity—Ms Rowanberg, come in.” Standing, she held out her hand toward Bast to make introductions. “Mr Cardington represents BioCult—the people who provide the food cultures and processes for the Fleet’s ships and bases.”

  Accepting Bast’s proffered hand, Felicity introduced herself. “Felicity Rowanberg, Head of Admin for the Vanguard Project.” She smiled even as her instincts suggested something about the man was not right. “I believe some of your equipment is installed on the new ship.”

  “Good to hear.” Bast recognised her missed target. A bit of luck now, she told herself as she offered Felicity a business card. “Our full catalogue is encrypted in the chip. If there are any questions from the bio-engineers on Vanguard, I’d be delighted to talk with them.”

  “Thanks, I’ll pass that on.” Felicity glanced at the chip card, noting the name and title, then tucked it into her handbag. “I can’t stay,” she said to Yelendi. “I just stopped by to tell you I’m returning to the Dock this evening, and to thank you for the company last night.”

  “Oh, have they lifted the restriction on shuttle flights? Is the shield operational again?”

  “The Fleet engineers hope to have a temporary shield operational by tonight.” She smiled and gave her hair a little toss. “And a certain starship Captain has offered a seat in his private gig. I couldn’t refuse.”

  Bast’s ears pricked at this news. Oh yes, this is good, she gloated inwardly. Felicity could be a useful tool if she was close to the Vanguard’s commanding officer. A plan began to form in her mind, an opportunity for some amusement and a chance to take down her target. Too good to miss.

  She laughed. “Lucky you. I don’t suppose he has any spare seats for us poor sales reps out here scrabbling to earn a living.”

  Felicity smiled. “I’d ask, but I suspect the answer would be only if I stayed here to free up a seat—and I’m not that self-sacrificial.” She laughed. “See you on the Dock, Yelendi. Mr Cardington, maybe I’ll be able to catch up with you soon. It’s been nice chatting with you both.”

  As Felicity made her exit, her thoughts were in a whirl. She had so much to tell James about this encounter that she didn’t know where to begin. Should she tell him, though? She’d have to think on it.

  Chapter 16

  Gotcha!

  “We have good news, Chairman.” The Consortium Director of Operations waited until Ari Khamenei indicated he should continue. “Our agents say the Pantheon team have acquired the specs for the Fleet’s particle beam weapon, the one they’re pretending is a scanner. Once those have been delivered to our facility at Seraphis, our engineers can commence building our own weapons. They have eliminated Mr Ribble and an associate of his responsible for the misguided substitutions, and they may have eliminated one of Fleet Security’s people as well.”

  “Excellent.” The Chairman’s frown indicated a question was coming. “Where are the weapon specs now? Who has them?”

  “They’re on Mars, Chairman. The courier has been delayed. He expects to be en route for Seraphis soon.”

  “A delay? That sounds conveniently suspicious. Why not an immediate transfer?”

  “The operation didn’t go as smoothly as they’d hoped, sir. They sabotaged the radiation shield generators as a distraction, and the result was a complete lockdown of all surface activity on Mars. There were complications with the operation itself—Fleet Security may have had a tip-off—and now they’re going over every departing passenger’s credentials extremely rigorously. Security are checking everyone transferring from any of the Mars services to anywhere else as well. The agent will play it carefully to avoid the net.”

  Khamenei nodded. “Very well.” He paused, deep in thought. “Perhaps you could arrange a distraction. You know how vital those weapon specs are to us.”

  “I’ll contact our people and suggest it, Chairman. I’m sure we can stage something suitable.”

  “Then do so.”

  “Yes, Chairman. I have a ship standing by on the Dock at Earth Station. As soon as the
agent delivers the package, it will be on its way to our facility. I have a team on the ship who will analyse the schematics while underway.”

  “Ms Rowanberg:” The TechRate stepped forward to greet her. “Captain Heron’s compliments, ma’am. I’m to see you to the gig. He’s been delayed.”

  Felicity recognised the man. “Afternoon, Tech Garman. Lead on. I suppose the rule that the Boss is last aboard and first off still applies.”

  The TechRate grinned. “That’s the way, ma’am. He’s on his way and wants to get aloft as soon as he’s aboard.”

  “Then I’d better not delay you.” She fell into step next to the man. “I wouldn’t want to risk not getting another treat like this by delaying him.”

  The man glanced at her, then realised she was joking. “No, ma’am, though with our Owner—well, he’s a proper gent, if you follow me.”

  “I think I know exactly what you mean. Yes, good description of him.” She ducked through the hatch, passed through the airlock and took the seat indicated by the pilot, officially, the Captain’s Coxswain. “Thanks.” She looked round the interior. “Wow, these gigs have certainly developed since the last time I was aboard a launch.”

  The Coxswain grinned. “The launches haven’t changed much, but these gigs sometimes have to carry VIPs, and as we are intended to be a flagship, we get a bit of luxury with it.” He stiffened and moved to the control seat. “The Owner’s here.”

  James Heron entered, and when he was fully inside the launch, the TechRate closed the outer hatch then operated the inner door as the Captain took his seat next to Felicity.

  “Get everything you needed to do finished?” he asked her.

  “Yes.” Felicity smiled up at him. “Thanks for offering this lift. It’s certainly more comfortable than the shuttles.”

  He grinned. “True, rank has its privileges.” He finished securing his seat and shoulder belts as the whine of the lift engines indicated the gig was getting underway. “Your table companion didn’t seem too pleased to see me last night. Did I interrupt something?”

  “Yelendi has been trying to recruit me for her organisation for a while.” She leaned closer and spoke in a conspiratorial tone. “To be honest, I’m trying to play her at the same game. We know what she is on the label, but the reality is a little different.”

  “Ah, so I did interrupt you. Or did I rescue you?”

  “A little of both!” said Felicity, and they shared a laugh.

  They grew quiet for a moment as they watched the planet surface fall away beneath them, and then she spoke again.

  “Actually, I think you did rescue me. Yelendi is not just the Contractor Liaison. That’s a cover. We know how high up the ranking she is. Let’s just say there’s only one person above her in their organisation. What we’re after is the people who work under her at the base station here on Mars. It seems there are quite a number of them, and I get the impression that she’s worried because there are some new players in the game. Somebody has enlisted the Pantheon.”

  The mere mention of that dark organisation gave him pause for concern. “Well, just take care, Felicity—there are a few things going on around here that don’t sit well. I’ve just been briefed on some that affect my ship, and I don’t like what I’m hearing. Too many people are playing for the other team and going to great lengths to hide their deception. And what happened to Theresa Hollister is just one example of how far the other side are prepared to go. The Pantheon is very dangerous.”

  “I’m always careful.” Felicity smiled to reassure him, but she wondered how much the Captain knew. She suspected more than he let on. She decided to cast a line to see if he would take the bait. “Trouble is, no one really seems to know who is pulling the strings.”

  He laughed. “I think Mr Brown does, and I hope he can put a stop to it before it ends up in a war.”

  “Let’s hope so! In the meantime, my job is to make sure your ship gets everything it needs—despite the best efforts of Yelendi Dysson and her cohort.”

  “Approaching the Vanguard, sir,” the Coxswain announced. “We’ll be landing in five minutes.”

  “Sounds good, Max.”

  He smiled at Felicity. “Back to the mothership, the other lady in my life.”

  “I’m jealous!” she teased, and he enjoyed the quick grin she gave him.

  “Care to have dinner with me tomorrow evening?” he asked.

  “Love too, thanks. Nineteen hundred?”

  The prospect of an evening with James Heron—and possibly more—lightened her mood that day as she ploughed through the mountain of tasks that needed her attention. She did not allow it to distract her, though, and her staff found themselves correcting various discrepancies she spotted in their work.

  “Gus, I see there’s another request to substitute components for the Command Suite. According to the proposal, it won’t affect performance, but the specification doesn’t match. Run it past Commander Dieffenbach, please. Oh, and ask Rendell to see me when he’s free.”

  Gus Francois glanced at the file she transmitted to him. “This is the third time they’ve sent this across. I refused it the last time. Shall I get the Commander to put in a formal assessment and refusal?”

  “Yes, do that. Perhaps a categoric from the Commander will get the message through.”

  “Right. And do you want to see Rendell now? He’s free at the moment, waiting for a response to the last queries you gave him.”

  “Yes, please, that would be great.”

  Minutes later, Rendell Fuchs appeared at Felicity’s office door looking flustered. “Sorry to bother you, Ms Rowanberg, but there’s a problem—they can’t complete the launch pulse generators for the strike craft launch system. They say the mag-pulse units are unavailable.”

  “Come in, Rendell.” She indicated a seat. “Let’s go over the information you’ve been given. I wanted to see you anyway, so this is well timed.”

  “You wanted to see me?” His concern showed.

  “Yes, I wanted to tell you that you’ve helped us avoid a major problem with the hypercom installation. Well spotted that they’d supplied a superseded type for the hyperlinks.”

  “Oh, thanks…whew, that’s a relief. Thought I was in trouble for a minute there!” Fuchs beamed, his relief plain. He’d been very alarmed to learn, from his contact on the Dock, that Fleet Security was watching him. “Um, about these mag-pulse units....”

  “Yes, what are they giving as the reason?” She sat back and listened as he launched into a lengthy explanation. “So they’re saying there will be a delay in the completion of the launch system? And the type offered can’t handle the strike fighters assigned to Vanguard?”

  “Exactly. It could mean not having her full complement on completion.”

  “Let me have the advisory. The Admiral will have to deal with it as the strike craft aren’t part of our remit. What about the landing barges? Are they affected?”

  “I’ll have to check. They weren’t mentioned.”

  “Do that.” She sat closer to her desk and rearranged some files to signal the discussion was over. “Let me have all the details and the answer on the barges in the morning.”

  In her suite, Felicity ran a check on the young man she’d met earlier. The system confirmed the existence of Selwyn Cardington, including his birth date, his address in Buckinghamshire, England, and the fact he was a technical manager and director of a bio-tech company specialising in food replication. His business card gave no sign of being anything other than what it was, and the datachip embedded in it contained a catalogue of the company’s products, nothing more.

  Preparing for her evening out with James, she selected her outfit and dressed with half her mind on Mr Cardington. For reasons she couldn’t explain, Felicity felt uneasy about him. Something just did not seem right, but she couldn’t put a finger on it. She made a mental note to run further checks, then gathered her things and prepared to leave, doing her best to stay calm, though she was already remembe
ring the last time she had been alone with James Heron, and was relishing the details of that memory with anticipation.

  She would have to watch herself, but the woman in her could not resist this man who had captivated her heart as well as her mind. She could easily become far too attached to him, and that would have big implications for them both, but she would worry about that another day. Tonight was going to be special.

  She heard a slight click and turned in surprise as the door opened to reveal a service droid pointing a stun pistol at her. “What the hell…?”

  Her reflexes kicked in a nano-second too late.

  Bast, in a droid service unit costume, gestured for an autonomous cleaning service carrier to enter the room, then she removed the metal headpiece of her droid costume. “That came as a little surprise, didn’t it, Ms Rowanberg.” She checked Felicity’s pulse. Satisfied, she bundled the unconscious woman into the carrier and slid the hatch cover closed. The slight click when it locked was immensely satisfying to her.

  “Enjoy the ride,” she said with a smirk.

  Replacing the headpiece of her droid costume, she opened the door and followed the cleaning service carrier out. Satisfied she was unobserved, she activated her comlink. “Package on its way. Make sure it reaches the storage facility undamaged.”

  Taking care to walk as a droid would, Bast entered the service passage and made her way to the small storage space she’d secured earlier. The costume needed a lot of work to dismantle and remove, but after several minutes, Selwyn Cardington emerged.

  “Now for a little amusement.” Bast smiled. “Oh, yes. Dinner for one.”

  Marcus Grover studied the latest decree with mounting anger. He was in the office of Hurker, the Chairman of the Board of Community Management, and was not happy to be there. “What the hell is this all about? Now the skimmers and cargo shuttles are to be immobilised, and the normal cargo services to Pangaea City are suspended? How the hell are we supposed to get supplies from the mainland? What about our business with them? What provision is there for the stuff we ship out?”