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

by Patrick G Cox

  “We have it all in hand, sir. I have the team running scans for all command systems for that area. We think we can take control of the food replicator, and possibly the lighting and ventilation systems as well. The door system should be no problem, but we have no way of checking for any lethal trap that might be triggered by opening the door, and we have to be careful we don’t alert them to the fact we’ve located them.”

  “Good point. What about the wash basin and shower? Could they have rigged those to inject a toxic agent when the water is turned on? I wouldn’t put it past them.”

  “I’ll get the team to check, sir. If they find any anomalies, we’ll have to isolate it.”

  “Do that.” The Admiral pushed himself out of his seat. “This is far too easy, Piet. We’re missing something. Bast is a damned sight sharper than this. My hunch is that she’s playing with us and making us look the wrong way. Why would she try to set up one of her hunts on a planet where we could locate her and her victim within minutes? It’s all wrong. What are we missing?”

  “I don’t know, sir, but I’ve had the same feeling.”

  “Then we had better damned well find it, and fast!”

  Piet Brandeis paused. “Something else these scans showed up, sir. Looks like a long-range shuttle hidden about forty kilometres from where they’ve got Felicity. It’s obscured by an anti-scan screen, but Vanguard’s enhanced scanners were able to penetrate it just sufficiently to determine that’s exactly what it is.”

  The Admiral frowned as he studied the scanner image. “So that’s the game then.” James had pulled a blinder using his ship’s scanners. The Admiral would have to get his ghost squad into position to make sure that shuttle didn’t get the cargo it was waiting for. He straightened up. “Concentrate on getting to Felicity, but don’t alert them. I’ll get that shuttle attended to.”

  “Check your movement, sir.” The armourer stood back. “This new armour is ultra light and doesn’t show beneath normal clothing, but if we don’t have the fit just right, it will restrict certain movements.”

  James Heron studied the skintight bodysuit. “It doesn’t feel like armour.” He made several movements associated with martial arts. “Ah, I see what you mean. I need full freedom of movement in my arm at the shoulder.” He repeated the movements while the armourer checked. “It seems fine everywhere else, but I’ll need to go through a full session to be sure.”

  “Yes, sir, I can adjust that, but it will mean changing the suit. That’ll take about twenty-four hours.” The armourer paused. “I suggest you keep that one on until I have the replacement, sir. It’ll give you a chance to get used to the feel and the fit.”

  The Captain nodded. “Good idea. I’ll do that.” He hesitated. “You say this is capable of stopping a needle gun, and it diffuses a stunner? What about larger projectiles and plasma?”

  “It stops projectiles, sir. You’ll have a bruise, but it stops penetration. Plasma it can’t handle, and if you’re caught by a blast weapon, it’ll stop any fragments, but beyond that….” He shrugged. “The armour does have gloves and a hood, but you can’t wear those without drawing attention, sir.”

  “I understand. Very well, I had better get used to it then.” He considered for a moment. “I better try the gloves and hood as well.”

  Felicity was bored, and she was getting desperate. She’d been isolated in this cell for three weeks, and despite her training, she was struggling. She knew she was being observed, and knew that at least two of the implanted devices in her body still functioned. The third, which would have enabled Security to trace her movements, must have been deactivated or perhaps blocked by a screen in this place. Her implanted cyberlink, which allowed her to mentally access any AI in proximity, was also inactive, which meant there was either no AI in this area, or that access was blocked, which again meant a screen of some kind.

  “Time to give my daily show,” she said aloud. Lowering herself to the floor, she started her limbering exercises for a yoga session. The discipline helped, and her captors must realise it, though they seemed quite happy for her to do this. Her one worry was that they could, at any time, insert poison, drugs or some nasty virus or bacteria into her food supply. All of this went through her head as she concentrated on the yoga exercises and the meditation that went with it.

  As always she finished with the Chinese slow motion movements of Tae Kwon Do, performing them as a graceful ballet. Deliberately, she worked to make it appear that she wasn’t trained to use them in the fighting mode, controlling her lightning reflexes and inducing the occasional mistake and awkward movement.

  Watching on their monitors, the two daemons of Bast’s team commented in appreciation. “That is one tough lady. Pity she’s not on our team. Nice to look at too. I must admit, I like the daily yoga show she gives us with all that bending and flexing.”

  His coworker smirked a grin. “Yeah, I hear you. If we’ve gotta watch a captive, might as well be someone like her. It’s obvious she’s well trained. Most of them crack long before this. Wonder if her lover-boy knows she’s Special Service? Poor sap, Bast is going to have fun with him. She’ll toy with him until she gets bored or he stops struggling.” The man laughed. “If he’s lucky, she’ll let him see his girlfriend before she kills them both.”

  “Yeah, I almost pity them.” The first daemon leaned back. “Funny, she must know we’re monitoring her. I’m damned sure she’s found at least one of the spy cams, but she acts as if she doesn’t know it’s there, or if she does, maybe she doesn’t care.” He sat up straight and practically drooled on his keyboard. “Yesssss! She’s stripping for a shower now. Best part of my day.”

  Felicity did know they were watching—of course she knew!—and would have been amused by their assessment of her physical and mental state. They’d have been less jovial had they been privy to her intentions for them if she got the chance.

  Chapter 20

  Exposed

  Yelendi Dysson faced a dilemma. She was pretty sure she knew the identity of Bast. She’d already taken a chance on being exposed by passing the maps and plans of the unregistered extensions and repurposing of the Mars settlements and mines to her contact in Fleet Security. Should she risk passing along what she suspected about Bast? There was the very serious possibility that if she did, the Pantheon could trace it back to her.

  If that happened, she was doomed….

  On the other hand, the situation on the Dock was getting out of hand. What should have been a straightforward exercise had become so complicated it risked exposing everything. It was bad enough that several unsolved murders were being investigated by the Dock police and Fleet Security. This had unsettled everyone and created an air of suspicion and tension that led to explosive arguments and fighting among the workforce.

  To make it even more complicated, Fleet Security was getting far too close to some of the agents. She’d had to put several on Earth leave and suspend two key operations intended to delay completion of two frigates being fitted out in another part of the Dock.

  Despite all this, she believed in what she was doing for the Consortium, primarily because she believed the current political system needed major changes. She felt that she was doing her part, even if it was all in the background.

  Not that she was a starry-eyed idealist. Far from it. She simply believed that the Confederation of Northern Europe, the World Treaty Council and the North American Union restricted the freedom of the individual and limited opportunity for too many. The Consortium’s plans offered opportunities for the less wealthy to rise and thrive. Her devotion to the cause, as she thought of it, was interesting considering that she was born into a wealthy family, one whose wealth had benefitted from being linked to the Consortium at an early date. When she was old enough to understand this, she believed in the concept from the start. To her either-or way of thinking, unregulated and unrestricted commerce was good; bureaucracy and restrictions on the freedom to exploit any society and any resource were bad. It sounde
d so simple and so justifiable.

  She failed to understand that nothing is as simple as this-or-that, either-or, good-or-evil. Most people and society were a nuanced blend of both. But she was young, idealistic and motivated, and that’s exactly why she was hired. Now that she was near the top of her chosen profession after years of honing her skills, she was no longer so sure of the binary concepts she’d been drawn to. Reality had been a harsh teacher.

  Her thoughts drifted to another angle. The Chairman’s involving the Pantheon made her wonder whether she might be mistaken in her choice of agency for making a positive impact on society. Several recent events concerned her and made her reconsider her beliefs. A number of the Chairman’s decisions were very disturbing, but she could do little to directly change or influence society because she was merely one person in a vast army of underlings doing one man’s bidding.

  But there were some things that not even her generous salary could make her ignore.

  At times it kept her awake wondering if what she believed in was the right path.

  In the meantime, there was at least one thing she could do to get rid of a problem and perhaps earn some credits with Fleet Security by stopping what was likely to be two murders. She glanced at the latest report she’d had from her contacts on Pangaea. It made her extremely uncomfortable.

  Very carefully she constructed her data package, which included all the information she had and the identity of the person she believed to be Bast. Delivery would be the tricky part, but she had that organised. Her contact in Fleet Security had already delivered her last package, and she could use the same route again.

  She activated her link. “Dylan? Fancy joining me for a meal this evening? I think you’ve earned it, and so have I.”

  Felicity woke instantly as the door to her isolation room opened. Her reflexes kicked in and she was off the bed and diving across the room before it registered in her conscious mind.

  “Impressive, Ms Rowanberg.” The voice was distorted by a synthesiser, and the facial features hidden by a helmet and mask. “No. Don’t move. Stay exactly where you are or my companion will blow you away, and that will spoil our leader’s fun.” He pushed a holoprojector into the room. “In about twelve hours your friend the Captain will be trying to save you. You’ll be able to watch his efforts from here. Enjoy the show.” He stepped back, and the door slid shut and latched.

  Her pulse quickened. What did he mean that James would try to save her? She didn’t like the word try; it suggested some kind of ambush awaited him. The worst was that she still had no idea where she was being held.

  She needed to spoil whatever these bastards planned, and her mind set to work.

  She took stock of her surroundings for the millionth time, and made herself consider what she might not have observed in her weariness and boredom. There had to be something. At least now she knew the door could be opened from the outside. Was it possible to operate it from her side? Time to find out.

  In the remaining hours leading up to his rendezvous with Bast, James Heron immersed himself in studying everything he could find about her—assassinations, espionage operations, and these obscene hunts that she delighted in once she captured her prey. His SU assistant Adriana had been very thorough and provided him a wealth of information, including the ancient Egyptian records on the cat goddess Bast. As he pored over these, he hoped they might reveal some idiosyncratic signature the assassin might favour.

  When the hour was near, James dressed in his new suit of armour and met with the Admiral.

  The Admiral, serving in the role of Mr Brown, studied the Captain, who was dressed in a light version of battle armour designed to be worn over the special armour they’d provided, and was holding an emergency air mask and air supply. “Got everything, James? You don’t seem to be carrying much hardware.”

  “I’ve got the things I think will be the most use to me, sir.” He grimaced. “Not a lot of point in carrying the heavy missile tubes and plasma rifles, not in these damned tunnels. I think they’ll have some way of monitoring my movements, possibly visuals through bugs, so your chief toymaker has given me some of his special units for finding and neutralising those. I’m more worried about some of the anti-personnel stuff they may have planted.”

  “You don’t think Bast’ll be there, do you, James?”

  “Someone will be there, sir, I’m pretty sure of that. It’s a ridiculously open and well-known space, almost too well known and too public, which makes me think it’s a ruse.” He adjusted the webbed harness he wore. “Bast likes to stalk her target. She’s like the cat goddess she takes her name from. She likes to capture and then play with her victim. The location she chose for this meeting suggests something different. I don’t think she’ll be there. One or more of her daemons will be, but not her. I think she’s set it up so that Felicity, or I, or both of us end up being transported somewhere else while she goes after something or someone here.”

  “Damn it, James, I knew you should be on my team! You’ve spelled out exactly my thoughts.” The Admiral thought of the hidden shuttle. “But where is she, and who or what is she after?”

  “I think she’s on the Dock. Her goal is to get her hands on the specs for the PBW, and get that to her paymasters.” James Heron hesitated. “If I were in her position, my plan would be to use my hostages as a distraction, then use a different team to neutralise them, and get the hostage/victim shipped to somewhere I could take my pleasure later and without fear of interference.”

  The Admiral levelled a considered gaze at James for a long moment before he spoke. “I’m going to have a talk with the Grand Admiral about you, Captain Heron. I think—no, I am now convinced—that you should be in my Command. You’re damned well wasted on a ship.” He looked up as Commander Brandeis entered. “Yes, Piet?”

  “Funny one, sir. We’ve been given a possible ID for Bast. Same source that gave us the unregistered settlement plans. I’ve run a check. The person is listed as being on the Dock, but can’t be found at present.” He paused. “We found this in her accommodation.”

  “What the hell is that?” demanded the Admiral.

  “A bio unit. Someone using this can create a coating that contains the DNA of someone else they are masquerading as.”

  The Admiral was on his feet. “That means she’s on the Dock, probably disguised as someone with the clearance she needs. Do we have her physical stats? She’ll be disguised as someone who is physically similar in build and height—those can’t be altered. Run a search and find every match in the system. Then find and check every one of them, starting with any who are actively working on anything to do with the Vanguard.”

  “Better include any of my build crew who fit the parameters as well—there’s bound to be some, especially in the Weapons branch.”

  “Good thought, James. Right, we better get you down to the planet. We’ll need at least two hours to get you into position.” Mr Brown suddenly noticed several canisters in a pouch attached to the Captain’s belt. “What the hell are those?” he said.

  James Heron grinned. “These generate a mist compound that turns to a sort of smoke. It disorientates some people and fries monitoring devices, and it’s handy for revealing laser triggers.”

  Unaware that her real identity had been betrayed and her accommodation searched, Bast prepared to board the Vanguard disguised as a Weapons TechRate accompanied by her two most trusted agents in similar disguise. The original owners of the IDs they were using had not put up any sort of fight. It could be said they’d not known what hit them. They’d arrived on the latest shuttle, been singled out and diverted from the rest of their draft, and never had the chance to board their new ship. The mortal remains of all three were currently packed in sealed freight containers awaiting shipment to Earth. If things went according to plan, Captain Heron and his lady friend would soon be reunited for a one-way trip to one of her favourite planets for her hunts. Bast had a gleam in her eyes as her mouth stretched into a reptilian smil
e. Ah, yes, a pleasure to look forward to.

  Turning to her agents, she got straight to the point. “No need to dawdle about wasting time. You both know your tasks.” She turned to the taller of the two. “We avoid any contact with anyone who possibly knew these grunts. You’ve got that schematic? Good. We board, we go directly to the Node at Deck Zero 4 Delta sub Bravo, Frame 112, and we get to work. As soon as we have the schematics for this weapon, we’re on our way.”

  The other agent grinned. “We’re on it, Dickie,” he said, using the name of the man she was impersonating. He’d worked with Bast on several assignments, and it never failed to amaze him how she could switch between sexes and faces, and do so convincingly. “What if we’re recognised at the entry port?”

  “We’ll have to bluff it. You can lead the way. If we board mingled with the Dock Techs, we’ll avoid too much scrutiny.” She indicated a transport unloading workers. “Here’s our chance. Apply another dose of the creme and make sure the fingerprint films adhere properly.” She did the same. “Okay, boys, let’s go.”

  The Regulating Master Warrant saw the trio of TechRates among the workers going through the process of having their IDs checked. “You three! Over here. You’re adrift!” He signalled an assistant. “Log our scallys aboard. Report to your Sections, chop, chop. This ship is going to be ready on time no matter how hard you lot goof off or your pals over there try to slow it down.”

  “Yes, MW,” said the taller of the agents. “ We missed the first launch. We’ve got our test schedule and know where we have to start.”

  The RMW watched as his assistant returned the Fleet ID chip cards to Bast and her agents. “Better get on with it then. No more slacking! Got it?”

  “Yes, sir!” they chorused. The three moved on and headed for the gangway leading to the ship address they needed. Behind them, ‘Mr Brown’ looked at his companion. “That’s them. Alert Commander Dieffenbach. He knows what to do.”