HARRY HERON:
HOPE TRANSCENDS
Book Six of the
Harry Heron Series
Patrick G. Cox
Harry Heron: Hope Transcends
Copyright © 2020 Patrick G. Cox
Paperback ISBN: 9781946824691
Hardback ISBN: 9781946824745
ebook ISBN: 9781946824752
Library of Congress Control Number: 2020909560
Harry Heron: Hope Transcends is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, or persons living or dead is coincidental. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission from the publisher or the author except in the case of brief quotations in articles or reviews.
Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Cox, Patrick G., author.
Title: Harry Heron hope transcends / Patrick G. Cox.
Description: [Longwood, FL] : INDIEGO PUBLISHING, 2020. | Summary: In the sixth and final book in the Harry Heron Adventure series, Harry faces insurmountable hurdles in his quest to defeat his enemies and reunite with Mary, the love of his life and his bride-to-be.
Identifiers: LCCN 2020909560 | ISBN 9781946824691 (pbk.) | ISBN 9781946824745 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781946824752 (ebook)
Subjects: LCSH: Life on other planets -- Fiction. | Man-woman relationships – Fiction | Space flight -- Fiction. | Space warfare – Fiction. | BISAC: FICTION / Science Fiction / Space Opera. | FICTION / Science Fiction / Military. | FICTION / Science Fiction / Alien Contact.
Classification: LCC PR6103.O9 H377.H6 2020 (print) | PR6103.O9 (ebook) | DDC 823 C69--dc22
Dedication
__________________________________________
The Harry Heron Series was inspired by my grandfather, the original Henry Nelson Heron, who ran away at the age of fifteen to join the British Army to fight in World War I. He and his best friend were among the casualties on the first day of the Somme battles, which saw the 36th Ulster Division almost wiped out. They survived and went on to make new lives for themselves by making use of their broad knowledge and vast array of skills to further their ambitions.
This book is dedicated to my brother Robert.
1950 - 2020
THE HARRY HERON SERIES
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Harry Heron: Midshipman’s Journey
Harry Heron: Into the Unknown
Harry Heron: No Quarter
Harry Heron: Savage Fugitive
Harry Heron: Awakening Threat
Harry Heron: Hope Transcends
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OTHER BOOKS by PATRICK G. COX
A Baltic Affair
Limehouse Boys
Magnus Patricius: The Remarkable Life of St Patrick the Man
__________________________________________
www.harryheron.com
www.patrickgcox.com
Chapters
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Chapter 1 - Renewed Threat
Chapter 2 - Heart’s Desire
Chapter 3 - Obstacles
Chapter 4 - A Bad Start
Chapter 5 - Something Not Quite Right
Chapter 6 - Recovered Progress
Chapter 7 - Interventions
Chapter 8 - Gloves Off
Chapter 9 - A Hint of Trouble
Chapter 10 - Trap
Chapter 11 - Rocking the Boat
Chapter 12 - Marooned
Chapter 13 - Attempted Coup
Chapter 14 - Out of the Frying Pan
Chapter 15 - Ferghal’s Quest
Chapter 16 - Cracking the Code
Chapter 17 - Disclosures
Chapter 18 - On the Run
Chapter 19 - Reunion
Chapter 20 - Cultural Collision
Chapter 21 - Prodigal’s Return
Chapter 22 - Change of Command
Chapter 23 - Provoked
Chapter 24 - Confrontation
Chapter 25 - Interference Frustrated
Chapter 26 - Choices
Chapter 27 - Abandon Hope
Chapter 28 - Across the Styx
Chapter 29 - Entering Hades
Chapter 30 - Into the Valley of Death
Chapter 31 - Paying the Boatman
Chapter 32 - Avenging Angel
Chapter 33 - Tumbling Dominoes
Chapter 34 - Misjudged
Chapter 35 - The Destroyer Destroyed
Chapter 36 - Recovery
Chapter 37 - Wedding Bells
Note from the Author
Chapter 1
Renewed Threat
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Commodore Felicity Roberts, Director of Surveillance Operations, Fleet Security, looked up as Captain Mike Frey, her second in command, entered her suite. They were aboard the Thermopylae, a freighter by outward appearance, but internally the ship’s layout and fittings had been retrofitted so that it primarily served as an intelligence processing centre for the North European Confederation Fleet.
“What have you got, Mike?”
“The latest decrypts from the group we’re monitoring. They’ve been in touch with the League for the Protection of Sentient Life again. They seem very keen to set up a meeting with an unidentified group—we think they’re talking about that new species the Brotherhood have been getting tech from.”
Felicity nodded. “Any sign they’re going to meet?”
“Looks that way. They’re suggesting a couple of locations outside our borders. More worrying though, is the subtext to their messages.” He activated a display. “There’s a suggestion they’re wanting to install some sort of signal relay on ships, possibly ours. They mention delaying the build program for the new River Class as well. They may have people already working on it.” He moved his hand in the air as if swiping a screen to display the second message. “I’ve alerted our people in the building docks and the maintenance bases.”
“Thanks. This is looking more and more like they’re getting ready to take over their target ministries in key administrations. Prepare the information for me in a briefing note and I’ll inform the Boss by hololink.” She sighed with an air of frustration. “These damned political ideologues never give up. The newscast last night had another of them spouting about how restrictions on trading technology with alien races should be lifted entirely.”
He laughed. “I didn’t catch that one, but there is an odd set of messages between someone at DigiMedia Corporation and the LPSL, and they all mention the same little band of politicos and their so-called research groups, though I doubt any of them know how to conduct research of any kind. Something about getting Commander Heron onto a show and manipulating the broadcast to make it look like the Fleet caused the Niburu War. The message is in response to a question about live editing, and the reply assures the questioner that it can be done. So their intent is to ensconce Commander Heron on stage in front of a live global audience, and contort his words in real time with the intent to expose him as a dangerous relic of the past—their words, not mine.”
She frowned. “Commander Harry Heron? Admiral Heron’s nephew?”
“That’s the one—the young man who led the corvette flotilla that destroyed the Niburu queen ship.” He paused. “He’s a nephew of the Admiral?”
“Not really—actually he’s the God-knows-how-many-times-great uncle of James Heron.” When she saw the baffled expression on Mike’s face, she laughed and added, “He’s one of the infamous three ancient mariners who arrived here in our century straight from the year 1804 from the deck of a wooden sai
ling ship during a sea battle with the French. Something happened with one of our transit gates and caused a rip in the space-time continuum, or some such. I don’t quite understand all that.”
Captain Frey looked stunned. “Ah, yes, I remember now. That explains a lot of what I’ve heard about him.”
She chuckled. “It’s quite the story. Look it up when you get a minute. It’s easier just to call Harry the Admiral’s nephew and leave it at that.” She paused. “Anyway, see what you can find on this LPSL business—who’s behind it, who the contacts are at DigiMedia and the LPSL—anything and everything. Send it to Commander Heron’s current CO—he’s on the Perisher course, I think, and then … no, I’ll contact James Heron myself.”
“Will do. There’s one more thing. We think the Pantheon is involved in this. Their fingerprints are all over the sudden retirements and fatal accidents, if one can call them that, among the top secretaries in several governments. Senator Samland’s involved in it too. She’s in regular communication with a front man for the Pantheon. So far just arrangements to meet in various places, but we need to keep a close eye on her.”
“Good idea,” said Felicity. “What’s the Pantheon up to?”
“They’re being as cautious as ever, but recently one of the Senator’s rivals for a key ministerial appointment had a rather nasty and fatal accident, or so it was reported. I seriously doubt it was accidental. It had the modus of the Pantheon stamped all over it—sadistic and designed to cause maximum alarm among their opponents.”
Felicity recalled a much earlier encounter with one of the Pantheon goddesses, as the female operatives in that underground group referred to themselves. “Give me the details. I think we need to assign a special team to monitor them, and I want the business with the signal repeaters examined fully.”
“Private holocall for you, sir,” announced the Coms Lieutenant to Admiral Heron. Normally he’d have declined the call, logged it and passed a message to his superior, but this caller had used a code word to identify her, and he knew that meant it was top priority.
James Heron hesitated, frowning. “A private message?”
“Yes, sir. The lady said to tell you, Remember Brown.”
“Ah. Very well, I’ll take it in my Day Cabin.” James Heron strode to his quarters and activated his desk display. “Felicity, good to see you again. Business or pleasure?”
“Business, I’m afraid, James.” She laughed. “Congratulations, by the way, on your promotion. Full Admiral now!” She grinned. “You’ve been avoiding me, I think.”
“Congratulations on your promotion as well, Felicity. But if you will insist on swanning about in that freighter they’ve given you—even an Admiral can’t drag his entire fleet across the galaxy to the places you go!”
She laughed. “True, but this way I can hear and see things some people would like to hide. Anyway, back to business. We’ve learned that someone wants to get Harry onto a talk show so they can attempt to destroy his credibility and promote their own agenda. We aren’t sure why or what purpose it will serve, except it seems to be linked to a very quiet coup d’état attempted by stealth. We know that a takeover of key ministries in the Treaty States is underway, so we’ll keep digging until we find whoever is behind it, and we have the evidence to stop it.”
“Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll make sure Harry is aware, and I’ll alert my brother-in-law as well.”
“There’s more, I’m afraid. Our lovely friend of the Fleet and general pain in the neck, Senator Samland, seems to be linked in some way, and she’s up to something that involves the Pantheon.”
“Them again? Are they still active? I thought we put an end to them when your people took out Bast and a few of their top players in 2204.”
“Unfortunately, no. We nabbed some of their top-level gods and goddesses, and several members of their support teams, but the others went into hiding, and lately they’ve been making a reappearance.” Felicity paused. James Heron, then a Senior Captain, had played a major part in the killing of Bast and her team. “Take care, James. We don’t know who they’re after, but you and I could be prime targets if it’s about revenge. So could members of our families.”
Admiral James Heron, Commander in Chief, Allied Fleet One, studied his display. The briefing was comprehensive. The Fleet had recently encountered an alien fleet of ships that completely avoided the Fleet’s attempts at contact. Clearly, the aliens were evasive and technologically advanced. Worryingly, they were known to be in contact with humanity through an unofficial channel linked in some way to the takeover of several Treaty governments’ ministries.
Samland and her friends wanted to raise the issue of the Fleet having finally, and after much argument and millions of human casualties, used a Siddhiche-provided toxic agent to destroy the Niburu. The League and its supporters still maintained the fantasy that the Fleet had been guilty of starting the war, and then of genocide to end it. Politicians like Samland were merely using the controversy to advance their own ambitions and—presumably—to gain some advantage.
He frowned. It looked more and more as if Samland and her cronies were attempting to revive the ideas behind the Consortium. Making a note to raise this with his well-placed brother-in-law, Theo L’Estrange, he keyed his link.
“Adriana, ask Lieutenant Biggar to come to my Day Cabin, please. And book me a holocall to my brother-in-law for 20:00 Dublin time, and one to Commodore Roberts in an hour.”
“As you wish, Admiral. Lieutenant Biggar is here.”
“Send him in.”
Harry’s link chirped, breaking his train of thought as he worked on his dissertation.
“Lieutenant-Commander Heron? See me in my office at your break, please.” The College Deputy Commandant was a large cheerful man, but like all Deputy Commandants in Training Establishments, he was the enforcer of discipline for the student population. His voice on the link betrayed no indication as to whether his request to meet with Harry was to award an accolade or issue a reprimand.
“Aye, aye, sir.” Harry closed the link and returned to working on his dissertation. It had been a gruelling nine months. The course had attracted the nickname The Perisher because it pushed the candidates to the extreme, exposing their weaknesses and building on their strengths, but the rigorous academic discipline prepared the candidates for promotion and command. This course had been tougher than most, since many of the candidates had already been tested in battle in ranks and positions they were only now being trained to perform. That had certainly been Harry’s experience—flying by the seat of his pants, learning with boots on the ground—practically from the day his feet landed on the hangar deck of the NECS Vanguard some eight years earlier, straight from the year 1804 and the deck of the HMS Spartan in the midst of a sea battle with the French.
Harry was having to scramble to make up lost time in his coursework because he’d agreed to film a documentary with Alisdair Montaigne, host of the Montaigne Show, about Harry and his friends Ferghal O’Connor and Danny Gunn. The making of the documentary had been quite enjoyable in one sense. ‘Monty’ Montaigne had proved to be meticulous in the shaping of it, and the research had been accurate. Even the most difficult part—the abuse they’d suffered on the planet Pangaea at the hands of the Johnstone Research Institute—had been done with great sensitivity.
Harry’d had some reservations about how much the documentary would reveal of his and Ferghal’s ability to connect to any AI network in proximity to them, but thankfully that was not fully revealed or discussed.
His feelings regarding Alisdair ‘Monty’ Montaigne were less clear. Montaigne obviously regarded him as a friend, but Harry preferred to keep a little distance between them. They’d had a few encounters onboard the Prins van Oranien during the Niburu War, but that was about it. Harry considered Monty an acquaintance, but there was certainly not enough between them to claim friendship. He didn’t dislike the man; it was more a question of familiarity, and Monty ten
ded to be overly so.
As he saved his work and secured his files, Harry wondered what this summons from the Deputy Commandant was about. Had he offended some instructor with his forthright approach? He thought of the documentary then pondered his live appearance on Monty’s television show afterward. That was probably it. He’d been warned and briefed on how these shows could be manipulated. That must be the reason for this summons.
“Commander, be seated, please.” Captain David waved Harry to a seat as he stepped out from behind his desk to take a chair across from him. “Your appearance on the Montaigne Show went very well.” He smiled. “I have a report here from Commodore Roberts, however, saying you evidently locked out the production team.”
“I’m afraid so, sir.” Harry paused. “The Commodore’s people warned me that there might be attempts to impose subliminal messages and images which could negatively influence and misdirect the viewers—they use a large background screen on the stage, as you know—and suggested I use my link to check.”
“And you detected some?”
“I did, sir.”
Captain David noted Harry’s expression. “So you blocked them?”
“Yes, sir.” Harry recalled the friendly security guard who welcomed him, and who even requested being allowed to take a selfie photo with him, a complete contrast to the surly production manager who took him to the studio.
The Captain smiled. “It seems you may have stirred a hornet’s nest. Our security people have been watching DigiCorp Media for a while. Whenever they discuss something contentious on one of their shows, there’s an upsurge in civil disturbances and factional agitation.”
“Contentious, sir?” Harry frowned. “My part on this show was simply to talk about the documentary that Mr. Montaigne made about my friends and me. You may know them—Lieutenant-Commander Ferghal O’Connor and Sub-Lieutenant Daniel Gunn.” He grinned as a thought hit him. “Well, I suppose some might consider us contentious, even when we don’t try to be!”
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