“Missile away. Stand by for dropout.” The ship’s Master, Mike Frey, in reality a full Fleet Captain, counted down. “Dropped out. Nothing on scans.”
Felicity watched her display. “He’s still closing the missile. Can’t have registered that it isn’t the ship.”
“His scanners must be bloody crude if they’re not registering the mass discrepancy.” The ScanRate ran some checks. “Even our old systems could tell the difference in size.”
“True, or he’s spotted the decoy and wants to recover it.” She keyed her link. “Garry, did you include my little parcel of nano drones?”
“We did, and the relay units. They’ll attach themselves to the outer hull as soon as the carrier is close enough.”
Harry studied the latest schedules and requisitions for the Lagan. Everything was on target. Barring some major default, the ship would be ready on time. He leaned back in his chair and sipped his coffee, savouring the fine blend. Not for the first time it struck him that the fitting out of these spacefaring vessels demanded skills as specialised as rigging a ship had required four hundred years earlier—different skills, more technical perhaps, but just as specialised.
“Good morning, sir.” Jenny Matlock entered, a mug of strong black coffee in hand. “Mind if I sit?”
“Please do.” Harry grinned. “I understand you’ve found a way to avoid dismantling your reactor controls after all.”
She settled on the edge of a chair and leaned her elbows on the table, nursing her mug. “Yes, sir. It took a bit of fiddling, but we managed it.” She grinned. “I think the fitters were sceptical, but it worked. Mr. Carrera is happy, and everything is now in place, the right way up and operational.”
“Excellent news.” Harry smiled a greeting to the Navigation Officer and the Lacertian Weapons Officer as they entered, and waved an invitation to be seated. “I believe that makes your department now complete.”
“Pretty much, sir. We’ve a few more installations to test and some adjustments to make, but we should have everything fully online inside of the completion date.”
Harry looked at the Lacertian, and before he could ask, she said, “My weapons systems are complete, Captain. We will begin the final trials as soon as we leave the dock.”
“Good, Lieutenant Sci’enzile. Thank you. We are scheduled to run live firing trials in four weeks.” He glanced up as the Executive Officer entered. “Good morning, Mr. Banks. I see we have confirmation of the last drafts to make up our complement.”
“Yes, sir. They’ll be joining us next week when their transport arrives. Should give us plenty of time to settle in before the trials start.” He slipped into a chair opposite Harry, nursing a cup.
Harry let his glance pass over the Lieutenant, who looked tired, as if he’d had a bad night, and focussed on Jenny’s explanation of how the fitting of the shield generator units was being managed with the cooperative efforts of her TechRates and the Fitters. As he listened, he was struck by the thought that his team worked really well together, and that pleased him. A cohesive team meant a smooth-running ship.
The only concern, as he watched the faces and listened to their banter, was Mr. Banks, the Executive Officer, who still held himself aloof, as if his thoughts were elsewhere. Mr. Banks’s relationship with the Weapons and Communications Warrant Officers seemed unusually strained—wary might be a better description. There was something a little unusual about it, but Harry couldn’t quite determine what it was.
Jenny broke into his thoughts. “I see the LPSL are excited about some new civilisation, sir.” She laughed. “Their spokesperson was getting very antsy about anyone making contact with these creatures—more or less demanding that we do nothing.”
Harry nodded. “I heard something of this, though I expect first contact will be when they decide they want it, not when we do.” He finished his coffee. “Well, let me clarify. I hope the LPSL do not force an encounter. They are foolish enough to do so, and the consequences would be disastrous for everyone. But, it is unlikely to be our problem.” He grinned at them. “We have a ship to complete and commission, my friends. That should keep me from being accused of destroying or corrupting another alien culture.”
Taking the cue, Jenny, Sci’enzile and the others laughed as they stood, gathered their mugs and took their leave.
Lieutenant Banks lingered. “I’ve a few items I need your views on, sir.”
“Very well.” Harry smiled. “Shall we deal with them?”
Chapter 7
Interventions
_________________________
For several minutes after the Lieutenant’s departure, Harry sat at his desk, a slight frown creasing his brow as he pondered the items Mr. Banks discussed with him. None of them seemed to require a decision from him or a special reason to be brought to his attention, so why had they been raised? Was it simply a clumsy attempt to show that his instruction to be consulted on any change was being followed to the letter? Or was he being tested in some manner? A memory stirred. He’d learned that Mr. Banks was having an affair with a communications TechRate. Was there something else going on in that regard that he didn’t know about?
“Lagan, is there anything in your communications installation that will cause a problem once it is operational? Anything unusual or different about it?”
“It is a standard system, Harry, though there is an additional repeater unit which operates on a frequency not used by the Fleet.”
Harry considered this carefully. “Who uses that system?”
“I do not have that information, Harry. It is not registered in my databank or the Fleet’s. It retransmits certain signals that I receive, and it receives messages of unknown origin. No other part of my system is able to receive or detect its signal.”
“So everything transmitted by the Fleet is repeated by this unit?”
“No, only certain transmissions.”
“Please give me a complete log of which signals, and identify anything unusual about them, or perhaps what selects them.” He thought a moment longer, and the AI listened to his thoughts.
Before he could ask the question, the ship answered. “No, Harry, it is not broadcasting to a hypercom transmitter. It repeats to a unit on the station. I can detect the actuation of the sender and the receiver, but not the transmission itself.”
Harry’s half-framed question got an immediate answer.
“It repeats all signal traffic addressed to you, Harry, as well as all your private messages.”
Harry’s temper surged. How dare anyone intercept his correspondence and communications! An unpleasant thought struck him. “Lagan, does it repeat our conversations?”
“No, Harry. These do not use my communications circuits and nodes.” There was a hesitation. “Do you need me to shut it down?”
“Yes!” Harry ordered, then he reconsidered, his rage turning to ice. “No! No, don’t. I want to know who is behind this. Ask your sister ships if any of them have similar units installed, and provide me with all the circuit information for this unit, its operating system and the messages it repeats. Send it to…” He hesitated. “No, that would use your communication network and trigger it to alert them.” He had a better idea. “Store it in a protected file. I will have someone else download it from you.”
“It is done. How should I identify who I must give it to?”
“Give it to the person who identifies himself to you as Fionn MacCumhaill.” Drawing out his writing pad, Harry composed a note.
Lagan read the note and stored this strange method of human communication for further study. Another part of the AI was already searching for records of a Fionn MacCumhaill. Briefly it wondered why the Captain would instruct it to pass the information he wanted to a mythological figure, then it stored the answer and continued its normal routines and functions.
“Our little package surprised them.” Felicity indicated the display. Several EVA-suited figures advanced toward the missil
e. “I’ll be interested to see how they intend to capture it.”
“Looks like they expected to use grapnels of some kind.” The Commander of one of the defence teams indicated the large magnetic grapnel near one of the suited figures. “Overkill for a missile.”
“Yes.” Felicity frowned. “Interesting, though they obviously didn’t have a visual on it. They expected to find a ship.”
“Looks like they’ve decided to take it aboard. Good. Means some of our toys will get to disperse on their ship.” A Lieutenant indicated the image. “Those suits look odd … humanoid, but the helmet looks misshapen, and the visor must be bloody difficult to see through unless you have eyes designed for very low light.”
Felicity glanced at another station. “What are you guys reading on the life scanners?”
“Similar to what we got on that barge, ma’am. Readings as if there are two beings, one somehow joined to the other. Body heat signatures are lower than human, but basically four limbs, torso and a head. The head is hotter than the rest of it, and it’s where the double signature is clearest.”
“Right, upload all the data to the Boss on the TJG.” She glanced at the commander. “Have your bugs been deployed?”
“Yes, the moment the decoy ship was pulled into the dock.”
“Time we found our escort and got out of here then.” Felicity straightened up. “I want everything analysed and uploaded direct to the TJG and copied to HQ. There’s a lot here that doesn’t make sense.”
“Good news, darling Harry.” Mary was all smiles in the holo-image. “Niamh has all the legal issues settled, and we can go ahead with the wedding arrangements.”
“Wonderful.” Harry returned the smile, wishing they weren’t separated by several dozen light years. “At last, we can make the final plans then. That is great news. I shall look at our schedule and book my passage for leave. That gives us a little less than six months. Does that suit you, my love?”
She laughed. “With barely a few days in which to have our honeymoon before you rush off to your ship? Really, Harry.” She studied his stricken look for a moment. “Of course it’s okay, my sweet man. Don’t look so downhearted. Send me your dates when they’re confirmed and Niamh will help me sort out the wedding and a honeymoon that fits in.”
Harry frowned. “But I will pay for it. I shall instruct Aunt Niamh to make a charge on my bank account for the expenses.”
“Don’t be silly, we’ll share the costs. Well, I can hear that link of yours chirping. Better let you go. Let me have the dates when you can, and we’ll get things in motion.” She blew him a kiss. “All my love, my Captain.” The hologram vanished.
Harry sighed as he answered the link. “Heron.”
“Commander, Lieutenant Greene here. I wonder if you could spare a few minutes, sir. I have some correspondence for you.”
Lieutenant Greene proved to be a pseudonym, and the man who met him a few minutes later in the lounge reserved for Commanders was in civilian attire and took great care to avoid revealing his true rank. Harry had the feeling his visitor was older than he appeared, possibly even too old for the rank he claimed.
“Sorry about all the cloak and dagger, Commander, but there’s a lot at stake here.” The ‘Lieutenant’ shook hands. “Have you taken steps to kill or isolate that repeater?”
“Actually, no, I decided to let it continue so as not to alert whoever installed it that I knew it was there.” Taking a seat, Harry added, “I cannot say I like its presence, however.”
“Good idea. We know who is behind these installations, and yours is not the only ship that’s had one of these installed, but we need to catch the people managing them, and that’s a lot more difficult.” He studied Harry. “I can’t tell you the full story, but it involves some very wealthy and powerful people who have ambitions with regard to who governs the Confederation and a few other nations.”
“Do you think I might have a traitor in my crew?” Harry’s face showed his anger at the thought.
“It certainly looks that way, though we think he’s being manipulated. It’s his handler we’re after.” He leaned back. “The action you’re taking to avoid the transmission of your messages will work for now, but they may already suspect something. We need you to use the normal communications channels to not raise suspicion.” He slid a small device across the table. “This will encode anything you send. They’ll still be able to read it, but the information will have been altered slightly to throw them off. Anything you get from HQ will have to be fed through it to convert it back to the real message.”
Harry took the device and studied it. “I see. But how, precisely, will this assist in tracing the traitor?”
The visitor smiled. “Every message that passes through one of these has a tag buried in the code. Anyone who reads it will automatically be identified to us.” He paused. “We’ll catch the mole.”
“Well done, Felicity. You and your team have pulled it off. As we thought, that mining station is being used as a waystation by the Charonians and their associates lurking among our people.” The Admiral frowned. “Just as well Admiral Heron gave you that frigate squadron as cover.”
“I think by now they’ve realised the Thermopylae isn’t what she appears to be.”
“Maybe. You monitored the images your bugs picked up when they took the decoy aboard, right?”
“Yes, sir. Admiral Heron suggested the frigates be on hand, as he has been watching the pirate activity in that sector and thought they’d try something against a ship like ours.”
“Yes, so he reported.” The Admiral paused. “We’ve intel on who the money is behind the pirates, but they’re a screen for a bigger game that involves some very wealthy people. The Charonians are playing their own game. They’re very advanced in their development of metal alloys, certain aspects of biotech, weapons and so on, but backward in a lot of other ways.”
“Have we learned anything about what they’re trying to achieve—the Charonians?”
“We think so, and it isn’t good. Remember how your scans gave the impression of two life forms?” He paused as she nodded. “That’s because that’s exactly what you are seeing. We’re not certain what it is or how it works, but there’s some sort of symbiotic process involved. Until we can get a look at one—or better yet, get some DNA out of them—we’re operating in the dark.”
“That’ll be a good trick. Have we got any possibility for doing that?”
“Not yet, but we’re working on it.”
The trials and testing exposed a whole raft of defects and problems, many directly attributable to the changes in their installation. Tempers flared, nerves were stretched to the limit, and several times Harry found himself biting back a sharp rebuke when some minor defect showed up and required major work to sort out. Several of these were the result of the altered order of installation that Mr. Banks initiated before Harry joined the ship. Coupled with the knowledge that his signals were being relayed to some unknown receiver, his temper was stretched to the limit.
“Damnation,” Harry muttered as the latest problem manifested itself. He leaned back and took a few seconds to regain control, at least outwardly. “Run the diagnostics please, Mr. Jakobsen. There must be a reason the targeting shuts down as soon as you attempt to lock onto your target, Lieutenant Sci’enzile.”
“Yes, sir. We’re running a full diagnostic of the system.”
“Very well.” Harry was tired. The last three weeks had been busy, and the defects and failures irritated him. He listened to the ship’s AI network through his link. “Lagan, is there some addition to your systems that could cause this failure? Run a comparison of your installed components and the schematics for your systems issued by the dock. Check for anything added recently.”
“There is a unit, Harry. It is recorded in my installation programs as a scan monitor, but it actually monitors the targeting system and redirects instructions to it.”
“Show me.”
Harry studied the schematic the AI presented. So, another little addition to the ship, one with potentially fatal consequences for them all. He considered his options. To hell with the consequences. “Lagan, I want you to direct a power surge to that unit. I want you to make it burn. Can you do that?”
“Yes, Harry. But it may damage other parts of my system. It is mounted in the communications console.”
“The communications console linked to your targeting system?” Harry hesitated. Maybe this would shake something out. “Do it.” Why the devil would anyone install a part of the targeting system in the communications console? Unless it was someone who wanted to access it remotely, or who didn’t want to risk having it found by Lieutenant Sci’enzile….
“Sir, the diagnostic says everything is functional and online, but we still can’t achieve a target lock. Wait, the target system has cleared—we have a lock.”
“Fire!” The Communications Warrant leapt out of his seat. “The damned console’s on fire.”
“Isolate the power to it,” ordered Mr. Banks. “Get that panel open and put it out.”
A TechRate ripped open the panel, and the Master Warrant directed the jet of extinguishing agent into the unit.
“Warrant, are our coms down?” said Harry.
The man scowled as he surveyed the damaged interior of the console. “Looks like it’s fairly local, sir.” He reached in to pull out the damaged unit.
“Don’t touch it, Warrant,” Harry snapped. “Leave it exactly where it is. I want Dock Security to see it first.”
The Warrant hesitated then withdrew his hand. “Yes, sir.”
Harry watched. Did the Warrant look worried? Mr. Banks certainly did, but why? “Check our coms. If we can still communicate, I want a channel to the dock. Weapons, run a targeting routine again, please. I want to know why we couldn’t get a lock before this fire.”
The TechRate glanced at the Warrant, his fingers already dancing across the interface. Harry already knew what the answer would be as the Rate called, “Hypercoms are down, sir, but all other systems are fine.” The TechRate glanced again at the Warrant and received an imperceptible nod. “Shall I open a link to the dock, sir?”
Harry Heron: Hope Transcends Page 6