Harry frowned. “Very well, sir. Though I have little patience with those who cannot remember their loyalties.”
Two hours later, Harry made his way into the lounge used by commanders waiting for the completion of their ships. With his mind on the startling information he’d just received, he ordered a drink, feeling the need to relax before eating his dinner. At least it was reassuring to know, according to what they’d learned from the Provider, that the Charonians were a hybrid race and parasitic in behaviour. They required a host body to develop and function, and preferred to use agents within a population to achieve their objectives.
He had a great deal to consider, so was not particularly pleased when the android steward brought a message from Lieutenant MacKenzie-Banks requesting an urgent interview. He instructed the android to contact the Lieutenant, and accepted the earpiece communicator the steward offered.
“You wish to see me now, Mr. Banks?” The Lieutenant was on thin ice as far as Harry was concerned. In fact, he couldn’t decide whether to ask for the man’s replacement or keep him on his team so he could watch him. He’d learned a few things while linked to the Twee Jong Gezellen’s AI and the Provider on Lycania.
He doubted Admiral Greene realised just how much information Harry had acquired while linked to the ship. The former freightliner was now a hub for Fleet Security Operations, with at least five other Greenes on the TJG’s strength. It had taken an effort to contain his surprise at what he’d learned.
“I realise this is inconvenient for you, sir.” The Lieutenant sounded sincere. “But I don’t think it can wait.” After a pause, he added, “It concerns my position as your Executive Officer, sir.”
“Very well. I will have you met at the entrance to the Commander’s Lounge and reserve a place we can use for a private discussion.” A thought struck him. “Have you eaten dinner? Perhaps you’d care to discuss this matter over some food.”
“Thank you, sir. I haven’t eaten yet, so I’d appreciate it.” The Lieutenant sounded relieved. “I’m on my way, sir.”
Harry ended the link and handed the earpiece to the android. “Please be so kind as to arrange a private table for me, Steward, one that’s visible to everyone but beyond their ability to hear our conversation. Oh, and ask the Concierge to log my Executive Officer in as my guest. His name is Mr. MacKenzie-Banks. I expect he is already at the entrance.”
The android steward gave a slight bow of acknowledgment. “Both requests are affirmed, Commander Heron. The Lieutenant is at the entrance. Shall I bring him here, or would you prefer to go straight to your table?”
Harry hesitated. He wasn’t going to have the opportunity to unwind, especially with his visitor eager to discuss his business. “Bring him over, then take us to the table, please.” He sipped his drink as the steward moved away. Damn, he really had been looking forward to a quiet dinner and a call to Mary. He rose as the steward led the Lieutenant toward him. Well, it looked like he could forget both—the Lieutenant’s expression suggested a serious problem was about to be dropped into his lap.
Felicity plunked the tablet onto the Admiral’s desk and sank into a chair feeling slightly nauseous. The more she learned about the Charonians, the less appealing any contact with them became. Knowing that some very powerful people saw them as allies in their questionable schemes made it worse.
“This is confirmed?” she asked, and braced for the answer she knew was coming.
“Yes.” The Admiral, Fleet Security Service, steepled his fingers. “The Pantheon are acting on behalf of key players in several international capitals, all operating under an umbrella that uses various front organisations for cover. They are after the Charonian alloys which, it must be admitted, would be incredibly useful to us. Acquiring them will give whoever has control of the formulae enormous leverage politically.”
“I sense a ‘but’ coming, sir.”
“You do. That report you’ve just read—what do you think it relates to?”
“I first thought it might be an accident, but a whole population?” She paused. “What is the source of this?”
“It comes from the TJG. Rear-Admiral Gordon got it when he asked Commander Heron to link him to the Provider on Lycania.”
“And he’s certain this is linked to something the Charonians attempted?”
“Yes. It appears they are a form of parasite. They implant themselves into a host and take over. In this case, something went very wrong, and the target population died. Someone, and we think we know who, has done a deal with them in exchange for the secrets of the alloys. They plan to provide humans to the Charonians in exchange.” A look of pure distaste crossed his face. “We have a recording of Senator Samland making a pitch for the deal, as she calls it, to a group of her cronies. I believe her statement was ‘in exchange for a few millions of our surplus population—from the lower social orders—humanity stands to gain a technology that would take us years to develop.’”
“I can hear her saying it.” Felicity felt ill. “Is she completely devoid of morals? Where does the Pantheon fit in this picture?”
“They seem to be the go-betweens. We’re pretty sure they have a hand in at least some part of the piracy, and at least one group of pirates is getting information from them.” The Admiral stood and turned to face the viewscreen. “Felicity, I’m sending you and your team to Admiral Le Jeune’s fleet. I’ll have my Flag Lieutenant upload the information you’ll need. Samland and her people have deep links among sections of the Fleet, including some of our key officers. Samland and someone who calls himself Zorvan are at the centre of it, and one of Admiral Le Jeune’s key people is part of it.”
“Do we know who in Fleet Two?”
“Not all of them, but enough. It’s all in your briefing pack.” He turned. “Good luck. We’re all going to need it. This is worse than the Consortium, far worse, and it involves a lot of those we took back into Fleet after that conflict. Our top priority is to know who Zorvan is—and then we will deal with him.”
Chapter 9
A Hint of Trouble
_________________________
His meal with the First Lieutenant proved enlightening. MacKenzie-Banks had at last admitted that his relationship with a TechRate placed him in a very difficult position. He’d also revealed his reasons for making changes to the installations schedules. As far as Harry could see—and his link to the Twee Jong Gezellen’s AI had given him access to much more than the mysterious ‘Lieutenant’ Greene perhaps realised—Lieutenant MacKenzie-Banks had got himself into a bad situation and needed to be extricated. The question was by whom and how. He was stuck with Banks until Security had run their own gambit to a conclusion, and for that reason, they needed Banks right where he was.
The man had seemed almost pathetically grateful on being told that Harry intended to retain him as First for the foreseeable future. He didn’t share the knowledge that the Coms Master Warrant and the Master Warrant in charge of Weapons were both agents of Security with orders to keep an eye on the Lieutenant.
Harry retired to his quarters deep in thought. His mood lifted instantly when the ship coms signalled an incoming private holo call.
“Hello, darling, I hope I’m not calling at a bad time.” The hologram of Mary steadied.
Harry laughed. “No, love. We’ve just completed the latest series of trials and I was recording my log. How are you? I’m sorry I haven’t called this week.” He gestured behind him. “I’m not sure how much of it you can see, but this is my living space on board.”
She laughed. “Not much, the view is just you and a little background behind you.”
“Oh, of course. Wait, I’ll try to persuade Lagan to show you more. It is rather more generous than I have had in the past.” Harry switched his focus. “Lagan, please adjust the view. I’d like Mary to see as much of my quarters as possible.”
“Done, Harry.”
“Can you see more of my living space now, love?”
> “Oh, Harry, it does look small. Are you comfortable?”
Harry laughed. “Yes, I’m very comfortable. It is almost twice the space I had on 847, and it’s unbelievably commodious compared to the accommodation I had on HMS Spartan.” He gestured. “My sleeping quarters are about half this space again. This is luxury. My officers have private sleeping quarters but must share the Wardroom of course.”
Mary’s expression softened. “It’s still smaller than my usual suite when I travel on a starship. I thought a Captain would have at least that luxury.”
“On a starship perhaps, but not for a lowly Commander of a patrol ship, even one as advanced as Lagan.” He grinned. “But I do have my own android servant who takes very good care of me.”
“But probably not like Herbert at Scrabo.”
They both laughed at the memory of the family android butler and the way he fussed over Harry, Ferghal and Danny when they were at home. The butler, an early model AI, responded with what could only be described as delight to Harry and Ferghal’s ability to communicate with it and the other household systems through their cyberlinks. Herbert always tried to anticipate their every whim, sometimes getting things embarrassingly wrong.
“I doubt any other android could ever match Herbert’s unique quirks,” Harry replied with a grin. “Oh, did I tell you our trials are nearly finished, and soon we can begin the working up process. If all goes well, I will be due for two months home leave at the end of it. How does that fit your plans? Will we be able to get married then?” His expression became rather boyish with hope. “Or must we stick to the original dates?”
Mary laughed. “Harry Nelson-Heron, you know as well as I do we can’t change the dates now.” Her smile softened. “The time will soon pass, darling. Be patient.”
Harry put his hands together and bowed his head as if in fervent prayer. “O Lord, give me patience, and give it to me this minute!” They laughed together at his antics. “I shall make that my nightly prayer. I cannot believe we must wait eleven more months.”
“I’m sorry, Harry.” Mary tried to look contrite. “But as you know, between my concert bookings and your deployments, and finding a date when we’re all free—my parents, Theo, Niamh, and the Admiral, Ferghal and Danny—”
“Damme! I knew we should have eloped!” Harry joked, his expression comical. “At this rate we shall never achieve this wedding.”
Her laughter tinkled in his ears. “Wrong, we do have them all lined up—it’s you I worry about, with your penchant for finding new wars to start or people to upset.” She smiled. “Can I count on you to stay out of trouble?”
For a moment Harry was at a loss for words. He felt his face flush, then he laughed. “I shall put my trust in the Almighty to keep me from the paths of mine enemies, my love.” He considered for a moment whether he should tell her of the recent problems he’d encountered, and decided against it. “Where is the next tour taking you?”
“Commander, your ship is fully operational now.” The Construction Manager looked as relieved as he sounded. “I don’t know how they managed to fit those additions, but I will find out.” He frowned and shook his head. “My lads are pretty upset about it because it reflects badly on them as a team.”
Harry nodded. His officers had conveyed the same news at their morning coffee session. “You’re not the only person upset about it I can assure you.” He paused. “I’d like to thank your men in person for their efforts to put things right. We’ve lost only four days from our trials schedule, and I am confident we can recover them.”
“The lads will appreciate that, sir. I can get them all together whenever it suits your programme.”
“Excellent. Shall we say this afternoon? Does fifteen hundred suit? Their rest break I think?” Mr. Carrera nodded his reply as Harry’s link chirped.
“Heron.”
“Major Harris is at the entry port, sir. He’d appreciate a word with you.”
“Very well, show him to my quarters, if you please.” Harry broke the link. “At fifteen hundred then, Mr. Carrera.” They shook hands and Harry escorted his visitor to the door. The Construction Manager passed the Major in the Key Flat, and Harry noted, with a smile, the rigid salute of the Royal Marine—one of the twelve assigned to his crew—as the officer passed. “Welcome, Major. To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Thanks for seeing me without warning.” He accepted Harry’s hand and shook it. “I need to bring you up to date on a couple of developments.”
“I see.” Harry offered his visitor a seat. “Some refreshment while we discuss these?”
“Thanks. The crap hit the fan just after midnight—I’m afraid I haven’t had a lot of sleep, and there was no time for breakfast either.” The Major noted Harry’s polite but puzzled expression. “Oh, sorry. Wrong metaphor perhaps.” He thought a moment. “We know who is behind the planting of these devices and repeaters, and who they are directing our signal traffic to. It’s not good. Not good at all.”
“Ah.” Harry nodded. “It sounds as if you will need a little time to tell me. Can I order something to eat while you do so? My steward is security cleared and discreet.”
The android gave a small bow. “What may I bring you, Major?”
The Major raised an eyebrow. “Some breakfast would be excellent—scrambled eggs, toast, coffee and some marmalade. Thank you.”
“Certainly, Major.” The android turned to Harry, awaited his order, then departed, though Harry said nothing.
“I notice you didn’t order anything,” said the Major.
“I did, through my cyberlink.” Harry smiled. “I’m linked to the ship, and the ship is linked to the androids, so when they are near, they are also linked to me. I’ll have some coffee and a toasted teacake while you eat.” He smiled at his visitor’s expression. “Rather like a sweet bun. It took a while to find a recipe the steward could use to replicate them exactly as my mother made them, as they have raisins in the mixture, and those aren’t easily available out here.” He leaned back in his chair. “Perhaps we had best deal with the crap you mentioned. If, as I suspect, your metaphor means the same as having the contents of a cesspit blown about, we’d best not wait for the food.”
The Major laughed. “Quite. Okay, the boss is very, very angry. As we suspected, the pirates are behind it, but they are acting as agents for the Charonians, and the Charonians are in cahoots with certain people in power. We know a lot about these aliens, but we never actually encountered any until last night.” He paused as the steward returned and placed a plate of scrambled eggs, several rashers of bacon and cooked tomato in front of him, setting out the utensils and the plate with toasted bread, a cup of coffee and everything else with precision.
“It seems our freebooters have made a pact with the devil and they’re backed by a group in the Senate. The Charonians are advanced technologically in some areas, but there is something the fools who joined up with them didn’t know when they accepted the offer of free technology from what they thought was a dying race.” Before taking his first bite of food, he added, “They found out their mistake the hard way—but now they’ve compromised everyone.”
Harry cut a few pieces of his teacake, his eyes on the bulkhead behind the Major as he considered this. “So does this mean our communications, systems and weapons are now controllable by an alien race we believe has hostile intentions toward us?”
“In a nutshell, yes.” The Major carefully placed his knife and fork on his now empty plate, grabbed a piece of toast and applied butter and marmalade. “Apologies for wolfing down my food so quickly. I was hungrier than I thought!”
“Not a problem,” Harry said with a smile.
“Let me explain further,” said the Major. “Your ship and her sisters are essentially the only ones we can be certain are not fitted with these Trojan devices. It’s going to take weeks to check all the main ships.” He bit into the toast and his eyebrows shot up in delighted surprise. “Is this real
homemade orange marmalade?”
Harry smiled. “Yes, it is. My Aunt Niamh made it. She’s a brilliant barrister, but she didn’t realise that the quantities in the recipe I sent her were on the industrial scale.” He laughed. “I should think everyone in Ulster has some now.” He grinned. “I’ve a six-month supply—would you like some to add to your own stores?”
“Yes, please!” The Major grinned. “It’s like a taste of home.” He relished another bite of toast and marmalade then grew serious again. “What the freebooters learned too late is the Charonians are a dying species, or should be. They lost the ability to reproduce a long time ago according to our intel, but they have found a way to perpetuate themselves by re-engineering a suitable host body to suit themselves.” He drained his coffee then sat back pleasantly full from the best breakfast he’d eaten in quite some time.
Harry frowned. “So, if I understand you correctly, any of us could have been taken over.”
“Not quite. We don’t understand enough about how it works yet, but the body they take over is re-engineered to such an extent that it takes on some of the features of the Charonians themselves. They can’t pass themselves off as human, but apparently they are able to control individuals and force them to act on their behalf.” He suppressed the urge to belch. “I’ll send you images and more details. In the meantime, your ship is top priority, and so are her sisters.” He stood. “I better run now. I’m adrift, and the Boss won’t be happy about it. I’ll send the data over by messenger, for your eyes only at present—likewise with the rest of this discussion.”
“Very well.” A thought struck Harry and he frowned as he stood up. “I hope you can keep the LPSL out of mischief.”
The Major smiled. “We’ve sent the LPSL off on a wild goose chase. If those damned fools fall into the hands of the Charonians, we’ll have even more problems to deal with, and we can’t afford that.”
Harry Heron: Hope Transcends Page 8