Harry Heron: Hope Transcends

by Patrick G Cox

  Harry nodded. “I perceived this. Yet you were rather insolent when you addressed the Captain.”

  “Yes, but that’s because I’m indispensable, and they know it. Be patient, Commander. All I ask is that you show me this ship of yours when we’re finished.”

  “That I shall do with pleasure, sir, though there may be a long delay before that happens.”

  “Then we have an agreement. Now, I shall have to leave you while I go and find my friend Leo, the Mechanist.” He smiled. “He’s a tinkerer in many arts. I want him to examine that helmet.”

  Ferghal seated himself in the Command Chair. It felt wrong. This was Harry’s command, and he felt like a usurper.

  “No, Ferghal, you can never be a usurper,” said the Lagan, reading his thoughts. “You are so close to Harry that you’re like his elder brother, and you want to find him more than anything in the galaxy. Are you aware that you dream of it?”

  “No. Do I?” Ferghal surprised the Command Team by saying this out loud, which he hadn’t meant to do. “You are right, though. I want to find him and bring him home—and then I want to be there when we take down whoever did this to him. God says ‘vengeance is mine,’ but I can’t wait that long. I’m going to help that day arrive if I have anything to do with it.” He glanced round the Command Centre. Everyone was at their post, all waiting for him. He nodded to the Executive Officer, the Canid Pack Leader Lucanes, and said, “Very well, Pack Leader. Take us to the transit point.” He glanced to the Coms Officer. “Signal 847 and Seana to link helms as soon as we are ready to transit.”

  He watched as his orders were translated into action, a half smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he wondered what those who’d served with him on HMS Bellerophon and HMS Spartan would say if they could see him now. His shipmates from 1804 would have been convinced that hell had disgorged demons to take him for blasphemy if they could see his current company. He had to stifle a guffaw as his gaze fell on the Canid currently giving the manoeuvring orders and the Lacertian Weapons Officer at her station beyond.

  “On the Transit Point, Sword Wielder.” The Canids used the title the Lacertians had given him, much to the amusement of the human crew.

  Ferghal nodded. “Very well. Link helms.” He gestured. “Transit.”

  The display changed to the grey swirling mist of hyperspace. He glanced to his left and smiled as 847 materialised on station, then looked right to see the sleek and very reptilian looking Seana, both wrapped in the iridescent phosphorescent glow of transit. He knew the name meant the runner in the sibilant language of the Lacertians, and she looked exactly that—fast, sleek, elegant, yet deadly.

  “Signal from the Vice Admiral, sir. Good hunting.”

  “Acknowledge.” Ferghal smiled. “Reply the hounds have the scent, tally ho!”

  Harry waited until he was sure they were alone. “It looks as if we have landed in the middle of a society on the brink of a social revolution,” he remarked. “Clearly they are the descendants of survivors from a colony ship, but one that must have set out a long time ago.”

  “Sounds like one of the early ships,” Mike Dorfling volunteered. “They were powered by some crazy drives.” Then he remembered who he was addressing as Jack cleared his throat meaningfully. “Sorry, sir, I meant early compared to the twenty-third century. This was back in the twenty-first century. It was my favourite period in history at school, and you wouldn’t believe some of the systems they experimented with until we actually discovered the way to transit safely.”

  Harry laughed. “Yes, I suppose the twenty-first century does seem like ancient history now. What can you tell me about these ships?”

  “They were very big, and had to be, as they carried a few thousand pioneers, livestock, and equipment, and had huge environment spaces. Oh, and the hull rotated around a central core. No artificial gravity, you see, so the rotation created a sort of centripetal force that simulated gravity.” He frowned. “They launched about fifty of them—it was quite a feat just building them in those days, as everything was constructed on earth then taken up to the orbital assembly point on disposable rockets.”

  “You mentioned they had some strange drives?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Mike’s face lit up as he indulged in his passion. “Basically just a sort of controlled fission reaction, sort of like letting off multiple nuclear warheads in a constant succession. That accelerated them to a speed around 0.9 the speed of light.” Mike shook his head. “Even to reach the nearest systems with habitable planets they needed around twenty years, and, of course, if they hit anything…”

  Harry was impressed. “Quite. At that speed it would vapourise both objects.” Harry paused. “You say they launched around fifty of these ships? How many reached their destination?”

  “I think it was about twenty, sir. When the transit drive came into use about forty years after the last of those primitive ships was launched, they sent out search ships along the track of the missing ones. I think they found five or six and rescued the people, but the others have never been found.”

  “So…” Harry hesitated, doing a mental calculation. “If these folk are descended from the crew and passengers of one of the early ships, this would be about four generations of isolation. They have some technology, but it seems cruder than I would have expected. That could be a lack of resources and machines sophisticated enough to maintain the originals.” He stood to his feet, a laborious process amid a rattle of chains as the manacles on his ankles shifted. “The radiation from a nuclear accident of the fission type would explain the fixation with protective clothing outdoors—especially the breathing masks and filters. Such an accident might also explain the lack of expertise in a number of fields, but not the distrust that seems to have developed among the various tribes. I hope we learn more of this when Medico returns.”

  Chapter 16

  Cracking the Code

  _________________________

  “Here they are, Leo.” The Medico ushered a new man into the corridor that fronted their cell. “I think they may have some answers to some of the questions you’ve been throwing about for a while now.”

  “Do they speak our language?”

  Harry stood, and the rattle of his chains got the attention of both men. “We do, though, to be sure, your pronunciation is sometimes difficult to follow. Medico, must we continue to wear these fetters? I give you my word as an officer that we will make no attempt to escape or to assault any of your people.”

  “I’ll see what I can do, Commander. I’m afraid our leaders are a deeply suspicious lot.” He drew his companion forward. “Leo is our mechanical genius. He’s responsible for the Observatory, and he specialises in miniaturised machines, like the little pumps that power the breather masks.”

  The newcomer moved closer. “Medico tells me that helmet is locked onto your head. Is it some sort of breather mask?”

  Harry shook his head. “Most certainly not. It restricts my ability to breathe freely and to eat. It also suppresses my ability to communicate with a computer, which, yes, I can do—as long as I’m close to an AI network.”

  “Computer?” Leonard asked with rising excitement.” You mean a calculating machine? Are you a mechanist or some kind of mechanical man?”

  Harry laughed. “No, I’m as human as you are—at least our doctors say so, though I do have Lacertian DNA now as well.” He realised the visitors didn’t understand him. It was a strangely new experience to not be the clueless one for once, and the blank expressions on their faces reminded him of how he felt most of the time when he first landed in the twenty-third century straight out of the nineteenth.

  “Have you not heard of DNA?”

  “DNA? Yes, we’ve heard of it,” said Medico, “but I don’t have the knowledge to even begin to understand more than the basics. I doubt more than ten or so folk here know what it is. And what’s this about Lacertian DNA? Who or what are Lacertians?”

  Harry looked at
Jack and Mike, wondering how to explain this. “They are Saurians descended from a type of reptilian ancestor. Humanoid in appearance with the ability to camouflage themselves against any background, and they’re extremely fast when they need to be—oh, and highly intelligent.”

  Leonard spoke first. “So…how did you come to have Lacertian DNA…?”

  “I was subjected to an illegal experiment—a gene splice, I believe it is called. It enables my immune system to resist certain toxins and to repair tissue and organs more rapidly. This was done against my will when I was held captive on the planet called Pangaea—you might’ve heard of it—in a laboratory run by some horrible people, and I mean humans, not Lacertians. I must admit, however, that even though this was forced on me, the gene splice has given me what some of my crew like to jokingly refer to as superpowers, but I wouldn’t go so far as to say that.” Harry smiled.

  The excitement on the two men’s faces warned him they were eager to ask more questions than he was willing (or able) to answer, so he deflected. “Medico, I really would appreciate having this helmet removed. As you must realise, I have a considerable beard growth I’d like to remove, my hair needs trimming and it would be pure luxury to wash some of the filth from my face and neck.”

  “Sorry to interrupt.” Leonard the Mechanist was eager to ask a question. “If I understand you, the computer you are talking about is electronic and not mechanical—is that right?”

  “Yes. I doubt Babbage’s Calculating Engine would be capable of running a starship as our AIs do.” Harry checked himself. “You have a calculating engine? A mechanical one?”

  “A little experiment of mine. I feed it instructions on perforated cards, which it reads using a pneumatic device. It is quite capable of controlling the operation of the generating machines.” He paused, an expression of wonder spreading across his face. “You said starships? What’s an AI? You travel through the stars?” He turned excitedly to the doctor. “That means those ancient texts I found are true. The Captain won’t like this.”

  “We’ll keep it quiet then.” Medico opened the door to the cell. “I think the Commander may be able to answer your questions about the artefact, Leo.” He smiled at Harry. “Please sit down, Commander, so we can take a look at how this helmet is secured. Is there enough light here to examine it?”

  Harry sat, and the Warrant and the TechRate watched as the mechanist pulled out a small object, cranked a handle vigorously and then flicked a switch. “My portalight will be sufficient.” He peered at the hairline seam that spanned the helmet from ear to ear. “A cunning device this, and a strange material. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

  “The metal is an alloy. I believe it facilitates the screen which prevents me from linking to a computer.”

  “What do you mean, link? And what is that other thing you mentioned, an AI network?”

  “It is rather complex, but I have an implant in my brain that allows me to connect directly to a computer—rather like your pneumatic device, but more powerful and able to run complex programs. The abbreviation AI stands for artificial intelligence, and that’s exactly what it is—a thinking machine that operates the starships and all the devices that power it. This implant in my brain makes it possible for me to connect to this thinking machine in my thoughts.”

  Medico and the Mechanist just stood there stunned, mouths agape.

  Harry continued. “Sometimes it is a nuisance, but it has its advantages.” He laughed. “But, if I’m wearing something like this,” he jabbed his finger in the air at the side of his head, “I cannot make the connection.”

  The Mechanist stood back. “I don’t get half of what you’re saying, Commander. I’ve never seen any joint as fine as this. We couldn’t make anything like it—and if we can’t, no one else on this planet can.” His fingers traced the joint. “There’s a hinge or something like one at the top of the helmet. Then here, at the neck, there are these small holes, two each side, and some sort of latching mechanism.” He stood in front of Harry again so they could make eye contact. “I think I have a tool that will operate them, but not here.” He turned to the doctor. “We’ll have to take the Commander to my workshop for this, and if we bring him, we might as well bring the other two.”

  “You must have had a tough time getting Captain to agree to bringing all three.” The Mechanist greeted them at the door to his workshop. He indicated the guards and the shackles the trio still wore. “Taking no chances with them, I see.”

  Medico laughed. “Not with such obviously superhuman and dangerous villains as these.” He stood back to allow the prisoners to shuffle inside. “Enforcers, I think perhaps we can remove at least some of the restraints now. Mechanist will need his subject to move freely if he’s to get that helmet off, and the others will pose no problem.”

  The man addressed, who was wearing what looked like a cross between an early-model EVA suit and a medieval suit of armour, moved inside, shut the door, and switched off a small device in his backpack before he removed his breathing mask.

  “Captain won’t like this, Medico—you heard his orders. The spies are to be kept fully restrained at all times.”

  “True, but Captain also gave me full responsibility for them. Please remove at least the arm restraints. With your men at the door and you here, I think we can be sure they won’t run away.”

  Harry listened to this exchange with interest. They had shuffled through several tunnels before taking a series of lifts to this floor. The lifts operated by hydraulics, and Harry could see signs of technology everywhere, but very little evidence of the sort of machines that must have been used to create the complex of tunnels and dwellings, halls and cavernous open gathering areas.

  They lived in structures hollowed out of a ring of cliffs riddled with tunnels. The cliffs provided a natural barrier, and the cliff openings suggested there was a much larger population at one time. The valley was a patchwork of unkempt parks and cultivated crops in which strangely dressed figures laboured. Harry realised they were all chained to each other and dressed in rather poorly fitting animal hides that covered their bodies completely with their faces hidden behind simple breathing masks.

  It struck him that only he and his companions were not wearing anything that could be termed protective. Their only clothing was their extremely tattered uniforms, and they used no breathing masks.

  As the lift ascended, he used the elevated vantage point to study the crater. The greater part of the complex looked unused, a sign, perhaps, that this was a dying community.

  The Mechanist’s workshop was an Aladdin’s cave of strange machines, some partly dismantled, others obviously in use. Everything was mechanical, with pulleys and belt drives, or long shafts interconnected with gears or levers. All of the working machines looked as if they’d been created out of pieces salvaged from others, and all had a makeshift appearance.

  Mike drew a sharp breath. “Warrant? Sir? Look over there. That’s a Mark 1 Coms Unit. I’ve only seen pictures, but that was what they used before the hyperlink network was set up.” He was like an excited schoolboy. “Those things were built to last. I bet I could get it functioning again.”

  Medico and the Mechanist were staring at him. “You recognise that? My great-great—several greats—grandfather swore that thing could talk to other worlds, but it’s never worked for us.”

  Mike grinned. “I bet I can get it to work. I’ll have to do a full circuit spec, but the Mark 1 was the prototype for all later sets, and some of its features are still used in modern technology.” He looked at Harry. “It won’t contact a hyperlink, sir, but a ship passing through this system will hear it.”

  Harry was curious. “Without a hyperlink, how did they communicate with Earth?”

  Mike grinned. “Very slowly, but the message got there eventually. The signal travelled at lightspeed, which means it reached Earth years after it was sent. So, for that reason, these units were more for local contact between the c
olony ships.”

  “I see.” Harry nodded as he processed this information. Mike continued.

  “Thing is, sir, these sets were incredibly powerful, and the signal wasn’t a narrow beam like we use now. It blasted out in all directions. Like I said, anyone passing this planet would get an earful.”

  The Mechanist glanced at Medico before he turned to Mike. “What do you need?”

  The Enforcer stepped forward. “This is not in the orders.”

  “Enforcer, I think we should test this. It could be the opportunity we’ve all been hoping for.” He smiled and placed an arm across the guard’s shoulders. “Now, somewhere in this place is some means for making tea. I want a cup and so do you. Mechanist can get on with his tasks and Warrant can help him.” Firmly he steered the guard away from where the Mechanist was eagerly showing Mike Dorfling the bulky unit.

  Having equipped Mike with a set of beautifully made tools, the man rather reluctantly led Harry to a seat then got Jack to hold a lamp for him while he tried to find the right tool to pry open the helmet.

  “I hope they haven’t included something to maim or kill me in this device,” Harry mused as Leonard worked. “I suppose it is not beyond the thinking of the fiends that created it.”

  “Shit. Never thought of that, sir.” The Warrant Officer showed his concern.

  “Well, we shall soon know, I expect. Somehow I doubt it, though. I believe they expected me to die of starvation or dehydration. Thanks to you and Mike, I survived.”

  The Warrant had been watching the Mechanist. “Pardon me, mister, but I think we have to hit all four latches simultaneously.”