Harry Heron: Hope Transcends

by Patrick G Cox

  Trembling with a mixture of mounting rage, fear, hatred and the desire to tear these fiends apart with his bare hands, he had the presence of mind to give a direct order to the AI. “Download these files, all of them, to this address.” He gave the code for the Admiral of Security and the Advocate Admiral. “And to this ship address.” He gave the Sabre’s ID. “Mark that for immediate attention, to Commander Whitworth. Also to Admiral Heron. Encrypt for their eyes only.” He was bathed in a cold sweat. “Sweet Jesu, let it not be too late. Blessed Patrick, Holy Peter and Paul, Blessed Mark, Matthew, Luke and John, Holy Mary—protect and save my friend and brother.”

  “I have sent the files to the addresses you give, but I do not recognise any of the others you are naming. Give me the addresses and I will comply.”

  Ferghal jerked out of his frantic prayers. “What? Oh. No, disregard my prayers. They are not instructions for you.” He recollected himself. “Do not reveal you have these files, or that you have forwarded them to anyone—it could get you and me destroyed. Delete the record of the transmission and replace the deletions with test transmission entries.” He recalled how similar gaps in the signal logs had betrayed his and Harry’s tampering with the Consortium’s AI on the planet Lycania. He thought again. “And hide those files! Only release them if I ask for them or Harry does.”

  “We’ve a message from Lieutenant-Commander O’Connor, sir. He says Commander Heron should abort the mission.” The Flag Lieutenant grimaced. “He was quite excited about it, and I had trouble understanding him because he had lapsed into that strong Irish brogue of his.”

  “Why wasn’t he put on my display immediately?”

  “You were on coms with the Grand Admiral and Head of Security, sir.”

  “So I was. Sorry, Flags. Get Ferghal … get the Lieutenant Commander on holo for me immediately, please.” James Heron hesitated. “And get Commander Whitworth on as well.”

  “Yes, sir.” The Lieutenant hurried away, urgently signalling the ComsRates.

  The Admiral smiled as Ferghal’s hologram appeared. “I got your message, Ferghal. Tell me what you discovered—slowly please, so I can understand you without a translator!”

  Ferghal grinned. “Sure, sir.” His expression changed. “Sir, I got the information, and I’ve shared it with Commander Whitworth’s people.” He took a deep breath. “I hope they’ve stopped Harry—Commander Heron, sir. Satan himself is behind this!”

  The Admiral frowned. “Satan? Explain.”

  “’Tis the one calls himself Zorvan, a Mr. Al Khalifa, behind these people, sir, and two of his gods”—Ferghal practically spat the word in derision— “are on the Hobhouse with some of their protection agents guarding them. Zorvan is the one collecting Harry for the Charonians.” Ferghal paused. “I found the files and the encryption key Harry remembered. I’ve sent them to Security, sir, but …” Ferghal shook his head. “’Tis as I said, sir, the devil himself is loose in this. Some o’ the names, sir, the top of society, and—”

  “I see.” The Admiral struggled to maintain his calm appearance. “We suspected as much.”

  The hologram of Keiron Whitworth appeared. “Commander Heron has been taken aboard a Charonian ship, sir. The Canids are with him.”

  “Damnation.” The Admiral’s expression hardened. “I’ll have fresh orders for you shortly. Are you in tracking contact?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Maintain it. I’m sending you support. In the meantime, do not under any circumstances lose that contact!” He turned to Ferghal. “Well, Commander, best speed. Rejoin your ship and take her to rejoin your flotilla.”

  Chapter 29

  Entering Hades

  _________________________

  Harry drifted in the void. In his logical mind, he knew that he was traveling at an unbelievable speed through the heavens, but there was no fixed point he could measure his movement against, nor was there any sensation of movement. He tried to glimpse the Canids, who he sensed were positioned close to him, but he couldn’t see them. It would be useless to contact them since their comlinks were off to avoid detection.

  Have the Charonians changed their minds? he wondered. “I hope so,” he said to the void, and then he saw a very sinister ship drawing near. “Damn, they haven’t.”

  “Commander Heron.” The voice was a human one, to Harry’s irrational relief. “Use your manoeuvring pack to close our portside hangar bay and enter it. After you have done so, move to the marked point and remain there. Don’t try anything funny or clever. We have our weapons locked on you. Contract or no contract, we’ll shoot first.”

  “Very well. I will comply with your instructions.” He activated the propulsion pack manually, a task he usually did through his cyberlink. Deliberately he kept the movements slow, buying time for the Canids to get into the positions they needed.

  “Speed it up. We haven’t got all day.”

  “I’m doing my best,” Harry replied coolly. “I confess I am out of practice with having to operate the unit manually.”

  “Don’t give us excuses.”

  Harry heard raised voices in the background as he fumbled with the unit.

  “Very well. I’ll close the distance for you. Watch the gravitational effect. It’ll pull you in.”

  “Thank you, I shall take precautions.”

  Hopefully that will give Lucanes and his team some help, Harry thought, watching the ship’s manoeuvring thrusters flare. He saw a brief flicker of something against the hull, then another, and finally at the open hangar dock. He increased his thrust gently and gave a convincing appearance of someone not in full control of his propulsion. “This helmet makes it difficult to see my instruments. Can you talk me in?” He hoped that would distract anyone watching his approach and give Lucanes time to get his people aboard.

  “You’re too far left of track. Adjust your aspect two degrees right.”

  “I cannot read the direction in this device.” He touched the directional control and deliberately veered too far right then over corrected. The ship was close now, and he aimed at a point above the open dock. “Wait. I think I had best try to get through the opening, then I’ll worry about where the dock is.” He aimed at the centre of the dock.

  “Keep that heading. As soon as you’re in, touch down and stand in the centre of the bay. Do not attempt to leave it.”

  As if I can, he thought. “Very well.” He passed the thresholds and the great doors closed behind him. Internal lighting increased and he manoeuvred clumsily toward a marked circle in the middle of the dock. A glance upward showed projectors of some sort. Harry knew that meant he would be stood within a screen field once he was in place, or he could be destroyed where he stood—their choice, not his. It wasn’t a prospect he liked. Deliberately he landed outside it.

  “Move into the demarcated space immediately.”

  “Not before I have the assurance the hostages have been released to the Fleet.”

  “You’re not in a position to make demands, Commander. Do as I order.”

  “No.” Harry stepped back. “I do not trust you or your associates. Those projectors above me could be designed to destroy me, and if that is the case, I need to know that you have kept your part of the bargain.”

  There was no response for several seconds, then a new voice said, “The hospital ship and its passengers have been delivered to the Fleet at the agreed coordinates.” There was a further pause. “We do not intend to destroy you. What you call projectors are simply monitors. Please step into the designated space. We do not want to damage you.”

  I would like to damage you, he thought. “Very well.” Damnation. It appeared they intended to keep him under some monitoring device. That meant he’d not be able to carry out his part of the plan. He walked into the marked circle. “What now?”

  “You may open your suit but remain in it. You will be transferred to our command ship shortly.”

  Harry groped for the controls. He c
ouldn’t see the atmospheric conditions monitor, but he knew that the suit would sound an audible alarm and prevent its opening if the atmosphere was not able to support life. That would have to do. He had no choice but to trust it.

  Nothing happened as he went through the routine and the visors opened leaving his helmeted head and shoulders visible. He tested his contact with the control unit in the helmet and found it functional. He tried to see what the helmet screen could detect but saw nothing, so he triggered the shut-down command. Immediately his head filled with alien code as the ship connected to him. He switched the helmet back on, hoping no one had noticed a new node in the system. He’d wait to see if there was any response. There didn’t appear to be. A flicker of distortion in his view of the bulkhead nearest a door caught his attention. Good. Lucanes and his team were in position. Now they must simply wait.

  “What?” The Admiral’s anger was palpable. His Flag Lieutenant had never seen him this angry. He recalled a conversation with a friend about Harry’s temper and how it flashed from red-hot fury to cold calculating rage in a matter of seconds. Now he could see what his friend had meant.

  Cut from the same cloth, the Lieutenant observed, but his expression betrayed nothing.

  “Yes, sir,” he replied. “Apparently, the leaders of the Centaur refugees have acquired weapons, and now they’re holding the crew of the Hobhouse hostage—or so they claim. Their captain leader demands their return to Centaur and the full restoration of their society as it was before we invaded—his words, not mine.”

  “I see. So the privileged few, the spoiled brats that called themselves the Officer Council, want to have their comforts restored, and the rest must do as they’re told. Why does this not surprise me?” He stared at the ships of his fleet in the 3D display. “How do the rest of the refugees feel about it? Where is the Hobhouse now?”

  “There is a suggestion the majority are under some compulsion, sir. At present she’s still at the agreed release point.” The Lieutenant swallowed. He wasn’t looking forward to revealing the next bit. “There’s more, sir. Those files that Lieutenant-Commander O’Connor passed on. The person code-named Kali is actually aboard the Hobhouse as Captain of the ship, and the chief medic aboard is the Pantheon agent known as Vizaresha.” He waited a few tense moments as his Admiral digested this. “A few hours ago, there was a message from Zorvan addressed to Vizaresha. It may have something to do with this, but we’re still trying to decipher the code.”

  The Admiral’s face turned to stone. “And…?”

  “The entire crew are members of the Pantheon, sir. We think this is a very elaborate double bluff—and the refugees have played right into Kali’s hands, sir.”

  “Why?” A memory stirred. “Damnation. She’s setting them up as prey for one of her obscene hunting parties, and we have just handed them my nephew Harry on a damned platter!” His anger was now a palpable force in the Flag Centre. “Well, maybe they deserve what they get. That idiot who calls himself the captain of Centaur has set his people up to be killed. Frankly, he deserves to be the first.” The Flag Lieutenant felt as if he was standing on a metal spire while wearing a metal suit and holding a lightning rod as a thunderstorm approaches. He knew at this point it was best to remain silent. The storm unleashed its fury. “Get me the Brigadier, get me the C-in-C, and get Admiral Petrocova on line, in that order!” the Admiral snapped, his tone frigid. “And get Commander Whitworth online—now!”

  Theo watched the news on the wall screen. His linked chirped. “L’Estrange.”

  “Chief Justice? Are you watching the newscasts on Channel 50?”

  “Yes, it’s just come on here. Why?”

  “There’s been a leak. We think they are about to broadcast at least some of the names from those secret files.” The caller hesitated. “It will alert some of those we’ve issued warrants for. There is bound to be resistance from some of the key figures, and, of course, the media circus that will follow.”

  “Damnation.” Theo frowned. “Very well, record it then prepare a statement. I’ll contact Security and the Minister.”

  He watched the screen and listened as the presenter adopted a ‘serious face’ to announce, “In breaking news, key information has been uncovered by the Fleet Security Agency and the Department of Justice and Peace which implicates a number of senior politicians and well-known figures in commerce and finance. We have learned there are some senior figures in the permanent administrations of the Confederation, the North American Alliance, the South American Alliance, the League of Middle-Eastern States, the WTO and several other signatory nations involved as well. We are attempting to verify the names and will bring you further updates as soon as we have them.”

  “Seems they have the list but are playing it safe.” Theo snorted. “That’ll be a first. Mind you the owner of this news organisation is on the list. Warn our people not to confirm or deny anything. Oh, and find the leak. I’ll see if I can get the Minister to do some damage control, as my brother-in-law calls it.”

  He broke the link then called a private number. “Minister, we have a problem, but I think we can contain it if we act quickly.”

  Keiron broke the link. “Bloody hell,” he breathed out slowly. He could still feel the anger radiating from the hologram. The Admiral was going for the jugular. Harry’s phrase, ‘no quarter asked or given’ came to mind. He was very glad he wasn’t on the flagship or on the Admiral’s staff right now. He had the feeling no one was going to get any slack if things didn’t go the Admiral’s way very quickly. All hell was going to break loose at home politically as well, and the legal teams would soon be tying themselves in knots.

  He pushed it out of his mind. He and the Tenth Flotilla had the most difficult bit, the job of tracking Harry. He glanced at the waiting officers. “You all heard that. I don’t want to be the one who has to tell the Admiral we failed. Have you got that tracker signal locked in, Ramgis?”

  “It is locked, Leader.”

  “Helm, follow the signal, lock helms with the others and let’s get going.” He turned to the Canid again. “Can the Provider see or hear what Lucanes and his people are doing? Have we contact through it, him, her—whatever your Provider is?” He gestured impatiently. “You know what I mean.”

  The Canid Pack Leader growled his strange laugh. He reached into his suit and pulled out a small transponder which he handed to Keiron. “Speak directly to the Provider. He will show you what you need to know, Commander.”

  Keiron accepted the unit and almost dropped it as it vibrated in his hand. “I just talk to this?”

  “Correct, Commander,” came a deep voice from the transponder. “I am the Provider. What do you need me to do for you?”

  “Good evening. Thank you. Caught me unawares there. Yes, I need to know what Lucanes and his team are seeing and doing at the moment.”

  “They planted the devices and await arrival at the mothership of the Charonians. Commander Heron is unharmed and awaits their next move. He has explored their ship’s intelligence and found its weakness. I assume he plans to act when it will be most effective.”

  Keiron assessed this information, his mind racing. At least Harry was safe for now, but Keiron was concerned about the mothership.

  “Can you communicate with him?” he asked the Provider.

  “Not right now. He has reactivated the device they make him wear, a wise decision.” There was a fraction of a second’s hesitation. “Your ships are three hours and fifty-six minutes behind the Charonians. It is best you continue as you are. I will alert you to any change.”

  Harry listened to the operating system in the helmet and made an interesting discovery. The control unit was linked to the ship. He could hear it exchanging data, instructions and responses. A little mental effort allowed him to insert some requests for information into the stream. The answer was unintelligible and in a language he could not identify. He tried again, this time inserting a complex navigation formula into the
exchange. The solution returned in recognisable code.

  Got you, he said in his thoughts. He considered how he could use this, but before he could reach a decision, a door opened and several figures entered. Irrationally, he was relieved they appeared to be human, but as they approached, he realised their appearance was deceptive.

  The leading figure stopped in front of him. “Come. Follow.”

  Harry had a hard time believing what he was seeing. The creature might at one time have been human, but now it had the pallor of a corpse. Coupled with what appeared to be the stubs of horns on his temples, blood red lips, and sunken red eyes with the absence of pupils, Harry felt as if he was gazing into the depths of Dante’s Inferno. His mouth went dry and his throat constricted.

  “Where?” He croaked. He tried again. “Where are you taking me?”

  “No talk. Follow.” The creature’s red eyes bored into him.

  Harry nodded. He had noticed that the leader’s companions were armed, and he didn’t want to find out what their weapons could do.

  So he nodded. “Very well.”

  The escort led him to an adjoining hangar and onto a shuttle. Minutes later they were sweeping toward a huge ship that filled the display screen. Harry wondered whether any of the Canids had managed to follow. He couldn’t detect any in the shuttle with him. He could only hope.

  To the devil with caution, he thought. He deactivated the helmet and tested the link, and almost gave himself away when a growl near his ear became coherent. “We are here, Leader.”

  Harry gave a slight nod but didn’t dare speak, and it took all his willpower to control the tremor in his legs as the shuttle entered a hangar on the new ship. It was difficult to walk as he was ushered from the shuttle and led toward a gaping corridor.