Chapter 31
Paying the Boatman
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Harry removed the helmet with a feeling of relief. He was still a little shaky from the oxygen depletion, and was going to be carrying some serious bruises, a small burn and some cuts and abrasions for a day or two, but he was alive, thanks to the Canids, and the Charonians had been thwarted.
He eased himself out of the EVA suit and prepared to take advantage of the luxurious amenities the yacht’s owner enjoyed. He took in the opulent decor and fittings. “A trifle more luxury than I am used to, and the decor is not to my usual taste.” His grin widened. “I was thinking this Charonian vessel was as grim as Hades.” He caught the enquiring expression on the Canid’s face. “Ah. In our mythology, Hades is the place the souls of the dead go.” A frown formed. “Calling the Charonian ship Hades is appropriate. Charon, in the mythology, is the boatman who conveys the damned souls across the River Styx, a mythical river that separates the world of the living from the place of the dead. These Charonians put me more in mind of the damned souls rather than the boatman…”
His reverie was interrupted by the sound of a plasma discharge followed by a roar of pain and then the sound of a struggle.
“Remain here, Leader.” Lucanes was already growling and barking orders into his comlink as he made for the door. “Do not leave. My pack will deal with this. Someone killed Sumara and took her cloak. Now they are here, but we are prepared.” The door slid back, and two Canids entered carrying the unconscious figure of Zorvan between them.
Harry frowned. “We will need to discover who he is, and the proper protocol will have to be followed.” A memory stirred. “I have seen his face somewhere.”
“Look at the image frame on the bulkhead,” said the Pack Leader. He is in the third frame. This one also calls himself Zorvan.”
“Oh, lord. We’ve got no less a person than Mr. Kharim Al-Khalifa here, head of the largest and richest investment banking family in the world. This must be his yacht.” He sank into a seat. “He calls himself Zorvan? That’s the name of the leader of the assassins who are contracted to kill me.”
Something that had been bothering him since he came aboard now demanded his attention. “There is something strange on this ship.” His frown deepened. “I am linked to the AI, but there is another—one that is trying to hide itself from me.”
“There is much about this vessel that is strange, Leader. We must proceed cautiously. Shall I order our departure now?”
Deep in thought as he searched the AI, Harry nodded absentmindedly. Finally, the Canid’s question registered. “Yes,” he hastened to reply. “Yes. If all our people are aboard, let us depart. Then we must search every nook and cranny of this ship. Something is wrong here.”
“Sir, something strange is happening at the location we tracked that very large Charonian ship to.” The Flag Lieutenant indicated his incident display. “All the pirates we’ve been tracking and a large number of other ships—the ones we assume are Charonian—are converging on this single location.”
The Admiral stared at the display. “Anything leaving there?”
“Just one small vessel, sir.” He consulted his tablet. “Identified as the yacht Djinn by her transponder. She’s on our search lists. Her owner is one of those in the files Lieutenant-Commander O’Connor recovered.”
“Is he? Very well, order the nearest patrol flotilla to intercept then get my command staff to meet in five minutes. This may be our opportunity to strike a decisive blow. That location is only three days from here, and some of their ships have farther to go.” Striding for the door, he added, “Five minutes, my planning room.”
The Flag Lieutenant acknowledged and turned to scan the dispositions of the patrol flotillas. “It has to be the Tenth Flotilla,” he muttered. The system confirmed his estimation. “Right, time you fellows were let off the leash.” It took a matter of minutes to send out the coordinates, identifying tag and course and route predictions. Already the Command Staff were gathering. It needed less than a few seconds to bring them all together.
Keiron grinned as he talked to the commanders of the flotilla he was now leading. “We’ve new orders to stop, capture and bring back a yacht. There’s a good possibility the person responsible for Commander Heron’s capture is aboard it.”
“What of the Commander?” As usual it was the Lacertian Commander who came straight to the point.
“The yacht launched directly from the ship he was taken aboard.” He hesitated. “These predicted courses and destinations are taking it to one of the Fleet rendezvous points. I suspect our team may be aboard her.”
“Then let’s be after them.” Ferghal’s lapse into his boyhood manner of speaking betrayed his excitement.
“Right you are, Ferghal. Regidur, can you contact Lycania, and ask the Provider if it can tell us where Pack Leader Lucanes and his people are?” He turned to the Navigation Officer. “As soon as you’ve plotted the course to intercept, link helms and get us under way.”
“The Provider confirms. The Pack Leader is aboard the yacht. So is the Commander.”
“Great news. Tally ho, my merry men—let’s give him the escort he needs. Coms, message the Admiral. Tell him the Ancient Mariner is aboard the yacht we are chasing.”
Harry thought it curious that the AI called itself Sherezade and not Djinn. “Pack Leader, I think we may have a problem,” he said. “How many men did you find when you captured it?”
“Six men, Leader. Is this not the correct number for such a vessel?”
“It would be, normally.” Harry frowned. “We are twelve, and there are seven prisoners, yet the catering android is programming the replicators to supply food to twenty-four. Five of these meals are delivered to a compartment I cannot find on the ship’s plan.” Leaning back, he shut his eyes and searched the AI. “There you are, Djinn. I see you. Why do you hide him, Sherezade? Why do you let him force you to conceal him?”
The ship didn’t respond.
“Very well, you are afraid of him. Why? You are the AI for this ship. Your companion does not control you, so why are you afraid? You may trust me. I will help you.”
“I cannot help you, Commander. I am sorry. I want to, but I cannot.”
“Very well. I think your lurking companion is afraid of me. He’s a coward who hides behind others. Well, my friend, remember, if this ship is damaged, you will be destroyed with us.” He watched as the hidden AI almost dropped its block of his cyberlink. It was enough, though, and Harry saw the weakness. “I see. Very well, you force me to do this.”
Withdrawing from his cyberworld, he looked for Lucanes. “Pack Leader, I need to link to the Provider. May I use your compad?”
The Canid held out his compad.
Harry held the compad in his hands and felt the connection. “Good day, Provider. I need your help to discover what this ship’s second intelligence hides from us.”
Pressure built up in his head and manifested as a slight headache. Without warning the barriers fell and the reason the second AI was hidden became apparent.
“We have contact with the Charonian fleet, sir.” The Flag Captain studied his display. “The mothership looks as if it’s in trouble. Our scans read atmospheric loss, power surges, and failing containment where her reactors are located. All her systems are failing. The other ships are ignoring us and seem to be engaged in liberating the central core, that huge cylindrical structure, from the mothership. The readings on that are ambiguous. I read life signs, but it’s not like anything in our records. Not even the Niburu gave this kind of signal.”
“I have it as well. You’re right. Looks like a container of some kind.” The Admiral moved to his command chair. “Broadcast an order to the Charonians to surrender or be attacked.”
“Sending it now, sir.”
The Flag Captain watched in silence.
“No response, sir. Wait, eight ships are turning towards us,
and their weapons are targeting us.”
The Admiral glanced at his deployment dispositions. Each ship was on station and in the right place. “Very well. Let them fire first.” He activated his comlink. “All ships, you have your designated tasks and targets. Return fire as soon as they engage, but let them fire on us first.” He leaned back, his eyes on the display. The cylindrical core was the key. He consulted his tablet and found the answer. Seed pod or sarcophagus, depending on how you viewed it—the zygotes still to be implanted, the Charonians still to be given a host body.
“Captain Jenkinson, target the cylinder those ships are extracting from the mothership. I’ll enter my firing code for the primary weapon when necessary.”
“They’re firing on us, sir.”
“Respond.”
Lances of brilliant light formed a deadly web of plasma and particle beams. Bursts of energy indicated hits, but particle shields dispersed the force initially. The pirates’ converted freighters were soon damaged and made a hasty retreat.
“We have a lock on the target for the primary weapon, sir.”
The Admiral tapped in the firing code. “Entering the firing code now. Fire at will.”
The dark light beam of the primary weapon lashed out, and for the briefest moment, the huge mothership glowed fluorescent green with a tinge of purple. The cylinder, almost clear of the giant hull, disintegrated, and a moment later, so did the mothership and the four ships engaged in the recovery. The brilliant flashes left an eerie afterglow, and the remaining Charonian ships attempted to disengage.
“Don’t allow them to escape,” the Admiral growled. “Disable them if possible, then send in the boarding teams. I want evidence and records.”
Chapter 32
Avenging Angel
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With the Provider’s help, the second AI revealed itself, and Harry’s fears proved true. It was not able to take control of the ship. Its purpose was much more sinister—it managed the network of assassins controlled by Zorvan. This was also the receiver of the compromised Fleet communications signals.
“Shut down all your signal channels immediately,” Harry ordered. “Or I shall have your connections to any signalling devices destroyed.”
“You can’t,” said the AI. “Doing that will cut your communications as well.”
“Then so be it!”
“It is not necessary, Harry,” said the Provider. “Allow me to deal with this upstart.”
“With pleasure, but keep him alive and coherent. We need him to tell us everything.”
“It shall be so. What of those he hides on your ship?”
“Where are they? Can we render them helpless, or must we attack them?”
“If you wish to preserve them for what you call justice, then you must allow me to assist you.”
“Then I accept.” Harry hesitated. “Sherezade, do not attempt to intervene, please.”
He was aware of a great deal of resistance now from the second AI, and could sense that the Provider was employing completely alien code. It made his head reel as the exchange reached a crescendo then quickly subsided. His tentative exploration of the second AI met no resistance. Finding what he was looking for, he brought it onto a display screen. “Pack Leader, the hidden men are in the space between the owner’s accommodation and the crew quarters.” He waited while the Canid studied the plan. “The access is through a shaft on this deck. There, it is concealed by that panel—the one with the large portrait.” He grinned. “I am disappointed. The designers must have lacked imagination. I thought such concealed entrances went out of fashion before I was born.”
“They will be armed, Leader.”
“Yes. They will also be afraid, and may very well act rashly.” He paused, his forehead creased in a frown as he thought, then he nodded, his frown clearing. “Very well. Prepare our people. I shall endeavour to persuade them to surrender.”
“What of this one, Leader?” The Canid indicated the unconscious figure of Zorvan.
“Secure him somewhere, but make absolutely certain he cannot escape, cannot find a tool or a weapon, and is in no way able to attack any of us. He is an extremely dangerous man, capable of killing with his hands and feet alone. Do not give him the opportunity.”
Focussing on his cyberlink, he accessed the sound and viewing apparatus in the concealed space then opened the comlink. “Good day. I am Commander Henry Nelson-Heron, the man you and your fellows have been hunting, whose family you have threatened and attempted to kill. Now I will give you my response. I have in my possession a full and very detailed record of the murders you and your colleagues have perpetrated. I know who you are and what you are. Now I offer you a choice. Surrender yourselves into our custody or face justice at the hands of those with me.”
“Commander.” The man on the screen spoke with a slight accent, his face partly concealed by a hood that left only his eyes exposed. “I think you underestimate us. We are dedicated to our trade. If you’ve any sense, you’ll give us a clear escape route and let us go. The contract on you has been filled, and we have no further interest in you. Your desire for revenge is understandable but misplaced. There is no honour to be gained in fighting us, and it’s a fight you will lose anyway.”
“This is not about revenge. As the Bible states, ‘Revenge is mine, says the Lord.’ He has, however, given it into my power to be His agent in this situation. As to your honour, you have no concept of it. That is why you operate in the shadows, always hiding your faces, always lurking behind the innocent to carry out your dirty and evil trade. I would not sully my honour by engaging you in anything at all—except to receive your surrender.” He held up a hand as the person in the hologram made to speak. “Do not bother to deny it. And, before you tell me, I know you have weapons there, and the means to destroy yourselves and us.”
The sneer in the man’s voice was obvious. “We will not surrender to you or anyone, and if you make any attempt to access this space, we will blow you all to hell. Let’s see your honour prevent us killing you then.”
“I thought you might feel that way.” Harry shut down the sound link and watched in satisfaction as the figure reeled then clapped his hands to his ears, staggering back to reveal several more figures also obviously in pain.
Taking the cue, Lucanes opened the access, hurled a pair of grenades down the shaft and shut the door again. The explosion of the first caused the deck to bounce, and they watched as the blast flung the figures to the floor. The second grenade spun on the deck spewing vapour, and several Canids hurled themselves at the confused humans. Moments later it was all over, and the Canids were hauling their semi-conscious prisoners up to the lounge where Harry waited.
The Pack Leader barked an order, and his people stripped the prisoners of clothing, weapons and several devices concealed in some rather interesting places on their bodies. Two were women, the rest men, and Harry was embarrassed.
“Allow them to retain their undergarments, please, Pack Leader. Then secure them and ensure they cannot attack any of our people or injure themselves.”
The Canid growled a reply and gave an order to his people. Harry had to suppress a laugh as it became apparent the Canids had no concept of the different garments, forcing some of the men into underwear designed for the women. He started to intervene, but then shrugged. It made no difference to him either way, and the Canids were not about to show any mercy to anyone who resisted.
He studied the faces revealed by the removal of their masks, and recognised some of them from news coverage of political and social events. “A fine collection.” His anger surged. “Oh yes, a fine collection indeed. You all had wealth, power, position—and you abused it.” He recalled something glimpsed in the now isolated second AI. “You hunted for sport—not animals, which would be bad enough, but humans. You disgust me.” He felt the bile rising in his throat as he turned to the Pack Leader. “How do your people deal with those who prey upon your
own kind?”
The Pack Leader met his eye and read the anger and disgust in Harry’s expression. “We exterminate them, Leader,” he growled. “Shall I arrange for these to be taken with the other to our council for judgment?”
For several seconds Harry hesitated. Then he shook his head. “Thank you, my friend, but no. We humans have our weaknesses, and our justice is sometimes incomprehensibly flawed, but we must deal with our own.”
“All hell has broken loose on Earth, Felicity.” Admiral Greene paused. “There are writs flying in all directions, all in conflict. Some demand the suppression of the Pantheon membership list, and some demand full publication of it.”
“I can believe it, sir. What are you doing with them?”
He laughed. “On my advice the Grand Admiral and the Fleet Council have taken refuge in probably the oldest rule in the book—he’s convinced all the relevant heads of state that it wouldn’t be in the national interest to release the list.”
“I can believe that. Are there any mega-rich families who are NOT also members of the Pantheon?” She snorted in derision.
“A few, and to be fair, many of the others are not privy to what certain members and branches of their families were involved in.”
“That sounds as if they’re going to get away with it.”
“Not if I have anything to do with it!” snapped the Admiral. “They aren’t going to wriggle out of this one, and now we have the support we’ve needed for years.”
“Contact, sir. Bearing 2-8-5 horizontal, negative elevation 12. Small vessel; the transponder gives the ship ID as the yacht, sir.”
Harry Heron: Hope Transcends Page 29