Harry Heron: Hope Transcends

by Patrick G Cox

  Ferghal grinned. “Thank you. Advise Commander Whitworth. Navigator, adjust course to close with them.” He focussed his thoughts. “Lagan, is Harry aboard the yacht? Can you ask the AI?”

  “Confirmed, Ferghal.” There was a brief pause as code streamed back and forth. “Sherezade-Djinn confirms. Harry and Pack Leader Lucanes are aboard. Do you wish to speak to Harry?”

  “Yes, but perhaps I had best let the flotilla leader make the first contact.” He hesitated. “Wait, let me speak through our links.” A moment later he heard his friend in his thoughts. “Harry, you have all of us in such a worry. Are you in sound health?”

  “Never better, my friend.”

  “I see Commander Whitworth is hailing you. I’d best let you respond. Welcome home, Harry. We’ve missed you.”

  “We’ve a little more to deal with yet, but perhaps the wedding will take place as planned after all.”

  Ferghal withdrew from the network to focus on the ship and its manoeuvring. A sense of relief flooded through him. Harry was safe, and that was all that mattered.

  “New contact, sir. She’s trying to evade us. Transponder signal says she’s the Emily Hobhouse. She’s just dropped out.”

  Ferghal was instantly alert. “Get a tracking lock!”

  Aboard the Sherezade-Djinn, Harry and his companions had also registered the brief contact with the hospital ship, but, more pressingly, Harry had the incoming call from Keiron Whitworth to deal with.

  “Keiron, you fellows are a sight for some very sore and tired eyes.”

  “So are you, Harry. You seem to have acquired a fancy command there—far more luxurious than Sabre or Lagan. You’ve just missed the Admiral—he caught a fleet with a massive mothership at the position we traced you to, and destroyed most of them.”

  “Yes, this yacht is very luxurious.” Harry chuckled. “Unfortunately, the owner isn’t too happy about our taking control of it.” He frowned. “You said the Admiral blew that mothership to bits? I can’t say I have any regrets. An unpleasant and damned nasty people.”

  “That yacht is registered to one Kharim Pasha Al-Khalifa—you might recognise the name. He’s wanted by World Pol and quite a few others thanks to your lists. He’s the man who goes by the code name Zorvan. Did you say he’s aboard?”

  “Yes, he is, and I can tell you he is an arrogant and thoroughly unpleasant fellow. As for his comrades in arms, not a shred of honour among them. Can you let me have some Marines to guard them?”

  “With pleasure. Can you stay in company? We need to catch that hospital ship—if we can keep a trace on her.”

  Harry grinned. “We may be able to help you there. This ship has systems that make the Fleet’s look crude. I’ll get my people onto it. Shall I take station on you?”

  Keiron showed his surprise. “Yes, track the blighters. That ship has that fiend Kali on board, and a few others of her sort—and that buffoon from Centaur who calls himself Captain has made a deal with her to restore his little fiefdom.” He smirked. “Take station on Sabre and let’s get after them.”

  “Commander Whitworth reports he has the yacht Djinn in company, sir. Commander Heron is aboard with the Canids and some prisoners, including a man who calls himself Zorvan.” The Coms Officer paused. “They have located the Hobhouse as well, and have a tracking lock on her.”

  “Good. Give me the coordinates. How far are we from their location?” Admiral Heron studied his display. “These Charonian ships seem to be out of control.”

  “Yes, sir. Several are venting their atmospheres, and others show signs of system failure to drives, life support and directional control. It’s as if their on-board AIs have gone crazy.”

  “Signal the Fleet: Render assistance to any ship that asks for it, but all survivors are to be isolated until we can be certain there’s zero danger of them trying to transplant themselves.”

  The Admiral turned as the Coms Officer caught his attention. “Yes, Sigmar?”

  “Senator Berkowitz on Gold Com, sir. He demands to speak to you.”

  “He demands?” The Admiral hesitated. “Put him on, but record it.” The hologram formed. “Good evening, Senator. What can I do for you?”

  The pale face projected a haughty stare. “You’ve committed genocide! My Committee intends to pursue this through the courts, Heron.” The man launched into a tirade in which he accused the Fleet of attempting to overthrow governments and interfere in diplomatic relations and negotiations, and then he returned to the charge of genocide by a roundabout route. His final barb was to directly address the destruction of the Charonian mothership, giving details which those listening knew could not have come from any news report, as they were not yet released to any Minister of State.

  Admiral Heron listened to the Senator with growing impatience. “Senator, the Charonian ship was in the process of being recovered, and the Charonians are not a benevolent or charitable species. I’m not even sure they can be called a species.”

  “That is not for the Fleet to determine, Admiral.” The Senator had a nasal voice, the sort of bray that grated the nerves, but which perfectly suited his usual browbeating tactics. “My committee wished to meet their leaders and find a peaceful solution—but your destruction of their base ship has destroyed any hope of doing so.”

  “Senator, I would suggest you discuss your concerns with the Fleet Council. Should they authorise me to do so I will happily arrange for your committee to meet with the surviving Charonians we recovered after the battle. I would remind you that they and their allies among our own people have, as far as we are able to determine, killed several million humans in four colony worlds and fifty or more ships—including no less than ten sent out by the LPSL in defiance of our warnings. As for those they retained—I think your committee might find their fate enlightening.”

  “We don’t accept that, Admiral. Our information comes from our own verifiable sources which—”

  “I know precisely which sources, Senator.” The Admiral’s patience snapped. “The same ones that employed Zorvan and his so-called gods to kill Commander Henry Nelson-Heron or hand him over to the Charonians. The same sources that commissioned the Pantheon to kill my brother-in-law and to assassinate many of your fellow Senators. Thankfully they were not always successful. And there is a small question in what you have said in this conversation, of just how you acquired information that is only now being circulated to heads of government and is definitely NOT on any news release.” He watched the man’s face and noted the momentary look of alarm. “I believe some of your friends were also behind attempts to compromise our ships and allow external operators to interfere with our controls, read our signal traffic and perhaps render us unable to resist attack.”

  The man tried to bluster. “You can’t prove any of that.”

  “On the contrary. We can, and we will do so to a full session of the Senate and in court at the earliest opportunity. I shall look forward to discussing the evidence with you then. Good day, Senator.”

  The Admiral leaned back rubbing his eyes. “Damn the man. Flags, I’m getting too old to deal with these buffoons. Get me a link to the C-in-C. I’d better warn him of this development.”

  Chapter 33

  Tumbling Dominoes

  _________________________

  “We have a lock on the Hobhouse, sir.”

  “Good. What are they up to? They don’t seem to be going anywhere.” Keiron checked the disposition of his flotilla. “Get me Commander Heron on the link.”

  “Commander Heron is on link now, sir.”

  “What do you make of this, Harry? Looks like they’re expecting someone or something.”

  “I agree. I have a feeling they are wondering what this ship is doing here.” He paused. “Twice they have attempted to contact the second AI we have on board. I shall say only that we blocked it.” He grimaced. “I think Security will be very interested in what it knows and what it did.”

  Keiron leaned
toward the screen. “Two AIs? Ah, that explains the dual names.” He remembered the task in hand. “Okay, I’d better hear all about it later. Can you use any tech on that yacht to find out what’s going on aboard the Hobhouse?” He grinned. “You did say it had some fancy kit fitted.”

  “As a matter of fact, we can do that. I will ask the Pack Leader to open a relay so you can see and hear for yourself. It is very strange. There is some argument aboard.” He gave a brief order to one of the Canids. “The link may not be perfect, but you should be able to hear everything we can.”

  Keiron listened to the communications being intercepted and relayed to the Sabre. “Sounds as if they’ve started killing each other. There’s at least three parties involved.” He frowned as a signal interrupted one of the links. “Okay, I think we need to take a hand in this. Keep the surveillance going, please, old man. I’ll get Seana, Hamba Khalhe and the Canids to support a boarding action. Can you identify where the Centaur hostages are?”

  “Difficult to say with certainty. It is most likely the group located in the hospital section, forward. They appear to be confined—all the fighting is between that space and the compartments aft of it.” Harry examined the display in front of him. “The main conflicts are in the Control Centre and the Engineering section right aft.”

  “Thanks. That helps.” Keiron keyed his command links. “Boarders, secure the hospital areas then clean up the rest of the ship.” He broke the link. “Weapons, target her drives. If it looks like they’re trying to transit, take out the drive pods.”

  He leaned back in his chair and watched as the flotilla closed the target and launched their boarding parties. To himself he murmured, “I hope they’re too damned busy killing each other to notice us.”

  “James, you probably won’t be surprised to know your friend, Senator Berkowitz, has been suspended from the Senate.” The C-in-C did his best to maintain a neutral expression. “He’s been exposed as one of the chief supporters of the group behind the attempts to give the Charonians a free hand among certain colonies. We all have our price, and that fool hoped to benefit from the promise of life-extending treatments and of course the profits from new alloys.” He leaned back. “His dealings with a certain Kharim Pasha Al-Khalifa are proving interesting as well.”

  “Good. I’ve no sympathy at all with him. Frankly, sir, I’m beginning to wonder if our political classes have any concept of loyalty, honour or honesty.”

  “You have good grounds for that view—one I share.” The C-in-C leaned his elbows on the desk. “One more thing— that mothership you caught and destroyed. It seems the entire stock of zygotes—just about the entire Charonian population waiting for implantation into hosts—was aboard.” He hesitated. “The word genocide is bandied about, but what’s interesting is the remaining Charonians are behaving as if they’ve lost direction.”

  James Heron frowned. “I have a different take on it. I think they’ve become suicidal, because as soon as we engage them, they attempt to ram the nearest large ship. So far we’ve been able to disable or destroy them. When we board the ships we’ve disabled, we find the entire crew either dead or dying, and any captives with them. As for the ships—the control systems fail very rapidly, which means they become death traps for the boarding parties. I’ve never seen anything like it, and my AI specialists think it may be caused by a virus in their programming.” He shrugged. “We’ve no idea how it can have arisen. It’s not something we’ve ever attempted.”

  “Harry, we have the Hobhouse secured, but there’s a problem among the refugees.” Keiron grimaced. “It seems some of them want to go back to Centaur, but not all of them. Your friends the Mechanist and the medic chappie are not keen, but their captain is demanding they come back as well—and he’s got the ones he calls Enforcers backing him, and now they’ve got some serious weapons.”

  “Damned fool, that fellow. I can’t escape the feeling that he’s not quite sane.” Harry considered the situation. “What do you suggest? I could pay them a visit and see if I can persuade them to reconsider.” Another thought struck him. “Have you managed to capture and identify all the Pantheon members?”

  “We think so. Tricky dealing with so many aliases. We’re certain we’ve identified three—Kali, Vizaresha and another one called Loki. The second and the last are dead, and the first is seriously wounded but likely to survive. The whole damned crew of the ship were members of the Pantheon—all I can say is thank God they were busy killing each other when we arrived. Gave us a chance to isolate them and take them down one group at a time.”

  “Fortunate indeed. Our Canid friends have Zorvan well in hand, and the Marines you sent have taken charge of the prisoners. I would prefer to have them off this ship completely—there is far too much risk of them having access to something we have not yet discovered.”

  “Then I’ll have them moved to Sabre. My Chief is on his way in his mobile HQ—you know who I mean—and there’ll be a flotilla of frigates joining us in about half an hour.”

  “Good.” Harry smiled. “Then all that remains is to persuade the Centaur people to give up this silly demand. Let me go aboard Sabre and see if I can talk to them. I’m sure the majority will prevail upon this captain fellow to drop his stupid scheme.”

  “I don’t think that’s wise, Harry.”

  “Nonsense, my friend. You’ve told me yourself, Kali is wounded and in custody, and the others are dead or captured. With the assassins removed, that danger is gone. Let me go and talk to their captain. I owe it to them, and I think I can dissuade him from this silliness.”

  Keiron was reluctant but couldn’t think of a reason to refuse. “Okay, but only with an escort. I’ll send some of the specials across. Ferghal is already there with his Marines and Sci’enzile.”

  “Very well, I’ll join them and see what can be done.”

  The Emily Hobhouse showed signs of her recent internal battle. There were marks of plasma discharges and gory indicators of the savagery of battle. In other places, blast damage showed where explosive charges and weapons were used to gain access or to clear compartments of enemies.

  Harry joined Lieutenant Sci’enzile at her command post at the boundary to the section controlled by the Centaur captain. She quickly informed him that just beyond where they stood was the holding area for the refugees.

  Harry nodded. “Are we able to speak to them? Where is Ferghal—Lieutenant-Commander O’Connor?”

  “The Sword Wielder is seeing to the prisoners, Navigator. We have access to the communications for that section.” The Lacertian Lieutenant saluted. “The Sersan is pleased to know you are safely returned.”

  “Thank you, Lieutenant.” Harry smiled. “Please convey my thanks to her for the concern she shows for my welfare.”

  “I shall do so, Navigator-Commander. What should we do about these refugees? They do not behave sensibly, and a small group hold all the rest in check.” Her facial expression revealed her frustration. “If you command it, I will lead my crew to make an end of this foolishness.”

  “I think we must attempt a more diplomatic approach first, Sci’enzile.” He used his link to the AI to determine the location of the Centaur captain and his supporters.

  “They have someone with them—not one of their own.” The Lacertian Lieutenant paused. “The one who commanded this ship.”

  Harry frowned. “A woman.” He found a visual channel and located the Centaur captain and the woman with him. His mind raced. He was certain Keiron had told him that Kali, Vizaresha and Loki had been killed, and he had the distinct impression that he had encountered this woman at some point in the past. The memory flared. She was the one who hit him with a stun weapon on the Voyager. “Emily, give me access to the audio communications to this section please.” He identified the compartment.

  “Standing by, Commander. Do you want to use vocal pick-up, or do you want to broadcast what you are thinking?”

  “I’ll use the vocal pick-up, Emily
. I do not want to risk revealing my thoughts to them, as that would be counterproductive.”

  “I suggest you use your comlink then, Commander. It will allow you to control what they hear. I am ready when you are.”

  “Thank you.” Harry rehearsed his opening greeting, cleared his throat then touched his link. “Good afternoon, Captain of Centaur. This is Commander Heron. I would appreciate meeting you face to face to discuss a solution to this impasse.” He waited for the response. Clearly his greeting and intervention were causing some consternation among the Centaur elite. “If it is more convenient—or perhaps preferable to your sense of security—I am willing to meet you at the entrance you currently control.”

  The audio remained silent for a moment longer, then the woman he thought he recognised declared, “The Captain will meet you, Commander, but only you, alone, no tricks and no weapons.”

  Lieutenant Sci’enzile darted a concerned look in his direction. “That is unacceptable, sir. They have weapons, and you would be one against many. I cannot permit you to accept, sir.”

  “What do you suggest, Lieutenant?” Harry was a little taken aback by the Lacertian’s opposition and outright insubordination. “A show of trust is required if we are to resolve this.”

  “Navigator-Commander, these persons cannot be trusted. There are some among them who are not from Centaur.”

  Harry frowned. “How do you know this?”

  “Their scent is different.”

  Alarm bells sounded in his mind. “I see.” He was aware that the Lacertians and Canids could distinguish individuals by smell alone. “Very well, I will talk to them again.” He spoke into the link. “Captain of Centaur, I have just learned something that affects your personal safety. I have no desire to see any further bloodshed. I am prepared to meet you alone and in person at the entrance to your section. I will not be armed, but I will be covered by those who are. You are welcome to take the same precaution, but—and I insist on this—you will be alone at the entrance, as I will be. If you do not meet with me in ten minutes, you will leave me no alternative but to release your people who choose to return to Earth with us.” He paused. “Ten minutes. At the door, Captain.”