Awakening Threat

by Patrick G Cox

  The Admiral could not miss noticing the empty berths along the ungainly hull of the Prinz van Oranien as his barge approached the base ship for the corvette flotillas he was about to visit. Even the vessels in their slots showed signs of damage and hard use. On several of them, repair crews were working, their presence betrayed by the actinic flash as they made use of their tools.

  He counted the empty berths he could see. Four flotillas, with six ships to a flotilla, yet more than half the docking berths were empty. He turned to his Flag Lieutenant. “These lads have done a magnificent job, but they’ve paid a hell of a price for it.”

  “Yes, sir. According to the returns from Captain Doormann, the med centre is full of the people they’ve managed to recover from some of the wrecks.”

  “I saw them. He also reported they’d made some very disturbing finds on one or two of the ships the Niburu boarded after they were disabled.”

  “Yes, sir, I saw those as well—sickening, to say the least. I suppose they felt justified in mutilating and infecting our people with this new nerve poison of theirs.”

  “Possibly.” The Admiral watched as the barge swung to approach a berth. “I only hope that Dr. Borner and his team can find an antidote for those infected with it. The victims face a slow and painful death otherwise, even if the medics can repair the mutilations.”

  The berthing arms captured the barge and settled it against the Prinz’s boarding gangway with a barely noticeable bump. The Admiral stood, adjusted his jacket, and strode toward the open entry port with calm assurance.

  “Theo, the news is good. At last the Fleet have destroyed these vile creatures.” Niamh shuddered. “The news channel has been full of the images from the colonies they overran. What sort of creature could do that to others?”

  Theo regarded her impassively for a moment. “Humanity has a very poor record in that regard, my dear, though perhaps not quite in the same league as the Niburu. Still, we’ve not exactly covered our every endeavour in glory.”

  Niamh glared at him. “Oh!” She put aside her lace-making equipment, ensuring that nothing was dislodged, and turned to face him again. “You are right, of course, but at least we don’t go about wiping every living thing from the face of a planet.”

  “I acknowledge that, my dear, but we don’t always do what we should to preserve it either.” He held up a hand and smiled. “I will concede that you are right in this instance. We certainly aren’t as bad as the Niburu, and I sincerely hope we learn from it.”

  She poured him another cup of tea and settled back with her own cup in hand. “I’ve had a message from James. He’s being recalled to take up a new post at Fleet Command. He says he is also bringing home a number of the more damaged ships and some of the depleted corvette flotillas.” She sipped her drink. “I wonder if that will include our boys.”

  “Quite possibly. Harry’s flotilla was in the thick of the final battle, and I believe they took heavy casualties. I should think theirs will be one of those recalled.” Theo frowned as he drained his cup. “I believe a number of the smaller Niburu craft escaped, and still others need to be traced. The Fleet has formed hunting groups to find them and destroy them. It will be a long task, I think.”

  The memorial service for the dead went well. The chaplains, drawn from several faiths, each conducted a part of it. This left Harry wondering how the God he had been taught to believe in viewed this, but he also recognised the fact that the dead and the living represented all faiths and none. He turned when he heard Commander Polen say, “A word in my office when you can, Harry.”

  “Right away, sir.”

  “Make that half an hour.” The Commander smiled. “We’ve both got people here we want to talk to first. What I have to tell you can wait.”

  Puzzled but relieved that he had time to do the rounds of his skippers and crews, Harry nodded. “As you wish, sir. I would like to see as many of my people as I can while we’re all here.”

  The Commander smiled and moved away. Harry turned and joined a group of master warrant officers. “Mr. Mann, gentlemen.” He realised one of the group was a woman and added, “I beg pardon, Mistress Latowski. I’m glad I find you all together, as it permits me to convey my deepest appreciation of the manner in which you have all supported your Commanders and the flotilla. It has not been an easy time for any of us.”

  Willi Mann glanced at the others. “Thanks, sir. Can I say, it’s been a treat working with you. We’ll all be sorry to have to return to the big ships again.” He indicated Master Warrant Latowski. “Birget was just saying it would be great if we could stay in corvettes.”

  Harry laughed. “I think we all have that wish.” He glanced around at the circle of faces. “I confess it is nice to be in a position to know each member of my crew in a manner only a small vessel permits, but I suspect our lords and masters in Fleet Command will have other ideas.”

  “We’re going home, Harry—all of us.” Commander Polen pushed a data wand across the desk. “But we’re not taking our commands with us. They are to be handed over to the Canids and will form the basis of their Fleet squadron.”

  “I see, sir. I shall be sorry to give up 847, but I expect it is inevitable.”

  “Yes, but in your case, the parting may be temporary. You’ll be getting some leave first, of course, but the powers that be have decided your previous experience with the Canids makes you the perfect candidate to be liaison officer while they work up.”

  “Ah. Well, that will be different, I suppose.” Harry laughed. “I wonder what Mary will say to honeymooning on Lycania if I can persuade her to marry me immediately?”

  “You’ll have to be persuasive, I think. The truth is, Harry, it will keep you out of the way of your favourite organisation,. They’re on the warpath again, I’m afraid. Now that the danger is gone, or so they think, they’re trying to regain their position. People are already lining up to take them down, but you need to stay well out of it.”

  The Beagle welcomed Harry after he disembarked the barge.

  “Your friends, and some of those who gave trouble remain aboard, Harry. Are you here to travel with me?”

  “Not this time, Beagle. I am here to thank Martin, Roberta and the others for their help when…” Harry paused. “Where can I find them?”

  The wardroom lounge was exactly as Harry remembered it. Martin saw him enter.

  “Harry, good to see you! Have you come to tell us we are to go in search of a new threat to humanity?” He glanced at Greg Palmer sitting alone to one side.

  “No, Martin, not this time.” Harry grinned, his glance taking in the faces and spotting Anton DuBois talking to Roberta. “I’m ordered to Lycania again. I came to offer my thanks to all of you for your support and the work you put in.”

  Everyone laughed when Martin clapped him on the shoulder and quipped, “Don’t worry, we’ll send you the bill!”

  “Do that!” Harry volleyed with a grin. “I shall add it to my growing collection of debts.” He smiled as Anton moved into the group. Extending his hand, he said, “And I am instructed to offer you a position as interpreter on the liaison team I am taking with me, Anton, if you wish it.”

  An expression of surprise followed by pleasure chased across the young man’s face. “Me?” He glanced at Dr. Palmer. “I accept! When do we go?”

  Harry laughed, shaking Anton’s hand. “As soon as I’ve had a drink with everyone, and you’re packed and ready to join me.”

  Chapter 43

  Accusations and Accolades

  Grand Admiral MacQuillie addressed the hologram of Admiral James Heron. “We’ve gone through your reports. Your observations regarding that queen ship are especially interesting. Once it was killed, you say the others became disoriented. Did they lose direction or purpose?”

  “Our ships were able to pick them off fairly easily after that. The one concern I have is that some of them may have escaped. Most of them were quite small vessels, but hunting them down is going to be a difficult task
.”

  “Exactly, James. However, the Council want you home. We have a new post for you—after you’ve had a spell of leave, of course. I’ll have your orders for relief on their way to you after this conference. Admiral Richter will be taking command. You know Fritz, I believe.”

  “Of course. I must admit, some leave will be welcome.” He rubbed his eyes with his finger and thumb. “The butcher’s bill for this conflict is appalling. Still, I suppose, if the other side had won, it would have been worse.”

  “We can be certain of that. You should know that the LPSL are attempting to regain the moral high ground, and are branding us—you in particular—as war criminals.” The Grand Admiral snorted. “Somehow we are now responsible for the millions of deaths on all the colony worlds and the LPSL’s peace envoys—plus, of course, the elimination of the Niburu and their symbiotic allies. No matter how often we prove them wrong on anything, they just twist it round and come at it from a new angle. I’m afraid there’s to be a public enquiry, and you’ll be required to give evidence when you return.”

  James Heron shook his head. “Unbelievable, but I expect they have some support from somewhere. If I must give evidence, I am quite prepared to do so, of course. I should think the media will love the enquiry circus, and there are bound to be those who’ll exploit it.” He laughed. “I did hear that Montaigne fellow has changed his tune a bit.”

  “Yes, a bit of a surprise there, but he seems to be very keen to sing our praises for the sterling effort we made, as he put it, to rescue people from the Niburu. You’d have enjoyed his interview the other day. He talked about the brave young men who went off in their compact little ships like David ready to bring down Goliath. His time on the Prinz obviously gave him a new perspective.”

  “I suppose we should be thankful. Speaking of the corvettes, their losses were very high. I attended the memorial service on the Prinz, and the other mother ships of course. I wanted to convey my personal thanks to them. Without their effort, I doubt we’d have beaten these beasts.”

  “I signalled the official appreciation from Command. I think you’ve seen the copy. The Council’s attention is on the Imperium’s complaints and manoeuvrings. There’s probably going to be a problem there in future, but we’ll worry about that later.” MacQuillie leaned back and nodded into the image transmitter. “I’ll let you get on then, James. Your new orders will be on their way as soon as my clerk can get to the emitter.”

  “I thought you did well at the public enquiry, James.” Theo regarded his brother-in-law over the rim of his glass. “Considering about half of the members are in the pay of the LPSL in one way or the other, that was quite a feat.”

  “There were moments when I could cheerfully have strangled their main proponent.” James savoured his whiskey. “I did wonder about their agenda, though.”

  “The same as always, James—slash the Fleet budget on the grounds that it is elitist, exclusive or too aggressive. Any excuse will do, as long as the funds can be diverted to other ideologically preferred budgets.”

  “I suspected as much. I confess I was a little annoyed at being accused of war mongering when I responded to the question about whether or not we’d attempted to negotiate a peaceful solution.”

  “I’m not surprised. In fact, I thought you showed remarkable control. Frankly, the chairman should have ruled the question out of order.”

  James laughed. “He wanted to, but the news media were all over it before he could. I hope my response was aired. That may have knocked the message the damned fool was trying to push.”

  “Several of the news channels are running an abridged version, which cuts out the meat of your response.” Theo looked up as Niamh joined them.

  “Where are Harry and the others?”

  “On their way home from Lycania. The handover took longer than we’d anticipated.”

  Niamh laughed, looking out of the window at the scudding clouds and curtains of rain. “I hope the weather there was better than it is here. Mind you, he and the other two would probably be out sailing anyway.”

  Theo nodded. “I suspect it also means they don’t have to deal with the various idiots still trying to buttonhole Harry with their stupid accusations.”

  “Yes, but he’ll have to face them sometime.” James’s expression was stern.

  Niamh sank into a chair. “Thankfully, Mary will join us at the weekend, and that will provide the perfect distraction.”

  James nodded, draining his glass. “I’ll have to talk to him about this Montaigne fellow wanting him to appear on his show. Fleet have reservations about it, and laid down some restrictions for the producers, such as insisting they have a veto on the panel questions. Doesn’t mean one of the panel won’t spring an ambush, but it does set some boundaries. My concern is they have a live audience, usually carefully selected to represent whatever bias the producers want. Knowing Harry’s intolerance of fools and people who refuse to see what’s in front of them, it might not go so well.”

  Theo laughed. “Yes, I can see your concern. Mind you, a dose of his plain speaking when he’s really angry might just be salutary.”

  “Possibly, but it could also be very damaging later if someone decides to edit the show for rebroadcast.”

  Theo set his glass on the table. “We’ll have to warn him of that, and try to prepare him as best we can.”

  Much to his surprise, Harry enjoyed his time with the Canids. To his amusement, Regidur had staked a claim to 847, refusing command of a larger vessel. The Canid explained only that he wished to keep his association with the corvette that had served them so well.

  “I think it runs a little deeper,” Ferghal confided, his expression full of mischief as they disembarked at Earth Station One from the transport that had brought them home. “He was reluctant to be leaving your command in the first place, and only agreed if he could keep your ship.”

  “That is folly,” Harry said. “He is by far the best qualified and most experienced of their people. He should not limit himself so.” Hefting his rather heavy bag, he said, “I should have been told. I would have talked him out of such nonsense.”

  “You forget, Commander, theirs is a very different society to our own.” Ferghal shrugged. “Besides, he is to be the flotilla leader in your place. In their eyes that is a high honour.”

  “To be the flotilla leader is an honour, certainly.” He caught Ferghal’s expression and realised he’d misunderstood his friend. “To follow me as leader of the flotilla is plain nonsense, and I should have told him so.”

  Ferghal knew his friend well enough to change the subject. “I am looking forward to a few weeks at Scrabo. I confess myself more than ready for a spell of idleness.” He glanced at his friend. “Will a certain lady be joinin’ us?”

  Harry brightened, and thoughts of the Canids were driven from his mind as he recalled Mary’s promise to meet him at the old house in County Down. “She has promised to meet me there.” He caught his friend’s grin. “Rogue, you shall not steal her away from me, either.”

  “Ah, we shall see. What of this talk of you appearing on the news channel with your very dear friend Montaigne? Perhaps his charms may be the more apparent to you now.” Ferghal’s laugh as he dodged Harry’s retaliation caused others in the boarding area to look their way. Some frowned, but others, correctly gauging the camaraderie, smiled as the pair continued to their transport exchanging wisecracks.

  “It will not happen if I can avoid it, but it will not take place immediately in any event.” Harry’s smirk conveyed his dread. “Command are negotiating the where, when and who.” He shrugged. “No doubt I will be told in due season.”

  The house on the shoulder of Scrabo, the ancient volcanic plug that squats at the head of Strangford Lough, was quiet as Harry and Ferghal finally dismounted from the transport car that had brought them home.

  “It would seem we are not watched for.” Harry sounded a little disappointed.

  “Our arrival is later than planned.�
�� Ferghal pulled their luggage from the compartment and sent the vehicle on its way. “We were delayed longer than expected by your appointment with the Advocate Admiral’s adviser.”

  “I know. First they give me consent to take part in this circus arranged by Mr. Montaigne when it is finalised, and then they seek to warn me to guard my tongue and my temper.”

  Ferghal grinned. “Open the door, Master Harry, Captain, sir! Your luggage bears me down.” He warded off Harry’s attempt to relieve him of it, and added, “The warnings are well meant, my friend. We both know the quality and ferocity of your temper should you be provoked into losing it. Now, for the love of mercy, let us be going in.”

  “Oh, very well.” Harry accepted the gentle reminder and operated the door code. He stood aside to admit his friend, but found himself being crowded forward into the house.

  “Welcome home!”

  Harry stopped in surprise. The next moment he was engulfed in an embrace and locked in a kiss. All the tension of the last year, all his tiredness, all his weariness fell away as he slipped his arms around the waist of his beloved Mary. Time stood still for them as Ferghal slipped quietly inside, deposited the luggage for Herbert, the android butler, and greeted Niamh and Theo as they waited for the lovers to come back down to earth.

  “Sure, and anyone would be thinkin’ they’d been missin’ each other,” Ferghal quipped, and everyone chuckled.

  Harry’s face was scarlet as he broke the kiss and turned to respond, still holding Mary by the waist. Catching sight of Niamh and Theo smiling at him, he suddenly felt self-conscious. “Oh, Aunt Niamh, Theo, I did not see you there.”

  Theo laughed, and Niamh smiled and said, “Don’t be silly, Harry. It’s been far too long for both of you. Come into the drawing room and let’s make ourselves comfortable. Leave the baggage, Ferghal. Herbert will deal with it.”

  “Yes, come on, Harry,” Mary’s gentle voice sent a warm glow through his chest. “Sit beside me and let’s hear about your activities since the last big battle.”