THOUGH THE RECOVERY TEAMS HAD BEEN BUSY and the robotic repair units had recovered all the bodies and cleaned every surface in the research facility, a ghastly smell lingered.
“Doubt anyone will get this place smelling decent again.” Captain Wardman grimaced. “They did a damned good job of taking each other apart in here.”
Feeling slightly sick due to the stench, Harry nodded. “It was just some of what they did to us.” He paused. “Though I think the combination of the drugs may not have been efficacious when taken in a large dose.” At the door leading to the central core of the AI, he asked, “Did Ms de Vries survive?”
“De Vries? Yes. She’s in custody with the rest of the survivors from here. Why? You didn’t fall for her, did you?”
Walking to the computer, Harry looked over his shoulder, his expression cold. “No, but she took a perverse pleasure in assisting the people here in their experimentation on me. I trust she will receive a suitable reward at the hands of the courts.”
Bob Wardman considered asking for an explanation then decided against it. “Need anything to deal with the blocks in the AI?”
“Thank you, sir. No, I have given it my code, and Ferghal will remove his additions to the system.” He turned and smiled. “I think we would both like to put this place a long way behind us now.”
Ferghal stepped away from the panel he’d opened and nodded to Harry.
Amazed at such quick work, Bob said, “Is that it? You’ve cleared it?”
“The part of it that is still functioning, yes, sir.” Looking round the circular chamber, Harry added, “This level and the laboratory and prison levels still function, as does the second AI in the deep facility, but I’m afraid most of the system in this section has been destroyed or rendered insane.”
“There’s a second AI in the deep section?”
“Yes, sir. It is linked to this one. They share data and several other functions, but it is able to override this one if instructed to do so.”
“Thanks. I’ll warn the AI boys. Now, let’s get out of here. You’ve a flight waiting.”
CAPTAIN WARDMAN ACKNOWLEDGED THE GREETING from Marcus Grover as he entered the temporary hotel. “Good to meet you. I heard you helped our people leave here.”
“We heard they’d made it to Pangaea City.” The townsman sounding slightly surprised. “We thought they were mad taking the snakeheads with them, and besides that, the pleurodons make any trip on the water a gamble. Glad they made it safely, though.” He chuckled. “Did us an almighty big favour. How long did it take them?”
“About sixteen days I believe. I’m told you helped them get the ship ready.” Bob Wardman grinned. “It’s a bit of a joke that we searched the route the skimmers always take. No one thought about the way a sailing ship would have to go off in the wrong direction before it could travel the way it wanted to go.”
Grover grinned. “We heard. Your first soldiers arrived two days after they left, and couldn’t find a trace of them. Everyone assumed they’d been wrecked or taken by a pleurodon or the snakeheads.” He paused as the captain gathered his kitbag. “Are you here to deal with our former Council? Some of them are pretty keen to get off the island.”
“The civil government will have to deal with any collaborators, and Sub-Lieutenant Trelawney has given us a list of the people in your community who were in the pay of the Consortium.” He paused. “I take it they are all still in good health.”
“Oh yes.” Marcus Grover nodded sourly. “Including Stepan Glinka, the idiot. He still doesn’t know how lucky he is that kid with the big blade—a cutlass?—didn’t kill him outright.”
Bob Wardman nodded. “TechRate O’Connor grew up in an age when being threatened meant delivering a very swift and violent response.” He grinned. “I gather this Mr Glinka has received treatment for a number of serious injuries he received after shooting at our people.”
“He has. Didn’t deserve the treatment either, ungrateful bugger,” said the other shortly. “That kid took his arm off and damned near did the same with his leg. He stopped when the midshipman held him back, the same one who came up with the idea to rig out the barge—Harry was his name, I think—and looked as if he’d been to hell and back in that Johnstone dungeon. He did some amazing first aid. The two seemed to be very loyal to one another, almost to the point of death if it came to that.”
“Midshipman Heron and TechRate O’Connor come from a very different society to ours,” Bob Wardman commented wryly.
THE OBSERVATORY HAD BECOME HARRY’S REFUGE in much the same way he had retreated to the foretop on HMS Spartan to be alone with his thoughts. It was a place he could escape the confines of the gunroom, his cabin and the constant presence of almost a thousand people around him. It provided a place he could sit and think. Today he stared unseeing at the vast panorama spread out around him—the jewel of the world above him, the stars of the fleet of ships in orbit about it, two of the moons hanging in the sky, and, of course, the blaze of stars, galaxies and planets filling the heavens.
“So much has happened to us these many months, Papa,” he said softly. “So much I do not understand. There is so much to learn, and so much to be thankful for as well.”
Chapter 36
Celebrations and Promotions
HARRY REJOINED THE SHIP AFTER A PERIOD OF detached duty “dirtside” assisting in carrying out an exercise in surveys for the creation of accurate maps and ocean charts. He returned to the ship on the day she left the embrace of the huge repair ship Bremerwerft II, her turn at the repair facility having been delayed by the discovery of a major structural defect in Bellerophon. It also coincided with Fleet orders confirming promotions for several people including Sub-Lieutenant Trelawney, Hans Dinsen and Paddy Murphy. Three more were transferring to other ships to fill vacancies.
Two surprises awaited Harry; one was the celebration of the promotions and postings of his fellow midshipmen. The second was Ferghal’s much anticipated arrival in the gunroom with two other former TechRates, all three complete with new uniforms and the rather self-consciously displayed patches of a Cadet.
“Oh, famous!” Harry exclaimed at the sight of Ferghal. “At last your full ability can be seen now.”
Ferghal grinned sheepishly. “Thankee, Master Harry. I’m to attend school with Danny and yourself from now on. We’ve to study, so the Commodore says, to pass some examination, and we’ve not much time.”
“Then we shall sink or swim together, my friend, and no more of this Master Harry. If you are to learn to be an officer, then I am Harry to your Ferghal.”
The celebration became a boisterous party when the others learned that Harry had just passed his seventeenth birthday. It slipped out of Ferghal during a somewhat one-sided conversation with Sophie Xavier. His sense of social order still reeling under the shock of his being promoted to Cadet, he found himself responding in monosyllables as she drew him out.
“I followed Harry to sea, Miss—I mean, Sophie. It was only right.”
“Right for who, Ferghal?”
“Why, Miss—Sophie, for us both. Master—I mean, Harry was ever mindful of my needs and those of others.” He smiled. “Like his Da, in fact.”
“Is that what made you such a demon in that Johnstone Lab?”
His face hardened. “Aye, Miss. I’d a’ killed ’em all.”
She studied him for a moment, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I believe you would, Ferghal.” After a long moment in which he looked away blushing, she added, “And I think he would do the same for you if the positions were reversed.” Changing the subject, she asked, “How old are you? How old is he?”
Ferghal smiled, pleased to offer this information. He’d presented Harry with the small present he’d made that morning. “His birthday was two days past. He’s seventeen.”
“Was it now? Hey, everyone,” yelled Sophie, clanging a fork against a glass. “Harry sneaked his birthday past us by being shore
side for it. He owes us a party.”
Harry’s protests that those being promoted should be the ones to throw the party were swept aside in a boisterous tide of jokes, laughter and teasing. Good naturedly he surrendered, secretly flattered to have been so fully adopted by this group of peers.
“Congratulations, Harry,” said Hans with a grin. “Tell you what, I’ll get the steward to bring a cake and some party snacks. We’ll add it to our celebration.”
“Bring the Boss’s steward Adriana while you’re at it!” Paddy called out to a round of laughter.
“You wish!” said Hans, winking at Harry, who blushed despite himself.
With a little help from the catering droid and a lot of fun from the celebrating gunroom, the night sped by. For the first time, all three interlopers from the nineteenth century felt fully members of their new society.
It seemed a very long way from Scrabo and the homes they had left to join the war against Napoleon, and here they were, still at war, but against a new enemy, one from within.
“ALL REPAIRS ARE COMPLETE, SIR, including our upgrades.”
“Excellent. As soon as the rest of the squadron are fit to transit, we’ll be able to go home.” James Heron indicated a chair. “It’s been a long six months. Getting hauled out of the dock so they could do the emergency repair to Bellerophon didn’t help.”
“No, sir, but I gather she was on the point of having a major structural collapse just aft of the hangars.”
“She was. A combination of damage and a weakness in the design, I gather.” Nodding toward his companion’s new rank markings, the Commodore said, “Congratulations, Richard, I’m glad the Admiralty agreed with my recommendation and confirmed you as Captain. It’s not before time, but you’re going to have a hell of a problem replacing my Executive Commander—people of his calibre simply don’t come along every day.”
“Thank you, sir.” Richard Grenville grinned. “Actually, I think it’s already sorted out. You built such a good team on the command level that I’m able to do a bit of a shuffle and bring in some new blood lower down where we can train them in our ways rather more effectively.”
“So who do you have in mind?”
“Ben Curran is moving into the exec post, and Jack Coutts is on the ball and in the zone for promotion. So a few favours saw him made up to Navigation Commander, and we can fill in the gap below him once we get everything else sorted out.” He paused. “I looked at all the others. Nick is needed on the fighter and strike command, and we have a lot of casualties to fill in there. He’s also due a command of his own. Val is keen to stay with her weapons of mass annihilation for now, Mary is reluctant to leave her precious power plants and Fritz was so wrapped up in his coms that he just laughed when I asked if he was interested.”
“Good, I’m glad HQ agreed to that, although I suspect they have their hands full at present.” The Commodore nodded. “What about the gaps lower down?”
“Lower down the food chain we have a few considerations as well, which I’d like to discuss with you when I have all the details worked out.”
“Certainly. Harry should be available to fill suitable gaps if you need him. His progress is astonishing. I don’t think Ferghal is that far behind either.”
“I’ve already got him in my sights.” The Captain smiled. “We lost quite a few ratings and officers in the engagement, mostly from the interceptor and strike squadrons, but we lost people from damaged compartments. Sydney was hard hit, as was Bellerophon, and the four cruisers took a lot of punishment. By some miracle the three frigates seem to have come off lightly, perhaps because they got in so close.”
“True. I’ve looked at the casualty lists. Considering the number of deserters and traitors we managed to isolate and weed out, we need a number of new replacements.” He glanced at a tablet in his hand. “I make it three lieutenant commanders, five lieutenants and four sub-lieutenants just between our three heavy units before we look at the flight officer losses. Ramillies is down twice that number thanks to the Consortium’s traitors on board—plus two full commanders.”
“That is the situation, sir. If you agree, I’d like to invoke a clause in the regulations that allows a Captain to promote suitable TechRates and Warrant Officers to either Cadet or Commissioned Warrant rank—with a view to their being confirmed and commissioned on completion of the prescribed training.”
The Commodore laughed. “Touché, Richard. Of course I agree. I’m using the same clause for Harry and Ferghal after all.” Smiling, he nodded. “Give me the lists, and I’ll endorse them.”
THE CHANGE TO FERGHAL’S ROUTINE came with his change of status. He and Harry joined Danny in a classroom attached to the staff officer’s office. While Danny was engaged with his basic education, Ferghal endured a crammer course, and Harry, complaining privately, studied training modules toward the degree required for advancement.
“My head hurts,” complained Ferghal, slipping into Harry’s cabin after a gruelling session. He watched Harry wrestling with his latest assignment. “And I have yet to do this work as well.” He grimaced. “Can I not return to the lower deck? Life is so much simpler there.”
Harry laughed. “What? You’d abandon me to a future in which we must ever salute one another?” Saving his work, he stood. “Come. A little fencing practice for us both.”
“Now that I understand.” Ferghal thought a moment. “The Commodore made me surrender my cutlass, and he had your dirk—the one I made on New Caledonia. Where is your original?”
Grinning, Harry winked. “He did not ask for it, so it resides in my locker.” Clasping an arm around his friend’s shoulder, he added, “Come, let us go and take some leisure.”
THE DEPARTURE FOR EARTH OF THE VANGUARD and her squadron, now designated TS 57, passed unnoticed by the majority of the populace on the planet. Pangaea was rapidly becoming a major Fleet base, and the almost daily departures and arrivals of ships, even when visible from the surface, no longer occasioned excitement.
“Five months to the Earth and some leave time.” Ute Zimmermann whooped. “Yes! Finally something to look forward to.”
Entering into the spirit of it, Harry nodded. Privately he had reservations. He, Ferghal and Danny were to visit the home of Commodore Heron’s sister, Mrs Niamh L’Estrange, and her husband. Harry worried about the reception that Ferghal and Danny could expect from a lady of her station in society. After all, her husband was a highly respected barrister and the head of a very important legal firm. He was currently serving as Chief Justice in the Dublin State Government.
Harry had learned that the Commodore was the legal owner of the house, which meant that it was their home now, too—his, Ferghal’s and Danny’s, because they were the Commodore’s wards.
Wrapped in his thoughts, he barely heard when Ute spoke to him again, calling his attention. “I beg pardon, ma’am. I didn’t hear your question.”
Ute grinned. She’d learned from Ferghal some of Harry’s concerns. “I expect you’ll find things very different in Ireland now.”
“Indeed. I can scarce recognise Strangford Lough, and towns we knew have vanished or been replaced by structures we’ve not seen before.” He’d done some research and been amazed at the shifts in allegiance, the reduction in population and several more changes that he could hardly fathom as the same Ireland of his childhood in 1804.
“Have you seen images of your old home yet?”
Harry hesitated. “I have. From without, it appears the same, with just some small changes—but the interior I hardly recognise.”
Seeing his wistful expression and the concern in his eyes, Ute changed the subject.
COMMANDER COUTTS, THE NAVIGATION COMMANDER who’d replaced Ben Curran, waved the trio to their seats. “Well done, gentlemen. Your exam results are back. Your guardian has, of course seen these, and will talk to you about them later.” He smiled. “Congratulations, Mr O’Connor, you’ve achieved an entrance level pass for the Fleet S
ervices College. You must complete four more modules, but you’re in. Mr Heron, well done. You have achieved a full pass on the course you were set, and once you’ve completed the College course, you’ll receive your degree and your commission from the Fleet.”
Pushing the certificates toward them, he hesitated. “That leaves Mr Gunn. You, young man, have done extremely well. You’ve qualified to enter the second part of your education. You’ll be going to a proper school from now on at a place the Commodore has arranged.” Standing, he signalled the end of the interview. “Well done all of you. You’ve certainly showed you’re more than able to face the future.”
LATE IN OCTOBER 2205, A MEDIA YACHT RECORDED the activation of the newly repositioned Near Earth Gate, Southern Indian Ocean, and the emergence in rapid succession of the starship Vanguard followed by Bellerophon, Sydney, four cruisers and three frigates. The squadron would remain in orbit for maintenance above the Earth while their crews cycled on home leave. Already Fleet was planning their next assignment but, for the Commodore and his weary crew, it was time to rest and refresh themselves at home.
For some this was a happy return, and for others, a time of sadness and mourning. For Harry, it would be a time of wonder, concern and uncertainty on some levels. He didn’t talk much about returning to his home in Scrabo. He wasn’t sure what to expect. He tried to prepare himself for it, and knew that he could not. He could hardly imagine the emotions that would overcome him to round the bend and see the house of his boyhood, knowing that his father, mother, sister and brother would not be in it.
Chapter 37
Going Home
“PLEASE TAKE A SEAT.” THE TALL, RATHER SPARE and patrician gentleman with the mischievous eyes beamed. “Niamh will be along in a moment. She has been doing a little research and is presently battling with her culinary replicator. She is determined to reproduce something you may have enjoyed in your former lives.” He winked, adding quietly, “With luck it will be edible.”
Harry Heron: Into the Unknown Page 35