Harry Heron: No Quarter

by Patrick G Cox

  “Where the hell did they come from?” Captain Rafferty asked, dropping into his command seat.

  “There are three destroyer class vessels engaging the rest of the squadron, sir. Naiad is in trouble.”

  “As are we.” The Captain winced as the ship shuddered under a hit from the cruiser’s heavy weapons. “Weapons, target his launch bays. Our intel say they’re vulnerable there. Pilot, keep him guessing until we can get some help. Coms, emergency broadcast to Fleet Command, copy to Aurora and her group. We’re under attack by trader class cruisers and escorts. Require urgent support.”

  Their consorts, Dragon, Danae and Naiad, were faring little better as they fought off their larger attackers.

  “Naiad’s gone, sir.” Lieutenant Orloff stared at the command display, the fading flare of the lost ship just visible still. “Poor bastards. At least it was quick.”

  “Her attacker must have caught some of the flare as her reactors went. He’s breaking away.”

  “Danae has powered up her hyperdrives and broken away,” one of the ComsRates reported.

  Harry concentrated on the calculations for the next jump.

  “She’s got off an engagement report and is calling for help,” called the ComsRate.

  “She’s got her hands full,” commented the Navigating Officer. “That cruiser is on top of her again.”

  The ship reeled and alarms sounded somewhere outside the compartment. Harry heard Damage Control directing a team to the forward end of the ship. There was another tremendous convulsion, and the ship seemed to lurch sideways with the sensation that the deck was tilted at a strange angle, something that should not happen with artificial gravity.

  “Lieutenant Orloff, take charge here,” the Navigation Commander ordered. “The Exec Commander has been injured in Environmental Engineering. I’m going to take over Damage Control.”

  Harry noticed the odour of smoke in the air around them. He was also aware, through his link to the AI, that there was something very wrong with that vital part of the ship.

  At this point their luck turned.

  “We have a clear shot at the bastards,” came the voice of the weapons targeting officer on an open link. “Missiles away!” This was followed by a burst of cheering and the fragmented speech of someone in the Weapons Control Centre saying, “Direct hit! Eat that, you bastards.” Followed by someone else ordering, “Concentrate on your tasks — the bastard isn’t out of it yet. Only three of our missiles hit him. What happened to the rest?”

  “Here he comes again.”

  The ship shuddered. Harry felt something like pain as the AI network lost parts of itself, and was unable to reroute its neural connections to regain contact with some of its nodes. The stench of smoke grew stronger. Through his internal link, Harry could hear damage reports streaming in. It didn’t sound good.

  He wondered if the survival suit would protect him if they had to abandon the ship. A burst of what sounded like cheering over the ship coms distracted him.

  “We did it! The strays must have gone past the primary — they hit the other cruiser. Look at the bastards run.”

  Whatever damage their missiles had caused, it was sufficient for their attackers to break off and retreat into hyperspace, leaving the badly crippled frigates drifting and desperately trying to keep their life support functions operating.

  “HARRY, I NEED SOME QUICK SOLUTIONS. WE HAVE TO manoeuvre clear of the gravity well of this gas giant.”

  Harry worked feverishly to calculate their trajectory. “I will have them in a moment, sir. Our AI has been damaged. Parts of it are not accessible.”

  “Damn. Do your best then. Are the manoeuvring and nav functions still operating?”

  “Aye, sir.” Harry hesitated, unsure how to explain what he was sensing through his link to the AI. “The ship is in pain, sir, and seems distressed.”

  “In pain?” The Captain frowned, not sure what to make of this observation. “We’ll do our best to deal with that as soon as we can get to a safe orbit.”

  “Beagle went into transit as soon as the Consortium ships attacked. Hopefully she’s clean away now.”

  “Hopefully she’ll bring some help.” The Captain stood mopping the trickle of blood from his forehead. That last hit had thrown them all around, dislodging some equipment and destroying the command display. Something was still burning, and the Damage Control crew were trying to find it. The smoke was making breathing difficult. “Evacuate the Command Bridge and find the source of this smoke. I’m going to the Emergency Control Centre. I hope we can hold together long enough for someone to get here.”

  “I have the calculations, sir. We can make it to New Eden if we can use the gravity of that planet’s moon to alter our trajectory. A three-minute burst on the hyperdrives will put us in position to be drawn into orbit.” Lieutenant Orloff straightened from where she’d been monitoring Harry’s plot calculations. “We’ll need to use the manoeuvring engines to put us on course for the moon.”

  “Thanks, Engineering. Can we manoeuvre?” His strides rapid, the Captain entered the Emergency Command Centre. After verifying that all stations were functioning, he wedged himself into a vacant seat.

  “Manoeuvring is possible, but we’ll need to use manual controls.”

  “I’ll need the hyperdrives for a short burst. Can you give me that?”

  “Two of the pods are destroyed, a third is damaged. As long as we don’t try to transit anywhere, it’ll hold up. I can give you no more than ten minutes’ power on it though. Anything more than that and I can’t guarantee the outcome.” Mama Behr sounded tired.

  “That’ll be enough. Stand by for the manoeuvring orders. We need to position ourselves first.” A thought occurred to him. “Is O’Connor available? I think I’m going to use an unorthodox method for this.” Listening to the reply, he nodded. “Tell him to position himself wherever he needs to, and link up with Mr Heron. I’ll get Pilot to tell Mr Heron to do whatever it is they do and run the commands.”

  HARRY SEARCHED FOR FERGHAL IN THE AI NETWORK and found him doing the same thing he was doing.

  “I am ordered to take us into New Eden’s orbit. I have the helm. Have you the manoeuvring?”

  “I do. Mama Behr has told me I’m to do as you instruct, but you must know we have only one usable drive pod, and some of the manoeuvring engines are not functioning either.”

  “Then let us do it. I will inform Lieutenant Orloff.” To his lieutenant, Harry said, “We are able to do the manoeuvres, ma’am.”

  “Good. Mr Heron, lay in the course to get us to New Eden.” She grimaced. “Not that I’m in a hurry to get there. The bloody place is a nightmare, but it’s better than nothing.”

  “Aye, aye, ma’am.” Harry was already coaxing the response he needed from the network. It appeared simultaneously on his screen and inside his eyes in jerks and jumps as the AI tried to circumvent the damage.

  “Ma’am, I have the course,” he advised Lieutenant Orloff.

  “Good, send it to the helm, and let’s hope Engineering can give us the power to get there quickly. We have about a week’s worth of air on board, and it’ll take three weeks to get there at normal speeds.” She exhaled a heavy sigh of frustration.

  The Communications Warrant Officer called across, “Lieutenant, Danae is signalling that she has critical damage to her hull and weapons, but her engines are serviceable, and she can stand by us while we approach the planet.”

  “Acknowledge. Tell them to stand by,” snapped Lieutenant Orloff. “Orders, sir? Manoeuvring is restricted.”

  The Captain nodded. “I know.”

  “Sir, you’re wounded—.”

  “Yes, I know that too, but it’s not serious.” He dabbed the last bit of blood from his forehead and applied an adhesive bandage that acted as a second-skin sealant infused with antibiotics for quick healing. “Right, that’s done then.” He faced Lieutenant Orloff. “Engineering say we have the power to g
et us to New Eden. Mr Heron, are you and Mr O’Connor ready?” He took the confirmation and nodded. “Good. Take us there, Pilot — best speed, please. We may not have a lot of time.”

  His link chirped. “Captain, we’re losing the fields on the remaining pod, and I have a reactor going unstable as well. I’ll need to shut it down if we can’t stabilise it. I’m short handed as we lost a turbine room and control. I have a lot of casualties here.”

  “Do your best, Heather. We need to get close to New Eden so I can evacuate the ship. I want to carry out enough repairs to keep her together until we can get a repair ship here.”

  Harry’s heart went cold when he heard part of this conversation and wondered who else among his friends was injured or dead. He moved awkwardly in an attempt to retrieve a tablet that had fallen during the battle, and winced as pain shot through his side. In the excitement he had forgotten his injury. Gritting his teeth until the pain subsided, he flexed his fingers to satisfy himself that nothing was broken.

  A quick check of his arm and shoulder revealed a livid bruise on his upper arm and across his side. There seemed little else wrong so he focussed his attention on coaxing the crippled AI into providing the guidance necessary to get them safely into an orbit above the planet.

  “Ferghal, are you ready? The Captain orders that we bring the ship to New Eden.”

  “Aye, Harry, what are your orders?”

  “Use the manoeuvring units to bring us onto this bearing.” He input a series of directional coordinates, and when he was satisfied that they had the ship on the exact heading, he said, “Give me a three-minute burst on the hyperdrive.”

  As the seconds ticked by, he ran several calculations until Ferghal advised him that the hyperdrive was shut down and the ship once more was drifting in normal space-time.

  “Good. Now the manoeuvring engines, please.” Harry gave Ferghal detailed instructions to alter the ship’s direction and attitude. “That is well. Now the hyperdrive again, please. I require ninety seconds at three-quarter output.”

  Searching the sensor arrays, he was reassured to find their surviving consorts Dragon and Danae had managed to match their course and stay with them. As the ship reached the final point at which they could adopt an orbital “parking” position, Harry told Ferghal, “Shut down the hyperpods and activate the manoeuvring units. We need to put her into a stationary orbit.”

  Watching as Harry brought the ship to a geostationary orbit, Captain Rafferty wondered what else this youth might be able to do through this connection to the ship’s AI. He’d noticed that not once did Harry touch the interface. He simply sat staring ahead, and the ship responded.

  “Well done, Mr Heron—you handle her like an expert.” The Captain smiled. “Secure your station and get down to the hangar deck where you’ll report to Lieutenant Harvey. I will want you and your fellow Mids to man the barges and get our non-essential people down to the surface. The sooner we can get them to safety, the sooner we can get started on emergency repairs.”

  THE HOURS THAT FOLLOWED WERE ALMOST AS HECTIC as some of the moments that Harry and Ferghal could recall aboard Spartan during drills to prepare the ship for action. It seemed that an incredible amount of equipment had to be checked, stripped for packing, packed and then loaded aboard the ship’s barges for transport to the surface. The typically crowded hangars were conspicuously absent of their complement of strike fighters, as those had been early casualties in the surprise attack by the cruisers. The few that had struggled back aboard were badly damaged and unfit for further use.

  The only consolation to their surviving pilots was that their Consortium opponents had not fared any better once the frigates’ fighters had got away from their parent ships. And all the while there was the need to seek out and plug as many hull breaches as could be found and then to stabilise the ship’s atmosphere.

  “Mr Heron,” called Lieutenant Commander Dalziel. “Take charge of Barge Two and set down on New Eden in the vicinity of these coordinates where you’ll also set up the camp. I’ll get down there as soon as I can, but if you find this site unsuitable, use your discretion and choose the best location for safety and protection.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.” Harry saluted. He had just turned away to get suited up when the older man called him back.

  “Remember, you’ll be Beach Master until I can get down there, so use your discretion and let the Warrants do the running around and heavy lifting.” He turned away to deal with the queue of people waiting for his orders, and Harry made his escape.

  Chapter 30 – Survivors

  “Gawd, the stench!” Master Warrant Officer Gottschalk clenched his nostrils as the barge shuttle’s outer doors opened. “I hope we don’t have to be here too long.”

  “It’s warm enough, and extremely humid.” Harry could feel the prickly heat on his skin, and his face glistened with sweat. In a memory flashback, he felt as if he was back in the oppressive heat of New South Wales. He wrinkled his nose. “And you’re right about that stench. The data files failed to mention that! Damn me, Master, but it is worse than London in the heat of summer with the cesspits overflowing.” Stepping out of the barge, he walked a short distance, lifting his boots with effort out of the suction of the fetid surface. “Looks like the ground is as foul as the London streets too.”

  The Master Warrant puzzled over this. His home city prided itself on being very clean. “Lunnon doesn’t stink, sir.” He sounded a little aggrieved. “Except near the recycle plant, and even that isn’t anything as bad as this.”

  “Sorry, Master.” Harry grinned. “I forget — you would not know the stench from the cesspits in my day.” He glanced around. “Whoever named this place New Eden had a very strange sense of humour or never set foot upon it. Paradise it is not — Purgatory, perhaps, but not Paradise.”

  The Warrant Officer had a wry smile. “Glad I didn’t have to grow up in your Lunnon then, sir, and I wouldn’t know about any paradise — not in my old neighbourhood anyway, but it was tolerably clean what with health and safety and all their rules and regs.” He broke off to bellow orders at the group unloading the barge. Turning back to Harry, he explained, “Grew up in a very mixed part, sir. Probably a bit different to when you were there.”

  Nodding, Harry grinned. “I expect so. In fact I should have been surprised if it had not been.” Looking around, he consulted the survey map on his tablet. The chosen campsite was a long flattened ridge, the highest ground in this area, which at least offered a view of the surroundings. “We’ll establish the camp on the rise over there, if you please.”

  “I’ll see to it, sir. These survival shelters have a decent base to stand on.” The Warrant Officer turned away issuing a string of orders, setting in motion the process of erecting several large emergency shelters.

  Harry looked at the luridly coloured vegetation, noting several of what appeared to be pitcher plants. Recalling the data he had acquired in the history files, he recognised these as being flesh eaters.

  “Master, keep our people away from those plants with the pot-like structures.” Harry pointed from a safe distance. “They’re colourful and have a unique beauty, but they consume flesh.”

  “They do what, sir?”

  “They’re flesh eaters, Master. Apparently they capture animals, draw them in and consume them in that pitcher-shaped part of the plant.”

  “Damn. Why couldn’t we be stationed somewhere decent? As if it didn’t stink bad enough here, now we’ve got to worry about being eaten by a plant,” muttered the Master Warrant, shaking his head. A hard-bitten man, he had developed a qualified respect for Harry, and was glad he had him to deal with. “I’ll get our people onto it and warn them away from the plants.”

  No sooner were the words out of his mouth than a scream followed by shouts of alarm drew his and Harry’s startled attention. One of the TechRates had wandered too close to a large pitcher plant. He screamed again, and dropped his load as more of the plant’s tendr
ils wrapped around his body and drew him toward the gaping pitcher.

  “Bloody f**kin’ hell!” The Master Warrant Officer lunged forward, coming perilously close to being gripped by the plant. “No you bloody don’t!” Drawing his projector, he blasted the tendrils close to the man’s torso, then grabbed him and pulled him clear as the plant released its catch.

  Harry listened awestruck as the Master Warrant told the TechRate, in language as pithy as it was colourful, what he thought of people who didn’t consider where they were going and who they might inconvenience in rescuing them from their own stupidity. Admittedly, the Master Warrant had only just learned of the plant’s deadly capabilities, but that didn’t stop him from giving his crew a piece of his mind. They were used to it by now.

  As the wounded man limped away, ignoring the jibes from his mates that a plant almost took him down, the Master Warrant got the situation under control and summoned a group of Marines to clear the area of all vegetation. Eager to comply, the Marines blasted the vicinity clean of anything that would burn, and within moments, all of it vanished in steaming blasts of plasma and flame for some distance around them.

  “That’ll teach the bastards, sir,” the Master said as he squelched back over to where Harry stood to oversee the rest of the unloading.

  “I hope so, Master.” Harry studied the burnt remains. “But I suspect the WTO may disapprove of our killing too many of them.” He grinned. “Even if they are trying to eat us.”

  The Master Warrant Officer snorted. “I don’t plan on giving them the chance, sir, and as to the WTO, they can kiss my—.” He paused, remembering his place. “They can come down here and give these meat-eaters a kiss in the face themselves. Bloody awful dump, this planet. I suggest we keep the domes on this high ground and put the landing area for the barges over there. Close enough for load handling, far enough to keep them clear of the camp.”