Harry Heron: No Quarter
Page 37
“I expect they had good reason,” Theo said, his eyes on the projected image of the damaged control consoles in the ship. “Very good reason.”
THE GRAND ADMIRAL RETURNED THE SALUTE AND STUDIED Harry and Ferghal across his desk. “At ease, gentlemen.” Walking round the desk he held out his hand. “Gentlemen, you have, between you, logged quite a record of achievement. Three ships destroyed, a prize brought in under very difficult conditions and in the face of a superior and hostile force aboard. Well done.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“I’ve read your report, Mr Heron. Very good indeed.” He paused, regarding them, a smile playing on his lips. “It seems to me there is only one thing to do with the pair of you. It is a little irregular because you are technically both too young and too old. But these are irregular times. Mr Heron, as of this moment you are promoted to the rank of Sub-Lieutenant with seniority backdated to the moment you took command of the Twee Jonge Gezellen.” He turned to Ferghal. “Mr O’Connor, I am promoting you to Sub-Lieutenant as well, effective immediately and I am according you the same seniority.”
Their surprise and pleasure showed as they chorused, “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
“Gentlemen, that ship is proving to be a goldmine. Her holds were crammed with equipment and information that is invaluable to us. Very well done to you both.”
“Thank you, sir,” replied Harry, flushed with pleasure as the Flag Lieutenant clipped his new insignia to his uniform. As the officer moved to do the same for Ferghal, he asked, “What news of Leander, sir?”
The Admiral smiled. “Decommissioned for a rebuild, I’m afraid. I expect the Drafting Office will re-assign you as soon as you have completed some well-earned leave. Good luck, gentlemen.”
HAVING ENDURED HARRY’S TEASING OVER AN ENERGETIC tryst with Ingrid on their last night on the dock station, Ferghal watched his friend paying very stilted and old-fashioned court to the young woman he’d fallen head over ears for as soon as he met her upon their return home to Ireland. For her part, Mary seemed to be enjoying it, and to be very attracted to Harry.
When she wasn’t on the concert touring circuit, she enjoyed being home in County Down, and often participated in musical evenings at the local pub, playing Irish folk songs along with other musicians for the pure fun of it. It was there one brisk, cold night that she had first spotted Harry watching her with fascination as she sat at the piano while he and Ferghal enjoyed the music and a pint together.
He smiled to himself as he remembered that evening, and how he’d teased his friend on the walk home about love at first sight. They were an unlikely pair, he thought, as he strolled down to the family home, Mary a headstrong and extremely talented concert pianist, and Harry the artist who loved music but couldn’t make it.
Wrapped in their own conversation, neither Mary nor Harry noticed when Ferghal left them alone on the hillside surrounded by the most beautiful scenery on Earth, in his opinion.
“What now, Harry?” Mary asked. She found him intriguing, a mix of very talented artist, endlessly curious and creative, his manners and courtesy matching his very old fashioned ideas of honour and correct behaviour, sometimes reckless and even ruthless, yet very rigid in his principles. The combination fascinated her. She enjoyed his company, finding it comforting and pleasant, and he was never far from her thoughts when they were apart. “After your latest adventures, where will you go next?”
“I expect we’ll be posted to a new ship soon.” He smiled. “I should not be sorry if it were to the Home System Patrol. After New Eden, a spell in a quieter and more pleasant neighbourhood would be nice.”
She laughed, a delightful rippling trill of laughter that sounded musical to Harry. “And boring, I should think! I expect you’d be complaining within weeks that there was no excitement in chasing asteroids, inspecting freighters and monitoring mining operations.”
“Perhaps, but if I know your concert schedule, I can take my planet leaves to attend some of your performances.”
“I’d like that.” Her hand found his, and she squeezed it gently. She studied it on her knee, surprised yet again at the delicate shape of his hand that belied the strength of his grip. “I will arrange tickets for you — and Ferghal, of course.”
“I should like that indeed.”