Harry Heron Savage Fugitive

by Patrick G Cox

  “The President would like it put through to his position.”

  “Mr. President.” The measured tones of the Chairman filled the Control Centre. “We have complied with the terms of the truce and await your invitation to meet. I trust we have your assurance of safe conduct still.”

  “Mr. Chairman, your safety is assured. Our meeting is to be held aboard the flagship Vanguard. I will join you there with my ministers and the representatives of the other states that are party to our treaty.” The President looked at Harry and Ferghal. “I shall send two officers to conduct you to the flagship.”

  “Thank you, Mr. President. We await the escort.”

  Harry checked that the signal was terminated. “Shall I arrange with the Captain for the escort, sir?”

  The President smiled. “No, I think I shall do that.” He glanced at the C-in-C. “I believe you and Mr. O’Connor are attached to my staff.” He smiled. “Take my personal barge and bring them directly here.” He laughed. “It isn’t often I am able to send the people our visitors would most like to meet to fetch them, but this is one such moment. Please make full use of the barge and make sure our guests have every courtesy paid them.”

  Chapter 37 — The Face of the Enemy

  The Presidential “barge,” more a luxury yacht than a transport, boasted features no mere Fleet transport possessed. As Harry soon realised, the opulence concealed the fact that it had a full command suite as well as luxurious appointments. To Ferghal he said, “I had not thought to see such luxury in a service barge.”

  “Nor I.” Ferghal grinned, taking a seat indicated by the human Steward. “Thank you,” he added even as a slight tremor indicated they were about to depart. To Harry he said, “We had best make the most of this. I do not think we’ll see the like again in our careers.”

  Harry nodded, his eyes on the display as the barge cleared the launch bay. “Is that not a breath-taking sight? I do not think I can ever tire of seeing it.” His gesture took in the beauty of the Earth beneath them, the bright stars of the great docking stations and the lift platforms seemingly stationary in their orbits above the blue oceans, white swaths of cloud and multi-hued continents. The barge swung and the liner Artemis came into view, her escorts suspended in space around her. “I wonder what they will be like — the Consortium top brass? My flesh crawls at the thought of facing them. I confess I am not sure how I can respond civilly.”

  Ferghal nodded. “Nor I, but I do not think they will be too interested in the likes of us. After all, they are far wealthier and more powerful than a pair of mere Sub-Lieutenants sent to see to their comfort.”

  “True, my friend.” Harry laughed. “We shall soon know. Look there, just ahead. We are already closing their docking bay.”

  The Chairman led the Board up the brow, ducking his head automatically as he stepped through the entry port. Behind him the thickset Mr. Barclay, Eon’s uncle, elbowed his way ahead of the other Board members, his semi-permanent scowl and truculent boorishness drawing expressions of distaste from those he pushed aside.

  Harry saluted as the Chairman straightened in the entry chamber. “Good afternoon, sir. The President’s accommodation is at your disposal for the transfer.” He indicated the forward passenger accommodation.

  Meeting his gaze, the Chairman smiled. “The President has a sense of humour, I see, sending you two. Don’t look so surprised. I know who you are, Sub-Lieutenant Heron.” He held out his hand. “A pity we have had to be on opposite sides.”

  Harry hesitated a fraction of a second, struggling with the sense of being in the presence of a dangerous predator, then accepted the handshake. “I had not expected you to know me, sir, but I fear you have the advantage, for I know you only by your title.”

  The Chairman laughed. “Touché, Lieutenant. The title hides a great deal, the face and name seldom known except by the Board. I am Gerhard Bokelmann, and these are the members of the Board. My Director of Security, Mr. Barclay, I think you will know by reputation, and the others by name if not by sight.” He noticed Harry’s fleeting smile. “I am sure you have the list in the databank, is that correct?”

  “Indeed we do, sir.” Harry bowed his head slightly as each of the others filed past him and found seats under the guidance of the Stewards. “Though I confess it is the first time I find myself host to a group who not long since ordered my execution.”

  The Chairman acknowledged this. “I expect not. An apology is not really appropriate either. Sometimes one has to make such decisions, and you consider the greater good will be served — but sometimes we have become pawns to our own ambitions and ideologies.” Indicating a seat beside his, he stared at the view. “When did you first have to take charge in a life-or-death situation, Mr. Heron?”

  Harry thought for a moment, conscious of the feeling of being sized up as an adversary. “In 1802, sir, aboard a transport ship called the Maid of Selsey. We were attacked by Barbary corsairs, and I had charge of some of her guns.” Harry had a faraway look as he recalled the terror of hand-to-hand engagement with the screaming corsairs as they boarded the becalmed transport and tried to seize the crew, the convicts and especially the younger members and “passengers” for their evil trade. He continued. “I had a swivel gun manned. We used it to clear the gangways, and I killed one of the corsairs with my dirk — the first man I had killed in combat.”

  “Eighteen oh two?” The Chairman was momentarily off guard, and looked at Harry as if the young Lieutenant had lost his mind. Then he recovered, remembering the origins of Harry’s arrival in the twenty-third century. “Of course . . . yes, I recall the story somewhat. How old were you then?”

  “Not many weeks beyond my thirteenth birthday, sir.”

  Now the Chairman really was surprised. “Thirteen?” he asked incredulously.

  Harry couldn’t resist. “And a few weeks, sir. Eighteen months as a Midshipman then.”

  “So you were sent to sea in charge of grown men as a child? That might explain a great deal.” He studied Harry for a moment. “Well, Mr. Heron, let’s hope that we can draw this unpleasantness to a close — then perhaps all our talents and abilities can be used more productively.”

  Using a skill honed to perfection, the Chairman drew Harry out in an exchange that left both with a great deal to consider. From it, Harry learned a lot about commercial and political thought, not all of it revelatory or new. Locked in their discussion, they barely noticed the others, or the spectacle of the assembled fleet.

  The barge was already entering the Vanguard’s vast landing bay when Harry took notice, and there was time for no further conversation. He had much to think about as he watched the disembarkation and reception and the subsequent signing ceremony.

  Meeting Ferghal as he approached the Wardroom, Harry said, “The peace is signed. Do you think we will be beached on half pay?”

  Ferghal grinned. “Likely, I suspect. Perhaps your new friend, the Great Chairman, can find us a ship. But I would not trust the man who leads their security team — the uncle of our old adversary Eon Barclay, no less.”

  “Nor I.” Harry stopped as his link chirped. “Heron.”

  “Mr. Heron, report to the Commander-in-Chief.” The voice was crisp, and Harry recognised it as that of his guardian’s Flag Lieutenant.

  “Aye, aye, sir.” Harry grimaced. “I expect I shall now be advised that I have offended some matter of diplomacy in speaking to the Chairman.” He got to his feet and headed for the door.

  Ferghal smiled. “I shall prepare a wake for your return.”

  “Thanks, you’re the best friend a man could ask for,” Harry replied with a grin. “Now, let me be off to the guillotine. Don’t want to be late for the proceedings!”

  Ferghal laughed. “It is certain to be no great matter. I’m sure you can handle it.”

  His guardian’s Flag Lieutenant greeted him with a grin. “In you go. Enough gold braid and polished buttons in there to blind you.” He winked. “
They’re waiting for you.”

  Alerted by the emphasis on the word they’re, Harry entered the office. The Flag Lieutenant was right, and Harry had to suppress his urge to smile as he found himself confronting stiff, crisp senior officers all around, gold epaulets and buttons gleaming on their uniforms: Grand Admiral Cunningham, Admiral James Heron, Captain Grenville, two Commodores and Commander Nielsen. Snapping to attention, he saluted the Commander-in-Chief. “You sent for me, sir?”

  The Grand Admiral returned the salute. “I did, Mr. Heron. I have accepted the recommendation of Commander Nielsen and others, and signed the commendation for the award of the Fleet’s Distinguished Service Cross. We have also decided to promote you to full Lieutenant with seniority because of your extraordinary leadership on Lycania.” He held out his hand. “Congratulations, Mr. Heron. You do seem to be making a habit of this, but with the peace now signed, perhaps we can expect less dramatic times ahead.”

  “Congratulations, Harry.” James Heron stepped forward. “You’ve certainly done us proud, but we mustn’t rest on our laurels too long. Niamh demands your presence in Scrabo, and I think you’ve earned it too.” He moved forward and unclipped Harry’s rank markings then carefully replaced them with a new pair. Grasping his hand, he shook it. “Well done. The President was very complimentary, and so was the Chairman,” he added with a chuckle.

  “Thank you, sir.” Harry was stunned by the award and the promotion. His mind in a whirl, he was temporarily at a loss for words. In his preoccupation he missed the difference in his guardian’s own insignia. Pulling his thoughts together, he said, “But I must point to the efforts made by Ferghal . . . I mean, Sub-Lieutenant O’Connor, and the others of my crew. I could not have achieved anything without them.”

  “True, and they will be rewarded as well. Your promotion is a recognition of your leadership, Mr. Heron,” the C-in-C replied. “You took charge under circumstances most would find difficult. You escaped in a damaged launch and kept several others safe while doing so, then you organised and led your people under conditions no one would have considered viable.” He paused and held Harry’s gaze. “I have no doubt we will see more of one another in future. Now, I believe you are due some leave and a new posting when that is over.” He glanced at the newly promoted Vice Admiral Heron. “Your leave starts tomorrow with all the other survivors. Twelve weeks, James. Enjoy it, both of you. Well done, and well earned.”

  “Lieutenant Clarke.” The small-framed Captain from the Advocate Admiral’s Office glanced up and gestured toward a seat. “Sit down, please.” He waited for the Lieutenant to seat himself. “The charges against you are serious: collaborating with the enemy, passing information, surrendering personnel to torture. A defence advocate has been assigned to you, but, of course, you are free to reject any officer so assigned and ask for another.”

  Aral Clarke shook his head. His career and his marriage were in ruins. What did it matter now? Delle had filed for a divorce, and his contacts and relatives in the Fleet Drafting Office were all “unavailable” to his calls. His anger gnawed at his stomach. Heron promoted and decorated, and no doubt the others as well, while he faced ruin. It was almost too much. In a tight voice, he replied, “I’m sure that will be in order, sir.”

  “You do understand that you will also be required to give evidence at the enquiry into the loss of the Daring, and this may involve some or all of the testimony you may wish to rely upon in your defence?”

  Aral Clarke nodded. No doubt the bastards would also want to re-examine the testimony he’d given at the enquiry into the near loss of his previous ship, the Arethusa. He felt a chill as he thought of it. He’d had to be very creative to conceal the error he’d made there. Would they now expose it?

  He looked up. “Do you expect me to enter a plea now?”

  “No. This is merely to apprise you of the charges. You should say nothing further until you are briefed by your defence counsel.” The Captain stood up. “I will send her in now.”

  His mind in a whirl, Harry made his way to the Wardroom, almost missing the grinning group outside the Executive Commander’s office. “Mr. Winstanley! ComOp Hodges! Oh, what have we here?” he said with excitement when he saw their new rank markings. “Excellent! Congratulations, Mr. Winstanley. Commissioned Master I see, and you, Maddie — Coms Warrant Hodges!” His gaze took in the rest of the group. “All of you promoted. I could not be more delighted. You have all earned it several times over.”

  “Errol got his Master’s badges, sir.” Maddie’s smile widened. “And I got this from him.” She held out her left hand and showed off a dazzling diamond ring.

  Errol stepped out of the Wardroom at that moment and caught the thread of the conversation.

  “Yeah, and I spent the next three months’ paycheques on that rock,” he quipped, grabbing Maddie around the waist for a quick hug and kiss, and everyone laughed.

  “Oh, famous!” exclaimed Harry. “I wish you both a very happy life together.”

  Maddie hesitated. “We wondered if you might come to the wedding.”

  “Of course! I should be delighted to attend. Just tell me where to be and when to be there.”

  “In your smart new Lieutenant’s dress uniform, no doubt!”

  Harry beamed with pleasure.

  Chapter 38 — Together At Last

  Harry stood at the window and checked the roadway again. He was impatient; he had anticipated this moment for too long now, and it couldn’t come quick enough. Why was the time dragging so? He was also irritated by a recent occurrence that had shaken him. He’d been authorised to appear on a television talk show to discuss his experiences on Planet Lycania to give viewers an idea of what it was like there. As it turned out, several members of the live studio audience were activists representing the League for the Protection of Sentient Life, and he had found himself on the receiving end of a vitriolic diatribe for his supposed “corruption” of the Canids and his “enslavement” of them for his “private war” against the Consortium.

  It got so heated that the show was almost stopped because of their antics and accusations. It had left him angry, and he was still trying to understand what drove some people and their apparent blindness to anything outside their own narrow viewpoint and interest. It had come as a surprise, initially, to learn that the bulk of the funding for the League had come from the Consortium, but then it made perfect sense in the full scheme of things.

  He hoped his time with Mary would help him regain a sense of perspective and the trust destroyed by the corruption he had witnessed in recent months.

  Ferghal put aside the delicate piece he was carving, a part of the new model he had started to replace the one lost when the Daring was destroyed. “Patience, my friend, she’ll be here in time — it wants another hour yet before she is due by my reckoning.”

  “I know it!” Harry snapped. “But she might yet be early.” He flung himself down in a chair and grimaced. “I’m sorry. I cannot explain it, but I am filled with unease. What if she doesn’t come? What should I do if she’s unhappy with the room I’ve prepared for her?”

  “She liked it the last time she stayed.” Ferghal smiled. He was having difficulty understanding Harry’s approach to the lady he was wooing. Ferghal had none of the genteel notions that were Harry’s idea of proper behaviour, and he found it amusing. “And Aunt Niamh has ordered her favourite meals and arranged for you to entertain her with visits to all the places you felt might interest her. Be calm, my friend. What lady could resist your charms?”

  “But what if she has changed her mind?” Harry bemoaned, leaping to his feet again to pace the room. “It has been almost two years since we were last together, and she may have met someone else. What if she is visiting me only to be kind?”

  Ferghal gave a shout of laughter. “To be sure you are a complete innocent. After all the letters she sent you pouring out her undying love for you? How about those steamy holocalls before we lost all connection
to the civilised world. Maybe you’ve forgotten, but I remember your flushed face and smug grin after those conversations. She would not be coming all this way to see you just for a pity visit. Women are very creative at cutting off relationships when they want to be.” A rueful expression crossed his face as he recalled being dumped by Siobhan Stevenson with no explanation soon after they graduated Fleet College.

  “Just relax, Harry, she’ll be here soon. You’re making me nervous, and that takes some doing.”

  The door opened and Niamh bustled in. “Why so on edge, Harry? Mary will wonder why you’ve worn out the carpet with your pacing. A cup of tea for you both?”

  “He’s afraid she’s changed her mind and decided to take up with another,” Ferghal teased, dodging a cushion Harry threw at his head.

  Harry flung himself into the chair again, and managed a grin. “I can see there is no sympathy for my concern. Yes, please, Aunt Niamh, tea will help.”

  Exactly on time, a ground transport drew up outside the house. Harry had the door open and was at the transport’s door before its occupant could operate the opening command. His delight at seeing the young woman who stepped out of the transport seemed to light his face as he almost swept her off her feet in an enthusiastic hug.

  “You came!” He laughed. “How I’ve dreamed of seeing you again.”

  “No! Really?” she teased, returning the embrace and planting a kiss on his surprised lips. “I’d never have guessed from your greeting, you know.”

  Surprise and pleasure rendered Harry incoherent for a moment, then he said, “You tease me, but come, let us go indoors. Where are your bags?” he asked with nervous energy, even as he seized them from the luggage space and followed her through the open front door where Niamh greeted her with a warm hug.

  “Welcome, my dear. Harry has been like a caged tiger waiting for you.” She laughed. “But now you’re here, you mustn’t let him wear you out. Come and say hello to Ferghal. Danny is out with Theo, but they’ll be home this evening. You’ll have time to settle and relax before you have to face all three of them.” To the android butler, she said, “Take Mary’s bags up to the room, Herbert. Help him, Harry. She’s safe enough in my company for now.”