Captain James Heron: First into the Fray: Prequel to Harry Heron: Into the Unknown of the Harry Heron Series Read online

  Copyright © 2021 Patrick G. Cox

  Captain James Heron: First Into the Fray

  Paperback: 9781946824882

  Hardcover: 9781946824899

  Ebook: 9781946824905

  LCCN: 2021903510

  Captain James Heron: First Into the Fray is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, or persons living or dead is coincidental. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission from the publisher or the author except in the case of brief quotations in articles or reviews. All rights reserved.

  Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Cox, Patrick G., author.

  Title: Captain James Heron : first into the fray / Patrick G. Cox.

  Description: Longwood, FL : IndieGo Publishing, 2021. | Prequel to Harry Heron : into the unknown. | Summary: It’s 2202 and recently-widowed Captain James Heron has been appointed to his next starship command, just as conflicts with the shadowy Consortium heat up. When fleet agent Felicity Rowanberg is kidnapped by an agent of a mysterious espionage agency associated with the Consortium, the clash of titans becomes personal.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2021903510 | ISBN 9781946824882 (pbk.) | ISBN 9781946824899 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781946824905 (ebook)

  Subjects: LCSH: Espionage -- Fiction. | Man-woman relationships – Fiction. | Space flight -- Fiction. | Space warfare -- Fiction. | BISAC: FICTION / Romance / Science Fiction. | FICTION / Science Fiction / Space Opera. | FICTION / Science Fiction / Military.

  Classification: LCC PR6103.O9 C37 2021 (print) | PR6103.O9 (ebook) | DDC 823 C69--dc22

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021903510

  BOOKS by PATRICK G. COX

  Captain James Heron: First Into the Fray

  Harry Heron: Midshipman’s Journey

  Harry Heron: Into the Unknown

  Harry Heron: No Quarter

  Harry Heron: Savage Fugitive

  Harry Heron: Awakening Threat

  Harry Heron: Hope Transcends

  A Baltic Affair

  Limehouse Boys

  Magnus Patricius: The Remarkable Life of St Patrick the Man

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1 – The Wrong Target

  Chapter 2 – The Plans of Mice and Men

  Chapter 3 – Much Ado About Ships

  Chapter 4 – Old Enemy, New Guise

  Chapter 5 – Changes of Governance

  Chapter 6 – Interference and Espionage

  Chapter 7 – Trials and Delays

  Chapter 8 – Slow Burn

  Chapter 9 – Knight’s Move

  Chapter 10 – Martian Excursion

  Chapter 11 – A Night to Remember

  Chapter 12 – Face-Off

  Chapter 13 – The Hunter and the Hunted

  Chapter 14 – More Lives than a Cat

  Chapter 15 – Catch Me If You Can

  Chapter 16 – Gotcha!

  Chapter 17 – Ms Dysson Learns the Truth

  Chapter 18 – Close Call

  Chapter 19 – Orders, Captain

  Chapter 20 – Exposed

  Chapter 21 – Fighting Clear

  Chapter 22 – Reunion

  Chapter 23 – Payoff

  Chapter 24 – Take Her Off the Dock

  Chapter 25 – Another Piece of the Jigsaw

  Chapter 26 – Bast Strikes Again

  Chapter 27 – Death of a Cat

  Chapter 28 – Worked Up

  Chapter 29 – Orders

  Epilogue

  A Note from the Author

  Prologue

  The year is 2201, and a group of unscrupulous corporate conglomerates is building a commercial empire away from Earth and its governments on distant planets in the Milky Way galaxy. Under the guise of expanding human interests and seeking new sources for replenishing the increasingly scarce resources on Earth, the Interplanetary Consortium has established itself as the umbrella under which a wide range of commercial and industrial enterprises operate among the scattered human colonies in the marginal governance of the World Treaty Organisation and its member governments.

  The task of protecting their colonies has been devolved by the various Earth governments to a supra-national space fleet, the chief contributor to which is the North European Confederation, but the Consortium operates its own fleet of ships and maintains an armed force which they promote as being for security purposes alone, but which is tasked to keep the Consortium in a superior position no matter the cost and by any means necessary.

  As is always the case, several key members of government are unaware (or choose to ignore) that the Consortium’s goals are not in alignment with the WTO and the NEC. Above their purportedly altruistic concerns for all living beings, alien and earthly, is their insatiable desire to profit from the resources they plunder. In this regard, the Consortium clash head on with the aims of the constituent governments to ensure the welfare and rights of their citizens. And now, at this crucial moment in the twenty-third century, the Consortium is on a direct collision course with the WTO, and democracy itself is at stake.

  Chapter 1

  The Wrong Target

  The planet looked like a jewel, a brilliant mix of sapphire blues, emerald greens and patches of golden yellows visible through the swirls of cloud. The planet was recently settled following the discovery that it had huge deposits of gold, platinum and a host of metals of extreme rarity on Earth or any other planets that humans had explored. There was, however, one small problem. The planet was—or had been—home to a highly developed lifeform, which the developers of the colonial outpost on that planet had failed to include in their reports, and had subsequently attempted to conceal. They would come to regret this decision.

  Captain James Heron relunctantly pulled his gaze from the view of the planet and keyed his communications panel.

  “New Helles Station, this is NECS Hermes. Prepare for inspection of your records and activities on the planet, please.” He glanced at the leader of the World Treaty Council’s inspection team. “The WTO Inspectors will be landing under escort as soon as we enter planetary orbit. My landing force will precede them.” He watched the two landing force platform ships manoeuvre into position. “The planet is now under the Jurisdiction of the WTO Fleet until the situation is settled by the Interplanetary Court of Justice.”

  “Hermes, New Helles. Your message is received. We insist on seeing the court order before we permit any access to our systems.”

  “You have already been served a copy by the court and their agents.” Captain Heron frowned. Someone was playing for time. There had to be a reason, and he intended to find out why. To his Scan Officer he said, “Scan for any unusual signals or movements. They’re up to something.” He keyed his coms pad again. “Our copy of the order has been sent to you. Your system acknowledges receipt.”

  “We have it.” The voice sounded surly. “We’re awaiting your inspectors.”

  “Sir.” The Scan Officer drew his commander’s attention. “There’s a small vessel—looks like a yacht—attempting to keep the moon between us and itself.”

  “Send the coordinates to Danebrog. Tell her to intercept and inspect. If they attempt to transit, pursue and arrest.”

  “Acknowledged, sir.”

  The Captain listened as the reports came in from his landing teams and the boarders. He watched the frigate Danebrog, which fir
st appeared as a distant bright object, emerge from behind the planet’s large moon with a smaller vessel in company.

  “The yacht Moonraker, registered to the League for the Protection of Sentient Life, one of the many tentacles of the Consortium.” The frigate’s captain chuckled, and his words fairly dripped with sarcasm. “Not very pleased with us, and nor is their passenger, the esteemed Director of Interplanetary Mining Corporation. He’s very upset that we found all the data he was trying to remove.”

  “I expect so, Hans. Well done.” Captain Heron smiled. “The LPSL aiding and abetting someone responsible for the extermination of at least one sentient species? Now there’s an interesting little twist. Usually they take extreme measures to protect all living creatures, even when it’s dangerous and foolish to do so. They must be trying to hide something from the rest of us. Bring them in, please, and remove everyone from the yacht. Put a prize crew on her, and we’ll take her back to Earth with us.”

  Ari Khamenei, current Chairman of the Interplanetary Consortium, a vast, sprawling operation holding controlling interests in a wide range of companies and corporations, and not a few Earth governments through a web of lobbyists, could barely contain his fury. “Find out who betrayed our operation on New Helles! Find out, and have whoever it is removed!” He struggled to control his rage. “This has cost us trillions! Trillions!” He forced himself to sit. “Engage the Pantheon. I don’t care how much it costs, but I want the scientist who reported these aliens as sentient beings removed. Then I want to talk to the fool who allowed the Fleet Task Group to capture him with all the evidence eliminated.”

  The Consortium’s Director of Security raised a skeptical eyebrow. “The Pantheon, Chairman? Are you sure?” As soon as he challenged his boss, he regretted it. The visceral glare he received in reply was enough to knock him down a few pegs. “Sorry, Chairman, of course. I’ll make contact immediately. The report that exposed us was written by a Dr Nazirim Tanha, a xenobiologist with the Xenographic Research Establishment, now a subsidiary of the Johnstone group, a member of Dr Veronique Heron’s team.”

  “Heron? Is she a relative of the Captain of the Fleet Task Group?”

  “She’s his wife, sir.” The Director could feel the sweat prickling his spine and elsewhere.

  “It would be such a shame if she were to meet an unfortunate accident alongside this Tanha fellow.” The Chairman’s smile sent a chill through the Director. “Most unfortunate.”

  “Yes, Chairman.” The Director paused. “I’ll contact the Pantheon.”

  “Do so. Oh, and send the LPSL a large donation—anonymous, of course. Ashworth knows how to source it to cover our tracks, and how to word the message that accompanies it.”

  James Heron smiled as he emerged from the bathroom. “Are you sure you have to rush off to that lab of yours, my love?” He slipped his arms round his half-dressed wife and kissed her neck then gazed at her lovely reflection in the mirror as she put on her earrings. The last six weeks had been perfect. Between his career as an officer of the World Treaty Interstellar Fleet and hers as a top xenobioloist, an expert in analysing and classifying new life forms, they seemed to spend more time lightyears apart than together. “I’ve got another three weeks leave before I have to report for my course. Might as well enjoy this a bit longer….”

  “James!” She teased. “And have me miss the opportunity of a lifetime? These creatures on Serengetia are an unknown genus, but they are very squid-like in appearance, so the researchers who discovered it named it Teuthida, which is Latin for squid.” Her eyes practically glowed with excitement as she met his gaze in the mirror. “They’re absolutely fascinating beasts, and deadly if the initial reports are to be believed. Their venom is a toxin unlike anything we’ve ever studied before with a unique method of delivery.” She twisted in his arms to face him. “I know what you’re thinking, but I can’t help it if I’m a science nerd. I love it! We’ve only just started the research on the Teuthida, and I don’t want to miss it. This is a rare opportunity that comes along once in a lifetime—just like you!—but I’ll always have you.” She kissed him and eased out of his embrace. “Now get dressed so we can have breakfast together before my transport gets here.”

  James took the diplomatic approach. “Veronique, I know this is a big opportunity for you, but the reports I’ve heard of these Teuthida creatures suggest they’re more toxic than anything we’ve encountered before, anywhere, on any planet, and you’ve told me several times that you’re worried about the changes the new owners are demanding to your procedures. They can afford to be careless in their directions because they’re not the ones dealing with these deadly beasts up close and personal.”

  “Well, everything we do is dangerous when you get right down to it, like you taking your ship into unknown and uncharted galaxies far, far away.” She finished dressing and shook out her long hair. “Don’t worry, our management at Xenographic Research have held out for retaining our own systems, and I always double check my protection when dealing with unknown life forms.”

  “I know you do, love, but the people who’ve bought control of XRE are connected to some of the firms involved in disputes with the colonies.” He pulled on his shoes. “It’s also connected to the League for the Protection of Sentient Life, and you know who they’re aligned with—the enemy of the Fleet, to put it bluntly.”

  Veronique nodded. “I know, and don’t think I’m not worried about it. I hear the same investment company is involved with Johnson XenoBioTech—and I’m not terribly happy about that connection.”

  “Just watch yourself, love.” James Heron held the chair for his wife. “Coffee, please, Herbert, and my usual breakfast,” he told the android butler, an old unit inherited from his parents that came with the ancient house at Scrabo Farm in County Down, Ireland. “That stuff your colleague Dr Tanha exposed on New Helles—the illegal exploitation of the mineral lakes that wiped out the creatures living in them—has upset some people who are wretched to deal with at the best of times and deadly when they’re provoked.”

  Veronique buttered a slice of toast. “True. There’s a rumour he’s had to get a protection team. Someone took out a contract on him.” She hesitated. “If it makes you feel any better, I think this will be my last field trip.” She chuckled at his raised eyebrows.

  “What brought on this decision?” James asked. “Not that I’m not happy to hear it.”

  “Oh, I have some very good, sound, biological reasons to step away from work for a year, at least, maybe longer.” She grinned at him.

  His fork stopped mid-air, something he never did because of his excellent table manners, as the sudden realisation of her enigmatic response penetrated his thoughts. “You’re pregnant?!”

  “It’s a bit early to be sure, but yes … I think I am!” Her face practically glowed with happiness. “I promise I won’t take any chances.”

  “The informant will be joining Dr Veronique Heron’s team in a few days. He is currently escorted by a team of former Fleet security operatives.” The speaker disguised himself by using a holographic avatar of Seth, the Egyptian god of the dead, as was the practice of the members of the Pantheon to remain anonymous even among themselves. “A direct strike is inadvisable in the circumstances, but it will be possible to arrange an accident. She and her team are currently examining the most venomous of the Serengetia creatures, the Teuthida.”

  “Ah, yes, a good solution,” said the listener, a deceptively slim man who used the pseudonym Heimdall. As with all the titled members of the Pantheon, he was extremely well-connected and wealthy outside of his regular employment. “It certainly presents favorable opportunities.”

  “Indeed. The client does not want to attract attention, so an unfortunate accident—one that can be proved as such—serves their purposes very well.” Seth paused. “The client wishes the chief witness in the forthcoming court case over New Helles removed. Doing so will warn any other witnesses that giving evidence on the unfortunate extinction of
the sapient species on New Helles woud be an unwise move.”

  “Quite so.” Heimdall smiled. This was, after all, his forté. He specialised in providing the protection their research laboratories needed when examining alien life forms. He couldn’t resist a little joke with a reference to Norse mythology. “I shall arrange for the target to encounter a guardian creature of Asgard in Midgard.”

  Seth inclined his head. “The usual arrangements will be made for your fee.” His avatar vanished.

  For several seconds Heimdall remained motionless, his thoughts on how he intended to kill his target. It was almost too easy, as the Teuthida were incredibly fast despite their lack of a rigid skeleton. Their venom was unlike anything humanity had yet encountered and fatal within seconds. That these creatures were also highly intelligent, extremely aggressive and the top predator on their planet made them the perfect weapon for the assasination he planned.

  Rising from his chair, he made for the observation room that overlooked the main holding area for the specimens. He needed to do a little research of his own.

  “Evening, Doctor,” the attractive technician greeted him. “Come to see feeding time?”

  “I’ve timed it well then. What do you feed them?”

  “A mixture we’ve synthesized based on their diet on Serengetia. We have to do it remotely and use those triple interlocks you installed. One of the damned things managed to work its way into the output tube of the replication unit!”

  “That far in? Hmm, I will get someone to look into that.” He smiled. “We don’t want one getting out.”

  James Heron jerked awake. The dream had been incredibly vivid, the galloping horse so real he could almost smell the perspiration on its flanks. The detail sprang sharply into focus as he swung his legs off the berth. The great white stallion was a dream that visited certain members of his family and had done for generations if family legend was true. It foretold danger and sometimes death for a close family member.