How can they not be aware of something this size so close to them? Harper wondered. Can’t they feel us?
‘Helm, bring us to within five hundred feet of the northern shoreline,’ Harper ordered. To the south of them was Rikers Island, the infamous prison now abandoned following the attack on New York. Information was exchanged rapidly, verbally and electronically, between navigation and the helm. Harper felt the ship change direction. ‘Hold position here. Lieutenant Commander Swanson, the planning room, if you will.’
The captain stood up and headed to the room adjoining the bridge. Swanson followed him. The room contained a conference table with a holo-projector in the centre and workstations around the side. Other than a picture of HMS Hood the room was bare.
‘Sir?’ the lieutenant commander asked, barely suppressed curiosity written all over her face.
‘I’ll be blunt, are you prepared to follow my orders?’ he asked.
‘Are these in contravention of our orders from CELL?’ she asked, equally bluntly.
‘I will say no, they are not,’ he lied, and he lied obviously. Understand what I can’t come out and say, he willed her. Take the word of your Captain when he lies to you. This would be the only protection she would get. It probably wasn’t enough. He saw the understanding on her face.
‘You can trust me, sir,’ she told him. He nodded, believing her.
‘I am going to be leaving the ship,’ he told her.
‘Sir…? Why?’ Her surprise was visible.
‘To gather intelligence.’
‘Sir, we have people…’
‘I… we need to make an informed decision. It needs to be me, I’m afraid.’
Now the young Lieutenant Commander looked less sure.
‘Does that change your decision?’
Swanson gave it some thought.
‘No, sir, I don’t believe it does,’ she told him, resolved.
‘You know, with me gone there will be a lot of pressure…’ She just nodded. ‘Very well. My standing orders are to remain here and remain hidden until I return.’
‘And if you don’t, sir?’
They now had eight hours before they were due to fire on Yonkers.
‘Then I am afraid the decision will be down to you,’ he told her. He left out that it would come down to her conscience. He left out that regardless of her decision it would haunt her for years. He knew Swanson to be twenty-eight years old, young for her rank. Too young for a decision like this, he thought.
She swallowed but nodded.
‘Rules of Engagement, sir?’
‘You will only fire if the lives of the members of this crew rely on it. The emphasis is on being sneaky.’
‘The ghoul? I mean Commander Stevens?’
‘He remains confined to quarters. If he gives you any trouble then put him in the brig.’ She nodded. ‘Anything else?’
‘No sir.’ She went to leave but hesitated. She turned back and offered her hand. ‘Sir, it’s been an honour.’
Harper looked down at the hand.
‘I am intending on coming back,’ he told her, smiling. She nodded and went back to the bridge.
Lieutenant Talpur’s cabin-come-office was next to the bunk area for her marines and it was tiny. This wasn’t too much of a problem for the Lieutenant as she was quite small. It was unpleasantly cramped for the Captain.
The Lieutenant handed the Captain a mug of tea.
‘I’ll be blunt. Can I trust you?’ the Captain asked. Talpur’s presence during Stevens’ insubordination earlier had soured his view of the marine officer. She sighed.
‘That it has come to this,’ she muttered.
‘Lieutenant, we don’t have a lot of time.’
‘It never occurred to me that I would ever disobey an order from the Captain of a ship that I was stationed on. The problem is, our chain of command has changed.’
‘An officer still has the right to refuse to follow orders for reasons of conscience.’
‘Until the terms and conditions of our contract are changed, and then their career will be over.’
‘Do you want a career in this service?’
The Lieutenant looked at the Captain, holding his eyes for a long time, measuring him, trying to decide what to say. She rubbed her face tiredly. ‘No.’ The Captain started to say something. ‘But I want to put food on the table for my family. I’m not sure that I have the luxury of your principles, sir.’
Neither do I, Harper thought as his heart sank. Although small in number, the marines would be crucial in maintaining control of the ship.
‘So I can’t rely on you, Lieutenant?’
‘No, sir, I’m sorry.’
She slid a piece of paper across the table. Harper picked it up and read the list of six names on it. Lieutenant Talpur’s was at the top.
‘Lieutenant?’
‘You need to relieve me of command and confine these men to quarters, as they all have dependents and quite frankly too much to lose. Sergeant Martin is unmarried with no children that he is aware of. He is also an outspoken critic of CELL . You can rely on Sergeant Martin, sir.’
‘The men won’t like that.’
‘And women. It’s been discussed, sir.’
Harper looked at the list and then back to the Lieutenant.
‘Thank you, Lieutenant.’ Talpur just nodded. ‘There is one other thing, Lieutenant. Do any of your men… people… have criminal records?’
Talpur looked pained.
‘Sir, a number of my people are in due to the Offenders Conscription Act. What do you need?’
‘A car thief, ideally.’
‘A Liverpudlian, then? I have just the man.’
It had been incredible, Harper thought. The inflatable raiding craft had been lowered between two of the trimaran hulls. Looking up and around him he could see the composite carbon-fibre of the ship’s structure. As the coxswain had taken the boat out from under the Robin Hood’s superstructure Harper had felt a moment of ionisation as they had gone through the lensing field. He glanced behind him and the Robin Hood was nowhere to be seen.
The other three people didn’t seem to be enjoying his moment of wonder as they made their way slowly and quietly towards the dark Bronx shoreline. The coxswain was intent on piloting the boat. Private Fry, more frequently known as Scouse, was manning the MMG at the prow of the small craft. Corporal Fenn, a tough young woman from rural north Yorkshire, had her SCAR assault rifle at the ready and was scanning the surface of the river as they headed towards the Bronx shoreline.
Harper knew that the Bronx borough of New York used to have a fearsome reputation for crime, particularly the South Bronx. Now all they would have to worry about was the occasional groups of homeless, even more occasional CELL patrols, and wandering dog packs. Though there were rumours of leftover Ceph bioforms. Despite having seen the whole thing on the news and acting as part of the rapid response force formed as a result of the alien incursion, Harper still had problems crediting the whole thing. Aliens on the streets of Manhattan still seemed too much like science fiction to him.
With a navigator’s eye Harper had used landmarks on the surrounding riverbanks to triangulate the position of the Robin Hood for his return journey. He was carrying a GPS device and had memorised the co-ordinates of the ship but he would not input them until the last minute in case someone got hold of the device.
They had come in under a rotting pier. Harper had told the coxswain to wait there for eight hours or until they returned. They had found a ladder that didn’t look too rotten and headed up into the eerily quiet borough.
A four-wheel drive vehicle would have been more useful, but the only thing that Private Fry had managed to find and get working was a compact. They had siphoned as much fuel as they could find whilst Corporal Fenn watched over them. In the distance they could hear the howls of a hunting dog pack. Further afield they could see lights in the sky. A CELL helicopter, heading towards Manhattan and whatever it was that CELL was doing there.