A Greater Interest: Samair in Argos: Book 4 (20 page)

              “We’ll be out of the atmosphere in another minute, Ma’am,” the man replied.  “Then it’s a good hour and forty minutes to rendezvous with
Persistence of Vision
.”

              She sighed.  “We’re going to be the last one there.”

              He chuckled slightly, then coughed, trying to cover it.  “We’ll still get there in time to help out, Ma’am.”

              “I know, that’s the important part.  I was just hoping to get there a
little
sooner than dead last so it doesn’t look like the COO is showing up to make a political and moral gesture.”

              “This girl here doesn’t exactly accelerate like one of your starfighters, Ma’am.  But she’s pretty quick, even for her size.  I can shave maybe fifteen minutes off the trip if fuel isn’t an issue.”  He glanced over at Tamara and raised an eyebrow questioningly.

              “I knew there was a reason I kept you around, Mike,” Tamara said, clapping him on the shoulder.  “But once we clear the atmosphere, I’ll take over,” she said, slipping into the copilot seat. 

              “If you’re sure, Ma’am,” the pilot asked, his voice flat.

              “Oh don’t be that way, Mike,” Tamara said with a smile, bringing the controls online.  “I so very rarely get a chance to fly this ship.  And doing precision maneuvers like the ones we’re going to be doing?”

              “Ready for handoff, Ma’am,” he said, hand on the switch.

              “And I’ve got it,” she replied after he gave her control of the ship.  “Can you handle engineering duties for a while?”

              “The ones from the cockpit, Ma’am,” he said.  “I’m not rated on actually doing engine repairs and maintenance.”

              “Well, I want you manning the grapplers.  I’ll get the ship into position.”

              “I’m on it, Ma’am,” he said, bringing up the grappler systems.  “Running a quick diagnostic now.  Last thing we need is for you to get us there and then we get to just float around and watch.  That really
would
be perpetuating the stereotype of the fat cat executive standing over her workers making sure they get the job done.

              She laughed out loud.  “All right, I think that’s quite enough out of you.  Get on that diagnostic.”

              “We’re making good progress, Captain,” Wotan reported, almost two hours later.  “Sixteen of the largest shards have been moved out of the strike vector, and the shuttles have started on some of the next size pieces.  The tugs are maneuvering to get the last two big ones and then we’ll be clear to fire.”

              “Where are the fighters?” Kol Raydor asked.

              “Approaching now on a vector directly up from the gas giant, sir.”

              “Captain, I’ve got Chief Samair on the line for you, sir,” the comms watch called out.

              He sighed. 
I do not need a micromanaging Chief of Operations breathing down my neck right now.
  “Put her through to my chair,” he ordered instead.  Tamara’s visage appeared a moment later.  “Ma’am.”

              “Captain.  You’re doing good work so far.  Only two more of the big bastards left then we can see about pulverizing what’s left before it hits atmo.”

             
Tell me something I don’t already know
.  “Yes, Ma’am.”

              She smiled broadly.  “But you knew that already.  One of the perks of being the boss.  I get to say obvious things and you get to nod and agree with me.  I apologize for jogging your elbow.  I’m locking on to one of the rocks, and I’ll get out of your way.  Carry on, Captain.  It’s still your show.”  And she closed the channel.

              Kol blinked. 
I didn’t expect
that
, that she would allow me to retain command of the situation.  I figured she’d have to take over, show everyone that she was in control of the situation. 
Perhaps he’d misjudged her.  This would take some thought, trying to figure that woman out.  Assuming he could. 

              “She’s not setting you up to fail, you know,” Wotan said quietly, for his ears alone. 

              He started.  “What?”

              “Tamara Samair.  She is good at finding people that can do the jobs she needs them for and then stepping back and letting them do them.  First Principles, Incorporated would be a tiny fraction of its size and wealth if she couldn’t properly delegate.”

              “I realize that,” Kol said irritably, nodding slightly.  He watched the display as the icon for
Moxie
-
2
moved in and latched onto one of the middle-tier shards of fast-moving rock with its grapplers and began slowly pulling it out of the mass of the shattered asteroid. 
Surprised she built herself a glorified cargo shuttle as a personal yacht.  Figured she’d have made something more grand, a flying hotel or something.  Though she
does
have her own starfighter
.  “I’m just used to people in authority, most notably the governing council, moving in to sweep up credit and assign blame whenever they can.”

              The AI considered this.  “I’ve spoken a great deal with Stella and Magnus,” he said, referring to two of FP’s other AIs.

              “In your copious free time?” Kol asked with a snicker.

              “How droll, Captain.  Anyway, I wanted to get an understanding of the woman through their eyes.  I don’t think she’s like that.  Oh, I’m not saying that she wouldn’t be eager to snap up some credit for the company, but I find it unlikely that she would do so for herself.  And assigning blame seems to be something that she would do in private, and only if it’s actually deserved.  She’s big on safety.”

              “And yet she’s diving right into a shattered asteroid in nothing but a cargo ship to start hauling out flying daggers?  Tell me another one,” Kol scoffed.

              “I think it’s kind of heroic, sir,” the comms officer said, and his voice trailed off as Kol speared him with his gaze.  “Sorry, Captain,” he said meekly and turned away from his commander and back to his console.

              “Bring us back around,” the captain ordered, annoyed that he’d allowed Wotan to drag him into this conversation out in the open on the bridge.  He didn’t want rumors starting that he didn’t trust Samair.  He didn’t know her very well yet, and it seemed as though she was doing a fair job running things.  She was taking a fair amount of reckless chances, especially coming out here and diving into danger. 
What is she trying to prove?  That she’s just as much a thrill-seeker as the rest of us?  That she missed her calling as a tug pilot doing salvage work and other dangerous duties?  That hardly seems like the best use of her skills.  Is this some game to her?

              He shook his head angrily.  He was doing it again.  “Helm, bring us in to grab that last big rock.”  He forced himself to feel nothing, to concentrate on his duty.

              “And… we’re clear of the danger area,” Tamara’s copilot reported, nodding.  “Ready to release grappler.”

              Tamara sighed in relief and nodded.  “Go ahead.”  He pressed a control and suddenly
Moxie-2
was flying free.  “Well, we managed two of those sharp pieces,” she said.  “We won’t get any more.  Not now that the big ones are out of the way.”

              “How are you not exhausted with all that concentration, ma’am?” Mike asked, wiping a hand across his brow.

              “Practice,” she replied.  She grinned, ruefully.  “Though I have been flying a desk more than a ship lately.”

              “I’m the one who’s been flying, Ma’am, but never anything like this.”

              She looked over at him.  “You interested in moving up, Mike?  Get out of this cushy job flying me around and get to doing some real work?”

              He frowned, as he powered down the grappler.  “What are you talking about, Ma’am?  You need someone to fly this ship so you can work.”

              “True.  But that doesn’t mean you have to be stuck here.”

              “I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about, Ma’am.  This is a good job.  You’re
usually
not too demanding and crazy.”

              She chuckled.  “Thanks.  But if you’re working out there, in one of the shuttles or tugs you can work salvage, which can net you a share of the profit.”

              “What profit?”  Now the pilot looked confused.

              “I’m putting in a salvage claim on all of the pirate wrecks out here,” Tamara replied.  “Well, not me personally, but the company.  And then, I’m going to sell back anything worthwhile to the government at cost.  I’d been speaking with Councilor Chakrabarti about it before the delegation left for Ulla-tran.  Anyone of my employees who works salvage gets a share.”

              He blinked in surprise.  “Any of them?”

              “Well, actually doing the job.  There’s a bump for hazard pay, and I pay over and double time depending on how much time you actually work.”

              “That sounds too good to be true,” he said.

              “Well, there are degrees,” she admitted.  “The people in EVA actually doing the salvage, the cutting and extraction on the hulls themselves, are going to get the most.  But shuttle and tug pilots are going to get a share too.  There’s a
lot
of debris and derelicts and just crap flying around here.  It’s got to be swept up and a lot of it we can just throw into the industrial furnaces and melt it down for use later.”  Tamara sighed.  “Do I want to lose you as my pilot?  No, of course not.  But I think you’re meant for something better than shuttling the Old Lady around.”  She shrugged.  “Something to think about.  Look it up on the company site.”

              The man looked thoughtful, but it was clear he was concentrating on his controls, not looking up information on the company site.  Tamara approved, they still had some work to do.

              “Order all the ships clear of the targeting area,” Kol ordered.  Wotan nodded, his holographic image flickered. 

              “Your order has been sent to the rest of the ships in the area,” the AI replied.  “Two minutes for the slowest of them to get clear.”

              “Thank you, Wotan,” the captain said, sitting up straighter in his chair.  He avoided looking at the display showing the gas giant getting larger as
Persistence of Vision
and the host of asteroids drew ever closer. 

              A comm window opened up, showing a feed from the Aplora leader.  There was no vid pickup; the pilots didn’t want or need the distraction of having a camera in their faces while they were trying to fight their ships.

              “Captain Raydor,” the zheen’s voice came through the speakers at Kol’s chair.  “My ships are in position, ready to fire.”

              “Very well, Leader,” Kol said.  “I want this all timed down to the second.  Coordinate your missile salvos with our weapons’ fire.  Wotan,” he nodded to the AI, “will send you the targeting coordinates and the timing.”

              “Understood.  We’re awaiting transmission.”  There was a pause.  “Thank you, Wotan.  Data packet received.”

              “The shuttles and tugs have cleared the area, Captain,” Wotan said, crossing his arms over his holographic chest.  “Twenty seconds to fire.”

              “Make sure your people are ready, Leader Korqath.”

              “You just worry about your end, Captain Raydor,” the zheen said, sounding slightly snippy.  “I’ve been a combat veteran a lot longer than you.  And just in case you didn’t remember, Captain,
my
squadron was right in the thick of things throughout the
whole
battle.  We can’t all be… lucky enough to show up right at the end.”

              Kol gritted his teeth, but didn’t rise to the bait.  Before he could make any kind of reply, Wotan spoke up, a slight frown on his face and he caught the captain’s eye.  Kol grimaced and fell silent.  “Five seconds.  Four.  Three.  Two.  One.  Now!”

              Missiles streaked out from the destroyer’s broadside tubes, and from the launchers of all the assembled fifteen Aplora Vision fighters.  Five seconds later, nuclear fireballs bloomed in and in front of the hurtling cluster of projectiles.  Once the sensors cleared from the radiation a few moments later, Wotan nodded in satisfaction.  “Perfect execution, Captain, Leader.”

              “Report,” Kol answered, standing up from his chair and going over to the tactical station.

              “We’ve accomplished our goal, Captain,” the AI replied.  “Most of that asteroid has been blasted down into sand, a good portion of the more dangerous bits were thrown off course by the explosions, and the rest will burn up in the gas giant’s atmosphere.”

              Kol considered it for a long moment.  Before he could speak, Korqath’s voice came over the speakers.  “One more volley to be sure?  I don’t really fancy having to float around waiting to run out of air because the gas mine’s been wrecked and we’re all out of fuel.”