A Greater Interest: Samair in Argos: Book 4 (28 page)

              “Then we’d need a reason for him to not care about his citizenship,” the zheen said.  “Something like this, perhaps?”  He pressed a control and a new holographic image appeared on the display. 

              Goris Hana was there, speaking with another man, a human, the second in command on the fueling station.  Tevvis Hinkney was well known in the system as Hana’s right hand man, but it was also well known that the two of them didn’t get on well together.  Hana must have had some damning blackmail fodder against him to keep the man in line, Shayenne knew, because the hatred the man held for his boss was easy enough to read for one experienced in looking for subtle nuances. 

              “It’s quite simple, Hinkney,” Goris Hana was saying on the playback.  He was seated behind a metal desk in what must be his office, though it was hard to tell from the image on the display.  It probably wasn’t a hugely important detail anyway.  Hana wouldn’t be speaking freely in a place where he knew he would be recorded.  “I know the government is trying to pull a fast one on me.  They’re meeting with the Seylonies to set up a trade deal.  Fine.  I’ll accept that, though I’m sure they’re looking for more than just that.  They’re looking to find an alternate source of He3 fuel to try and undercut me. 
That’s
the real reason for these talks.  I wouldn’t be surprised if on one of those trade missions that went to Seylonique earlier that they snuck an ambassador aboard one of the warships that went to escort them.”

              “Sir,” the man Hinkney replied, frowning, “If I remember right
you
were among the driving forces behind those trade missions.  Now you’re saying that the government is spearheading some massive conspiracy just to cheat you?  That seems very unlikely.”

              The fat man considered his XO’s words.  “Well, perhaps the government sending an emissary
is
a bit far fetched.  I mean, look at them.  Ol’ Monty can barely zip his shoes without four cabinet members helping him.  And the proconsuls are just as incompetent.  But mark my words.  They are looking to remove me and my fuel monopoly from their skies.  They don’t like that one such as me has as much power as he does in this system.”

              “Well, I can’t argue
that
, sir,” Hinkney agreed, shrugging.

              “But we’ve already begun the first stage,” Goris Hana continued.  “The popular opinion war.  The government will wriggle and squirm, but there’s no hiding the fact that I’ve released a whole nest of snakes in their laps by broadcasting all that dirty laundry.  Oh, they’re decrying my tactics as terrorism, bah!”  He waved his hands in a shooing motion.  “The public’s not going to fall for that nonsense.  Oh, there might be one or two outraged citizens, but everyone else is going to want to know why it’s so important to shut me up. 
And
why the government is calling someone who is calling many of their members out on their naughty activities a terrorist.  No, this is where we get them off my back.”

              “And the second stage, sir?” Hinkney asked, leadingly.  Shayenne tensed unconsciously.  Now they were getting to the real point of this little video, she was sure. 

              “The second stage is for when they decide they’re going to strike at me,” Hana explained.  “The only real card I have left is this station and the fuel itself.”

              “And so, what, sir?”

              “So,” the toad said with a glare, “if they start to get too uppity, I’ll cut them off.”

              Hinkney visibly blinked.  Shayenne only sighed.  It really
was
the only other option he had left to try and assert any control over the government.  “You’re going to stop fuel shipments to the orbital?”

              Hana smiled, his jowls quivering.  “Not just to the orbital, Hinkney.  Everywhere in the system.  The shipyard.  The small moon colonies.  And I’m going to lay it all at the feet of the government.  ‘Oh, I’m too afraid for my life because of the stance I’ve tried to take against the tyranny of the government,’” he said in a falsetto.  “’I tried to stand against them and they’re trying to kill me.  This is the only way to fight them.’  And the best part is; it’s the truth!”  He cackled, though it came out as more of the gurgle.  Shayenne wrinkled her nose in disgust.  “So, I’m stopping collection efforts on half of the orbital fuel collectors as of this moment.”

              “Half!”

              “Half,” the toad said with a decisive nod, which produced waves in the movement of his jowls.  “That should get their attention.  I will show them who they are really dealing with.  And if they try anything more, I’ll shut down more.  All of the collectors if I have to.  They’ll break.”

              The vid paused.  Shayenne looked up at her zheen counterpart and felt a slow smile spread over her face.  “I think we might have found the pretext we need to get Saroyan to help us.”

              “Yes,” Koton replied in a whisper.  Then his voice came up to more normal levels.  “We must get him to secure the fuel collectors, even if that means physically sending out ships and technicians to do it.  Goris Hana will try and strangle this system to maintain his level of influence.  He will fail.”

              “Where did you get this?” the President demanded a short time later after having viewed the vid.

              “I have an arrangement with Mister Hinkney,” the zheen proconsul replied.  “He has been passing information to me for over a year now.  He sent this to me two hours ago.”

              Nikolas watched the part toward the end again where Goris Hana announced his intention to shut down the fuel supply.  Then he straightened his shoulders and nodded.  “Very well.  There’s nothing for it.  We need to send the Commodore and his ships out to the gas giant to secure the fuel collectors.  If he encounters any resistance, he has my authorization to use any means necessary to deal with it.  In fact,” he said, pressing a control and activating the communications.  A moment later, the dark-skinned image of Commodore Saroyan appeared on his display.  “Commodore.”

              “Mister President,” the man replied.  “How can I help you, sir?”  He was all business, but that was hardly a surprise.  Ever since this whole mess with Goris Hana, the Navy had been geared up and ready, but the Commodore wasn’t willing to simply send in his troops without either a direct threat, or Presidential order.  It was clear that even through his stoic mask, he was hoping that the order was coming.

              Nikolas pressed a control.  “Commodore, I’m sending you a file just for context about the situation.”  He paused for a moment as he saw the naval officer receive it and then view it on another display screen.  His face hardened as he watched the vid until he finally turned back to his president.  “I see you share my outrage at this, Commodore.”

              “He means to strangle this system!” Saroyan fumed.  “How could he possibly think that he could get away with this?”

              “He thinks he’s untouchable,” the president replied.  He shrugged.  “And up until now, I haven’t had a good enough excuse to slap him down hard.”  He gestured.  “But thanks to this, I do now.”

              “Indeed, Mister President,” the commodore replied.  “My forces stand ready.”

              “I didn’t doubt that, Commodore,” Nikolas said with a nod.  “I need you to send your ships to the gas giant and secure the fuel collectors in the atmosphere.”

              “Understood, Mister President.  That will require sending Marines to take actual platforms and tech teams to make sure they’re cut off from the fueling station, to prevent any signals from causing them to either malfunction or self destruct.”

              “Do what needs to be done, Commodore.  You have my full support on this.” 

              The Navy officer nodded.  “Very good, sir.  With your permission, I will get started.”

              “Go, Commodore.  Get it done.”

              “Colonel, I’m sorry to disturb you, sir, but we’ve got a lot of activity from the Ulla-tran Navy ships,” Lieutenant Colonel Paxton reported, his voice coming over the internal comms, sounded puzzled and slightly worried.

              Gants looked up from a report he’d been reading about onboard food supplies, grateful for the distraction.  “What sort of activity, XO?”

              “Several of the corvettes and one of the frigates have altered course and are heading off at high speed away from the planet,” the younger officer said.  “But they’re not heading in the direction for home, either, in case you were worried, sir.  They appear to be on a vector for the gas giant where the fueling station is in orbit.”

              Gants snorted.  “After that vid message that came out a few hours ago, I can’t say I’m terribly surprised.”

              “There are also two freighters at the orbital that are showing increased power to their drives.  Looks like they’re powering up.”

              “Not two of ours, I take it.”

              “No, sir.  Local ships.”

              “I’m coming out,” Gants said, getting up from his desk and heading out of the ready room and onto the Flag Bridge. 

              “Colonel on the bridge!” a yeoman shouted and everyone stiffened.

              “As you were,” he called and they all went back to their jobs.  The two Army troopers on either side of the ready room door straightened, as their principle walked out into the command deck.  Gants walked over to the main sensor area where five operators and an officer were consulting their displays while Paxton oversaw them.

              “Sir,” Paxton said, gesturing to the display.  The icons for the warships were accelerating hard away from the orbital and the planetary orbit, heading out system.  “There they go.”

              “They’re going for the gas giant,” Gants replied.  He peered at another display.  “What do you think of those freighters?”

              “Best guess, sir,” a young leytenant in charge of the division said, turning to face his commander, “Is that they’re troop transports.  I’d say that they’re loading up their soldiers and are going to secure either the fuel collectors, or the fueling station itself.”

              Gants nodded slowly.  “You’re probably right about that, Leytenant.  I would think that after that little display, the President has decided to kick some ass and take control of the situation.”

              “Which might present us with an opportunity, sir,” Paxton said.

              Gants considered that, then nodded again.  “Yes, I agree.”  He turned to the comms officer.  “Ensign, get Councilor Chakrabarti on the line, then transfer the call to my ready room.”

              “Aye, Colonel.”

              “You have the bridge, XO,” he said, heading back for the door to his ready room.

              “So you think that the locals are having some fueling disputes?” Sebastian Chakrabarti asked, a few moments later.  He was still in his stateroom; they were conversing over the ship’s internal comms via the display terminal on Gants’ desk.

              “I think that’s clear, Councilor,” the colonel said.  “My intelligence and communications people have been monitoring channels.  They’ve been getting information about the people here and it seems that this Mister Goris Hana is in control of the fueling station here at one of their gas giants.  Apparently, it does the same job as the Kutok mine back home, though it’s more of a collection depository for distribution.  Instead of having one structure gather up the fuel from the Jovian’s atmosphere, they have a number of smaller platforms.”  Gants shrugged.  “So it seems that as ruler of that little fiefdom has decided he doesn’t like being shut out of the big trade negotiation and he’s causing a stink.”

              “A rather big one, it seems,” Sebastian said, his lips twisting in amusement.  “I don’t know all of the players here, but clearly all that dirty laundry that just got aired has struck a serious nerve.”

              “Councilor, I can’t imagine that you or your fellows on the admin council would care to have every dirty secret, every little problem, everything opened wide and made public?”

              Sebastian snorted.  “Of course not.  But thankfully, this isn’t happening in Seylonique.  But I’d like to see these intelligence reports you have, if that would be agreeable?”

              “Of course, Councilor.  I’ll make sure that they’re available to you.”

              “But…” Chakrabarti said, pursing his lips.  “I believe this might be an opportunity.  Something that we might bring up in the talks.”

              “They’re winding down now, yes?  The talks, I mean.”

              He nodded.  “Yes.  This round anyway.  I think things are going to work out well for us.  And I think this whole situation is something I can bring up in the negotiations.  Thank you, Colonel.”  Chakrabarti paused, about to end the call.  “Colonel, is there any way we can send a ship to follow the Ulla-tran flotilla?”

              Gants sighed, rubbing a hand on his forehead.  “I wish it was as simple as just ordering one to go, but this is a sovereign star system that isn’t ours.  I can’t imagine that the locals are going to appreciate foreign ships just romping around their star system unchecked.”