A Greater Interest: Samair in Argos: Book 4 (39 page)

The zheen eyed him for a moment then hissed.  “I hear you are working on designs.”  It was not a question.

“Yes, sir,” Kaspar said, bringing his eyes up slightly.  “I have been working on designs for a new starfighter class.”

The overseer looked at him for a long moment, then extended a purple-carapaced hand.  Kaspar hesitated just a fraction of a second, long enough for the zheen’s mouthparts to writhe in irritation, then activated and handed over his datapad.  The overseer took the pad and looked over the schematics.  A moment later, as he was trying very hard not to squirm under the zheen’s presence (with those huge compound eyes, a human could never really tell where they were looking) the overseer spoke.  “You made these?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Where did you steal them from?” the overseer demanded, hissing.

Kaspar flushed a deep red.  “I did not steal them, sir!  I’ve been designing them on my off hours.  I’ve had no access to any of the computer systems except what was authorized, sir.”

The zheen chittered to himself, not saying anything aloud.  “Return to your berthing spaces,” he ordered.  The zheen started to turn away.

“Sir?” Kaspar asked, hesitantly.

“What?”

“May I… may I have my datapad back?”

“I will have another issued to you at the beginning of your next shift,” he was told coldly.  “No go, before you test my patience too far.”

Kaspar nodded glumly.  “Yes, sir.”  But by that point, the zheen was already walking down the corridor.  He turned and happened to catch the looks and the smirk from Stickley and he glowered.  But he didn’t rise to the bait and just continued on down the corridor back to the berthing spaces.  He sighed, did the needful and then took a sonic shower in the refresher then went back to his bunk and collapsed.

“Damn it,” he whispered to himself.  The actual designs weren’t being done piecemeal as it appeared on the displays on his datapad.  Kaspar was actually designing his new ship in his head, well, on his implants, on his HUD.  Then because of the device on his neck completely locking down his implants, he had to rewrite the whole thing onto his datapad.  He still wasn’t quite sure why he was doing this, to be honest.  He didn’t have any real intention of turning the plans over to to the warlord or his goons, but now that decision had been taken out of his hands. 

“Damn Stickley anyway,” Kaspar grumbled.  All that work, painstakingly transcribing the designs over from his implant memory buffer to the datapad and now he’d have to start over.  He did admit to himself, as he lay back on his bunk that he wasn’t even sure why he was mad at Stickley, but not the pirates, or even the overseer for his present situation.

“Wake up!” a voice ordered in his face, and Kaspar jerked awake. 

He stared up into the face of the zheen overseer, who was standing beside the bunk.  “Get up, meatbag.”

Kaspar blinked, rubbing his eyes but then rolled out of the lower bunk and rose to his feet.  The metal deckplate was cold on his bare feet.  “Yes, sir.”

The zheen eyed him critically for a long moment.  “Get dressed.” 

He nodded.  “Yes, sir.”  Then Kaspar turned to his small locker, opened it and pulled out a reasonably clean shipsuit.  Quickly getting into it, he zipped it up, jammed his feet into his boots and was ready to go in under a minute.  “Ready, sir.”

“Follow me,” the zheen male replied and began his walk down the corridor, Kaspar trailing along behind like a scared puppy.  He led the man into the Yard Manager’s office, which, like most everything else in the shipyard, was economical for space.  It was barely large enough for the manager’s desk and two chairs in front of it.  It wasn’t exactly a tight squeeze, getting the two of them in there, but anyone else and they would all have been
really
friendly.  They passed the guards on the way in, causing Kaspar’s blood pressure to spike.  Five zheen, two lupusan and a very beefy human male, all armed with assault rifles and assorted small arms, not to mention blades and other implements of pain and destruction were guarding the office.

Kaspar was roughly shoved inside and pushed into one of the seats.  One of the guards (the silver-furred lupusan) had followed them in, and stood just behind and to the side of the human engineer.  The wolf didn’t speak, didn’t make any threatening movements, nothing.  He didn’t need to.  His presence alone was enough to promote tranquility.  And it wasn’t as though Kaspar was intending any mischief, not with all of the firepower around here.

The yard manager was another zheen, his carapace a shade of purple that was nearly blue.  He, like Lord Verrikoth, had dozens of scratches on his fingers, hands and arms going all the way up to his right shoulder.  The old injuries had calcified, turning his carapace white in those places.  But unlike his lord, the engineer did not speak the human tongue.  He had a translator pack hanging around his neck, a rough device which was little more than a box with a speaker and a number of wires sticking out.  Two indicators flashed at seemingly random intervals, but the device was perfectly capable of translating the zheen dialect of hisses, clicks and hums into a language that Kaspar could understand.

The manager patted the datapad that was on his desk.  “What is this here?” he demanded, the hissing and clicking of his voice overlaid by the monotone robotic voice of the translator pack.

Kaspar tried to look calm.  “I believe that is a datapad.  I’m guessing it’s mine because I am here.”

“Correct.  But the designs on them.  Where did you steal them from, human?” The translated voice was more firm this time, but it was still a monotone.

“I did not steal them, sir,” he replied.  He could feel sweat sliding down the back of his neck.  “I made those.  In my off hours, sir.”

“I do not believe you.”

There was a rumble from behind Kaspar and the human felt his throat close up of its own volition.  There were few humans that could bear to be this close to a growling lupusan and not feel fear.  But he pulled in a shaking breath and soldiered forward.  “I’m sorry, sir, that you do not.  But I did not steal them.  Where would I steal them from?  We do not build starfighters here, only the big ships.  These are designs that I made on my implants.  They are locked down because of this, sir,” he explained, touching the disruptor on his throat, “And I’ve been transcribing the information to that datapad by hand.  Else I would access a computer screen and show you.”

The zheen considered this for a long moment, while Kaspar fought the urge to fidget.  “You have more?”

“Well, only the one for the starfighter design, sir,” Kaspar admitted.  “But I’ve got all sorts of ideas for various projects saved in my internal memory buffer.”

“You will show me.”  It was not a request.  The yard manager turned to the console to the right side of his desk and entered in a few commands.  An instant later there was a tone from the silvery disc on the human’s neck and his heads up display appeared in his field of vision.  The indicator for a wireless connection was still glowing blood-red, meaning that he had no ability to connect with any computer or digital system remotely, but the similar icon for his manual port suddenly changed to green.  He flexed his right hand unconsciously.  The zheen pushed forward a separate data slate, little more than a screen with an input jack.  “Upload all the schematics to this slate.  I warn you,” the manager said, and the lupusan’s heavy, taloned hand rested itself on Kaspar’s left shoulder to reinforce the words, “if you attempt to do anything but carry out that order, I will have you punished most severely.  Hobres here has been asking me for a new plaything; something he can pull apart with his claws and teeth.”

Kaspar couldn’t help it.  He gulped and glanced over to the wolf towering over him.  Hobren lifted his free hand to his mouth, putting one long finger in front of his muzzle.  “Shhh…” he said, the otherwise innocent gesture made all the more frightening by its softness.  He flicked his muzzle in the direction of the boss and the human’s head whipped back to the zheen. 

“No, sir.  I wouldn’t.”  He was shaking his head frantically and couldn’t seem to stop himself.  With a slightly shaking hand he picked up the slate, pressed his thumb to the data port and ordered the release of information.  The plans for the starfighter flowed onto the data slate, as well as several of his ideas for capital-class propulsion units, with tweaks on present designs to get more power, better fuel efficiency.  “There, sir.  Those are some of my ideas.”

The zheen took the slate from the human and looked over the data for a few moments, letting Kaspar squirm.  The hand of the lupusan on his shoulder was now lightly caressing him, his sharp claws barely touching the man’s shipsuit.  A gesture that could have possibly been comforting just made Kaspar’s skin crawl and it was all he could do not to flinch away.  Another quick glance up to the wolf earned him a very toothy smile, one filled with malice… and perhaps a promise.  He couldn’t suppress a shudder at the thought.

“You have actually drawn up these plans and ideas?” the yard master asked, the translator pack making it impossible to determine his tone.

He swallowed hard.  “Yes, sir.  These are my plans, my ideas, sir.”

“No, they are
my
plans, human,” the yard master told him.  Kaspar felt himself grow cold, anger overcoming his fear. 

“Now wait just a minute…!” he started to say.  But the hand on his shoulder clamped down tight, the claws not breaking the skin, but slicing through the fabric of his shipsuit.  He cried out in pain and collapsed back into the seat.

“Can you build as well as you draw, 315?”

That question seemed to come out of nowhere.  Kaspar gasped and then started.  “Um… well, yes, sir.  I can build.”

“This,” the yard manager asked, tapping the datapad with the tip of one blunt forefinger.  “You can build this.”

Kaspar squared his shoulders, or as well as he could with the lupusan’s iron hand on one of them.  “Yes, sir, I can.  But if I’m to do so alone it will take some time.  Perhaps two months.”

The zheen eyed him for a long moment, his antennae waggling.  He then turned to the supervisor and exchanged words.  Or at least, Kaspar assumed they did, based on the hissing and clicking emitted from both of them.  After what seemed like ten minutes, but what couldn’t have been anwhere near that long, they stopped and the manager focused his attention back on Kaspar again.  “I wish a prototype of this fighter within two weeks, 315.  Not one minute past that.”

Kaspar gulped but then shook his head.  He decided that if he was in this far…  “Sir, that simply is not possible.  Not by myself.  I’d need a team of at least five to assist me, as well as raw materials and replicator support.  And a space to work.”  He tried to look defiant but winced when the hand on his shoulder squeezed, another gentle gesture.  His breath caught in terror, as all sorts of thoughts were going through his head as to Hobres’s intentions.  Was he to be torn apart?  Shot?  Eaten?  … or raped?  Did wolves do humans?  And then would he be shot and eaten?

“You have great… nerve… to speak so candidly to me.”  Was that a grudging respect in the hissing and clicking?

Hobres’s hand was now stroking Kaspar’s shoulder, the tips of his fingers making the man’s skin crawl.  He couldn’t help the involuntary flinch, but he didn’t dare try and shrug the lupusan’s hand off him, even after the wolf chuckled darkly.  “Sir, I am only telling you the truth.  I would not want to be punished for failing to deliver on something I had no reasonable means of delivering on.”

The manager and the supervisor buzzed.  Hobres growled lightly, which then devolved into very quiet laughter.  “You are bold.”  The manager didn’t sound very pleased with this statement, but he pressed on.  “But I like what I am seeing on these designs.  I will get you the resources you require.  I will also leave your implants unlocked at their current settings while you are at work to make your efforts more efficient.  But to make sure that you do not try any tricks, Hobres will be assigned to you.”  He gestured to the lupusan and Kaspar felt his throat close up.  The man kept his gaze firmly on the zheen before him.  “It’s clear that he has taken a liking to you; it will make your working relationship that much easier.  Will that be satisfactory?”  Despite the monotone from the translator pack, the underlying meaning was clear.  Kaspar
would
be fine with it, or he’d experience a great deal of discomfort in a short space of time.

“Yes, sir, that will.  One other question, sir?  Well, two, really.”

“What?”

“May I have my datapad back?”  The zheen nodded and slid it across the desk to him, and he caught it easily.

“And the other?”

“What of my other duties?”

The zheen considered this for a moment.  “You will spend your time working on this project.  I will remove you from the general berthing area and assign you new quarters.  As I said, Hobres will accompany you, for your own safety.  But your other duties are suspended as of this moment.  You will report to bay sixteen at beginning of second shift to begin your work.  Your new team will be there to meet you, along with a preliminary list of supplies and equipment.”  The manager tapped the data slate.  Then he turned to the command console and pressed a few keys.  Kaspar’s HUD lit up again and the green indicator denoting his manual port switched back to red.  “Now go.”  He waved a hand dismissively.