A Greater Interest: Samair in Argos: Book 4 (6 page)

“Do you have weapons or shields?”

Rujarrik looked to the side and then a window opened up on the side of the display.  “We’re hurt, Captain, but we’re not out.  But we’ll get chewed up if we try and go it alone.”

“That’s why we’re sticking together for now.  We won’t get much in the way of repairs done, not in this maelstrom.  But maybe we can ride it out.”

Her ears flicked.  “There are three cruisers and a big… transport coming this way, Captain.  I don’t think we’re going to be riding anything out.”

“No,” he said slowly.  “But for now, let’s just try and hold it together.  If we can get the others back over with us, we might be able to survive this.”

It was clear the leytenant didn’t share Tariq’s optimism and with the three cruisers bearing down on them, Nazan wasn’t sure he really did either.

Chapter 2

              Tamara Samair stood in the Operations Center of the Kutok Gas Mining station, while the Ops crew was busy at their consoles.  She was definitely a supernumerary at the moment, as there was no work station for the Chief of Operations for the company.  Running her fingers through her dark hair, she looked at the various sensor feeds.  The fleet action was taking place several light minutes from the planet, in which the gas mining station was floating in the upper atmosphere.  The mine was also on the far side of the planet from the fighting, which meant everything they were getting on the displays was coming from satellites located in nearby space.  All this meant that there was at least a little bit of time before the fighting would get close enough to be a direct threat to the mining station and her personnel.

              Serzhant Viktoriya Arsenyev Eristov, her dark-furred lupusan head bodyguard stood off to the side and slightly behind her principle.  The Ops crew was ignoring her, which was impressive, given how intimidating lupusan were in general, Eristov in particular.  She oozed the aura of hunter and predator, but with the urgency of the situation, she may as well not have even been there.  Tamara actually found it amusing, seeing that the bodyguard (while putting forth a stoic demeanor) was slightly miffed that no one noticed her.  She’d had a quick chat with her protection detail once this crisis broke, however; the crew here didn’t need to be squeaking and wetting themselves in fear over someone who should be an ally.

              Tamara had cheered with the rest of the people in Ops when Korqath’s fighter squadrons had torn apart a large portion of the invading starfighter force.  But then minutes later, when the pirate corvettes and gunships started chewing up her ships, her stomach seemed to fill with ice.  The FP forces were holding the line (such as it was) for now, but as the cruisers grew closer Tamara knew it would only be a matter of time before the FP ships were completely overwhelmed.

              But then something caught her eye.  “Wait a minute.”  She stepped closer to where the Operations manager, Tiyaana Moreetz, was seated at her console.  “Pull up any information we can get on that ship there.”  She pointed at the display to a ship in the rear of the pirate formation.  “That one.”

              Tiyaana looked confused, but she pressed the appropriate keys and the display focused on the vessel.  It was a large, blocky, vessel; it looked like a large transport of some sort.  She squinted, pulling up her own records as she tried to match some of the markings. 

              “Ma’am?” Viktoriya rumbled, her voice low.  The lupusan had eased up to the human woman’s shoulder.  “You’ve got that look.”

              Tamara glowered at her.  “What look?”

              “The look that you get when you’re absorbed in something.  Something that you think only
you
have the answer to.”

              The human nodded.  “I recognize that ship,” she said slowly.

              Viktoriya flicked her ears.  “You do?  You’ve seen it before?”

              Tamara grimaced, giving a one shouldered shrug.  “Well, not that ship in particular.  But that class of ship.”

              “Ma’am,” Tiyaana interrupted the two other females.  “I have to ask.  Why do you care about that ship so much?  It looks like just another really big freighter.  It’s probably just another ship designed to hold loot.”  She widened the field of the display, bringing the two light and one heavy cruiser into full view.  “These are the ships that we need to really worry about.”

              Tamara gave a half-hearted nod.  “Those cruisers certainly are
a
problem, but they’re not
the
problem. 
That
ship is the more serious threat.”

              “Are you kidding, ma’am?” Tiyaana asked, incredulous.  “A freighter?  Those cruisers could wax the floor with us.  With this station!”

              “Right, the cruisers could do a lot of damage in a hurry,” Tamara admitted. 

              “Ma’am,” Tiyaana pressed, turning to look at her directly, “It wouldn’t take more than a couple of salvos to cripple us.  Hell, they hit the grav systems and we go falling into the depths of the atmosphere.”  The woman shuddered.  “We’d either get crushed or die from asphyxiation when the hull of the station breached from the pressure.”

              “I know,” Tamara snapped, her voice cracking like a whip.  “I know precisely how much damage those ships can do.  Don’t think that I’m not taking those cruisers seriously.  I am.  But all things considered, there really isn’t a whole lot we can do against them.”

              The Operations manager stood from her console.  “Ma’am, I’ve got nearly a thousand technicians and welders, two AIs and nearly a dozen replicators.  And we’ve got you here.  We’ve got spare parts and raw materials.  Why can’t we get the hands working on building some missiles?”

              Viktoriya barked a laugh.  “I like the way you think, Ms. Moreetz.”

              Tamara nodded.  “It’s a good idea.  Get alpha shift down to one of the outer cargo bays, and beta shift to the replicator compartments.  We’re going to have to set up a serious assembly line.  The biggest problem is fabrication time.  We don’t have much before those ships get in range of us here.  If we’re really lucky, we might be able to get a couple dozen missiles fabbed.”

              “I’m on it,” Tiyaana replied and slid back into her chair.  She was hammering keys and shouting orders to some of the other crewmen in the compartment.

              Tamara bit her lip, putting one hand back to her chin, deep in thought.

              “You’re thinking again,” Viktoriya growled, giving her a very gentle nudge with one elbow.

              She grunted.  “Yeah.”  She blinked, shaking her head quickly.  “No, it’s a good idea.  In fact…”  Tamara trailed off and closed her eyes for a moment.  Her cranial implants accessed the station’s computers, more specifically the replicator systems.  Entering her command codes, she had the fabrication devices begin construction on components for more of the throat-ripper missiles.  There wasn’t time for anything fancy, or to try and come up with a new and better design.  These were the standard weapons the Visions were equipped with, and there was already a small stockpile on the station to rearm the squadrons.  This would add to that, though there weren’t enough volatile materials available for more warheads. 

              “Slight problem,” Tamara said aloud.  “We’re nearly out of the nasty stuff that makes the missiles go boom.” 

              “What about your bug engineer’s idea from the battle with the
Leytonstone
?” Viktoriya asked, referring to the attack on the gas mine nearly a year ago by the Seylonique government’s biggest warship. 

              Tamara grinned.  “There’ll be no living with Ka’Xarian after this.”  The zheen engineer, Second Engineering Officer on board the FP bulk freighter
Grania Estelle
, during that battle, had brought forth a design of fusion bombs he’d designed, which used helium 3 for their payload.  The results had been plenty damaging and spectacular.  “Very good thinking, Ms. Eristov.  I didn’t know you’d read those mission reports.”

              The wolf woman looked at her sternly.  “Ma’am, when Chief Nymeria recruited us for this job, we read absolutely everything we could find about you.  The commanding officer of the only FP warship that managed to defeat the battlecruiser
Leytonstone
?  Why would you think I wouldn’t have read that?”

              Tamara sighed, rubbing the back of her neck.  “I guess that makes sense.  Corajen is nothing if not thorough.”  She accessed her implants again, putting parts for those He3 warheads in the replicator queue.  “Stars, this is going to be close.”

              The wolf grunted.  “Now, what’s the story with this other ship that has you so worried?  I have to agree with Moreetz there,” she said, gesturing to the woman with one clawed finger.  “Those cruisers look like the more serious danger.”

              Tamara nodded.  “Oh, I’m taking them seriously.  I didn’t mean to say that they aren’t dangerous or that they won’t give us problems.”  She rubbed her arms as though she was cold.  “I don’t really know
how
we’re going to deal with those ships.”  She pulled out her datapad and used her implants to bring up the sensor feed, again focusing on that larger ship.  “No, this is the ship we need to be concerned with.”

              “Again, why, ma’am?”  Now the lupusan was getting concerned.

              Tamara’s face, which had been tight with concentration, suddenly brightened as the missing piece of information popped into place in her mind.  “That is a Federation ship.  It’s a heavy assault transport.”

              “Right.  Like Moreetz said.  A transport.”

              “A troop transport,” Tamara corrected.  “That is a Suberao-class heavy assault transport ship.  It isn’t the ship so much as her cargo that’s a threat.  That and the two score shuttles that will be swarming out of that ship.”

              “How many soldiers?”

              Tamara sighed.  “On the conservative end?  Three thousand or so.”

              Viktoriya growled, her ears flattening back against her skull.  “You’re right, ma’am.  Those cruisers are a problem, but they’re not
the
problem.  Three
thousand
soldiers.”

              “Even at the most conservative estimates, there’s no way the pirates would field that kind of a ship with anything less than a thousand effectives.”  Tamara glowered at the image on the datapad.  “We had problems enough with a couple hundred boarders a year ago.  We can’t stop ten times that many.”  She looked up.  “Magnus?”

              “You don’t have to shout, Tamara,” the AI replied crossly.  The image of the Kutok mine’s security AI appeared over one of the holo projectors over the main consoles.  He was boarborn, or so he called himself.  Magnus had taken the persona of a humanoid warthog, with a barrel chest, tree trunk arms and thick legs with cloven feet.  He was dressed in medieval leather armor, which was embroidered with the FP galactic spiral on his chest.  He was armed with a massive broadsword, which he had unsheathed, point down on the “ground” with his hands on the pommel.  He snorted, his curly tusks gleaming in the lights from the Operations consoles.  “I’m an AI.  I can hear everything you’re saying on my station.”

              “Sorry,” she said.  Tamara had helped program this being, but Magnus was very stand-offish, stern.  It made sense in a security officer.

              “We need to prepare for a serious boarding action,” the AI agreed.  “Chief Nymeria already has her people gearing up.  She’s started spreading ammo caches all over the station.”

              “Good.  I’m sure the chief knows her business.  She doesn’t need me to interrupt her.”

              “But she does, Tamara,” Magnus said, glaring at her.  It was almost as though the AI was disapproving.  “You’re going after that ship.”

              Viktoriya perked up.  “Like hell you are.”

              “Viktoriya,” Tamara started.

              But the lupusan cut her off.  “Oh, no, ma’am.  I meant what I said earlier when you tried to swan off in that fighter of yours.  You’re staying put.  Yes, I remember that conversation we just had about the cruisers.  I know it’s dangerous here on the gas mine, but it’s far worse out there.”  She pointed a clawed finger to the side.  “You are
not
getting in any starfighter.”

              “I am your boss, you know.”  Tamara sounded slightly petulant at being treated this way.

              “You’re my principle,” Viktoriya corrected.  “It’s my job to keep you alive.  Happy is a very distant second, Ma’am.”

              Tamara grimaced, but then turned back to the AI, who had the gall to look amused at this interchange.  “But yes.  We need to hit that ship.”

              “You have the fighters out there, Tamara.”

              “Yes,” she acknowledged.  “But I don’t think that will be enough.  Unless we can destroy it, I don’t think Korqath has the ships to take that transport on.”  She shook her head.  “No.  We need to cripple it, or disable it somehow.”

              A display window activated next to Magnus’s bulky form.  He glanced over at the dark-chocolate fur of Corajen Nymeria, the Chief of Security for the Kutok Mine.  “And that’s where you want me to come in,” Corajen said.  She was busy strapping on her chest armor and a moment later, she hefted a pulse rifle.  “We need to put a strike team aboard.”

              “That’s what I was thinking,” Tamara replied.  She glanced at Viktoriya.  “I’d go, but…”  The bodyguard visibly swelled, anger pouring off her.

              “That’s not your job, Tamara,” Corajen told her.  She finished fiddling with the straps on the armor.  “It’s mine.”

              “No, your job is to protect this station if we get boarded,” Tamara corrected.

              “And if the boarding shuttles managed to land here, we’re completely done.”  There was no ambiguity in the lupusan security chief’s face.  “Magnus filled me in.  Three thousand soldiers?  Even if they’re crap and even with all the traps and goodies you, Magnus and I can scrounge up, we can’t win.  The station would be a wreck at best or they’d just roll us up at worst.”  She shook her head.  “No, we need to stop them before they launch.  And since you don’t have a battlecruiser in your tool pouch, we need to put a team on board that transport.”