A Greater Interest: Samair in Argos: Book 4 (70 page)

              “Any sign of pursuit?” he asked after a minute.

              “Nothing so far, sir,” Shel replied, her voice steady.  Robert was sure she was scared, but that was no surprise; they all were.

They were working one problem, but it would all be for naught if they couldn’t deal with the boarding operation.

Master-at-Arms Marshal Macklin fired another trio of needle shots down the corridor, then ducked back as one of the invaders leveled his assault rifle and cut loose.  Needle spikes crashed into the corner of the bulkhead he was hiding behind and the fusillade just went on and on.  After half a minute, and the shooting stopped for a moment, he risked a peek back around, crouching down low. 
How did I get so lucky?
He asked himself. 
Eighteen years in the Navy, and now I get to hold off armed boarders?  Transfer to a corvette seemed like such a cushy job.  Why the hell did I take a transfer over to this heap anyway?
  The boarder was slapping a new magazine into his weapon while he and the others behind him continued to advance.  He raised his weapon to resume firing, aiming right at Macklin’s exposed head.  Aiming quickly, the Master-at-Arms fired right at the lead boarder’s legs.  His shot was true, hitting the soldier in the ankle.

The kinetic energy of the shots knocked the attacker’s leg out from under him.  He stumbled and fell.  His weapon went off and the sustained fire sprayed the corridor, needles slashing into the various bulkheads.  Two quick shots from Macklin’s pistol hit the invader’s faceplate and punched through.  The faceplate sprouted a series of spiderweb cracks, punctured by two small holes.  The figure writhed for an instant and then lay still.

There was a roar from the rest in this group and they charged Macklin’s position, rifles leveled, and they peppered the area, the bulkhead, everything with a spray of fire.  With an exclamation, Macklin pulled back just in time waving the other two crewmen standing just behind to move back as well.  They sprinted the other way down the corridor, but it was the only way to go and the three pushed inside Environmental and crouched in the hatchway.  All three leveled their pistols.

One of the invaders recklessly turned the corner and ran straight into the combined fire of all three of
Kingston
’s crewmen waiting there.  Needles from all three hammered into the armored invader which made him stagger and twitch as though he was mortally injured.  After fifteen seconds of sustained fire, a trio of shots finally pierced the tight weave of the armor enough to cause damage to the throat.  It seemed as though the one chink in the armor caused others as half a dozen others punctured his chest all in the same area.  The brute flailed for an instant and crashed to the deck.

But by then it was too late.  Four of the armored thugs raced ahead, leaped over the corpse of their comrade and were on top of Macklin and his small team.

“Surrender!” a harsh voice intoned.

With great reluctance, Macklin lowered his weapon; the business end of an assault rifle in his face.  The other two terrified crewmen dropped their weapons to the deckplates with a pair of clunks.  The barrel of the rifle twitched, moving away from Macklin’s face.

The chief exploded forward.  Swinging his gun back up, he fired a round into the invader’s groin, eliciting a grunt of surprise and pain, though the armor absorbed most of the impact.  With his free hand he grabbed a hold of the rifle barrel and yanked down.  Taken completely by surprise at this counterattack, the trooper’s grip wasn’t tight enough and the gun came loose.

But Macklin didn’t use that weapon; he raised up his own pistol and pumped two more blasts into the interloper’s faceplate.  The armorglass shattered from the close up impact.  The chief saw the lupusan face, covered in blood and his eyes widened in pain and shock.  He didn’t hesitate.  He wasn’t in his prime, not after eighteen years in the Navy, but years of bar fights and more recently a disciplined training regimen kept him in fighting trim.  It certainly wouldn’t do for raw recruits to be tougher than the Master-at-Arms.

He snatched a grenade off the dead lupusan’s belt as the body fell, pulled the pin and popped the spoon.  He tossed it over the heads of the other attackers and dove into the Environmental compartment, tackling the two other crewmen and driving them all to the deck in a heap.

The plasma grenade ignited, filling the corridor with fire.  Two of the grenadiers were engulfed in the flames and barbecued.  They writhed and screamed for a long moment before they collapsed to the deck.  Their polyweave carbon nanofiber armored suits could handle impacts from bullets, needles, shrapnel, could even with stand the harshness of vacuum and the pressure of several dozen meters of water.  It didn’t do so well under the direct heat of an ignited plasma explosion.  It provided more protection than a standard skinsuit but not much; the two wolves still died horribly.  One of the CA800’s armored bodies would have shrugged off the blast of one of the plasma grenades, but this was an entirely different piece of equipment.

Unfortunately, Macklin and the two crewmen weren’t spared the fire either.  The chief was burned all down his back, his legs and on the back of his skull; even his hair was gone.  He was shrieking and writhing with agony.  The two crewmen crushed beneath him were shielded from the worst of the blast, though one of the men had a badly seared right leg and his right hand was just as badly burned.  The flesh on his hand was blackened and cracking and yet sloughing off the bone.  He screamed and thrashed.

A wolf, his armor and weapon scorched from the blast emerged from the corridor.  “These ones have spirit!  Much more of a challenge than those weakling cowards on the destroyer.”  Leaning down, he produced a hypo injector and shot it into the base of the chief’s neck.  In five seconds, his screaming and struggles ceased.  “I want to keep this one as a pet.”

The capture of the
Kingston
continued as the boarding party moved inexorably through the ship.  Another small party of sailors managed to pin down a group of three wolves and ambush them, gunfire wounding one in the leg and managing to trip up two more, though they were unhurt.  A grenade tossed over the sailors’ heads quickly ended that threat.  In under an hour, Lieutenant Yanakov trotted forward to where two of the boarding team were guarding the sealed hatch to the bridge.  He looked to the two.

“Any change?” he asked over the internal comms.  The boarding had been a resounding success, though there were three of the grenadiers dead, one wounded.  The weapons these cretins were using were no better than spud cannons against the boarders’ armored skinsuits.

“No, sir, not a peep,” one of them replied.  The Grenadiers didn’t control the entire ship yet, but Yanakov’s squads held Engineering, the Armory and Environmental.  The bridge was the last holdout, but that would be rectified shortly.

“Do we have comms with the bridge?”

One of the soldiers pointed to the panel on the left side of the bridge hatch and the officer walked over to it.  Thoughtclicking an icon on his HUD, his faceplate popped open and he took a breath of ship’s air.  It had a very faint tang of metal; clearly this ship was brand new, despite the fact that it had been ridden hard. 
Not a problem there
, he thought. 
The General will definitely work this young ship hard once we get it back to Esselon Moor.
  He pressed the control that accessed the comms to the bridge.  “Open up,” he said bluntly.

“Who the hell are you people?” a male voice answered from within the command compartment of the ship.

“It doesn’t matter who we are,” Yanakov replied.  “But since it matters so much to you, I am the leader of these particular squads of soldiers.  And I’ve taken this ship as a prize.”

“Not yet you haven’t,” the voice shot back. 

“All that is standing between me and having control of this entire ship is a metal door,” Yanakov told him.  “And that is no challenge for my combat engineer.  Most of your crew are now my prisoners.  If you make me blast this door open, you will not enjoy the treatment you receive.”  He sent a message over his comms, calling for the combat engineer.  While all of the Grenadiers could be considered explosives experts, there was a platoon of soldiers within the division that were particularly trained and experienced in using those tools for more than just killing.

In under a minute, the combat engineer in question arrived, unslinging her pack.  Without a word, the she-wolf popped open her face shield and started pulling breaching tape from the pack and adhering it in a long rectangle over the bridge hatch.  While she was smoothing down one side, she yipped.

“So much easier to concentrate when I’m not getting shot at while I’m doing this,” she commented.

“Less talk, more tape, Sigma,” Yanakov said with a smile.

“Yes, sir.”

Yanakov signaled the bridge.  “You test my patience.  Now you will pay.”  Sigma finished her workand stepped back, taking cover around a corner bulkhead.  The others did the same.  Yanakov nodded to her and with an impulse sent through her implants, to the detonator, Sigma triggered the breaching tape.  A bright flash sizzled outward, illuminating the outline of the doorway.  Ten seconds of burning later, the tape had done its job and the metal door crashed to the deck, its edges cherry red.

“Move!” Yanakov ordered and all four charged in, weapons ready.

The mostly-human bridge crew were on their feet, hands over their heads in submission.   One man, presumably the ship’s commander was standing next to what looked like a command seat.  “Do you surrender this ship?” Yanakov demanded.

The man gritted his teeth, but nodded.  “I surrender this ship to you.”  It sounded as though he was trying to speak through a throat filled with crushed glass.  “Did you take the
Equinox
as well?”

Yanakov stepped up to the human.  He was tall for a prey animal, nearly two meters in height.  He was thin, spindly in the pirate lieutenant’s opinion, but then a goodly number of the “healthy” ones were.  Still, some meat was on his bones, but sadly, the human was an officer so it would be unlikely that the General would consent to killing him and allowing the boarding teams to feast on his flesh.  The lieutenant grunted and then gave the commander a hard jab in the solar plexus, doubling the man over.  “You don’t get to ask questions like that.  Now, who is in command of this ship?”

The man had collapsed to his knees on the deck, trying to suck air back into his lungs.  He wasn’t paying attention.  The others on the bridge were silent, terrified by the armed wolves pointing weapons at them.

“Who is in command?” he asked again after a moment as the gasping human quieted.

“I am,” the man groaned.

Yanakov kicked him in the stomach and he crumpled into a ball on the deckplates.  “Who is in command of this ship?” he asked a third time.

“Stop it!” the zheen standing at the helm cried.  “Leave him alone.  You’re killing him!”

“I haven’t even started hurting him if he doesn’t give me the right answer,” Yanakov replied, his voice level as though he was a teacher in a classroom dealing with a recalcitrant pupil.  “Last time, human, and then the pain truly begins.  Who is in command?”

The man moaned in pain and slowly pushed himself on all fours.  “You are,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. 

“Excellent,” Yanakov said, smiling in satisfaction.  He pointed at the comms operator.  “You!  Hail the destroyer.”  The human female jumped as his finger stabbed in her direction but then she jumped again and turned to her console.

Yanakov nodded to himself.  Yes, today was a very good day.

Major Nezerek grunted at the report from the lieutenant.  Another warship captured for the General, with incredibly light casualties.  “Now for the rest,” he said aloud.  “Niko, have you deciphered their control interface?”  He looked over to the wolf at tactical.

“It’s an unusual layout, Major,” the wolf told him, pressing a control and checking the readouts in the display.  “But I’ve got it.”

“Train the guns on the remaining freighters.  I don’t want any escaping.  Crippling shots only, Niko.  Do
not
destroy them.”

“No, sir,” Niko replied, powering up the warship’s weapons.  “Ready, sir.”

“Comms, hail the freighters.”  Nezerek waited a moment while the captured operator complied.  The woman looked scared to death, which pleased him.  Unfortunately, his own people couldn’t run the whole ship, so he had to trust that some of the crew could run the majority of the ship’s systems.  She gave him a shaking thumbs up.  “Attention all vessels in the vicinity of the gas giant, I am Nezerek and I am in command of this warship.  Both warships,” the major corrected.  “My guns are now trained on all of your ships.  You will signal your immediate and unconditional surrender or I will open fire.  I expect your response within five minutes.  Out.”  He signaled the horrified comms specialist, who cut the connection.  Within two minutes, all of the ships had reported in. 
A clean sweep
.

Chapter 23

“Then we need to look to expand our recruiting,” Tamara was saying, trying to stay calm.  Having the two other senior officers in the company yelling at her was not helping to maintain her composure.

“No, no, no,” Vincent Eamonn stated loudly.  “Look, I’m all for building more ships, it would only increase trade.  But you’ve got company resources all over the fucking system, Tamara!  We’re working on two more of our own cargo ships; we’ve got ships being built for Navy contracts.  We’ve got our own tradeships going to Heb, Bimawae, Ulla-tran and Bellosha, not to mention all of our in-system runs.  You sent the new constructor ship
Bakhmut
to Heb for that repair slip we’re building.  You’ve got resources getting stockpiled for the moon base and the shield station project.  Our own defense ships are rolling off the line, with barely skeleton crews for
Xie Fang
and
Verdun
and now you want another bulk freighter?”

Tamara sighed.  “I know manpower is a bit of an issue-“

“A bit of an issue?” Vincent demanded, throwing his hands in the air.  “With all the various companies, the government and the Navy all fighting for personnel, there just aren’t enough people.  We’ve fished this pond dry!”

“I’m aware of the difficulties there,” Tamara replied coolly, “Which is why its imperative we try and recruit elsewhere.  We’re already going to be doing that at Heb for engineers on the
Bakhmut
.”

“Yes, and hopefully that will bear fruit,” Galina said smoothly, trying to restore some order.  “For
Bakhmut
and the crews on the repair slip once we get it built.”

“The people on Ulla-tran are interested but we’ve only received a small handful of applications,” Vincent put in, his voice moderating to a lower level.  “I know we want to continue expanding, but we need to cool it on new hulls and new projects.  Especially with that shield station and the moonbase projects coming up in a few months.”

She sighed, not wanting to back down, but knowing there was nothing to be done.  They
would
need to step up recruitment but there were a lot of pies in the oven at the moment.  Possibly too many, if she was honest with herself.  Eretria and Apogee were holding things together well at the shipyard complex, Tiyaana and Corajen were doing well at the Kutok mine.  The mining station out at the asteroid belt was running full blast.  Nakil Radha and Nasir were keeping the
Samarkand
running smoothly on the prep work for the shield station.  But Vincent was right, the shield and moonbase projects would be labor intensive and even considering all the work that was already being done, she did not want to fall behind on schedule once the real work began.

“All right,” she said, closing her eyes for a moment.  “I’m not giving up on this and once we start getting more people in the rosters, I’m going to bring this topic back up again.  But for now, we’ll table the bulk freighter discussion.”

The she-wolf and the man both slumped a bit in their chairs.  “Thank you, Tamara,” Galina said, her breath coming out in a huff.

The woman shrugged.  “Nothing to thank me for.  You’re right, we
don’t
have enough people and for the moment, we’re at a bit of an impasse at getting more.  I have hope that will change, but for now, we keep on moving as best we can.”

Vincent eyed her suspiciously.  “Samair, you do realize this is a civilian company, right?  We build things and we move freight.  This isn’t a war we’re fighting.”

She gave him a sour look.  “Yes, Vincent, I’m aware.  But I think you’re underestimating the war part.  Especially since we just survived an attack in this very system only a few months ago by a pirate fleet.”

Both of them were staring at her shrewdly.  “You’ve got something planned,” Vincent accused, narrowing his eyes a small amount.

She smiled impishly.  “Of course I do.  That’s what you hired me for.  Unfortunately the personnel shortage puts a crimp in a lot of those plans.”

“What kind of plans?” the freighter captain pressed, not willing to be put off so easily.

“Two things in particular,” she said, pursing her lips.  “One, I want to sent
Bakhmut
,
Yellow Dolly
and at least one warship, possibly
Verdun
to Instow or Folston.  It’s a long trip, I know, but if we can get a satellite office out away from this area, which we know is festooned with pirates, we might be able to get more profits and a fair bit of infrastructure up in a place of relative safety.”

Both of the others looked astonished but recovered quickly.  “Makes sense.  But
Bakhmut
is otherwise employed.”

“I know,” Tamara said.  “But it won’t take long to actually build the repair slip once they get there.  From what Hogan was saying, the good governor will certainly get people to help with the work.  A warehousing platform at the very least, or maybe even making a small station of it.”  She nodded.  “Once that’s done, I’m going to redeploy the constructor.”

“And the other thing?” Vincent asked, leaning forward a bit.

“I want to build another shipyard complex; a small one,” she said defensively.  “Out away from this system, but near enough that we can supply it from here.”

Vincent’s eyes narrowed and he shifted in his chair.  “We’re already building that one at Heb.”

“So?” she asked, shrugging.  “That one is for use there and it’s really only meant for maintenance and minor repairs.  With the small squadron of Navy corvettes there, they need some sort of facility to keep them in operation and it would only help to increase trade with local freighters once their parent companies realize that Heb is a place where their ships can get minor things fixed.  No, I want to have a facility away from here, off the beaten path, as it were.”

“Why?” Galina asked, curious.  “You don’t think we’re building enough here at the Seylonique Yards?”

“Frankly, no, I don’t,” Tamara said, shaking her head.  “I know manpower is a serious problem, but I want more than a few surprises for the pirates when they come back.”

“Just what would you be building at this hypothetical yard of yours?” Galina asked, as she watched Vincent Eamonn give a long-suffering sigh.

“Warships,” she said without hesitation.  “I want to get a few of those Republic-style corvettes and I really want to build one of Xar’s modified pirate cruisers.”  The zheen’s engineering team had finished their modifications to the designs of Verrikoth’s light cruiser design, unifying the construction concept, which fixed a lot of the vessel’s shortcomings.  It was already a fearsome beast in the battlespace, but if things went as Tamara and Ka’Xarian expected, these new designs would produce a true terror.

“Harkening back to your Navy days, Samair?” the freighter captain asked sardonically.

“No, but I want to have a decent fighting force available when the time comes.”  She rubbed the back of her neck in irritation, grimacing.  “It
is
coming, don’t doubt that.  But again, the personnel problem is putting a crimp in that plan.”

“Then stop building,” Vincent said simply.  “You’re throwing away resources and time on projects we can’t capitalize on at this time.  Once things change, we can address this again.”

She nodded.  “What’s the story with the Ulla-tran government and the A2s?” Tamara asked, deciding to change the subject.

“Yes, Vincent, please tell us,” Galina said.  “You weren’t happy when you got back here a week ago.”

The dark-skinned man glowered.  “They’re getting pushy,” he admitted.  “But the government refuses to budge on their demands.  They absolutely hate the control satellite notion.  Everyone wants the fabrication ability, no one wants to pay for it.”

“They get hostile?”

He shrugged.  “No, but I’ve been getting less subtle hints that I should just sell the replicators outright to them.  And more hints that they might stop being suggestions if I don’t play ball.”

“Oh, that’s just fantastic!” Tamara exploded.  “Are they going to start kidnapping our people?”  She slapped a palm on the desk.  “We do
not
need this now.  Did you happen to find out what their fuel situation looks like now?  Do they still need us to supply them?”

He flashed a grin.  “It seems that they’re having trouble getting the go ahead from the government.  They can’t get funding approved through their Senate to build any new collectors and apparently there isn’t a private company that wants to attempt to build any.  So for now, they’d rather spend money on us than on rebuilding their infrastructure.  Oh, and they’re requesting a load of refined minerals and six twelve meter cans of hydraulic fluid for their shipyard, in addition to their order of fuel.”

Both females, lupusan and human, perked up at that news.  “Really?” Galina asked.  “That’s interesting.”

“Can you swing it?” Tamara asked.

He nodded slowly.  He’d obviously given this some careful thought already.  “Well, it’s more of a case of what they need versus what they can live with.  Even
Grania Estelle’s
huge carrying capacity isn’t enough to satisfy both orders at once.  So I imagine fuel is the greater need, so we split the load of other stuff.  Greater percentage of fuel on the first run.  We’ll still be able to carry about forty percent of the refined minerals that they’re asking for on that first run anyway.”

“It might not be a bad idea to hold off on the A2 subject while you’re on these two runs,” Tamara mused.  “I know I’m tired of fighting with them on it and they don’t seem willing to budge on the issue.”

Vincent grimaced.  “That’s a lot of potential revenue you’re throwing away.”

“Are we though?” she riposted.  “They won’t accept the restrictions we want and none of us is willing to just sell the tech to them outright, are we?” Galina and Vincent both shook their heads.  “Then we’re agreed.  If they ask, just tell them that there’s a hold up in the home office, you’re working on trying to get company regs loosened, whatever.  Make me the bad guy.  I know I’m an easy target.”  She smiled wryly.

“We love you anyway, Samair,” Vincent replied sanctimoniously.

She stuck her tongue out at him.  He laughed and Galina shook her head.  “I’m working with cubs,” she despaired, but there was laughter in her tone.

“And yes, I will continue hiring.  If we only get ten or fifteen people, that’s something.  Might help round out some of the freighter or station crews.”

“Every little bit helps, I suppose,” Tamara said.  “But we’ve got to do better than that if we’re going to get those ships crewed.”  She held up a hand to forestall the argument.  “I know.  I’m not going through all that again.”

“About Heb,” Galina said after a moment of silence.

They turned to look at her.  “What about Heb?” Vincent asked.  “You think that it’s a bad venture?”

The lupusan shook her head demurely, folding her long fingers in her lap.  “No, not at all.  But if we’re going to be setting up shop there, is a green engineer turned captain of the
Bakhmut
really the personal representative we want to have running things there?”

“I trust him,” Tamara said.  But then she frowned.  “But you’re right, Loksat is a bit inexperienced.”  She pursed her lips.  “Who would we send up there to take over?”

“Nakil Radha’s been doing well on the
Samarkand
, but she’s been making noises in recent weeks about restlessness,” Galina offered.  “She could stand some more responsibility.  Georgio, her XO, I think is ready to step up.”

“She’s only been in command on the
Samarkand
for a few months,” Tamara pointed out.

“I think she can handle it,” Galina insisted.

“What do you think?” Tamara asked, turning to look at Vincent.

He shrugged.  “I barely know the woman.  But I’ll side with you both on this.  If you think she’ll do a good job, promote her.”

Tamara blinked, exchanging a glance with Galina.  “A very laissez-faire attitude.”

The
Grania Estelle’s
captain shrugged again.  “I want a say in what happens with my company, Tamara, but I hired you two to take care of the bulk of the management and day-to-day decisions.”  He made a face.  “It should be a concept you’re both quite good at, seeing as how ninety-five percent of the decisions get my by you two anyway.”

“If you’re sure,” Tamara said. 

“I’m sure.”

“Would you like to meet with her, Vincent?” Galina asked.  “Might not be a bad idea if she’s going to be running the Heb Satellite office of First Principles.”

“Very well.  I’ll head over there once we’re done here.  You’ll lend me the
Moxie-2
, won’t you Samair?”

She blinked, hesitating for just a moment.  “Sure, I’ll tell Mike to give you a lift over to the factory ship.”

Vincent Eamonn looked confused.  “Who’s Mike?”

“He’s my pilot,” Tamara answered coolly.  “He’s a company employee.”

The man and the she-wolf exchanged glances.  “Oh, he’s your pilot?  I thought you’d fly your own ship.  Or do you keep him around for… other reasons?”