A Greater Interest: Samair in Argos: Book 4 (73 page)

              Paxton shrugged.  “I’m hoping that you’re right, Ma’am.  But if things go along the way they have been, and if the bosses are right and the priates might come back, well…”

              “It might be unlikely that we can avoid a battle,” Eretria said with a sigh.

              But the lieutenant commander seemed especially cheerful.  “Well, with you and your workers’ help, Ms. Sterling, I think this old girl will give those bastards a damn good thrashing!”

              She couldn’t help but chuckle.  “Just glad to be here, Commander,” she said.  She pointed over her shoulder in the direction of the ready room.  “I really should see him.”

              He smiled conspiratorially.  “Of course, ma’am.  Go right in.”

              Eretria pressed the door chime control and at the reply of “Come in,” she stepped through the hatch and into the ready room, closing it behind her.  The colonel was seated behind the desk, glaring at the display in front of him, as though he could intimidate the information or the display itself into submission.  She felt herself smile at seeing him thus.

              “Good to see you as well, Ms. Sterling,” Malachai said, not looking away from the floating screen, as though he could read her mind.

              “I have some news for you, if you can tear yourself away from whatever that is,” Eretria said, putting one hand on her hip and flicking the fingers of the other in the direction of the display.

              “Nothing that can’t wait,” he said, pressing a control.  The screen vanished.  “Just the daily activities report.”

              “Sounds riveting,” she replied, moving to stand in front of his desk.  It was a small compartment; she crossed the space in two strides, maneuvering around the two chairs bolted to the deckplates.  It was a room meant for him to work and for private meetings, not for full-blown conferences.

              “What do you have for me?” he asked, his voice tinged with eagerness.  The ship’s rumor mill as well as his own cleverness had clearly led him to a conclusion, one that he liked.  He’d turned his full attention on her.

              “Good and bad news,” she admitted, handing him a sheet of flimsi.  “This old girl is ready for space.  And if you make one comment in regards to my age, Colonel…”

              He accepted the flimsi, holding up his hands in surrender.  “Never even crossed my mind, Eretria.  I like my body parts undamaged, thank you.”  But as he quickly scanned the document, his eyes lit up.  “Fully cleared for space?”

              She nodded.  “All cleared.  You and this ship of miscreants are clear to go and get yourselves into trouble.”

              “Excellent!” he said, beaming.  Then his smile slipped a bit.  “The bad news?”

              “Well, this ship won’t be docked anymore,” she reminded him.  “But that’s not really a bad thing.”

              “It’s not like the
Leytonstone
is being deployed in another star system, Eretria.”

              “No,” Eretria replied, shaking her head.  “I’ve just gotten used to our time together.  Guess I’ll just have to find another spacer to play with.”  She said this with a resigned shrug.

              Malachai leaned back in his chair, not looking away.  “Guess you will.  Pity they’ll be transferred out to picket duty at the Kutok mine, or to patrols around the planet as soon as I find them out.”

              “Builds character,” she agreed with a smirk.  “Just wanted to deliver that and see you off.  Now that I’ve done that, I’ll be off to let you take your ship for a spin.”

              Gants looked to be at a loss for words.  “I do appreciate all the work you did to make my ship whole, Eretria.”

              She shrugged, putting on a smile.  “She’s your real love, Malachai.  We had some good times, but I wasn’t expecting anything permanent.”

              “I do want to keep seeing you,” he said, rising and walking around the desk to stand in front of her.

              “Good,” she said, the false smile replaced with a real one, though it barely seemed to quirk the corners of her lips.  “Now kiss me you great idiot so I can leave you two to get reacquainted and I can get back to work.”

              “Gladly,” he replied, gathering her up in his arms.  He kissed her fiercely and she returned his kiss with a passion of her own.

              The door chime sounded.  They sighed collectively and stepped apart.  “Duty calls,” Gants said, sounding grumpy.

              Eretria liked that.  “Back to work, Colonel.  Let me know if there are any problems.”  With that, she went to the hatch and opened it.  A young lieutenant was standing on the other side, clutching a datapad.  He immediately stepped aside to allow her to pass him and Eretria walked out of the ready room without a look back.

              “All stations report ready for launch, Colonel,” Paxton reported a while later from his own station.

              “Thank you, Commander,” Gants said formally, struggling to contain his own excitement.  “Helm, take us out of the docking slip.  Ahead: half thrusters.”

              The helmsman acknowledged and a moment later, sensors indicated the large warship was easing out of the metal box that was the construction slip.  The ship moved ponderously, slowly, nothing like the speeds and massive acceleration she was capable of using her main propulsion units.  A pair of shuttles actually accelerated past the
Leytonstone
, in a hurry to get out of the bay, but instead of getting annoyed by the reckless flyers, Gants just smiled. 
Let them have their fun.  When push comes to shove,
Leytonstone
will have the last laugh
.

              Ten minutes later, the helmsman spoke up.  “We’ve cleared the local traffic area, sir.”

              “I’ve got clearance from shipyard traffic control,” the comms officer reported.

              “All right, helm, let’s see what she’s got.  Navigation, plot a course to take us to geosync orbit over Sundowner Atrium.”  He was referring to a well-known building on the habitable world, which everyone also called Seylonique, located in the city of Dorsey Run. 

              “Aye, sir.”

              “Helm, bring us to eighty percent acceleration on the propulsion.  Once we’re two light minutes from the yards, push it up to full military power.”  At a look from Paxton, he affected a look of complete innocence.  “We need to see what she can do, XO.”

              “Oh, of course, sir,” the commander replied, not even a hint of mirth on his features.  “Girl’s been sitting on the sidelines for months.  I’d say she’s eager to stretch her legs.”

              “My thoughts exactly, XO,” the colonel said, indulging in a smile. 

              “Course plotted, Colonel.”

              “Helm ready.”

              “Engage engines,” Gants ordered.  He pulled up the ship’s status feeds on displays around him, watching stress levels on the engines, the power grid, the cooling system; everything he could.  He knew the engineers were watching everything like hawks and they’d sing out good and loud at the first sign of trouble. 

              “Continue on course,” he said, settling himself comfortably in the command seat.  It was so
very
good being out in space again.

              “Ms. Samair,” the plump councilor said in surprise, looking up from the wet bar on the side of the small office where he was pouring himself a large brandy.  “What a pleasant surprise.”

              Harmon Kly’s offices were surprisingly spartan compared to the Triarch’s.  Even Councilor Hroth out at the Kutok mine was using a set of suites that were nicer than these.  It didn’t fit with Tamara’s ideas of the man, he seemed like the greedy miser that would do anything for a credit and of course his personal offices here on the orbital would reflect the grandiose regard in which he obviously held himself.  But such was not the case.  Though a quick glance over at that bar quickly proved to Tamara that the councilor had very expensive taste in his liquor.  That was no twelve-credit bottle of brandy he was pouring out.

              “Councilor,” Tamara replied.  She commed a quick message back to her guards, just behind her, telling them to stay outside.  It was clear that the females of the group, Viktoriya especially, were not thrilled with this idea.  Beau put on a dour expression, flattened his ears to his head and said nothing, while Calvin had his amused mask on his face.  Tamara closed the door and turned back to the man.

              “I have to say I was surprised to hear that you came aboard the orbital.”  Kly took a sip of the drink, grunted in approval, then walked over to his desk and plopped himself in his chair.  “And I have to say I was certainly just… flabbergasted that you made your way down to my humble offices.”

              Tamara grimaced.  “About that, Councilor.  I have to say that these offices are a bit more humble than I would have expected.  I expected that a member of the admin council-“

              “Would have been skimming money off the taxpayer funds, out of project money, from the Navy, from maintenance funds for the orbital and then I should have a palace for an office?  Perhaps the lower ten levels of the orbital for my own personal use?” he chuckled and took another sip.

              Tamara shrugged, the grimace not really moving from her face.  “That
is
what I rather expected, Councilor.”

              “Bah!” he said, saluting her with his glass.  “Skimming and corruption like that is for the weak.  Oh, I’m not saying that you couldn’t do very well for yourself, but it’s a way of weakness.  You’re not capable of making money the hard way, of exerting influence and power the hard way.  Ha!”  Kly snorted, then took another sip from his glass.  “Mmm.  That is very good.”  He looked to her.  “Oh, I’m sorry, would you like some?”

              “That’s certainly a different attitude, Councilor,” Tamara said, crossing her arms over her chest.  “If I may say so.  Seeing as how the last few times we’ve met, you’ve called me nothing less than a whore, a bitch, a damned nuisance.”

              Kly shrugged.  “And at the time, I meant every word of it.”  He looked at the glass.  “I can’t say I don’t think about that now.  But that was before the Ulla-tran mission.”

              “Before that mission?” she prompted.  “All right, I’ll bite.  Why did that mission turn me from the Whore-Bitch-Outsider into someone you’ll deign to talk to?”

              The man looked up at her.  He had an unpleasant look on his face, but she really couldn’t pinpoint what it was he was thinking.  It wasn’t a stretch of the imagination to think that he looked unhappy because she was in the room, or that she was asking him such a personal question.  She thought that he was going to change the subject but surprisingly, he didn’t.  “You were the one who suggested the trip out to Ulla-tran,” Kly said grudgingly, his gaze defiant.  “It’s a large step in a positive direction both for Seylonique and in making a permanent block of systems to stand as a… a bulwark.”  He ground his teeth.  “So… thank you.”

              She nodded her head in acknowledgement.  “You’re welcome.  And I understand that you did a great deal of work on the trade agreement between our two nations.”

              He toasted her with his drink.  “So I’m sure you didn’t fly all the way here from the outer system to talk trade agreements and my decorating style for my office.  I’ll admit I am a bit intrigued as to your business here.”  Kly swirled his drink a bit.  “It’s not as though you and I are known for our need for togetherness.”

              Tamara smirked, walking forward and putting both hands on the back of one of the office chairs.  “No, Councilor, we’re not, but I have a proposal for the government that I think you should seriously consider and I figured I should argue my case straight with the voice most likely to be my most ardent opponent.”

              “Now I am intrigued.”  He raised his eyebrows.  “And in private, too, where you think I can’t cause a ruckus, rabble-rouse and get the proposal simply dismissed.  Exactly how fiendish do you think I am?” 

              “I think you fight for projects and proposals you have a personal stake in, Councilor.  You didn’t like what First Principles was doing to the businesses you’d so carefully nurtured over the years so you did what you could to try first to squash us, and later to shut us down completely.”  Tamara tried very hard to remain relaxed, not to start shouting or reach out her hands and strangle the pig.  She hadn’t forgotten that attack on her people, on the mine, all of the deaths caused.  And despite the fact that the government investigation had stalled out, even stopped completely, Tamara knew.  But Kly and Cresswell, the true architects of the attack seemed to have just wormed their way out of trouble.  They were council members, and thus, virtually untouchable.  Oh, she could pull out one of her guns and shoot the bastard dead right now.  But then, of course, her life would be over.  And she needed his help now.              “You went a bit far using the
Leytonstone
and the merc company to try and shut First Principles down, but we’re past that now.”  Her eyes were starting to burn and she forcibly shoved her emotions back into the box.