Hold the Star: Samair in Argos: Book 2 (53 page)

              “All right, let’s get this meeting going,” Vincent said.  “What’s the status on the repairs?”

              “Things are going well,” Quesh replied.  “Third rib will be completed later today; we should have three more done in one week.  That leaves only two.  So ten days, we’ll be ready to start plating the hull back up in this section.”

              Vincent nodded.  “Good.  How long to close it back up?”

              Quesh looked at the others.  “Three days?”

              The others nodded.  “About that,” Xar answered.  “Assuming no problems.”

              “Very good.  Let me know if something changes with that,” he said.

              “Actually, I was thinking we might change a few things,” Tamara spoke up.  The others looked to her, Stella with a happy look on her face, the others with a bit more trepidation.  “Oh don’t look so scared,” she chided with a smile.  “It’s actually a good thing.  I want to upgrade the computer core, specifically to give Stella much more computing power.  From there, we’re going to build a few more maintenance bots, which will help us speed up the process of the overhaul.”

              Vincent frowned.  “And why do we need the processing power?”             

              “It will allow Stella to have greater control over them, and she can help with the repairs.”  Tamara looked at the Captain.  “You were the one who wanted us to move faster, get this all done quicker so we can get back out into space, were you not?”  She smiled.

              He nodded.  “I was and I am.”  He looked to the AI.  “Are you up for this?”

              “Oh, yes, Captain,” she said enthusiastically, sitting up straighter and nodding.  “I’ve been doing well to maintain the ship’s functions and make sure systems stay active despite the damage and repairs.  But with the extra power, it will make that easier and I can help out more with the repairs.”

              Vincent considered this for only a moment.  Then he nodded.  “Very good.  As soon as we’re done here, get started on that, Tamara.  Now, I’ve considered Stella’s idea and I think that it is a good one.  But clearly it isn’t something that we can just fly over to the gas giant and build.  Not if we ever intend to get back out into space again in the next ten years.  We’re going to need help and permission and most importantly, warm bodies.”

              The others were nodding.  “I like the idea, Captain,” Xar said, nodding slightly.  “If we could get it off the drawing board and actually build the thing, we would be able to bring up far more fuel than we could ever hope to use.”

              “That’s the point, Xar,” Quesh said.  “We wouldn’t be keeping the fuel we’re bringing up and refining for ourselves, we’d be selling it to the locals.  Or more likely, we’d be looking into some sort of profit sharing arrangement with the locals here.  But still!  The amount of fuel that station could bring up, that would be a
lot
of profit.”

              “What station?” the captain asked, slightly irritated.  “You all keep talking about this mining station, but I haven’t seen any plans.  Nothing.”  He gestured.  “So?  Have any of you ever built anything like this before?  Because I haven’t.”  The three engineers looked at each other for a long moment, as though engaging in some sort of telepathy.  “I didn’t think so.  So, Stella, any bright ideas?”

              “This isn’t a combat situation, Captain,” she replied, sounding a little defensive.  “It isn’t something that must be solved in the next ten minutes or we all die.  It’s something that we can plan, work on and expand on.  We can get the basic blueprint drawn up and then refine it from there.”

              But the captain shook his head.  “Not if we’re going to bring this to the local council.  They’re going to want a finished design, ready to go, if they’re even going to
think
about supporting us.”

              Tamara nodded.  “Based on the rather cool reception we got at the last meeting, I’d think we’d need to have everything all lined up for them to even think about working with us, from designs to logistics, to a cost analysis, schedules and potential hirings.”  But then she pursed her lips.  “But I think I have a few ideas.  Stella, can I borrow that holo projector?”

              The AI smiled.  “Of course, Tamara.”  She winked and blinked out.  Tamara picked up her datapad, pressed her thumb to the port and stared at the display on the device.  Her gaze unfocused for a few moments and then she nodded.  Pressing a button on the datapad, the holo projector activated and an image appeared.

              “Well, how about this?” she asked, setting the pad down. 

              The design was reasonably simple, and they thought it looked very similar to the orbital station at the habitable planet.  There were two sections, one was a disk, similar to one of the smaller hubs from the main orbital station.  The other was also a disk, but this was washer-shaped, with a hole in the center.  The two parts were connected by spun and woven nanofiber cables, four of them, three equidistant from each other around the outer edge of the washer, and one connected to one part of the center hole.  The upper section contained living spaces, the three fusion reactors necessary to run the station, admin, control centers, as well as refineries and storage tanks, which would be held in the outer compartments.  The lower “washer” would be the actual collection system.  Here, giant scoops would suck up huge amounts of gasses and particulates from the gas giant.  Once the collection tanks were full, the upper hub would winch the lower section up into high orbit, out of the atmosphere to transfer everything over to the main refineries aboard the upper station.

              The captain looked over at Tamara after having stared at the image for a few moments, as she explained her ideas.  “And you’re going to tell me now that you’ve never actually made one of these before, aren’t you.”

              Tamara shrugged.  “Well I haven’t,” she said to the others, who were all looking at her now.  “But I did see something like this in the San Celestia system.  It was reasonably simple and efficient.  And,” she went on, “I think that this is something that we can actually do.”

              “What about the nanofiber cables?” the captain asked.  “I’ve never seen anything like them.”

              She waved it away.  “No problem.  It’s basically weaving together nanotubes into giant five-meter wide ropes.  It takes some work and some doing, but we can manage it.  I decided on another one in the center to balance it out.  We’re going to have to bolt and weld the pieces of the station and the washer together, so I don’t want to put a lot of extra stress on the integrity of the washer when it gets pulled up out of the atmosphere.”

              “But I’m seeing a problem here,” Quesh mused.  “Actually two.  The first is, we’re going to need a
lot
of metal for this.  Way more than we’ve been bringing in with our shuttles.  We’re going to need to grab one that is the size of the
Grania Estelle
and carve it up to get the amount of metal alone for what we’re going to need.  And this ship isn’t designed for asteroid mining.  In fact, we’d want a fleet of tugs to either grab one big asteroid or several slightly smaller ones, little ships that have way more engine power than our shuttles.  And then we’re going to need some sort of storage facility, or at least a spot that we can put the metal we harvest to corral it while we get more.  And we
will
need more.”

              Tamara sighed.  “Yeah, a fleet of at least five, more likely ten tugs for this.”

              “We don’t even have one,” Xar pointed out.  “Does the station?”

              “Probably,” the captain replied.  “I haven’t looked.”

              “I have,” Stella put in, appearing on the display on the bulkhead behind where the Parkani was seated.  “They have three.  One is parked in hangar 27, and is owned by a private company, Xiao Salvage Ltd.  They use it for salvaging ships, space junk and rogue asteroids that come too near the planet.  And then there are two more that are just sitting, rusting in docking slips; one on Hub Six and the other on Hub Two.  Currently owned by the station, on sale for scrap prices.”

              “Send me the data on those two, please, Stella,” Tamara asked.  The AI obligingly sent the info to her datapad.  Tamara read it over quickly then nodded.  “Well, they’re both in crappy condition, but that’s no surprise if they’re being sold at these prices.  If you’re up for it, Captain, I say we grab ‘em.  From what I’m seeing it shouldn’t be too hard to get them fixed up.”

              “But in doing so we’re going to delay our own repair schedules,” the captain pointed out.

              But all the engineers were shaking their heads.  “Not necessarily, Captain,” Quesh said.  “If Tamara can up Stella’s capabilities and get a dozen or so maintenance bots working, that would free up engineering teams to work on the tugs.  We could get them torn down in a day or two and with the right parts get them fixed up again in fairly short order.  Say a week at the outside, depending on how bad they are.”

              “What about fuel?” the captain asked.  “The reason we’re working to get this mine built is to refine more helium 3.  If we add two more ships to the roster, I imagine we’re going to go through fuel at a much greater rate, even with four collectors running.”

              “What about a fuel truck?” Quesh put in.  When the others looked at him, he shrugged his upper arms.  “I mean, hell, if we’re in for a credit, in for a diamond.  We’re going to need a way to get the fuel from the mine over to the orbital and the planet anyway.  So if we can get a tanker ship, or convert a freighter to do the job, I think it would be a good investment.”

              The captain couldn’t help himself, he started to laugh.  “So now a tanker ship?  And assuming we can even get something that would work, where are we going to find people to crew all these ships?”

              Quesh shrugged again.  “We’ve been able to find people to crew the
Grania Estelle
, Captain,” the Parkani pointed out.  “We could recruit some people.  And I’m sure that there are people out there that would be willing to work with us.  And if we gut the hyperdrive from a ship to make more room for tankage, they
couldn’t
run off with the ship.”

              “All right, all right,” Vincent said, relenting.  “Priorities.  First, the tugs.  We’re going to need materials and metal for all these endeavors, we’re going to need ships that can lug the rocks out to where we can safely work on them.  Stella, put out feelers for cost, let me know what you come up with.”

              “Yes, Captain,” she replied earnestly.

              “Second, fuel.  We need fuel to get fuel.  So for now, we continue with the arrangement we’ve got going on, use one collector to keep our own fuel tanks well in the green, but we don’t need to keep the tanks topped off all the time.  I’d like to keep a very comfortable safety margin, though,” he said, seeing concerned looks around the table.  “Our tanks go no lower than sixty percent at any time.”  Reassured nods.  “Third: Tamara, get Stella situated with the computer core and with more maintenance bots.  Buy them or build them, whatever’s easier.  I want good quality stuff though,” he said sternly.  “Just because money’s an object doesn’t mean I want to skimp on safety or productivity.  I don’t want to have you or someone else needing to tear down the bots every day for maintenance because you saved fifty credits buying pieces of junk.”

              “No problem, Captain,” she said, feeling excited about the prospect.  Things were moving forward.  No longer were they just fixing the ship to go off wandering in search of a credit again, now they were actually working toward something; working toward a tangible goal.

              “And fourth,” Vincent said, looking around the table.  “I know things have been busy what with repairs and all.  I’m excited that this might work out, that we might actually make a big impact on this station and the people here and more importantly, actually set up a money making operation.  But I want to get this old girl fixed up again.  I’m willing to accept a five percent reduction in overhaul productivity for now to get these other projects up and running.  But no more than that, understood?” he asked to the others.

              There was a chorus of assents.  “One last thing.  Right now we’ve got three replicators running full steam.  Where are we on their maintenance?”

              “I’ve been keeping up with diagnostics and visual inspections, Captain,” Tamara assured him.  “I have no problem tearing one down and rebuilding it, but I’d really prefer not to have to do that unless absolutely necessary.  The class-five is going to need a few swap outs of parts in about a week, but that will only take about four or five hours.  I’m on top of it, Captain,” she repeated.

              “Good,” Vincent said with a nod.  “Very good.  And I want to thank you all and your people for all of their very hard work.  You’ve all been busting your humps for me and for this ship.  Don’t think it hasn’t been noticed or appreciated.”  Smiles broke out around the table, even if Tamara’s was a bit thin-lipped.  “Now, go, get out there and get these things done.”

Chapter 18

              “Doctor, do you have a few minutes?” Tamara asked after she came in to sickbay.

              The Guura looked up from a medical journal he’d been reading.  Since the
Grania Estelle
’s arrival in the system, the medical needs of the ship had been fairly sparse.  Which gave the amphibious doctor the perfect excuse to get in touch with the locals to check out their medical journals and texts.  He hadn’t had time or the opportunity to go over to the orbital and converse with his fellow doctors, but was more than happy to bone up on his field.  It seemed that the medical community here on Seylonique was serious about their work, as evidenced by their sending out of a medical ship to try and see to the health needs of other worlds.

              He set the data pad down.  “Of course, Tamara.  Come in, come in,” he said, waving her to a chair.  She sat.  “How can I help you today?”

              Tamara pursed her lips.  “I know that a few weeks ago you were talking about looking for another medic or sick berth attendant for sickbay here.”

              The Guura nodded.  “Yes, I still am, in fact.  We haven’t really needed anyone else, in recent days, thank the stars.  I’ve really only had to deal with bumps and bruises and a few cuts from you engineers being careless.”  He blatted out a little laugh.

              Tamara smiled.  “Well that’s actually what I wanted to talk with you about.”

              He flicked his small trunk.  “You want to talk with me about your engineers being careless?”

              She gave him a look.  “Nice.  No, I wanted to talk with you about that position you have open.  I have a candidate I think you’d want to interview.”

              He eyed her.  “You found someone?  Here on the station?”

              Tamara nodded.  “I actually found an old friend of mine from back in the old days.  My Navy days.  He’s a lot grayer than I remember, but he’s still got the old spark of life that I remember.”

              The doctor looked impressed.  “He’s a human?”

              Tamara shook her head.  “No, lupusan.  He’s a retired Navy chaplain, who was certified as a medic, though I’m sure that was a number of years ago.”

Turan nodded.  “Well, I would certainly want to interview him.  But as a Republic Navy medic, he’d be perfect for what I’m looking for aboard ship.”  He nodded again.  “Yes, please, I would like to meet him.”

She smiled.  “Excellent.  I’ll call him and let him know.”  She stood up.  “Well, I’ll get out of your hair.”

He took a sheet of flimsi and threw it at her.  “Hair, right.  Get out of here.”

A day later, Turan was sitting in the Union Hall on the station, meeting with the elder lupusan in one of the private conference rooms.  “So I understand you are interested in a position aboard the
Grania Estelle
.”

Konstantin nodded his salt and pepper furred head.  “I am,” he said simply.  He was dressed in a simple robe with wide sleeves, similar to that which Administrator Galina typically wore, though his clothing was far simpler and less adorned, little more than blue linen cloth.  His leather knapsack was over his left shoulder and he hadn’t removed it for this interview, not that Turan was concerned. 

“Talk to me about your medical training,” he said, sitting up straight and folding his flipper hands over one another on the table top.

“Well, I served in the Republic Navy as a chaplain,” Konstantin said.  “Before I got out, I decided I wanted to help my fellow sailors more but wasn’t up for the moral qualms I held on violence.  So I passed my quals and became a corpsman.”  He went on and expanded on his skills, training and experience, including his travels across the stars, plying his trade on various freighters, stations and dirtside towns, getting to know people and helping where he could.  A past that was remarkably similar to that of the Chief Medical officer aboard the
Grania Estelle
.

They continued on the interview, discussing various injuries, ailments and treatments.  It was not so much an interview but a discussion between colleagues and the time just carried on long past the time that Turan had allotted for this.  “Well, we’ve talked for a long time,” he said amiably. 

The lupusan lowered his head deferentially.  “Yes, Doctor, we have.”

“I’m convinced,” Turan replied.  “I would require that you requalify aboard ship,” he warned.  “You would need to go through training and prove to me that you actually can perform medicine.  You won’t be required to do surgery or things of that nature, you understand.”

“I do,” he said.  “And I have to say that is a bit of a relief.”

“You are a corpsman, not a trauma surgeon,” Turan said, amused.  “I would hope that something of that nature wouldn’t be required of you.  So, when can you come aboard ship?”

“When is the next shuttle?  I would need an hour or so to close out my residence, but then I will be ready.”

Turan nodded.  “Excellent.  Make sure your spacer bag has all of your things and remember your mass limit.”

The lupusan smiled.  “I’m former Navy, Doctor.  Ten kilos, I remember.”

The Guura stood.  “Good.  I will see you back at the hangar in, say, three hours?”

Konstantin stood, his hands in his sleeves.  He bowed slightly.  “I will be there, Doctor.”

Of all the people Vincent Eamonn expected or wanted to have aboard his ship to continue his schemes for construction and money making, a lawyer didn’t rank high on his list.  But, there were legal issues and ramifications that had to be taken into account.  But Vincent Eamonn was not about to be pushed around by a bureaucrat in a suit who was used to doing things the way things had always been done.               

“Look,” the captain said to the lawyer who was seated across the wardroom table.  “I appreciate you coming out here to my ship.  I understand the inconvenience for you.”

But Xorik Kay, the attorney in question, a human male who was slightly overweight, but dressed in an impeccable two thousand credit pinstripe suit, waved it away.  “But of course, Captain,” he said biliously.  “I was pleased by your call and was excited to learn more about the freighter captain who was causing such a stir in the establishment.”

Vincent gave a thin smile.  “Well, Mister Kay, I intend to cause much more of a stir.  I intend to make some money and set up shop here.  I intend to use Seylonique as a home base, but I plan to do much more than simply haul cargo.”

The attorney looked slightly confused for just an instant, but then his professional mask settled over his face, which actually gave him the look of someone who was just slightly disappointed.  If Xorik Kay was a good representative of the legal profession in this system, Vincent could understand why lawyers were looked upon with such disdain.  Unfortunately, they were a grim necessity to get anything done in this system.

“Oh, of course,” Kay replied, nodding slightly.  “You are selling fuel to the engineers on the orbital station.”

“Yes, that is the case,” the captain replied.  “But as I said, I’m looking to do much more than that.  I’m looking to expand my business, and get into the mining industry.”

“The mining industry?” Kay asked.

“Yes,” Eamonn said.  “I’m looking to purchase two of the ships that are being sold for scrap here, the tugs because I wish to harvest some of the very big rocks out in the asteroid belt.”

Kay nodded.  “I see.  Well, I don’t envision either of those being a problem.  I can make a few calls, you’ll sign a few permits and you’ll be good to go.”

“Well, Mister Kay, I’ve got agents on the orbital right now, looking to purchase the tugs, so if we can sign the paperwork and permits now, that would be best.”

“Of course, sir.  Let me get that together.”  He opened up his attaché case and pulled out a tablet.  He tapped several commands changing screens, nodding as he did so.  After a minute of typing, he had what he wanted.  “I’m sending the permits to your datapad for you to peruse now.”

“Stella?” he asked. 

The AI appeared above the table, standing up straight, her normal outfit of a standard shipsuit was replaced with a formal business pantsuit, with her hair neatly pulled up in a bun, though her bright red streaks were still evident in her hair.  She was holding a holographic datapad and a stylus, not that she needed either of those things.  “I’ve got it, Captain.  Scanning…”  She appeared to be reading the datapad.  “It appears to be in order, Captain.”

Eamonn nodded.  “Thank you, Stella.”  And she disappeared.

The lawyer’s eyes were nearly bugging out of his head.  “You… you have an… AI?”

Eamonn raised an eyebrow.  “Of course,” he said.  “Don’t you?”  The lawyer didn’t seem to know how to respond to that.  “Well, then, Mister Kay, if you could just make the calls you said you needed to, I have some purchases to make and some rocks to harvest.”

The man frowned slightly, hesitating.

The captain looked at him.  “Mister Kay, when I put your firm on retainer, it was with the understanding that you and your partners were the best in the system in getting through bureaucracy and red tape to get things done.  Now, if I have made a mistake in that, then I will appreciate the refund of the very large retainer that I paid to your firm, minus the fee for this session.”  He was starting to get angry, but didn’t outwardly let much of that show through.

Kay shook his head, as though clearing his own vision.  Apparently the threat to pull a large chunk of money was enough to jolt the lawyer into action.  “No, of course not, Captain, that won’t be necessary.”

“I have agents ready to make these purchases, sir,” Eamonn went on.  “I need to know that I can do so immediately, so if you could please make those calls.”

He nodded.  “Yes, sir.  If you could just sign and thumb those documents I sent to your… adjunct, I’ll get right on that.”

The captain smiled.  He signed and put his thumb to authorize the permits and other documents on his datapad and pressed the button to send.  “There, all set.”

“Very good.  If I could just have access to a communications terminal, Captain, I’ll be happy to get things in order for you.  Shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes.”

“Excellent,” Eamonn said, standing.  “Please, feel free to use the terminal in here,” he said, gesturing to the console located at his traditional seat at the head of the table, built right into the table, in fact.  “I’ll leave you in here, just let Stella know when you’re finished.”

Kay smiled.  “Thank you very much, Captain.  I’m very glad you decided to choose our firm.”

“Yes, I am too.”  With that the Captain nodded to him one more time and exited the wardroom, closing the hatching behind him.  He snorted once it was closed.  “Stella?” he said, keeping his voice low.

“Yes, Captain?” she replied, appearing in the display of the door hatch controls.

“Keep an eye on him and monitor whoever he’s calling.  Make sure there’s no funny business.  Don’t let him know you’re doing it, but notify me immediately if he’s doing anything I should know about.”

She gave him a lazy salute.  “Yes, Captain.  I’m already on it.”

He winked at her and walked down the corridor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

              Ka’Xarian sat at the controls of shuttle two, as the small ship engaged its tractoring beam and locked on to the tug, where it had lay in its docking slip for years.  He checked the readouts on the beam strength and then nodded. 

              “Shuttle two to docking control.  I have good lock on Tug 6591.  Requesting you disengage docking clamps on the tug so I may pull free.”

              A second later, a female voice came over the comm.  “Docking control to Shuttle Two.  Acknowledged.  Releasing docking clamps.  You are to proceed at no faster than five kph until you are five kilometers from the station.  Do not deviate from the flight plan being uploaded to your navigation system.”

              He sighed, looking over to Lorcan, the big engineer who was sitting in the copilot seat.  “Shuttle Two to Docking control.  Understood, maintain five kph until five klicks from the station.  Do not deviate from the flight plan, aye.”  He pressed the control to cut the circuit and leaned back in the seat.  He dialed up the speed of the shuttle and the two vessels eased out of the slip. 

              “We’re clear of the slip,” Lorcan reported a moment later.  “Just hold this course.”

              “Copy,” the zheen replied.  He continued on the same course for several minutes until the sensors indicated they had traveled the required distance.  “Okay, we’re five klicks out.  Docking control, this is shuttle two.  We are five kilometers out from the station and distance is opening.”

              “Roger that, Shuttle Two,” the same female voice.  “Safe flight.”

              “Thanks, Docking control,” Xar cut the connection.  “All right, let’s pick up some speed and get this tug back to the ship.”

              Lorcan looked at the sensor feeds as the zheen banked the shuttle toward where the
Grania Estelle
was holding position.  “Tractor’s holding steady,” he commented.  “Not showing any shear.”