Pursue the Past: Samair in Argos: Book 1 (54 page)

              “You don’t look good, Tamara,” Stella said.  There was no holo projector in the bathroom; her image appeared on Tamara’s HUD.

              “I know,” she whispered.  Her throat felt like she had gargled with gravel mixed with acid.

              “What are you going to do?”

              “Do you have any suggestions?” she asked, leaning on the sink with both hands and letting her head droop, relaxing her neck.

              “Talk to someone.”

              “I’m talking to you.”

              “Someone who can help,” the AI chided.

              “Like who?  They can’t help.”  She took in another deep lungful of air and then stood up straight. 

              “What about Turan?  Or Cookie?”

              Tamara snorted.  “I’ll be all right,” she said, stripping off her clothes and getting into the shower.  “I appreciate you looking out for me.  I’ll be fine.”

              The AI didn’t look convinced, but she nodded and then disappeared from the HUD.

              “Doctor?  Do you have a few minutes?”

              Turan looked up from his display, where he was reading up on lupusan physiology.  It wasn’t that he didn’t have a familiarity with the wolfen species, but it never hurt to brush up.  At this time, Corajen and one other member of her security team, another female by the name of Saiphirelle, were the only members of the crew of the lupusan species.  They were a fascinating people, even just from a medical perspective and as a good doctor, he was making sure to brush up in case an emergency every came up.

              “Stella,” he said with a smile, seeing the holo projection.  “Of course.”  He deactivated the display, making sure to save his place.  “What’s on your mind?”

              The AI looked distinctly human at that point, to Turan’s trained eye.  Tamara had done an amazing job with her programming.  It was as though the AI was actually uncomfortable with this conversation.  “It’s Tamara.”

              The Guura sighed, rubbing one forearm with the opposite hand.  “Yes, Tamara Samair.”

              The AI raised one holographic eyebrow.  “Do you know what I’m going to say?”

              “Why don’t you say it first, and then we’ll go from there?”

              Stella sighed.  “She’s a wreck.  She isn’t sleeping.  I’ve been monitoring her vitals on her implants and it’s clear she’s under extreme stress.  She’s been having serious nightmares just about every time she goes to sleep.”

              Turan nodded.  “Yes, it is like I thought.  I’ve been noticing the signs as well.  She came in to talk with me twice before and I’ve tried to get her to open up, but she only tells me that she keeps reliving when that officer stuffed her into the escape pod and then launched her into space.  Tamara refuses to go into details and she never said anything more than that.”

              The AI hesitated.  He angled his head slightly in an inquisitive gesture.  “What is it?”

              Stella grimaced.  “I feel like this is a severe breach of her privacy, but I’m really worried about her.  I have recordings of her dreams.”

              The Guura started in surprise.  “How?”

              Stella took a deep breath.  It was an amazing facsimile, seeing as how as an AI she didn’t need to breathe.  “I’m probably breaking some sort of Republic Navy confidentiality, but I have to tell you.  Her implants are linked to the visual cortex of her brain as well as her optic nerves in her eyes.  With a… slight software patch on her implants, I was able to… well for want of a better term, hack her dreams.”

              The Guura took a few slow breaths.  “That is incredible.  I’m sure there are techs who would
kill
to see that kind of programming breakthrough!  Ka’Xarian would give one of his antennae to see that.”

              “You can’t tell anyone,” Stella said hurriedly.  “First of all, Tamara would decompile me if she found out I told you.  And second, as I said, I’m not really allowed to be discussing her implants.”

              The doctor nodded.  “Well, that is may be, but that conversation is for another day.  You, Tamara and I are going to sit down one of these days and discuss that little piece of technology.  It seems like a great boon to have them.  But you’re right, it’s not our decision to discuss them.  Not now, anyway.  All right, you said you had a recording of her dreams?”

              She nodded.  “Yes.  You need to see them.  Maybe it will help you treat her.”

              He held up one hand.  “Stella, you need to understand.  I’m a physician, a healer and I want to help her.  But if you show me this and you and I confront her, she might not take it well.”

              “That’s ridiculous!” she sputtered.  “She’s my creator!  I love her!  I only want to help her.”

              “We all know that,” he explained patiently.  “And she knows that.  But she might not see it as an act of a concerned friend trying to help.  She might see it as a betrayal of her privacy and her trust.”  His gills flared with anxiety.  “It might cause her to back away from all of us.  You need to prepare yourself for that.”

              Stella stood there looking at him, her face showing that she was as lost as a little girl.  “Why would she do that?  Why wouldn’t she want to let us fix her?”

              He chuckled gently.  “It isn’t always that simple, Stella.  I’m sure she hates having these dreams and the stress is negatively affecting her health.  In fact, I know it is.  But she might not react properly to having her innermost secrets laid bare, even just to me.  She won’t necessarily be as rational and logical as she should be.”

              Stella mulled this over for a second, which was an eternity to an AI.  “I can’t say I understand this.  If a part of her isn’t functioning properly, she should want to fix it.  I’m going to show you the recording.”

              Turan nodded.  “All right.  Let’s go back into the surgery.  I want to watch this in privacy.”

              Stella disappeared as Turan stood and walked to the sickbay’s surgical theater.  He sat down on a stool next to the surgical table.  “All right, Stella.  Start the show before I lose my nerve.”

              “All right, Doctor,” she replied, her voice coming over the PA.  The holo projector activated and the recording began. 

              Once it was over, Turan found himself huffing his breath in and out.  That was what Tamara was going through every night.  It was horrible.  He suspected that
he
would have trouble sleeping tonight, perhaps for several days.  So that was the human who had done this to her.  As a doctor, he knew that humans sometimes displayed their worst qualities, which was one of the reasons he had steady employment.  But he was filled with such malice.  That man was truly evil; it was fun for him.  Stella showed him several dreams, all similar, but the endings were usually different. 

              In one of them, the man fired into the pod and disabled it, launching her out into the void where she suffocated.  In another, he fired into the pod, causing a breach so when it launched, Tamara was blown out into space.  In a third dream, he simply shot her dead.  There were others, but the common thread in all of them was that this man, this officer, made sure that Tamara died each time.  Turan knew that Tamara was suffering because of these dreams, this focal point of fear.

              “Can you help her, Doctor?” Stella’s voice asked.  She sounded like a scared child speaking about her wounded mother.  In a way, that’s exactly what she was.

              The Guura sat for a long moment, trying to make sense out of all the madness.  “I don’t know if I can cure her, Stella,” he said honestly.  “But I will do whatever I can for her.”

Chapter 18

             
As the two ships reached the hyper limit, there was still no response from either of the other two freighters.  Vincent Eamonn, seated on his command seat on the bridge, sighed inwardly.  He had really hoped the other two captains would come to their senses.  He hadn’t expected a complete change of heart, which one or both of them would call out to him in desperation, pleading with him to wait for them.  He’d hoped for just a conversation, an insult, anything.  But they had remained completely silent to him.  His crew had broken the ice for their crews, but apparently it hadn’t been enough to get through to the captains.  He might have been able to convince them, maybe even only one of them, to join with him, hell, even just to make friends with them.  He could establish a friend and a contact.  But that hope would be gone as soon as
Grania Estelle
and
Kara
jumped.  Which was only moments away.

              “Thirty seconds to jump,” George reported.

              “
Kara
reports thirty seconds.”

              “Make sure they remember to drop out thirty seconds before the hyper limit at Yullankla,” he said to Serinda as a reminder.

              She rolled her eyes.  This was the third time he had reminded her.  “Yes, Captain.  I’ve sent the reminder.”

              “Good.”  He thought for another moment.  “All right, cut accel to zero, flip us one-eighty degrees, full scan back in our wake, see if we’ve got anything interesting going on in the system.”

              The pilot acknowledged and executed the helm order.  The ship spun around so it was facing back toward the planet, but its momentum kept it moving in the same direction toward the hyper limit. 

              “Incoming message from
Kara
,” Serinda reported.  “They want to know what we’re doing.”

              “Let them know what we’re doing, tell them to continue on course.  We’ll both jump at the same time, side by side.”

              “Yes, Captain.”

              “Anything, George?”

              Before the ops officer could reply, Stella appeared on the Captain’s display.  “Captain,
Ocarina
has broken orbit and they’re accelerating toward the hyper limit.  They’re on an intercept course.”

              He grimaced.  “Well they’re certainly not going to catch us before we jump.  Are they hailing?”

              “No, Captain.”

              “Serinda, send them another message.  We’ll meet them in Yullankla.  Safe journey.  Helm, flip us again back to our original course and Serinda, signal the
Kara
.  Once we’re back in the right direction, we’ll jump.”

              “Crossing the hyper limit now, Captain,” George reported.

              “Thank you, George.”  The Captain watched his display, showing their position and their orientation relative to
Kara
and the hyper limit.  Once the
Grania Estelle
was back in position, the two ships jumped to hyperspace.

              “And we have real space reversion,” the helmsman reported.

              Commander Harth rubbed his jaw with one hand.  “Report.”

              “Scopes are clear, sir,” the sensor officer reported.  “No ships are in the system.”

              “Anything of interesting in the system?”

              “There’s something going on at the planet,” the man replied.  “A lot of shuttle activity around Folston’s inhabited planet.  And there’s some sort of structure in orbit.”

              “A space station?” Harth asked.

              “Can’t tell from this distance, Skipper.  But it sure looks like one, or at least the beginnings of one.”

              “Where did the shuttles come from?” Harth mused.  “From what Sykora said in his report, Folston was an agricultural world as of the last time he passed through here.  Odd.”

              “Perhaps the Folstons purchased them from someone?” the sensor officer proposed.

              “Four shuttles?” the captain replied.  “That’s an expensive purchase.  And that station wouldn’t be cheap either.”  Another mystery.  “A lot of things are going on out here in the Cluster that aren’t adding up.  First our mystery ship, then what’s going on here.  Curious.  Maintain course.”

              As they grew closer to the planet,
Legacy
’s sensors were able to discern more about the activity going on in Folston’s orbit.  As noticed before, there were four shuttles moving up to the unfinished structure in orbit.  Right now, the structure was little more than a loose framework of trusses with a pair of inflatable habitat structures attached.  The shuttles were ferrying materials and machined components up from the planet and were being assembled by EVA suited welders.

              This was maddening.  “Where did all this industry come from?” Harth demanded, looking over his displays.  “There is no way that this could have sprung up in six months.”

              “I’m at a loss to explain this, Captain,” Lieutenant Vedig at operations said helplessly.  “If the freighter we’re after left Instow four months ago, and left here two months ago, I suppose it’s possible that
some
of what we’re seeing could have been dropped off by them.  But based on
Fury’s
sensor scans,
Grania Estelle
was pretty shot up when they departed Instow.  I don’t know how it would be possible for them to contribute to this industrial… explosion and not still be here.”

              “Could we have just missed them?” Harth asked, curious.  “Do you think they might have left just before we arrived?”

              Vedig shrugged.  “I suppose it’s possible, sir.  Interviews with the locals would net us some answers.”

              Harth nodded.  “XO, have Lieutenant Phillips and Chief Grey get their teams together.  I want each of them to get down to the planet and talk with the locals.  I’ll be contacting people from up here.”  Phillips and Gray were widely considered to the people who could connect with local populations on the various planets
Legacy
visited.  They were members of Republic Military Intelligence and were trained to gather up all the information and data needed to provide a clearer picture of the land and its people.

              They made an interesting duo.  Lieutenant Sophia Phillips was a powerful, confident woman, tall for her gender.  She was attractive with her dark hair, classic beauty and liquid brown eyes.  She had been trained to use any weapon in her arsenal.  People liked to talk, and with her honeyed words, light touches and a quick wit she had a knack for getting people to open up.

              Antares Grey on the other hand, was a master manipulator.  He was highly skilled at grilling people for details, beating confessions about of people and wasn’t above using drugs or… morally questionable tactics to get information.  If Phillips was the carrot, he most certainly was the stick.  And he looked the part.  He was a burly human with a pugnacious face and malicious eyes, shorter than his lieutenant, but with great presence.  He eyes commanded respect and deference, so much so that new recruits and crew to the
Legacy
had a tendency to quake a bit as he passed.  No junior officer was stupid enough to try and give
him
orders.  He took orders from just two people, the Captain and Lieutenant Phillips.  Everyone else officers and enlisted (if they were smart) gave politely worded suggestions.  Those who didn’t tended to regret it.

              They would be taking a shuttle down to the planet and bringing a pair of assistants with them, though they really were only there to keep an eye on them both, for Commander Harth’s sake more than anything.  Neither of them really needed any help and both were more than capable of taking care of themselves.

              “Captain, we’re getting a hail from the surface,” the communications officer spoke up. 

              “Put them on.”

              “Audio only, sir,” the comm officer replied.  “You’re on.”

              “This is Commander Harth of the cruiser
Legacy
, to whom am I speaking?”

              “My name is Raidon Djinn, I’m in charge of the station.  Well, I will be once the construction is far enough along.”  The man sighed.  “But this is such an exciting time for my people.  A time of industry and construction!”

              “So I see,” Harth replied.  “But from what I understand, as little as six months ago, this planet was an agricultural world, little more.  Not that there’s anything wrong with agro worlds, everyone needs to eat.”

              “I agree and of course the growing and the cattle production is going to continue.  As you say, everyone needs to eat and they’re still one of our most important trade industries.  But all this?  This is just… incredible.”

              “I’ll say.  If you don’t mind my asking, how did this all happen?”  Harth set his elbows on the armrests and steepled his fingers.

              “Oh, we had some help from a few offworlders,” the man replied offhandedly.  “They jump started everything, but really, it was our own willingness to get down and get to work that made this happen.”

              So, there had been offworld assistance.  That really didn’t help much.  “I see.  Well, my ship will be here for a few days, I hope it will be acceptable to have some of my people come down for shore leave?”

              “Of course!  So long as they behave themselves,” the man said, quickly backpedalling.

              “I assure you, they will, Mister Djinn.”  He cut the connection.  “All right, bring us into parking orbit.  Once the shuttles are ready, go ahead and launch,” he ordered.  “I want it fully understood, anyone who gets drunk or starts fighting with the locals without provocation is going to regret it.  I don’t intend to be here very long, but I realize everyone could use a break.  XO, you can announce liberty.”

              As the XO’s voice boomed throughout the ship, “Now hear this: first section has the watch, now liberty, liberty, liberty,” Harth leaned back in his seat.  This made no sense.  Oh, sure, there were freighter crews that would land on planets like Folston all the time.  Shipping was down in the Cluster since the war with the Federation and the Republic’s subsequent retreat from this area of space, but it wasn’t dead.  There were a handful of worlds that had managed to thrive, despite the pirates and other deterrents.  Folston was a nice little farming world that was producing enough to export to other worlds on the occasional cargo ship that might come through every few months, it had never boasted this kind of high tech industry. 

              But that was really a problem for another day and another officer.  His job was to track down the
Grania Estelle
and the elusive Commander Samair.  Perhaps she had something to do with the industrial revolution, perhaps not.  Phillips and Grey would determine what was going on, the XO would see about getting a few extra stores, and then
Legacy
would be off, chasing down their prey.

              Antares Grey walked into the pub nearest to the landing field, one that was frequented by the crews of the shuttles that were going up to the station.  The workers were also coming to and from the three factories set up within five kilometers from here, so the place was jumping.  It was a large establishment made from a converted warehouse.  There was a very large and somewhat winding bar that made a rather amorphously shaped semi-circle against the far wall.  Tables, chairs and even lone stools dotted all over.  A second level was built that went around the periphery of the building, leaving the upper level patrons able to look down at the bar and the melee below.  Servers brought heavily laden trays of drinks and food out to the patrons who were piled three-deep to the bar.  Music blared from a dozen speakers all around the room, which was coming from the small stage on the left side of the building, where a five-player band was belting out some local tunes.

              He didn’t much care for the music, but then, he wasn’t here to really relax and take in the scenery.  He was here on business, but then, that was a type of relaxation for him.  Besides, a pub was a place for information.  If you knew what you were doing, you could get just as much information here from the workers as you could by breaking into a bunker full of top-secret files. 

              He pushed his way through the crowd, making his way up to the bar, where he bellied up.  Flagging down a bartender, he got himself a flagon of the local tipple and another of beer.  He turned and fought his way over to a crowded table.  The men and women seated there didn’t look up as he approached.  There were so many people in this pub that those at the tables simply got inured to random passersby.

              “Howdy folks!” Grey said amiably, a huge smile splitting his face.  “What a night it is out there!”

              The six people at the table looked up at his announcement.  They were all human, four men and two women, dressed in coveralls bearing the insignia of Hailorn Factory, which had its premises less than a hundred yards from the pub.  None of them looked terribly happy to see him interrupting.