Pursue the Past: Samair in Argos: Book 1 (57 page)

              “Captain, you wanted to see me?”

              He nodded.  “Moxie, good.  Come in.  Have a seat,” he said, pointing to the table.  He perched himself again on the edge of his bunk.  When she was seated, he began.  “Corajen has brought us both here because she wants to discuss something I think is near and dear to both of our hearts.”

              Tamara looked to the security officer with interest but the lupusan only snorted at the introduction.  “I’m concerned about pirates,” she said without preamble.  “We got lucky the last time that there weren’t more of them in the boarding parties and, moreso I think, that they only wanted a few things from the ship.  If they had wanted to keep the ship, I don’t think we would have been able to stop them.”

              Tamara shrugged.  “I think we did all right for ourselves.”

              Corajen fixed her with a look.  “No, Tamara, we didn’t.  We lost a lot of people, the ship took a lot of damage and a great deal of our materiel was stolen.  It wasn’t all right.  We held it together, but that’s about the best that could be said for it.”

              Tamara lowered her gaze, stung.  She was right.  It had been a desperate fight and certainly one she didn’t want to repeat.  But it was a scenario that might happen again.  They had repaired and overhauled a great deal of the ship, almost all of it in fact, but in the end,
Grania Estelle
was a cargo ship, not a combat vessel.  If a serious pirate vessel came after them again, they would need to defend themselves and there was a good chance they would be boarded again.  They had to be prepared for that.

              “Captain, we need to hire on a few more security people and we need to be outfitted with more and better weapons.”

              He nodded.  “I agree.  The engineering teams tell me that there isn’t a whole lot more we can do for the ship itself, but I agree we need more weapons for the crew.  I do not want to be caught so undefended like that again.”  They both looked at Tamara.

              “What?”

              “You’re the one in charge of the replicators,” Corajen prompted.  “What can you get for me?”

              Something inside of her locked up.  Tamara couldn’t really explain it, but she knew that turning this ship into a weapons factory was a step on a very slippery slope.  A slope that led down, down so far she couldn’t see the bottom.  And that terrified her.

              But Corajen saw it.  “Oh, here we go.  The former Navy girl is going to spout some dogma now about how she can’t use the replicators to make guns.  You’re no peacenik.  And you’ve used them to arm the ship and make cannons for your starfighter.  So what is the hang up with making weapons for my security people?”  Tamara found she was speechless.  Both of them were glaring at her now, accusations in Corajen’s eyes.  “Are you kidding me?  You have nothing to say?”

              “I can’t do that…” she began.

              But the security chief cut her off.  “No, no, no.  We need these weapons, Tamara.  I know you can make them.  Do not try and feed me a line about how it’s against your Republic moral code.  You’ve done it before.”

              Tamara sighed.  “Yes, the replicators can create weapons, specifically small arms for our security troopers.  But you’re right.  My problem with this is you
are
all civilians.”

              “This is ridiculous,” Corajen snarled.  She had her hands on the table and she flexed her fingers, her claws digging furrows into the surface leaving curly cues of metal behind.  “So?  What does it matter?  We’re civilians.  You’re not Navy anymore.  You’re a member of the ship’s company, of which
Grania Estelle
is a civilian vessel.  There is no argument that you could make that changes any of that.”

              “You’re absolutely right, Corajen.  This is a civilian vessel.  I am a member of the ship’s crew.  But you’re wrong about one thing.  I
am
still a member of the Republic Navy.”

              “What?” the Captain exclaimed.  “When did this happen?”

              “I never stopped, Captain,” she replied.

              Corajen blinked, her ears held back to her skull.  This obviously had thrown her for a loop.  “What the hell is this?  Captain?”  She looked over at the man, plaintively.

              “I don’t know what to tell you, Cora,” he told her. 

              “The replicators we have aboard the ship are Republic military class three industrial replicators.  In order for me to have command access to them, I need my implants and I need to have the proper codes for the constructor nanites to activate.  In order for the replicator to recognize my codes, it has to recognize my rank, which is imbedded in the firmware.  I have to maintain my rank in the Republic Navy for that to happen.”

              But Corajen was shaking her head.  “You are so full of it, Tamara.  Other than that one small encounter we had with that Republic corvette back at Instow, you’ve had no other contact with the Republic military.  Your implants had no trouble accessing the replicators before that or since.  So all this smoke screen you’re throwing out here is just that.  Your mouth is moving, but I’m just hearing excuses as to why you won’t do this.”  She glared at the woman, anger radiating from her.  “What?  You think you can shut me up?”  She started to rise from the chair, menace oozing from every pore.  She towered over Tamara, her hands at chest level, claws extended. 

              “Easy, Corajen,” the Captain ordered, his voice hard.  “No one is fighting anyone.”

              Tamara, however, hadn’t reacted.  Picking up her datapad, she yawned and looked away from the lupusan, as though bored.  She pulled up a reactor status feed and studied it for a moment.

              Corajen remained on her feet and then slammed her palms on the table.  “Don’t you ignore me!” she roared.

              Tamara pressed a control on the datapad, switching off the screen, and then slowly looked over to the raging security chief.  “You can’t force me to do anything, Corajen,” she replied, standing up.  Undaunted, she moved right up and put her face right in front of the lupusan’s muzzle.  “Oh, there’s no question that you could rip me to shreds, but that won’t get you what you want.  Even if the Captain let you, I’m dead and you still don’t have the codes to the replicators.  And you’re right back here, only now you can’t make anything off the restricted list.”  She stood there, holding Corajen’s gaze without any sign of fear.

              The truth was she wasn’t as icy calm as she appeared.  There was a legitimate concern that the wolfen would lose control and tear her throat out.  The primal, lizard part of Tamara’s brain was closing in on full blown panic mode; her conscious mind was barely maintaining control.  She knew her heart rate was rapidly accelerating and her pupils were dilating and her breathing was threatening to go out of control, but years of experience in this sort of situation allowed her to maintain a visage of calm determination. 

              “Corajen, stand down,” the Captain said, sounding far away.

              But the two women didn’t hear him.  “You don’t frighten me, Corajen.  You’re the big bad bitch, but there’s no prey here.”

              Corajen let out a low growl.  “Yes there is,” she said.  Her mouth curled, revealing her teeth and her fangs.  “You are just covered in stinky fear.  The stench of your fear is so strong it’s covering everything else.”  She huffed out a long breath. 

              “I’m not backing down, Corajen,” Tamara told her.  “Kill me if you have to, but it won’t get you what you want.”

              “You are not in command here,” the lupusan hissed.

              Tamara smiled, making sure she showed teeth.  Corajen’s eyes widened even further.  “Neither are you,” she whispered, knowing her life hung in the balance.  Then, she backed away, deliberately turned her back on the predator and walked to the hatch to leave.

              She could hear the Captain give a small whistle as she pulled open the hatch and walked out, leaving it open.  “Girl’s got some
serious
moxie.”

              “She’s lucky you were in the room,” Tamara heard Corajen say as she rounded the corner in the corridor. 

              Tamara walked into the nearest lounge, one deck down, and collapsed into a chair, her breath coming in shuddering gasps.  She hadn’t faced down someone as powerful and dangerous as the security chief in a very long time.  She was very glad she hadn’t lost her cool, but she needed to show Corajen she wasn’t afraid.  Tamara had no idea if she’d succeeded.

              Picking up her datapad, she sent a quick message to the Captain, apologizing for walking out in the middle of the meeting.  She did feel bad about that because she had no desire to disrespect the man in his own stateroom, but that meeting wasn’t about him. 

              “Stella?  Are you there?” she called out to the empty room.

              The AI appeared on Tamara’s HUD.  The young woman looked a bit nervous, as evidenced by her inability to look Tamara in the eye, which was odd, considering her image was actually being projected onto Tamara’s eyes. 

              “I’m not going to yell at you, Stella,” Tamara soothed.  “I’m sorry I got so upset before.  I know you were just trying to help.”

              “Are you going to try and work through your issues with Lieutenant Islington?”

              Tamara chuckled.  “I will… try, Stella.”

              The AI sighed, looking up at her.  “I suppose that’s the best I can hope for.”  Then she frowned.  “Why wouldn’t you give Corajen what she was asking for?  You know you can program the replicators to produce them.”

              “Of course I can.  That’s not the point.  Yes, I’ve armed the ship and I’m going to be making more, both for the freighter and for my fighter, but personal arms are something different.”

              “Why is it different?” Stella asked, genuinely interested.  In her mind, she didn’t see a difference, but clearly Tamara did.

              “Because arming the ship is simply good business,” she said.  “If we get attacked again, I’ll get a few pulsers and other things.  But I don’t want this ship to turn into a gunrunner.  Because we will.  If I make them once, then Taja or the Captain will start selling them to people.  And while yes the buyers could find weapons elsewhere, I don’t want them getting milspec weapons from us.  Before we know what’s happening, we’ll be running containers full of guns between systems.  I think having weapons at our command
is
a good idea, but for defense.  We’re not equipping an army, we’re trying to run freight.”

              Stella nodded in agreement.  “That sounds reasonable, but you know both Corajen and the Captain are not going to accept that argument.  They’re going to want more weapons.”

              “Like I told the security chief, they can’t force me to do anything.  And I’m
sure
there are people we can talk to on Yullankla to get guns and ammo.  I’ll even go down myself and see what we can find.”

              “Do you think they will accept that?” Stella asked dubiously.

              Tamara shrugged.  “They’ll have to.  I’m not going to use the replicators to make guns unless it’s a dire emergency.”

              “Well, that was interesting,” the Captain said a moment after Tamara had left the stateroom.               

              “I’m going to kill her,” Corajen said, stalking around the room.

              “Oh, sit down.  You’re not going to hurt her,” he told her.  “We need her.”

              The lupusan glared at him.  “You like her too much, I think.”

              He shrugged.  “She was the driving force behind fixing up my ship, Cora.  Since she arrived, things have started to look up.  Taja tells me we should make a record profit on this run.”

              She grumped, plopping back down onto the chair, crossing her arms over her chest. 

              The Captain grinned at her.  “Besides, admit it.  You’re impressed she stood up to you.”

              Corajen gave him a sly smile, though it was more predatory than happy.  “I think she earned some points, yes.”

Chapter 19

              The arrival at Yullankla was uneventful; there was no pirate activity when
Grania Estelle
dropped out of hyperspace.  They swung by the local Jovian and dropped off the helium 3 collector before continuing on into the system to the local inhabited world.  The planet hosted some light industry to support the agricultural endeavors.  There were a few small cities, where a fair amount of small businesses had sprouted.  The planet hosted a population of over five million, a mix of humans and other species, living in a degree of harmony.  Crime wasn’t
too
high, but it was clear that everyone there was ready and able to defend themselves.

              When they arrived in orbit, the locals were immediately calling.  “How is it that all these planets have radios but no shuttles or ships?” Tamara asked, standing at the back of the bridge.

              “Simple,” Serinda replied.  “The Captain sold radios to a few planets.  We’ve been here before you know.”

              Tamara smirked.  “Nice.  I’m actually impressed with you, Captain.”

              He shrugged, not turning to face her.  “Makes it easier for trade.  And we made a few credits.”

              “How many did you sell?”

              “Here?  Four I think,” he replied.  “There were three businesses we normally work with, so I sold each of them one and then one to the government.  I think that they started working out how to build more just as we were leaving.  I would be surprised if they haven’t copied the design already, and started manufacturing more.”  He grimaced.  “I’d also be surprised if they didn’t try to sell us one before we leave.”

              “I think it might be worth buying,” Tamara mused.  “To see what sorts of designs and innovations they’ve come up with.”

              “We have replicators, why should we care?” Serinda asked.

              “Because if they’re good, we might be interested in it.”

              “Better than the replicators?” the communications officer asked, clearly disbelieving.

              “The hint is in the name, Serinda,” Tamara explained.  “They only make copies of things in their databases.  Right now, the items in there are very good, but what if someone creates something on their own that’s better?  There’s a scan feature in the replicator that allows you to upload new designs.  So, if this radio they built is better, or has better features than the one in the constructor database, we can get the specs for it.”

              The Captain actually turned around to look at her.  “Seriously?”

              She smiled.  “I wouldn’t lie about something like that, Captain.  It’s what we used to do in the old days.  In fact, it’s what we should do now.  If we can get something better, I say go for it.”

              “I’m not paying more for something
I
sold them the last time we were here.”

              “We don’t need more than one, Captain.  Don’t let them gouge you, but I think we can manage the credits it would take to buy one.”

              He twisted his mouth.  “I’ll think about it.”

              The locals were overjoyed with
Grania Estelle’s
arrival.  Or more specifically, the arrival of the cargoes from her holds.  The three factories each received a delivery of raw materials as well as a number of parts, for a hefty commission.  They also commissioned
Grania Estelle
to build an annex on the Vladen facility.  Vladen built farm equipment, such as tractors, combines, even smaller devices like automated milking machines for cattle.  It took a few days of tweaking with the replicators until they were able to get the machines the locals wanted.  But they were happy to receive them and strangely eager to hand over their money.

              The addition of the third shuttle made unloading half again as quick.  Taja stationed half of her cargo loaders on the ship and the other on the ground, to make loading and unloading that much faster.  It also freed up room in the shuttles for more cargo as well.  There was only so much that could be done for some of the very large containers, however, and in some cases they needed to bring along some heavy hoists to get them out from the shuttles’ cargo bays.  The locals provided a dozen heavy duty ground cars to carry the containers to their destination.  But those fees were paid by the receivers, not from Eamonn’s purse, so they were happy. 

              With the delivery came the credits, more than any of them had seen on any deliveries the
Grania Estelle
had made since the Captain had taken command.  No one blamed him, they knew how tough times had been, the state of disrepair of the ship and with fewer cargo bays available, that much less tonnage they could fill.  The crew shares this time around were in excess of forty times higher than the ship had ever before seen.               

              “Crew morale is up,” Stella observed, speaking through Tamara’s implants as the woman walked down the corridor heading to the boat bay. 

              “I’d say so,” Tamara replied, watching three of the cargo crewmen rush by.  They were all talking excitedly about hitting some of the local entertainment spots.  Bars for the most part, it seemed, though one of them mentioned that there was a theater showing classic movies from the Federation.  No one had any ideas what Federation movies were like, but they were excited to go see.  Tamara had to admit, she was interested in that as well.  Relations between the Republic and the Federation had been deteriorating all throughout her lifetime leading up to the war that really had started right at the end of her time before her trip in the escape pod.  Most people in the Republic had little idea of what Federation culture was, though there of course would be
some
similarities.

              Both great star nations were space-faring cultures, of course, which meant that both sides had starships of all shapes and sizes, warships for their navies, space stations, asteroid and gas giant mining.  But that was really where the similarities ended.  Each side had their own way of doing things, even in government.  The Republic was run by the Senate, whose senators represented their various worlds, whereas the Federation was run by a cabal of high governors, who then sent orders back to regional governors who presided over their constituent worlds.  In practice, the rulers of the planets of both nations tended to their own affairs, though the main government would occasionally stick their collective heads in to collect taxes and lay down laws, as well protect the spacelanes with their navies.

              But the day to day?  Few people knew anything about that, and a movie made by someone in the Federation?  In the very least it would be an interesting perspective.

              “I think I’m going to try and see that,” Tamara said aloud.

              “What?” Stella asked. 

              “The Federation movie those crewmen were talking about,” she explained.

              Stella appeared in Tamara’s HUD.  “Really?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.  “I still don’t understand organics’ methods of entertainment, even after the few months that I’ve been active.” 

              Tamara shrugged.  “You’ve only been active for a few months,” she soothed.  “And to be fair, your pool of available study subjects has really only been the crew of this ship and the occasional visitor.  A good start, yes, but far from a large sample size.”

              “Speaking of sample size,” Stella said, changing the subject slightly.  “Do you think that Chief Corajen will hire on more security people?”

              “She said she was going to.  Probably another ten or so.  We’re starting to fill out the crew nicely.”

              “If she does bring in ten more, we’ll be at one hundred fifteen,” Stella commented.  “A full crew complement is one hundred twenty five.”

              She shrugged again.  “I’m sure the Captain will think on it.”  She saw the chronometer on the bottom corner of her HUD.  “Oh, damn.  I’ve got to get to the boat bay or I’m going to miss my ride.”

              “You’re really going to get in the shuttle with her?” Stella asked, shocked.  “After she threatened to kill you?”

              Tamara sighed as she picked up the pace.  “And I challenged her to do so and then gambled she wouldn’t.”

              “And what’s to stop her from killing you in the shuttle?” Stella demanded.

              “Hopefully, she will,” she replied.  “But a smart woman doesn’t rely on other people doing the right thing.”  She smiled and muttered sub-vocally, “I brought a few tricks and nonsense along.  Text only please.  I don’t want her to hear you, even directly into my audio implants.”

              Stella nodded.  [Understood,] came the message on the bottom corner of her HUD.  [What sorts of tricks?]

              “Well…” she started, but stopped as she entered the boat bay.  “You’ll have to watch.”  Corajen and Taja were already there, but Tamara was only a few steps behind them.  Corajen was dressed in a red leather kilt with a matching red leather vest with black piping.  She didn’t normally wear a shipsuit, in fact, a kilt and a vest were her usual garb, though she would wear the normal gray colors of the
Grania Estelle
, as well as a shoulder holster with a stun pistol on one side and a 10 mm pulser on the other.  Of course, no lupusan was ever truly unarmed, but sometimes showing a weapon was more effective than simply looking as vicious and powerful as Corajen.

              Taja, by contrast, looked like a predator of another sort.  Whereas Corajen was all malice and destruction, the cargo specialist exuded sex appeal.  She was dressed in a yellow skirt with a sleeveless purple top showing plenty of cleavage, and knee high leather boots.  Her dark skin was offset by a pair of silver bracelets and a thin silver necklace.  Her dark hair was done up in a mass of curls on top of her head, her makeup accentuating her face in a way that made it look as though she wasn’t wearing any.  The slow eye blink she gave as Tamara approached made the engineer gasp. 

              “Damn,” Tamara said with a smile.  “I feel really underdressed.”  Looking down at her own outfit, a simple blue blouse over a pair of jeans and a pair of boots, she felt positively drab by comparison.  She was being careful, however, as a tiny holdout pistol was secured in a holster on her forearm.

              “You are,” the smaller woman replied, grinning back, though it faded quickly and she gave Tamara a critical eye.  “We might have to stop somewhere and remedy that.”

              Corajen also was inspecting her, as though she was a rather dim student who had showed up late to class.  “Yes, it’ll do for where we’re going, but afterward, it simply will not.”

              Tamara felt one of her eyebrows shooting up.  “Where exactly are we going afterward?”

              Taja’s smile was like the sun coming up.  “A girl’s night.  I haven’t been off the ship except for business since Folston.  And I know both of
you
haven’t been off since Instow.  So,” she said imperiously, raising her nose and sliding her eyelids down, “I have decided that we three are going out.  Cora, I’m afraid you’ll have to either leave your guns on the shuttle, or find somewhere to hide them.”

              But the lupusan shook her head.  “After.  Once we’ve secured the things we’re looking for,
then
I’ll put them up.”

              Taja rolled her eyes.  “All right.  Well, let’s go.”

              “Wait, you want to go gun shopping looking like that?” Corajen asked.

              She smiled, glancing down at herself.  “I think I look good.”

              “You do,” Tamara agreed.  “But isn’t it a bit… um… distracting?”

              The small woman laughed.  “Do I distract you, Commander Samair?”

              Now it was Tamara’s turn to laugh.  “Not at all, Specialist.  But I think the man behind the counter might be more interested in you than in dealing in guns.”

              “Good,” she replied.  “Maybe it’ll make the haggling a bit easier.”

              “He might get the wrong impression,” Corajen pointed out.  “I don’t think you want to put forth the impression that you’re going to screw his brains out over a few crates of guns.”

              “I
plan
on screwing him over a few crates of guns,” Taja said with a smile.  “Just not the kind of screwing he’s looking for.”  They all chuckled and boarded the shuttle.

              From the landing pad, they took a ground car through the city, heading to the place where Taja had learned one could buy weapons.  When they reached the landing platform, they had about three hours until sundown which meant they had an excellent view of the city itself as they drove through.  They had rented the car, which was actually a four-seater with a truck bed in the back.  Corajen was driving, with Taja riding shotgun and Tamara in the backseat.  They were driving past various shops and businesses, all of which looked as though they had seen better days.  There was a degree of decay and neglect, though seeing the number of people in the streets and sidewalks belied the idea that no one was around.  Tamara watched as they drove by, seeing people looking at them as they passed.