Pursue the Past: Samair in Argos: Book 1 (60 page)

              “Yes, I do.  I’ll make sure he looks them all over.  I will speak with the Governor about this and again, I appreciate you doing your job bringing them back.”

              The man nodded.  “Then I formally present you with these prisoners, Captain.  Per our agreement, I ask that you remove them from the planet’s surface immediately.”

              “That will not be a problem, Officer,” Eamonn replied.  He nodded to Saiphirelle, who was trying mightily to hide her smile at the fate of the prisoners.  The black-furred lupusan stepped forward and, with the rest of the team behind them, ushered the prisoners aboard the shuttle.  The battered crewmembers didn’t even answer, though one glared at the lupusan with what was certainly murder in her eyes at Saiphirelle’s mirth at their situation.  They all trudged up the ramp.  One looked as though she was going to speak, but one look from the Captain, who was following them up the ramp, silenced her.

              Thirty silent minutes later and the shuttle had landed safely in the boat bay.  The prisoners looked about ready to explode because the Captain had not removed the handcuffs.  However, he refused to listen to anything they had to say.  Once the shuttle was down, he had them marched out of the shuttle’s hold and paraded them out in a line.  He didn’t try any more dramatics; he simply stood in front of them, roughly in the center of the line and looked them over.

              Two of them were members of the cargo division, looking as though they’d been dragged behind a car down a gravel road.  The young woman, Sylvia, had road rash on both of her forearms from her wrists to her elbows, a nice shiner forming under one eye, and her scalp was bleeding because of a clump of hair that looked to have been ripped from her skull.  The other, a young man, one of the new hires, had a cut on his face and a purpling bruise on his cheekbone.  His clothing hung on him like rags and there was enough blood splattered on what remained to look as though he’d rolled around in the stuff.

              The other three were Taja, Tamara and Corajen, all three of whom looked battered and torn, though strangely defiant.  All three were bleeding from a number of cuts, the lupusan’s knuckles were skinned, as were her knees, elbows and the way she was favoring her right side indicated she might have a cracked rib or two.  An impressive feat, considering her size, build and species.  Lupusan were notoriously difficult to injure.  Tamara was leaning to the left, and had a hefty amount of gauze wrapped around her right foot.  Her trousers and blouse were torn, showing off a great deal more skin than she was used to.  Taja’s dress was shredded, filthy and her beautiful hairdo was matted in dirt, blood and what smelled like cheap, nasty beer. 

              “All right,” he said after a long moment of just drinking it all in.  “What’s happened down there?”  He held up a hand before anyone could speak.  “One at a time.  Sylvia?  You first.”

              “They started it, Captain,” she said sullenly.  “Togren and I were in there, drinking and having a good time, and then these thugs just came up to us and started hassling us.”

              “Hassling you?” he asked, his voice monotone.

              “Yes, Captain,” she replied.  “One of them kept harassing me, making passes that I got fed up with it and threw my drink in his face.  He grabbed my arm and threw me into the next table over.  That got those people all excited and they joined in.  One of them tried to help me up, while another one grabbed my ankle and dragged me across the floor.”

              “I see.  And then what?”

              “Someone grabbed my hair and something hit me in the eye, and then Togren was trying to get me up when two of those bastards hit him.”

              “With a chair,” the man put in helpfully.  He then cowered under the Captain’s withering glare.

              “And what about you three?” he said, looking to Corajen.

              The lupusan sighed.  “I think that if planetary security hadn’t shown up, between Samair and I, we might have had it sorted out.”

              “There were five of them on you,” Taja muttered, though it looked as though she was shaking a bit.

              Corajen shrugged and then hissed painfully.  “The hardest part was keeping my claws from shredding them,” she admitted without a trace of glee.  “One of the little bastards snuck a billy club under my arm and thunked me good.”  Now she did give that feral smile.  “He won’t be walking anytime soon.”

              “How did you get involved?” he demanded, looking at Tamara.

              “I stayed out of it, for the most part.  But then when three of the godless fuckers tried to drag Taja out of the room, I pulled out my holdout pistol and shot them.”  She gave her report deadpan, as though she took no pleasure from the act or from reporting it.  “Oh, not to kill.  One in the shoulder, one in the kneecap, the other in the leg.  They'll be fine.  One of their buddies tried to back away from one of Corajen’s punches and stomped down on my foot with all his weight.”  She winced.  “Bastard broke a bunch of the bones in my foot.  Still hurts.  Should have shot him too,” she said dryly.

              “What about you?” the Captain said, turning his now burning gaze on Taja.

              The small woman shrugged.  “Tamara saved me from being raped.  But she couldn’t protect me from the fight.  I had to dive under a table, but I caught my dress on a splinter or something, which ripped it.  Then someone tried to pull me out from under the table, and I kicked him in the face and smashed his nose.  He leaped up, which dumped the table on me, along with all the clay mugs and the beer and food and silverware.  I got drenched and covered in food and cut by all the knives.”  She chuckled.  “I for one was glad Planetary Security showed up when they did.”

              He sighed, taking this all in.  “All right.  All of you get to sickbay and have Turan fix you up.  You look like hell.  You’re all restricted to the ship, except for business.  Go.  I’ll deal with you all later.”  His burning gaze hadn’t reduced its heat in any discernible measure.  For now, at least, he was letting them get to the doctor for the medical treatment they obviously needed.  He turned and left the boat bay, hearing them shuffling along as well. 

              The Captain maintained his visage of towering rage until he was safely back in his stateroom.  He
was
absolutely incandescent about this.  Five members of his crew were in the infirmary.  But it was just too much.  He collapsed into one of the chairs at his table, wracked with guffaws of uncontrollable laughter.  It was good to see his crew could handle themselves, and it appeared that the dustup had helped to cement a few relationships among some of his senior people.  Taja, Corajen and Moxie would probably be spending some more time together, getting into similar scraps on other planets they would visit.  He shuddered to think on the people they were going to trample on their quest for "fun".

Chapter 20

              "We have realspace reversion, Captain," the helmsman reported.

             
Legacy
had arrived in the Hecate system without incident.  Moving at a comfortable hyperspeed of Yellow level four, Commander Harth expected that they might finally catch up to the bulk freighter they'd been chasing for months now.  There was simply no way a ship that size or in that state of repair based on
Fury
's reports, could possibly have
that
big a lead on them, even allowing for a small amount of repairs.  Most likely, the
Grania Estelle
would hold speed at somewhere in the Red level, even allowing for the best possible speed of Red level seven,
Legacy
would easily close the gap on the slow, pondering freighter. 

              "Running sensor sweeps now, Skipper," the sensor officer spoke up.

              "Very well," he replied, nodding, his eye on his displays.  The heavy cruiser's sensors were bringing in every bit of information that could be seen, and within moments, he would be able to see them.  The light from the system came into the sensors and what there was to be seen appeared on his display.  The system boasted a spacedock in orbit of the inhabited planet, in which rested what looked to be a light cruiser about two-thirds the size of
Legacy
, and what looked like a dozen or so starfighters flying maneuvers nearby to the docks, still in easy reach at a distance of less than twenty light seconds away.  Other than that, no bulk freighter.

              "Damn it!" he swore.  Then he reconsidered.  "Did we beat them here?"

              "Possibly, Captain," the XO replied, looking at his own displays.  "Though it looks like there's been some activity here.  Sensors are showing debris clouds near to the planet, and also on a vector in the general direction of the hyper limit on a vector toward..." he checked the data, "Kazyanenko."

              "So they might have beaten us here and been long gone?"

              "Possibly, sir," the sensor officer reported.  "I'm not detecting any cargo vessels in the system the size of the bulk freighter."

              "Might have to talk to the locals," the XO put in. 

              "Could they have destroyed her?" Harth asked.

              The sensor officer shook his head.  "No, sir.  Not enough debris.  Looks like enough for four of those starfighters that are on maneuvers."

              "What kind of ships are those?" he asked.

              "Unknown type, Captain," the report came back.  "Based on the maneuvers and engine outputs we're detecting, they might be on par with the old
Sentry
-class fighters."

              Harth nodded slowly. 
Sentry
-class starfighters were of an obsolete, but still useful design, which had gone out of production in the Republic Navy about forty years previous.  A good, solid fighter with decent speed and maneuvering, but the upgrades in maneuvering thrusters as well as navigation computers and weapons targeting had eventually retired the
Sentry
for more advanced craft.  "Do we need to worry about them?"

              The XO shrugged.  "If they try to swarm us, maybe," he hedged.  "But trying to attack a modern heavy cruiser with a squadron of fighters with capabilities like those?  Our anti-fighter guns should be able to handle them."

              "What about the cruiser?"

              "Again, Captain, unknown configuration.  Power output and size indicate she's a light cruiser, but I have no idea on her speed or maneuverability."

              "Wait, their reactors are up?" Harth asked, incredulous.  "In a spacedock like that?"

              "They appear to be affecting repairs to their hyperdrives, Captain," the sensor officer replied.  "Without closer scans, I can't be sure of their actual power output, but at a guess... they seem to be at about half power right now."  The man shrugged.

              "How long would you think it would take them to get up to combat readiness?"

              Again the man shrugged, causing the XO to get a tiny wrinkle in his brow.  A junior officer did not shrug with such uncertainty on the bridge of a Republic cruiser.  Sadly,
he
didn't have any more or better information for the Captain either, so he bit his tongue. 

              "Best guess?  Probably anywhere upwards of an hour, sir.  They'd have to detach all of the umbilicals and bring the ship's systems up."  He nodded.  "An hour at the earliest, Captain."

              "Understood.  Keep an eye on them.  I don't want them surprising us.  They make so much as a peep, inform the XO and myself."

              "Aye, Captain."

              It took about six hours of inbound travel for the
Legacy
to get within communications range of the planet.  Harth was sparing the engines a bit, not because they couldn’t take it, but because of fuel consumption.  His ship ran on helium 3, as did all warships in the Republic, and so far his reserves were at just above ninety-two percent.  Once they dipped below eighty, he would have to break off pursuit to head to the nearest Republic outpost to refuel.  That sounded like an awfully large reserve, but per regulations, unless engaged in combat maneuvers, he couldn’t allow his reserves to drop below sixty percent.  Warship operations were much different than those of a cargo vessel, who might decide to run a bit closer to the ragged edge.  He couldn’t let
Legacy
get too low on fuel, for she might be required to go into combat at any moment.

              And combat was a state that looked to be more and more likely in this system.  The locals hadn’t said anything yet, though the way that the fighters had shifted position to block the heavy cruiser’s direct approach to the spacedock.  It also appeared, as reported by his sensor watch, that the light cruiser was powering up, releasing the locks and umbilicals to get ready for space.  It was clear that the locals were
not
going to be sucker punched by the incoming Republic warship.

              “Captain, they’re hailing us,” the communications officer reported.

              “Put them on,” he replied.

              “This is Commander Jensen Tyler of the cruiser
Ganges
to Republic warship.  Please identify yourself and state your intentions in the Hecate system.”

              Harth smiled upon hearing this.  “Well, they’re a bit belligerent, aren’t they?”

              “Well, we are showing up uninvited, Captain,” the XO pointed out.

              He nodded.  “Quite right, XO, quite right.  Well, let’s see what they have to say to us, shall we?”  He looked over to the communications watch, who gave him the thumbs up.  “
Ganges
, this is Commander Harth of the Republic heavy cruiser
Legacy
.  We are here searching for a cargo ship we believe may have traveled through here recently.  We appreciate any assistance you might be able to offer.  We have no hostile intentions toward any of your ships, personnel or cities.  We are simply looking for information regarding the particular ship and its personnel.  If we can get the information and whereabouts of our wayward ship, we will depart your fair system.  I await your response.  Harth out.”

              A moment later, the communications watch officer blinked.  “Captain, they’re hailing us on an open frequency.”

              “Put them through.”

              The image of a man slightly older than middle age appeared on Harth’s display.  He might not be happy to have a Republic heavy cruiser in the star system, but he was hiding any discomfort.  “Commander Harth, I am Commander Tyler.  Welcome to Hecate.”

              “Thank you, Commander.  It seems to be a lovely system,” Harth replied, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.  “I am noticing that you are very security conscious.”

              The
Ganges
’ captain shrugged.  “The locals are.  There was a recent dustup with a ship that tried to steal some cargoes and that’s made everyone a bit jumpy.”

              Harth frowned.  “Someone was stupid enough to try and steal something with all those fighters buzzing around and your ship in orbit.”  Then he realized what the other man had said.  “You mentioned ‘the locals’.  I assume by that statement you are not from here?”

              “By the stars, no,” Tyler exclaimed.  “We’re based out of Imogen.  One of the consortiums there raised the funds to have the Hecate people build us the
Ganges
.  We’re finishing the last of the construction now and then we’ll be on our way back home.”

              “I see,” Harth answered.  And he did.  That meant the ship had been here when
Grania Estelle
came through.  “We’re in pursuit of a cargo ship that came through this way.”

              “Yes, I heard your original message,” Tyler said, nodding.  “That ship was the one that tried to steal the cargo we needed for out final outfitting.”

              Harth raised an eyebrow.  “I assume you got the cargoes you needed.”

              Tyler nodded.  “Yes, the cowards tried to run, but in the end they jettisoned the cargo.”

              Now the
Legacy
’s captain frowned again.  “But if they jettisoned the cargo, why did you not board them?  Why wasn’t the ship detained?”

              Tyler scowled.  “We needed that cargo, Captain.  We were in complete low power mode because of the refit, so by the time we got underway they were well across the system.  We gave chase and caught up to them only a short distance to the hyper limit.”

              “And yet they still escaped?” Harth asked, trying to keep his tone light, but it was obvious that the other commander picked up on Harth’s derision.

              “They jettisoned the cargo with an explosive attached.  It was moving away from them on a perpendicular course at high speed.  The bastards gave us the choice of continuing the chase or getting the shipment.”  He sighed, slapping a hand down in frustration.  “We needed that shipment.  We’d been waiting for nine months already and we couldn’t afford to wait for another shipment.  So, we let the ship go.  It was a good thing that we did veer off.  As it was, we barely got the explosive deactivated in time.”

              “Do you have sensor scans of the ship?  I’m actually surprised that they’ve been able to get out of the system before our arrival.”

              Tyler sniffed.  “Of course we have scans.  But nothing is free, Commander.  You might know the ship’s vector, I can’t help that.  But if you want a better understanding of what you’re up against, you’re going to need my help.  So, what can you do for me?”

              Harth suppressed a sigh.  This was the Frontier.  Hecate was once part of the Republic, though once the war came, it was one of the first star systems to find itself without a Republic presence and its inhabitants decided they liked it that way.  Of course, Tyler wasn’t
from
Hecate, but from what he’d read from the intelligence reports, Imogen wasn’t much better.  They had no love for the Republic, even after two hundred and fifty years.  Sadly, Harth had no authority to simply start shooting holes in the
Ganges
to get the information he desired and there was no telling how much damage the ship could take.  He
needed
those scans and it seemed that he was going to have to bargain to get Tyler to give them up.  He would send teams down to the planet to see if the locals had any further information, possibly scans of their own. 

              “Very well, Commander.  What is it that you want?”

              “How the hell did they get these parts?” the XO demanded, looking over the scans. 

              “I don’t know, XO,” Harth replied.  “But that ship had had a full blown overhaul.”

              “Look at the reactor power output,” Lieutenant Commander Brister, the chief engineer said, pointing to some of the text on the side of the display.  “That is
way
higher than a ship like that out here should be putting out.”

              “How is that possible?” Harth asked.

              “Well, with that output, either they have three distinct power reactors or they’re not running straight hydrogen.”

              “Wait,” the commander said, crossing his arms.  They were in the
Legacy
’s wardroom, several hours later.  “Not straight hydrogen?  You mean they’re running helium 3?”

              Brister shrugged.  “Either helium 3 or at least deuterium.  It’s not a milspec reactor, I don’t think, the power output isn’t quite high enough.  But they’ve obviously upgraded since Instow.  What
Fury’s
sensors picked up back at Instow and what
Ganges
recorded here shows a marked difference.”

              “How?  And what do we have to concern ourselves with?”