A Greater Interest: Samair in Argos: Book 4 (16 page)

              “No, ma’am,” Tiyaana replied.  “The explosions are internal and not terribly powerful.  In fact, Sat Four is only just in position on the curve of the planet to pick it up.  We didn’t even spot it, Magnus did.”

              “They did it,” Tamara whispered.  “They actually did it.”

              “Your strike team?”  The operations officer sounded surprised.

              “Unless the fighter’s missile strike did more damage than estimated and they had secondary explosions.  Which is extremely unlikely.”  She grimaced.  “No, that would have to be the strike team.”

              “The second light cruiser just fired on and destroyed a shuttle leaving the transport.”

              Tamara’s blood, already feeling quite chilly, went completely frigid.  “Any life readings on that shuttle?”

              “No, ma’am.  It was too far out.”

              “Understood,” she replied, keeping her voice calm. 
The team was on that shuttle. 
She tried to take solace in the fact that they seemed to have succeeded.  It didn’t much help, but she needed to focus.  “Keep me informed.”  And she closed the channel. 

              “Ma’am?” a voice came from behind her.  Tamara turned to see Viktoriya standing just a few meters away. 

              She felt her heart harden, if it didn’t she might have broken down into tears.  There wasn’t time for that now, not with a ship full of soldiers that might still launch shuttles at any moment.  “I have no proof, Serzhant Eristov.  But I think…”

              “You think the strike team was on that shuttle.”  It was not a question.  Viktoriya’s expression didn’t change, her posture remained just as it had.  Even using her optic sensors in her implants, Tamara couldn’t detect any change in her chief bodyguard.  It was as if she was made of iron.

              “As I said, I have no proof.”

              “Don’t try and spare my feelings, ma’am.  They were soldiers, they knew what they were getting into.”  The wolf narrowed her eyes for a moment.  “But we’ll miss them.  And we’ll miss their strong arms if the soldiers do end up trying to board.”

              “I know,” Tamara said, rubbing the back of her neck.  “I’ve got the replicators churning out weapons and ammo as fast as they can now.”

              “Not missiles?”

              She shrugged.  “There’s little point.  We still have about forty of the weapons left, so we can use them on the incoming shuttles, maybe get a few of them.  We couldn’t make enough missiles to make any serious difference and I want the security teams to be well-stocked on anything and everything they need to hold off any boarding force.”

              “I’m sure Chief Nymeria will approve of that, ma’am,” Viktoriya said with a nod.

              A small chuckle escaped her lips.  “I’m sure she would.”  Then she frowned.  “I’m just worried there won’t be much of a station left to defend, what with all the weaponry we’ll have.  And what they’ll have.”

              “What will they have, ma’am?” Viktoriya asked.  “You’ve mentioned before some expertise with Federation equipment and ships.”

              “I know about Federation equipment and ships from two and a half centuries ago,” Tamara agreed, nodding.  “I was a Republic Navy officer.  An engineer.”

              “Well, if you recognize that ship,” Viktoriya said, pointing toward the hangar door, “then there should be more than enough pieces of intel that you can provide.”

              Tamara sighed, rubbing her forehead.  “All right.  But you and Magnus will need to question me while we’re over in the replicator compartments.  I can’t stop production while we’re working this out.”

              “Certainly not, ma’am,” Viktoriya said, gesturing.  “Lead the way.”

              “Fine, we can talk while we walk.”  And she did.  Federation technology at the time of Tamara’s long sleep was roughly equivalent of Republic technology, perhaps even a tiny fraction better.  Small arms were of slightly different make and design, but were functionally equivalent.  Federation soldiers (regular Army, Special Forces, and their other elite divisions) used powered and unpowered armor; they were all hoping that the lupusan soldiers were outfitted with the non-powered variety.  Even if it was two hundred and fifty year old design, power armor would give the soldiers a huge edge over anything that Corajen’s people had; security deputies who had
no
powered armor. 

              “I have a slight issue, Ma’am,” Viktoriya replied.  “You know an awful lot about antiquated Federation technology, but why nothing more recent?”

              Tamara smirked at her, making sure not to show teeth.  The last thing that Tamara needed right now was her lupusan guard feeling that her principle (and a prey creature) was acting like a threat.  “You seem to have forgotten, Serzhant Eristov, that I’m a lot older than I might look.”

              The lupusan blinked and stopped walking for a step.  Then she got it.  “You were in that escape pod,” she said.  “I’d forgotten.  Forgive me.”

              “Which is why my knowledge is pretty much in the past tense,” she replied.  “I recognize those two pirate ships because they’re ancient.  Older than me, actually.  I don’t recognize the names, but I do recognize the ship classes.”

              “So they’re former Federation military,” Viktoriya said.  “The troops and crews probably are too.”

              “Too bad they’re maintaining radio silence,” Tamara mused.  “Actually, have we attempted to open any communications with them, Magnus?”

              The AI’s warthog face appeared on both females’ HUD’s.  “No, Tamara.  We have been in contact with the other First Principles’ ships but none of our vessels or stations have made any contact with the aggressor forces.”

              “See if you can pull any of their chatter,” Tamara told him.  “It’s probably encrypted, but we can scrub it later for any intelligence value.  Besides, it never hurts to know who the enemy is.”

              “You’re not going to call them, are you?” Viktoriya asked, sounding concerned.

              “If I had any kind of ace in the hole, I’d consider it,” she replied.  They resumed their walk down to the replicator compartments.  “As it is, we’ve got very little left. 
Maitland
is still out there, as are the bulk of the Aploras and the Twin Novas.  But I think the fighters have pretty much exhausted their expendable munitions.”

              “Which means they’ve lost most of their offensive punch.”

              “Correct.”  Tamara grimaced.  “They’re still dangerous, but the Vision fighters won’t be able to do a whole lot of damage to the cruisers.  They can harass them, and maybe do some damage, but I think that they won’t be able to do more than surface damage.  I’m actually more concerned that strafing runs would open the fighters up to getting shot down.”

              “Isn’t that sort of in their job description?” Viktoriya asked, with a chuckle.

              “Yes, but right now the pirate ships are pulling back.  I’m afraid if I send them in, they’ll get chewed up because they’ll have to get in so close to hit those cruisers.”  She shook her head.  “We’ve lost enough people today.  I don’t want to lose those pilots if we can help it.”

              “And if that transport really does start launching ships, the Visions might be better used in shooting them down before they can get here,” Viktoriya put in.

              Tamara nodded.  “There’s only so much that can be done.  But you’re right.  I think it might be better to keep the fighters back to try keep those troop shuttles off of us.”  She sighed.  “I don’t know.  We’ll think of something.  Definitely pump out another salvo of missiles if the shuttles get too close.”

              “Seems like overkill.”

              “You’re lecturing me on overkill?” Tamara asked, a tired smile tugging the corners of her lips.

              The black-furred lupusan grunted.

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

              “Comms are back up, General,” the wolf reported, looking a bit frazzled.  With every passing minute, it was clear that Typhon’s patience was fraying ever further. 

              “Finally,” he said.  “Get Commander Luurr on the line.  Now.”

              “I’ve got him, General.”

              The display activated, showing the image of the lupusan commander.  He looked rather scraggly and worse for wear.  Of course, he had an intimate understanding of what the general would do to him if he didn’t get his ship in order, so it was unsurprising he looked stressed.  “General, we’ve taken serious damage, but we’re bringing primary systems back up now.”

              Typhon nodded, suppressing a sigh of relief.  “How bad is it?”

              “Bad enough,” the commander replied, anger clear on his features.  “Those fighters tore us up.  We’re sealing off the hull breaches now, but most of the shuttles have been disabled.”

              Typhon’s fist clenched.  “Sabotage.”

              “Yes, sir.  And they did an efficient job of it, too.  Three of my bays full of shuttles are damaged, and all but eight, well seven now, of the shuttles are down.  And there are over one hundred and eighty casualties.  The numbers are still coming in.”

              He pounded a fist on the arm of his chair.  “
Kazhet
!” he shouted, his breath was shallow and ragged.  Losing his wolves in battle, that he could accept, even appreciate.  But to lose some of them, nearly two hundred because of sabotage?  Luurr would be exceptionally lucky to keep his command after this cluster-grope.  He would be very lucky to keep his life after allowing this mess to happen under his very muzzle.

              “How long to get your systems back up?” he asked instead. 

              “We’ll have the shields back up in two hours,” Luurr reported.  He held up a hand.  “I know, sir.  I’m pushing them as hard as I can.  Medical is swamped with wounded.  There are some issues with control lines due to the missile strikes but engineering is sorting it out.”

              The general sighed.  “Bottom line this for me, Commander.”  His voice was very low, very quiet and very dangerous.  Everyone on the bridge immediately had their back up; their fur ruffled, ears flattened back against their heads.  The commander’s life hung by the most gossamer of threads. 

              The other wolf sighed.  “The hyperdrive is still on line, the drives themselves, I mean.  Once we get the shields up and the control lines sorted…”  The wolf paused, looking off to the side, possibly at another display out of the range of the pickup.  “Possibly about ten hours or so before the ship would be able to jump to hyperspace.”

              Ten hours.  “Get to it,” Typhon ordered, the harshness tapered out of his voice.  “And I want a complete review of all security procedures on that ship, Commander.  And I want to know how the hell it is that so much damage and so many casualties occurred and how it fell to
me
out here on
Illuyanka
to deal with the saboteurs.”

              The other ship commander tensed.  Then he nodded.  “Very good, sir.  I will have the information for you by the time that HT-626 is back up and running.”

              Typhon didn’t answer; he just pressed a control which cut the connection. 

              “General,
Byvennot
is pulling alongside.”

              The black furred general slapped his palm on the arm of the chair.  “Finally, some small good news.  Have them tuck in tight to the assault transport, between us.  I want to make sure that we can cover them both as best we can.”  He checked his own displays. 
Ganges
was leading the convoy of cargo vessels out from the planet, away from the action.  “What the hell are they doing?  Why the hell is that bug pulling his warship out away from the planet?”

              He was on his feet.  “Comms!” he snarled.  “Get
Lord
Verrikoth on the line,
NOW!
”

              “You’re actually going to do it, you bastard?”

              Verrikoth buzzed a sigh.  “I’m actually going to do
what
, General?”

              “You’re actually going to leave this system!  You’re actually going to just tuck tail and run!”

              Verrikoth straightened a bit in his command seat.  “My intentionz for thiss ssysstem were only ever a raid.  Get in, take a haul and get out.  I’ve lost far more in the way of sshipss than I ever imagined on thiss raid.  I’m not going to wasste time and ressourcez and my ssoldierz livez on attacking that gass mine.”

              The wolf spluttered, losing control and apparently his ability to string a sentence together.  “You… you…”

              “General, I told you when we sstarted thiss that we are here to load up the holdz with sswag, and then leave.  The fact that the battlecruizer iz misssing or out of pozition waz a sstroke of unbelievable luck.  I am not going to press that any further than necessary.”  The general was pacing around the bridge of his ship, barely staying in range of the pickup.  “What I don’t undersstand,
General
, iz why you are ssurprized to hear thiss.”  He clacked his mouthparts derisively.  “Apparently age haz made you feeble.”