A Greater Interest: Samair in Argos: Book 4 (27 page)

              Nakil Radha smirked.  “So the best medicine and the best manufacturing, I’d say I hitched my wagon to the proper star.”

              “Just you watch; we’re only just getting started.  Now, you said you had a question?”  Tamara leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, waiting for the inevitable exclamation.

              “I’ve looked over the rough plans for what you want to build above the Kutok mine.  A really big plate?”

              “Not a plate,” Tamara corrected.  “A shield.  And what will eventually become a civilian station.”

              “Not so civilian if what I hear about the amount of weapons and other defenses you want to stack on top of it is true,” the other woman retorted. 

              Tamara shrugged.  “Well, there is that.  As I said, it’s a shield.  There’s going to be enough armor to protect both the civilian population in the living quarters as well as for the Kutok mine.  It won’t be perfect; the armor will only actually cover the topside, but I want it there to protect the mine from kinetic strikes.”

              “What if the pirates lob the rocks at the mine from an oblique angle?”

              “It would have to be at a very sharp angle, and since they’d have to throw it at the gas mine from nearly a ninety degree angle there’s a very real possibility it would skip off the atmosphere and miss the station entirely or burn up in the atmosphere.  It won’t protect against conventional weapons as much, especially against fighters or small vessels: corvettes and frigates, mostly.  But once we get it all up and running, I think it would give all of us a good feeling.”

              Another smirk.  “A good feeling, Ma’am?”

              Tamara grimaced.  “Fine, it would take a load off all of our minds, if we don’t have to worry so much about keeping the fuel supply safe.”

              Radha’s smirk grew larger.  “I’d say that would make me feel better.  Though what about the tank farm?”

              “Farms,” Tamara replied.  “There’s going to be two here, because of all the ships that are going to be built, both by FP and the various construction concerns back at the planet.  And I’m also hoping that the trade delegation will really open up a dialogue and a friendship between Seylonique and Ulla-tran.  If we can get ships moving between the systems…”

              “Something to think about,” the ship’s captain said.  “How long will the shield… station… construct, what ever you want to call it take?”

              “Well, it’ll take about a week or so for the tugs to drag the appropriate rock out of the belt and bring it all the way here,” Tamara said, staring at the tabletop as she thought.  “Then it’ll be about two to three months to heat it up and separate out the undesirables and then another week or so to add the other materials to make it into steel.  Figure another week to spin it out into the disc we want.  Then possibly two months or so to solidify and cool.  Then,” she said with a maniacal gleam in her eyes, “Then good Nakil, the real work can begin.”

              Nakil chuckled.  “The real work, Ma’am?”

              “Oh yeah.  Putting what you called a ‘giant plate’ in geosync orbit over the mine isn’t just stupid, it’s dangerous.  A hit in the wrong place would make it drop out of the sky and if it didn’t crush the Kutok mine, it would just plunge into the atmosphere to be crushed under the pressure and lost, all that time and effort and money lost.  No.  The first things we’re going to install are stabilizing thrusters and reactors to power them.  After that, it’ll be the control areas and more thrusters, then we’ll start on the initial weapons.  Then minimal shields and more reactors.  After that we’ll start in on the living and commercial spaces and we continue with expansion.”

              The
Samarkand
’s captain blinked in surprise.  “I don’t know what I was expecting, really, but how long do you think it will take?”

              “All told?” Tamara said, considering.  “I’m not really sure.  At least two years to get the preliminaries done and the first of the station’s workforce to be situated there.  After that it’s just upgrades and expansions.  That also depends on priorities of labor and materials, if we get another attack in the system again, etc.  But I’d say in two years time, the shield will be online and at least passively ready to defend the mine.”

              “Passively?”

              “By that I mean have partial shields over critical areas: reactors, thrusters and control sections, and at least ten to fifteen percent of the weapons.”

              “Only ten to fifteen percent?” Radha asked.

              “Well of course I’d like to have more, but we
do
have a number of other commitments for our labor and fabrication to be working on,” Tamara pointed out.  “Cargo and warships, as well as an expansion to the mining station, and a new industrial furnace.”

              The woman blinked again.  “What’s wrong with the one we’ve got?”

              Tamara shrugged.  “Nothing.  But if we’re going to be pumping out all sorts of ships and infrastructure, we’re going to need a
lot
of refined metal and other strategic minerals.  Which means we need a bigger, meaner one.”  Then she sighed.  “Once this ship is back up and running, first item of business is to make for the mining station at the edge of the belt and get
that
up and running.  I’m going to be leaving here…” she checked her watch, “in forty-five minutes to head over to the mining station and work with the crews there.”  Another sigh.  “What a mess there.  They’re all scared to death.  I might have to bring
Maitland
and a flight of Kozen’ck’s fighters with me.”  She leaned her elbows on her knees and put her face in her hands.  “What those… pirates… did to the security force on the station and then to some of the workers just trying to escape in the lifeboats…  I can’t blame the rest of them.  I’m surprised we have anyone who actually wants to come back and work.”

              “Well, ma’am, I appreciate your situation, but honestly, we really don’t need you to stay here,” Nakil said.  “But you’ve already queued up the replicators with the replacement parts that we need to get the ship rebuilt, and the crews are plugging away at getting it done.  If you need to get out to the mining station, there’s no point in hanging around for another forty-five minutes.  I mean, I’m sure that you can do whatever you were going to be doing here on your own ship while you’re in transit.  Besides, having the boss show up with those defensive ships a little bit early might do wonders for morale.”

              Tamara smiled slightly.  “It might just at that.  Thank you, Captain.  I will get out from underfoot and let you get back to it.  I have some calls to make.”

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

              One hour later, a small convoy left from the Kutok mine, with the stout vessel
Moxie-2
leading the way, the cant-winged corvette
Maitland
following along behind, flanked by four manta-ray shaped Vision starfighters.  The ships accelerated, heading out on a vector for the asteroid belt. 

Book 2 – Aftermath, A Degree of Normal and a New Arrival

Chapter 9

             
He did it.  He actually went and did it.
  Leicasitaj, captain of the First Principles escort-frigate
Mondragon
sat on the bridge of his ship, watching as it all went down.  He was part (the most minor part, if the Councilors and Colonel Gants had anything to say about it, and they certainly did) of a trade delegation from Seylonique to the sovereign star nation of Ulla-tran.  The trade talks had been going forward with about as much smoothness as could be expected, with both sides doing their best to feel each other out without bringing the whole thing down around their ears.  Thankfully both sides were actually interested in what these talks would bring for their home systems and neither side wanted to sabotage the deal.  Just as important, there wasn’t some third-string hack on his first assignment working these negotiations who would do or say something stupid to inadvertently bring down the whole thing. 

              But then of course, there was Goris Hana. 

              Goris Hana was a fat toad of a human who was in charge of the fueling station in orbit of Ulla-tran’s largest gas giant.  He controlled the helium 3 fuel, which meant that he’d managed to carve out a little empire for himself, finding cracks in the legal system (or forcing a crack) and throwing his weight around.  He had no compunction upon doing whatever he felt needed to be done to create his desired results.  Hana had collected up a nice little fleet of cargo ships by waylaying them, kidnapping crews and impressing them into his own work force.  The local government members were afraid of what he might do, what blackmail he might hold and up until these talks they hadn’t had the spines to try and face him down.

              So they had faced him down, metaphorically; President Montenegro sent a message to the fueling station, refusing to bow to pressure from the man.  Leicasitaj was actually quite impressed with the president’s message; he’d broadcasted it in the clear for everyone to see.  Apparently, President Montenegro was going for as much transparency as possible with these talks.  There was very little as far as information was concerned that wasn’t available to the public, a tactic that surprised the captain of the
Mondragon
.  It was a bold move, one that he wasn’t used to seeing from the politicos back home and it was clear that they were confused and nervous about it.  The crews of the Seylonique warships were privy to all that public information (Colonel Gants refused to hide anything from them that the people of Ulla-tran would have access to) and they would be going back home and spreading this information to the citizens there.

              Leicasitaj gave a watery chuckle at the thought and rubbed one tentacle on the arm of his command seat.  That would certainly be a problem for the administratory council back home, and it would nice to watch them squirm as the citizens started to demand a more open approach to politics.

              But it seemed that the toad was unwilling to let them simply stand by and tell him to go away.  Goris Hana unleashed his threat.  Streaming video, text files, video files, all manner of blackmail was unleashed throughout the digital air and spaceways.  Every dirty secret, every piece of filthy laundry, every argument, every single bit of wrongdoing by every member of the government was now released from their digital containment and decrypted for everyone to see.

              But he blundered.  In blanketing the comm waves with this, his revenge, it was simply too much.  If he had spaced it out, done it as an organized campaign of destruction, it would have been effective.  He could have feasibly brought down the government with the information he had on the President, the cabinet members, and the various members of the legislature.  But in releasing it all in one burst, it was just noise.  Irritating noise that did nothing except jam up the airwaves.  So now that he’d deployed his weapon, the Seylonique task force (as well as the civilians of Ulla-tran) were sitting and waiting with baited breath to see what President Nikolas Montenegro would do in response to this.

~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~             

              Nikolas Montenegro sat at in one of the comfortable chairs at the end of the conference table in the main room.  He was nursing a glass of whiskey but hadn’t taken more than a single sip since the media bomb had hit.  He was a politician and on the road to the presidency there had been things he’d done, things he’d participated in that he wasn’t proud of, things he was downright ashamed of.  And now it was all here, for everyone to see.

              The video displays were blaring away, images flashing past, sound files playing along with the images.  It was just a cacophony of noise and light, really.  There were images and snatches of sentences, phrases that would stand out.  There were images of various consuls and prelates in compromising positions, engaged in scandalous sexual liaisons, taking payoffs, and other such indiscretions.  There was even text documents with his signature on them, showing how he’d ordered the army in to deal with the rioters on that one terrible day.  He’d managed to run a clean campaign for his election, and through his consul and proconsul days, he’d managed to be honest and virtuous and even someone that the people liked and respected.  Until that one fucking day.

It was a necessary day; a day that only the people in the inner circle understood, a day that Nikolas had hoped and prayed he could forget.  But unfortunately, ordering the army to shoot at rioting citizens never played well on the even news vids, even if by shooting and killing them two hundred thousand others were saved on that moon colony.  The rioters were brandishing and firing weapons, they’d been throwing flaming projectiles at the life support recyclers and were in a position to (and were threatening to) breach the dome.  But no one cared about the lives saved.  It was only about the nine hundred fifty-six dead that day, those were the only numbers that the glory-hounds and media whores cared about. 

“Wasn’t there another way?” – No, the rioters weren’t interested in talking.

“Why didn’t you attempt a peaceful solution?” – No, they didn’t
want
a peaceful solution.

“How could you murder those people?” – They gave me no choice!  They were willing to kill themselves and the two hundred thousand others on that colony all over something that should have been settled by talking, not bullets.

“This has to stop,” he said, his voice just above a whisper. 

“Mister President,” Shayenne Laurent, one of his senior proconsul, said from the doorway in front of him.  “It’s your wife, sir.”

He hadn’t thought he could feel worse.  But now Nikolas suddenly felt himself grow cold and Laurent’s voice seemed flat, almost muted.  “What about my wife?”

“She’s issuing a press statement, Mister President.”  Shayenne walked over to the wall display and brought up the live feed.

He turned his haggard gaze from the tabletop over to the display.  The sinking, acidic feeling in his stomach warned him that this news would another shovelful of misery to an already overflowing day. 

The image of Liaana Montenegro appeared on the screen.  She was dressed in an elegant and expensive purple suit, exquisitely tailored, her makeup and hair expertly applied, in a word, she looked perfect.  Of course, Nikolas knew that his wife was beautiful, as did everyone who saw her, but he didn’t marry her just because she was a pretty face.  She was the driving force behind his campaign and one of his most important advisors.  But she was going straight to the press on her own and that worried him, not that she was speaking to them; no she was a smart and capable woman and had spoken in front of the press on numerous occasions.  It was just that he had never been in a crisis like this before and she had never jumped to the press on her own like this, not without consulting anyone.

“Thank you all for coming here.  I’m going to make a statement, but I will not be answering any questions at this time.  The President is working to resolve this crisis and my time is extremely limited.”  The whirring of cameras and other various recording devices could be heard over the sound of the murmuring pack of reporters.  “This heinous attack on various members of the government is inexcusable.  This cowardly cyber assault on the government by this terrorist cannot stand.  Extreme measures must be taken to bring him and his cronies to justice.  After that, or perhaps while that is going on,” she corrected, looking down at her notes, “We will be working to secure the data servers and communications networks in the system.” 

Liaana paused here, giving the group of reporters a stern look.  She continued.  “Now, I know all of you and the citizens at home are concerned about the content of this data download as much as the breach of security.”  She paused here again, while the reporters murmured amongst themselves.  It was clear that none of them actually cared too much about the breach of security, if that’s what this could actually be called.  “I can assure you that these claims from the data uploads will be investigated and anyone guilty of wrongdoings and illegal activities will be brought to justice.”

“What about your husband, Ma’am?” one of the reporters shouted.

Liaana Montenegro drew herself up and glared at the reporter for interrupting her.  “My husband, your
President
, is not guilty of any crimes or wrongdoing.  You’ll note that of all the clips, digitals and messages in that… terrorist’s cyber attack, there is only one concerning the President.  And that incident has already been discussed and investigated in
exhaustive
detail.  Over two hundred thousand lives were saved that day.  I fully support my husband, the President,” she repeated, “and his actions on that day.  But for now, I believe that Goris Hana cannot be allowed to profit from this act of terrorism.”

She paused again and looked out over the crowd of reporters.  “Thank you.”  She started to step away from the podium and there was an explosion of chatter from the reporters.

Nikolas nodded, feeling a warm glow. 
Damn, I love that woman.
“But the question still remains, what do I do about this situation?”

Sending in Commodore Saroyan with his ships and the Marines seemed to be the most obvious answer.  But he’d gone down that road once already and he was still sick about it.  And there was no way of knowing how many of the people on the fueling station were actually complicit in this act of terrorism, to use Liaana’s term.

“Well, that’s certainly a rousing endorsement,” Koton Xiv observed sardonically, his voice coming through as a monotone from his translator pack.  Unlike many of his zheen brethren, he absolutely refused to speak in the Galactic Standard language, though he did know how.  It wouldn’t do to not understand when someone was speaking in a foreign language, but he felt that there were going to be times when he needed to think and speak in his native tongue and didn’t need the distraction.  Also, having the translator pack, in his earlier political days, caused his opponents to underestimate the “uneducated bug”, causing them to make mistakes and say things in his presence they didn’t think he would be able to understand.  Which was foolish, really, since the translator pack could pick up their words and then convert them to his language with no problem. 

“I think it does help us,” Shayenne replied.  “At least as far as the First Lady showing solidarity.”

Koton hissed.  “Touching, really.  But it does nothing to raise outrage about Hana or the fact that he’s disrupting these talks, or that he just shot this administration in the foot with this data attack.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Shayenne mused, touching her lips with her fingers. 

“What we need to do is get the Commodore and his troops over to that fueling station and put an end to this,” Koton said.  He buzzed.  “But the President won’t do it.  He doesn’t have the guts.”

Shayenne scowled at the zheen proconsul.  There were times when she wondered how it was that this… curmudgeon ever managed to get himself elected to govern one of the colonies here in the system.  She knew that he had connections and some sort of savvy, because the lunar colony he governed, Glacius, despite being an icy, frigid rock, was managing to flourish.  His mining project that had taken advantage of sublunar hot springs was a serious feather in his cap and one that had won the trust and respect of his constituents.

              “Don’t say stupid things like that, Koton,” she snapped.  “President Montenegro has had to deal with this sort of situation in the past.  Just because he isn’t thrilled about sending in the troops to deal with the problem doesn’t mean he’s a coward.”

              “So you’re in agreement with me that the only way to deal with this problem is to send in Commodore Saroyan and his soldiers?” the zheen asked, shrewdly.

              Shayenne eyed him for a long moment.  Then she sighed.  “Yes, I do think that’s really the only way we’re going to be able to deal with this.  Get out from under that toad’s sweaty thumb.”

              “Well, if we are going to do this, can we just get the Commodore to go?”

              She shook her head.  “No, blast it all.  It would make things simpler, wouldn’t it?  But no, the Commodore wouldn’t do that.  Not without an order from the President.”  She sighed again, rubbing her hand against the back of her neck.  “I think that despite everything, Saroyan looks at Goris Hana as a citizen of this star system.  If he was some outsider, or part of the Seylonique task force, I don’t think he’d argue too much about it.”