A Greater Interest: Samair in Argos: Book 4 (29 page)

              The councilor grunted.  “I know we wouldn’t.  So that’s out, I guess.”  Then he shrugged.  “I suppose I could ask them and see what they say.”

              Gants just stared at him for a long moment.  Then he snorted a laugh.  “Yes, Councilor, I suppose you could.”

              The takedown of the collection platforms went apace.  The first six platforms were captured and the Navy technicians disabled the remote access from the fueling station and reported back.  Commodore Saroyan sent a “well done” reply to the teams, pleased that at least some of the fuel refineries and collectors were now under government control.  If things went wrong, at least there would be some fuel processing that would be available.

              Reports were coming in every half hour to the orbital, as much as Nikolas wanted to be onboard Saroyan’s flagship, he knew that his place was here.  Besides, being aboard those frigates was uncomfortable and cramped, certainly no place for a President outside of a true catastrophe.  This was a policing action at best.  So, here he sat in his office on the orbital, waiting for updates, dealing with normal day-to-day housekeeping items
and
working to finish up these trade talks.

              Shayenne walked into the office a few moments later.  “Mister President, how are things going?”

              He glanced over at her, frowning slightly.  “Like you don’t already know.”

              She shrugged, gesturing to one to the chairs in front of the desk.  He nodded.  “All right, you got me.  I have been keeping tabs, but I haven’t got an update in…”  She checked her watch.  “Forty-four minutes.”

              “We’ve just secured a sixth platform,” Nikolas told her.  “Out of twenty-one, though, that’s a huge deficit in fuel production if things go bad.”

              “Well, that’s what I want to talk with you about, Mister President.”  Shayenne leaned forward, her elbows on her knees.  “We should buy fuel from Seylonique.”

              He blinked.  “We have our own production facilities here.”

              “Yes, we do, sir,” she said, nodding.  “But until and unless our people regain full control of the situation, we need to be looking into alternatives.”

              He let out a long sigh, putting one hand to his forehead and leaning on his desk heavily.  It took only a few seconds for him to recover his composure.  He straightened and stood up.  “No, you’re right.  We do need to look into this.  But we can’t expect fuel to get here any sooner from Seylonique than two months.”

              “Probably more like two and a half, maybe as long as three,” she said.  “But…”

              “You’re right, it is worth exploring.  In fact,” he said, leaning over and pressing a few controls on the console on his desk, “I think it’s time to deal with this head on.  I’m not going to wait.”  A moment later, Sebastian Chakrabarti’s face appeared on the display.  “Councilor Chakrabarti.”

              “Mister President,” the other man replied, his tone serious.  “I’m surprised to hear from you right now, what with your Navy dealing with this crisis.”

              “I know and I am extremely busy,” Nikolas admitted.  “But that’s actually why I’m calling.  I want to speak with you about fuel.”

              “Very well, sir.  Do you need me to come over to the orbital?  We can discuss it in person.”

              “I would, in fact, want you to come over here.  But I think it might be best if you can discuss it with your own people first and then come over here with some firm numbers.”

              “Very well, sir,” Chakrabarti repeated.  “What can I help you with?”

              “We want to purchase a large amount of fuel from Seylonique,” he said flatly.  “I understand you have your own collection platforms.”

              “Yes, Mister President, we do.  But we have our own fuel concerns, as I’m sure you understand.”

              “Yes, yes,” he said waving a hand dismissively.  “But that just means that there is room for negotiations.”

              Leicasitaj sat up a bit straighter in his chair.  “Councilor, you want me to give you figures on the amount of fuel that would be available to sell from the Kutok mine?”  His facial tentacles writhed.  “I’m sorry, sir.  But even if I had that information, which I don’t, I wouldn’t be able to release it to anyone without proper authorization from higher authority.  I’m sure you can understand that.”

              It took a moment for the message to get from
Mondragon
to the
Leytonstone
due to light lag.  Chakrabarti fumed at the delay and at the answer.  “Really, Captain?  That’s how you’re going to play this?  I am of the highest authority in Seylonique, you can answer the question.”

              The Romigani gurgled.  “Yes, sir, I suppose you are.  Very well.  I don’t have exact figures or too much of the proprietary information here on
Mondragon
, sir.  Commander Samair didn’t want to send information like that since my ship would not be primary for the negotiations.  In fact, the Commander really only wanted me along to show First Principles’ flag, as it were, so much of the company’s supply and inventory databases were not given to us.  We’re a combat and security vessel, sir.”

              “Is that your long-winded way of saying you won’t give me the data I need, Captain?” Chakrabarti said, his voice weary.

              “No, sir, it’s my way of saying I don’t have hard numbers.  I’m more than willing to supply you with rough estimates.”  He paused for a moment.  “Actually, sir, you’re aware of Captain Eamonn’s ship, the
Grania Estelle
?”

              “The big bulk freighter?  Of course.”

              “If you can find a buyer that would pay the asking price, and you could guarantee safe passage for the ship and crew, Commander Samair could fill it with He3 fuel for sale here.”  Leicasitaj said this with perfect confidence, but secretly hoped that he wasn’t committing his boss (and one of the council members) to something they couldn’t deliver.

              “A bulk freighter, stuffed to the bulkheads with fuel?”  The councilor considered this.  “Yes, I think that would be good for a start.”

              His facial tentacles twitched in surprise.  “A start?  How much fuel do you plan on selling?”

              “How much can your Commander Samair supply?” he riposted.

              “If I know the Commander,” Leicasitaj replied, “we’d need more tanker ships for her to properly answer that question.”

              “Well then,” Chakrabarti answered.  “Perhaps the Commander should work to get more tankers.  And I believe the time has come for you to detach from the task force and head back home, Captain.”

              Now he was confused.  “You’re dismissing me?”

              “If you want to look at it that way, Captain.  But no, I’m not.  I need you to get back to Seylonique and speak to your Commander Samair.  I’m putting in an order of fuel for the Ulla-tran government.  As much as she can stuff into that bulk freighter.”

              “I can get back there with all speed, Councilor, but without a contract I know the Commander won’t budge.”
Not after you simply appropriated the gadolinium off my ship without even a credit voucher or a word of thanks.  I know she’s going to be pissed about that.
  “You know that too, Councilor.”

              He sighed.  “Yes, I do.  I’ll get the contract drawn up by one of my aides and have it over to you within the hour.  You double-check it and give me the thumbs-up and then you haul ass back home to make sure that bulk freighter is still in the system, Captain.  Is that acceptable?”

              Leicasitaj nodded.  “Yes, Councilor, I think that is acceptable.”

              Forty-seven minutes later, as
Mondragon
accelerated out system, Harmon Kly turned and looked to his counterparts from the conference room aboard the
Leytonstone
.  “Well, the squid certainly seems eager to depart this system.”

              “Really, Kly?  With the name calling?” Arathos demanded, turning his wolfish features away from the display to glare at the fat human.  “That officer out there is racing home to secure a business relationship for us and he’s done so without any serious complaint.  He deserves your respect.”

              “Oh, please,” Kly scoffed.  “He serves a purpose, nothing more.”  The disdain on his face cleared slightly.  “I just hope he can convince Samair to send the fuel.”

              “I can’t believe you balked so much at the price he was asking.”  Arathos sounded amused.

              “The slimy little git gouged us for twelve percent higher than was necessary,” Kly said sourly. 

              “Gouged us?” the lupusan asked, flicking his ears.  “We’re not the ones paying for this.  The bill is going to the Ulla-tran government.  And after four of those fueling platforms self-destructed, I’m thinking they’re going to need it.”

              The efforts of the Ulla-tran military forces had not continued as smoothly as the beginning captures had foreshadowed.  Of the twenty-one gas platforms in the atmosphere of the Jovian, nine were back under government control.  But as troops and technicians were working to secure four more, they self-destructed, killing two of the technicians and injuring four Navy crewmen.  Goris Hana had also issued a statement to the Navy ships as well as to the system at large that the rest of the platforms were off-limits and if any military or government forces “stepped one inch onto
my
station, they’ll regret it!” 

              This of course, had not gone over well with the government forces.  Unwilling to simply let the man retain control of important fueling platforms (the eight that were still left in Hana’s control), the flagship was calling back to the orbital for portable jammers, to make sure that the fuel baron couldn’t blow them up.  Of course, the fueling station was another matter.

              “How do you think they’re going to deal with securing the station?” Kly asked.

              Arathos shrugged.  “I’m not sure.  It really isn’t our business, though we might be able to leverage a way into more for the talks.”

              Kly nodded.  “I agree.  But I think the softly-softly approach might be better.”

              “What?” Arathos replied, stunned.  “Harmon Kly, king of the battering ram approach is advising caution?”

              “I’m just saying,” he said sourly, “that if they figure out we’re taking advantage, it could spike the whole negotiation.  I’m not willing to run the risk.  We’re already doing well by selling them the fuel.  Let’s not blow it by getting greedy.”

              “Not getting greedy,” the lupusan repeated.  “Not something I would have thought you were familiar with.  I thought you were all about grabbing up as much as you could.”

              He shook his head.  “Getting as much as you can as fine.  But it’s about being smart.  Just simply grabbing for anything shiny is how you get caught, how people get angry and how opportunities dry up.”

              The other councilor shook his head.  “I suppose that makes sense in your twisted mind, Kly.  Actually it does make a lot of sense.  All right, then.  We wait.”

              But Kly shook his head and gestured to seats.  “Wait, yes.  But there’s no reason we can’t start planning and making projections for the future.  First Principles aren’t the only ones who can make some money on this deal.  And if we can bring more of it home, I’ll be happy.”

Chapter 10

              Frederick Vosteros, Captain and Owner of the light freighter
Redcap Madness
slumped in his command chair, not even caring about the mystique and grandeur of being a captain and simply giving in to his exhaustion.  “How are we looking now?”

              Oberst Rann checked his readings from the helm.  “Much better, Captain.  The cargo guys back on the planet didn’t balance the load right and we were listing a bit because of it.”

              “I think Taja and the others managed to trim out the load,” Frederick replied, rubbing his temples with the fingers of one hand.

              “And the others, Captain?” the man asked with a smirk.  “You helped out.”

              “Yes, I did, and I’m starting to regret it.”  He sat up straighter and blinked his eyes a few times.  “But the work of a captain is never done and rarely appreciated as much as it should be.”

              “I know I’m weeping for you, Captain,” the pilot replied, keeping an absolutely straight face and turning back to his helm controls.  Then he nodded.  “Yes, we’re trimmed out properly now.  Just a forty-six hour trip to the nearest gas giant to refuel, and then three days more to the hyper limit.”

              “And then we leave the lovely Bimawae system behind,” Frederick said, nodding.  “It’s been a good trip and I think the locals appreciated the cattle we brought them.”

              “Captain, that was simply… well… gross.”

              Frederick snorted.  “Gross?  Bringing frozen, fertilized gametes for heads of five hundred cows is a lot better than bringing
actual
cattle aboard the ship.  There isn’t enough room to hold them and caring for them, and the smell…” 

              “And,” the voice of the fiery cargo specialist said from outside the small cockpit, “We can bring way more frozen eggs than we can live cattle.  We’d have managed maybe a dozen in the ship’s holds.  This way, we spare the captain his mess and we get to bring in so much more profit.”  Taja Mbuto shrugged.  “The incubators and micro reactors brought a tidy little sum, too.”

              “Yes, it did,” Frederick agreed.  “How are the accounts looking?”

              “Well, the one here is looking healthy,” Taja replied, crossing her arms over her chest.  “And once we bring back the gold and silver ingots, I think we’ll have a few more credits back home.  There was even some platinum that the locals had no use for.  We made off like bandits this time.”

              “The money’s great and all,” Oberst said, locking the course into the helm.  “But I think I’m more impressed with the big cask of the beer that you managed to get.”

              Taja just rolled her eyes.  “Men,” she said in a disgusted tone and stalked off.

              “What?” Oberst asked, slightly hurt.  “It’s good beer.”

              “It is that.”

              “Approaching waypoint two for the gas giant,” Oberst reported some time later.  It had been a quiet two-day trip to the gas giant from the planet, giving the crew plenty of time to relax and get some regular maintenance checks done on the ship’s equipment.  Making the refueling stop at the fuel collector here was the last thing of any interest to happen until
Redcap Madness
reached the hyper limit.  Then they’d make the jump into hyperspace and then it was a month-long trip to Seylonique.  The crew appreciated the breaks in the otherwise long routine, even if refueling ops weren’t all that interesting.

              “I believe I have something interesting,” Maya, the woman at the sensor station piped up. 

              “Something interesting?” Frederick asked, turning to her.

              “Yes, Cap,” she said, pointing to an icon on her monitor.  “I don’t know what that is, but it’s coming this way.”

              “Straight at us?” he asked, getting worried.

              She consulted her console.  “Well, I think it’s actually on a course for the gas giant, not for us.”

              “What is it?  A ship?”

              “If it is, it’s massive,” Maya replied.  She frowned.  “I can’t get a good reading from this far out, but I’d say it’s at least ten kilometers in diameters, possibly more.  Wow!”  She blinked in surprise.  “It’s moving really fast!  Over point nine light!”

              Vosteros whistled.  At nearly the speed of light, whatever that thing was it was
tearing
across the system.  The relativistic effects would be huge, but he imagined anyone piloting a ship going that fast wouldn’t much care about being younger than the things it was screaming past.  And it would have to be a ship, because there would very few things in nature that could accelerate a chunk of mass up to those speeds.  “How long until it’s here?”

              “Twenty seconds,” Maya replied. 

              “Should I alter course?” Oberst asked, glancing over his shoulder.

              Frederick hesitated for only a heartbeat.  “Yes.  Drop us down the z-axis, max accel.  I don’t want to take any chances with that… thing.  Go!”  He pressed a control on his chair.  “All hands, this is the Captain.  Prepare for maximum emergency acceleration!”  With a lurch, the ship rotated ninety degrees “down” and then the main drives kicked in.  There was only a slight sensation of being pushed back into his chair.  The freighter was designed to be efficient; to carry cargo cheaply from one star system to another.  It wasn’t designed for high-speed maneuvers and it wasn’t equipped with military-grade inertial compensators or drives or any of that.  So the ship making a hard turn like that was something that would barely be felt in an “efficient” vessel like this.

              As it turned out, it was a good job that the ship maneuvered the way it did.  Eighteen seconds later, the vessel or object or whatever it was streaked by at nearly the speed of light.  There was no pressure wave, no noise in the vacuum of space as the vessel passed by.

              “Captain, the vessel is slowing.  Holy shit!” Maya gasped.  “It’s braking
hard
!  And I’m getting weird gravitational readings.  They’re shifting.  Wow…”

              “What?”  Vosteros got out of his chair and stepped over to her console to look over her shoulder.  “Oberst, bring us around, down to cruising speed and slow us up.  Take us to the fueling platform.  And go easy on the fuel usage.”

              The pilot blinked, then nodded.  “Right, Cap.  Working on it.  What was that thing?”

              “No idea,” Frederick replied.  “Maya, you train all of our sensors on that thing and get every bit of information you can.  Minus the navigation sensors, of course.  I don’t need us plunging into the gas giant.”

              “I’ve got it, Captain.  Don’t you worry.”  She had her eyes glued to her displays, trying to absorb and understand as much of the information as she could.

              “Well, what I can tell you is it’s a ship,” Maya said, some hours later.  “But I’ll be damned if I can tell you what kind or who built it.  And there are gravitic anomalies that are shifting all around that thing.”

              “They’re just localized right around the ship?” Vosteros asked, frowning.  “And nowhere else?  That doesn’t make any sense.  We’ve been through this system several times already and we would have detected something like that.  Nothing.”

              “It’s got to be generating them,” Maya said.  “What are they called?  Micro singularities.  Little black holes that are artificially generated and the ship falls forward in the direction of the singularity.  Since the ship is covered by the gravitational effects of the black hole evenly, there’s no inertial effects for anyone inside.  Which means, if you can do it, you could pile on truly massive amounts of acceleration and not feel the effects on the inside.  And, so long as you can keep the field balanced, you could effectively turn on a half-penny.”

              “Slick,” Vosteros said in appreciation, his eyes wide.  “I wonder how much the power requirements are?”

              “Insane, I’d reckon,” Maya said, leaning back in her chair, putting her hands back behind her head.  They watched the display, where they could see the massive vessel continuing to slow.  Since they were much closer, they had a clearer picture of what the ship looked like.  It was in fact, twenty-two kilometers in diameter, a disk, flying face-on toward the planet.  The gravitational anomaly was on the side facing away from the planet, pulling the ship to a stop. 
Redcap Madness’s
sensors couldn’t get a clear image of the ship, not with those gravitational effects screwing up all the readings.  “But what I can tell you about that thing is that I don’t recognize the hull composition.  It isn’t metal.  Hell, I don’t know what the hell it is.”  She grunted, waving at the display.  “And the anomalies are screwing up the sensors so I can’t get a clear read.  I’ve never seen anything like it.”

              Vosteros nodded slowly, eyes on the displays.  “All right.  Maya, do your best, get whatever information about that… thing as you can.”  He shrugged, grinning.  “Who knows?  Might be worth something to the government, to First Principles.  Hell, to both of them.”  He watched the disk as it slowly maneuvered through the planet’s rings and into the upper atmosphere. 
What exactly is that thing doing?  Who are you?

              This system was cold.  It was barren.  There were three planets here that could serve as reasonable ports for resupply.  There was one poison planet, in closer to the star, and there were populations of lower life forms, vermin, really, but thankfully they seemed to be planet bound. 

              Jocana-Swift-Soaring twitched its manipulator tentacles in disgust. 
How it is that vermin can
live
on a planet like that, it boggles the neuro-tails.  How could they possibly develop on a world with so little of the life-giving essence?  On a place where they have to crawl on the rocks, breathing that stink. 
It shuddered. 

             
Torinal-Winged-Harmony, the mutually-agreed upon Decider for this expedition, sent out an electromagnetic pulse, the People’s equivalent of clearing one’s throat.  The People spoke to one another by sending naturally generated electromagnetic signals, coherent radio waves, nothing so…
uncouth
… as belching gas from an interior bladder and vibrating cords within their bodies.  [You are troubled.]

              Jocana-Swift-Soaring made swirling motions with its manipulator tentacles.  [I didn’t realize I was projecting, Decider.  Forgive me.  It has been a long and harrowing journey.]

              [It has been.  And I know that you and your progenitors disapproved of this mission.  I appreciate what it took for you to take up this mission.] 

              [Our Home is dying.]  Jocana-Swift-Soaring was resigned.  [The idea of traveling to another world, finding one that we can use for a new Home… It seems a fantasy.]  The massive creature gathered in another bladder-full of the particulate-filled atmosphere of the ship, sucking in nutrients as well.  [The People have never strayed so far from Home before.  If forty-five of us barely made this journey through such perils, how can we convince tens of thousands of our brethren to join us?  I must admit the traveling through metaspace was not a pleasant experience.]

              Torinal-Winged-Harmony waved a dozen of its smaller cilia-like appendages, gathering up particulates and other nutrients out of the atmo.  It emitted a small EM pulse, the equivalent of putting a hand on the shoulder.  [No, it was not.  And the fact that it took sixteen circlings to bring us here, finally to a star system that has possible candidates for our new Home… well, I cannot imagine it will go over well with the populace back Home.  But as you say, Home is dying.  We must take extreme measures to ensure our people survival.]

              [As you say, Decider.]  Jocana-Swift-Soaring stated emphatically.  [How long until we can start work on repairing the vessel?]

              A trilling pulse this time, accompanied by the curling of a half-dozen of its larger manipulator tentacles.  [We must test the quality of the essence of this world.  There would be no point in collecting large amounts of it to find it was poisonous or irradiated beyond use, would it?]

              Jocana-Swift-Soaring emitted an amused pulse.  [No, it would not.  Forgive my impatience.]

              [There is nothing to forgive.  The nutrient levels in the essence aboard the vessel are at low levels.  I know that they need replenishment.  I am pleased that the crew have been so strong in taking a reduction in their daily consumption of nutrient mass.  But we have all been feeling the strain.]  Another reassuring signal.  [Do not worry.  Hopefully our long odyssey is over and in a short while we will feast.]

              [Decider, there is something in the atmosphere of the planet.]  Another of the crew sent to its leader.  [An artificial construct of some sort.  I do not recognize the design.]

              Torinal-Winged-Harmony rotated its huge form.  The People were not built like the vermin that crawled on the surface of the poison worlds, with only a small number of appendages for movement.  No, the People were proper-sized, each several hundred
kit-khoonj
in diameter, and while they were round, they were not perfect spheres.  Their outer membranes were festooned with two score large manipulator tentacles for grasping large objects, and several hundred hairlike cilia for more fine motor manipulation, and they doubled as radio frequency emitters and receivers for their communication, both with each other and with the vessel.  Vermin might call them bubbles or gas-baggers, but to the People, the vermin were the ones worthy of derision.  Creatures so small an entire civilization could be devoured by one of the People?  No, the vermin were insignificant compared to such as They.