A Greater Interest: Samair in Argos: Book 4 (58 page)

“Training,” Gants said and now he was getting angry.  “She’s had more than a few good ideas and we’ve been running training sims with her people and ours.  And since
Leytonstone
has been laid up here in the shipyards for the last few weeks and will be for the next few months, I’ve been here.  And she has as well.  That’s all there is and I resent your implications, Triarch.”  His face was reddening.  “And while she might do things a certain way with her own employees and officers, I don’t follow every example she puts forth.”

              Kozen’ck buzzed, appreciating the sentiment.  “We need to send a ship to Bimawae to get more information about the aliens.”

              But Gants shook his head.  “No, Councilor.  The admin council
wants
to send a ship to Bimawae and I agree; it is important.  But is it important enough to further weaken our defenses by doing this?”

              “It is one corvette, Colonel.  You’re going to tell me that one of the smallest ships we have in the Fleet is going to make or break our defenses?”

              “A corvette has better sensors than that freighter,” Gants allowed, grudgingly.  “But compared to the sensor suite on one of our destroyers, or even one of Samair’s frigates, it’s not the best we’ve got.”

              “What about the battlecruiser?” the zheen asked pointedly.

              The colonel looked uncomfortable.  “The
Leytonstone
certainly has more powerful sensors, but they don’t have the ability for refinement that the sensors on our smaller ships.”

              The zheen waved a hand.  “We’re getting off topic here.  We want to send a ship to Bimawae, Colonel.  Are you telling me you can’t spare any ships for this?”

              “I’ll be honest, Triarch, I’m not thrilled with the idea of sending any further ships out of the system.  That being said,” he paused for a moment, checking something outside of the vid pickup and gnashing his teeth, “yes, I think I
can
spare one more ship.  That would be
Kingston
.”

              “
Kingston
,” Kozen’ck repeated, checking his datapad.  The corvette had been commissioned barely six weeks ago, the fifth of the order of councilors’ ships.  It was of identical design as the
Kulketze,
so it should suffice as far as what the mission parameters called for.  “And what is your assessment of the ship’s commanding officer?  Is he capable?”

              Gants grimaced.  He didn’t like discussing subordinates with outsiders (non-Navy types), especially a frank appraisal of an officer he really hadn’t had the time to truly evaluate to a politician who really didn’t understand what he was asking.  But, the question was asked.  “He’s young, Triarch.  He’s new to command and I really could use him and his ship here in the system, but sending him out on what is essentially an extended patrol on detached duty would certainly be a good test of his mettle.”

              “Then I want you to draft his orders, Colonel,” Kozen’ck replied.  “Get that ship out to Bimawae and get the information back to us.”

              “I’ll get the orders cut and the ship sent out by the end of the day, Triarch.”

              “Excellent.  Now, talk to me about these exercises that you mentioned,” he said, his antennae twitching.  “I’m interested to hear what it is that the two of you have been cooking up out here.  And what sort of progress you’ve been having with training our fleet.”

Chapter 19

              The launching of the escort-frigate
Verdun
was a complete non-event, odd for a warship launch.  There were no reporters, no crowd of onlookers and well-wishers, no one in an EVA suit flung a bottle of champagne to smash against the hull.  The technicians and engineers were pleased with their work, but didn’t need to be there at the time of the launch; they were more than happy to watch the launch on the displays in the living areas aboard the shipyard complex.  Tamara Samair was pleased by the launch; she actually attended in person, riding at the back of the bridge, staying out of the bridge crew’s way from the observer’s seat.  Things went smoothly and in minutes, the newest ship in the First Principles defense flotilla slid from the builders’ slip and out into space.

              “Captain Killik?” the Romigani female seated at the sensor station called. 

              “What is it?” Killik asked.  The zheen was the newest of her ship captains, but he had been part of the defense flotilla since the beginning.  Killik had been on the tactical team aboard the first
Cavalier
, then transferred to
Maitland
for a short stint and then on to second shift sensor officer aboard
Mondragon
a day before the mission to Ulla-tran was declared.  He’d applied and beat out three other candidates in the testing period when
Verdun
had less than two weeks to go in the building slip.  When he’d taken command, he’d gotten a very green crew with a salting of experienced veterans but there weren’t all that many to offer since the battle.  Most had been transferred from other positions within the company, a good portion from the Kutok mine, but they all had very little to no experience in ship operation and none in shipboard combat.  It had been a learning experience for everyone involved and Killik had been trying to push his people, but so many were unfamiliar with these systems that it was as though he was working with new, raw recruits.  But he was confident that the crew and officers could at least get the ship out of the construction slip and fly into open space for more training exercises without embarrassing him, the company of Ms. Samair by hitting anything or having some sort of catastrophic failure.

              “We’ve cleared the construction dock,” the sensor watch reported.

              Killik nodded.  “Very well.  Helm, set course for the testing area.”  The helmsman acknowledged and the escort-frigate smoothly sailed around the various obstacles, static and moving: the various shuttles and tugs and even the defensive platforms. 

              “New contact,” the Romigani reported, getting excited, but she managed to keep herself in the chair.  “Heading this way on a vector from the hyper limit.  Coming from Heb.”

              “One of our freighters?” Killik asked.

              The sensor watch shook her head.  “No, sir.  It’s the
Maitland
.”

              Tamara, up until now showing mild interest and attention to what was going on around her, roused at the sound of the ship’s name.  “Captain Killik, could you please hail that ship?  Is she in range?”  She knew better than to address the crew directly; it would confuse them and the chain of command.  Yes, she was the Chief of Operations for the company, but aboard his ship, Killik was in charge.  It wasn’t so critical now, but better to remember and encourage good habits now.

              The zheen nodded, glancing back to her and then over to the comms watch.  “Comms, hail the
Maitland
.  Tell them we are requesting and update and we have the Chief of Operations on board.”

              Tamara suppressed a frown.  Linking her implants to
Verdun’s
sensor net, she saw the FP corvette moving in-system.  The sensor tech had not given any further update, only announced that
Maitland
had entered sensor range and was inbound.  The ship was still over two light hours away and moving in system.  Any messages from
Verdun
would take two hours to be received and just as long for
Maitland
’s respond to make its way back.  This was just another sign of how much more training the crew needed.

              “Captain,” she said in an undertone and he turned to look at her from his command seat.  She got up and moved over to him.  “The ship is over two light hours out.  We can’t have instantaneous communication with them.”

              Irritated, he hissed.  Killik turned to the sensor watch.  “Sensors,” he said loudly, hissing in his sybillance.  “Confirm our range to
Maitland
.”

              The watch stander turned back to her station and then froze, going ramrod straight in her seat.  “Two point two three light hours, sir.”

              “Very well,” he replied coldly.  “Comms, cancel the hail.  They aren’t going to be able to answer for hours.  Send a burst transmission: Welcome back, good to see you and all that.  Please request a status update and a mission report.”

              The sensor watch’s rubbery flesh had colored slightly pink, displaying her abject humiliation at the mistake, her eyes were locked onto her displays.  The comms officer acknowledged the order and began working the controls. 

              “It would appear, Ms. Samair, that this crew needs a much more work before
Verdun
will be ready.”  He said it loudly enough to carry across the bridge.

              Samair nodded.  “I have every confidence in your ability to lead this crew, Captain.  As well as in their ability to do the job.  I know none of you will let us down.”

              “No, Ms. Samair, we will not.  This crew
WILL
be the best!” he declared, his voice all but echoing across the bridge compartment.  There was a stunned and broken chorus of acknowledgements.  No one seemed to share his confidence.

              Tamara hid a grimace.  She knew they needed more work and it would be a while before
Verdun
was properly ready but she hoped Killik wouldn’t run them ragged or flog them (metaphorically speaking) too much.  The last thing Tamara wanted was a broken crew and a tyrannical captain.  She’d keep an eye on things and wished, not for the first time, that the ship could support an AI.  Technically, it could, but it would require a significant and otherwise unnecessary upgrade to
Verdun
’s computer core.  For a ship this size, the upgrade was ridiculous and prohibitively expensive.  The smallest warship that could support an AI and the subsequent upgrades was a destroyer, which was why
Persistence of Vision
and
Xie Feng
were properly outfitted.  Though having one here to monitor things and help smooth things out between the captain and crew would be helpful. 

              “Shall we return to the shakedown, Captain?” she asked, moving back to the observer’s chair.

              The data packet arrived from
Maitland
, with an eyes-only security seal for captain rank or higher.  Tamara retreated to the escort-frigate’s small conference room, followed a moment later by Killik, the hatch closing behind him and locking.  Tamara’s bodyguards were just outside the room and Viktoriya was slightly miffed that she would not be allowed in.  Tamara, however, promised her (via a comm message over her implants) that she could have the door unlocked with a thought and the guards could be inside in seconds.  In the meantime, she would never have her back to the ship’s captain and she assured her Serzhant that she never went anywhere without her guns.

              Tamara activated the display and accessed the message and data began spilling forth.  At first what she saw looked interesting; captured data modules from not one but
two
derelict ships, with the potential for a lot of goodies there, not to mention some new ships.  But then more reports came in.

              “As you can see,” Captain Alexsei Vikashev was saying, “the system has just been gutted. 
Maitland
did a thorough sweep, fuel permitting and we found no life signs and only floating debris.  The trade station, repair slip, even the fuel collectors floating in the gas giant’s atmosphere have all been completely obliterated.  Any trace of Republic presence in this system has been destroyed.”

              “The strange thing,” he went on, “is that we detected no sign of pirate activity, either.  Aside from a couple of derelicts, there was nothing here.  Either the pirates took what they wanted and trashed the rest, or someone chased them out and they trashed everything before they left.  I’ve had my people going over the info we scavenged off the pirate cruiser, which might have some clues leading us to discover what happened.”

              “I’m bringing in
Maitland
now.  We’ve developed a slight flutter in the ventral hyperspace nacelle.  Nothing serious,” he said hurriedly, as though he knew his audience would be concerned, “Or so Chief Lexington tells me, but we reduced our hyperspeed a few levels and the flutter dropped in intensity to manageable levels.  I want to get my ship in and checked out so it can be repaired as soon as possible.  I await any further instructions. 
Maitland
, out.”

              Tamara turned to Killik once the screen blanked.  “What are your thoughts, Captain Killik?”

              His antennae flared.  “Me?  You’re the boss.”

              She scowled at him, genuine anger bubbling up.  She might be a lowly human, but she didn’t need to be lupusan or zheen or hak’ruk or any other more physically mighty race to show an intimidating level of ire.  “You are a captain of one of the company’s warships, Killik.  I want to get opinions from all of my senior people of which you are now a member.  Anyone with insight and good ideas, actually.  But that’s one of your responsibilities, Captain: to give me your frank opinion whenever I ask for it.  You’re not some line worker or maintenance tech: you’re a commanding officer,” she stated hotly.

              Killik looked as though he was going to shy away from her, but pride held him still.  That and the words she’d used, reminding him of his rank.  “Understood,” he hissed, stung.  “Well, first, I’m glad
Maitland
made it back safe.  We’ve had enough problems lately without losing more ships or crew.”

              Tamara nodded, softening but still impassive.  “Anything else?”

              Killik paused to consider.  “The destruction of the Republic base isn’t really news.  We knew, or at least suspected, that might have been the case when the Republic destroyer came here all those months ago.”  He paused again.

              “Good to have that confirmed at least,” he said after a long moment.

              “Republic won’t be too happy about that,” Tamara grumbled.  She gestured for him to continue.  “Please, go on, Captain.”

              “Well,” he said slowly, clearly straining for more.  “The data modules they brought back should make for interesting reading.  Captain Vikashev indicated he got some from a Republic ship as well as a pirate cruiser.  Who knows what the techs or Apogee might find on them?”

              “Indeed.  But it’s the complete lack of anyone alive that bothers me the most,” Tamara admitted.

              “It’s not really a surprise,” Killik noted.  “They’re pirates.  Isn’t kill, destroy, plunder the way they operate?”

              She shrugged.  “I’m not sure.  Before the attack here I would have said yes.  But the pirates had the chance to move in and smash everything and they didn’t.  And it wasn’t because
Persistence of Vision
or the starfighters drove them off.  They left on their own decision and now, when we know they dominated the Byra-Kae system, they just trashed everything and left?  All that infrastructure?  All those people?  Seems an awful waste to just murder all those people and destroy everything.  Why not just set up shop there?”  She absently rubbed the back of her neck.

              “If the system truly is abandoned, ma’am,” Killik said slowly, “We may never find out.  It isn’t like the pirates are going to tell us and the Republic people are dead.”

              “Mmm.  You’re right about that.  Well, it’s something think on, anyway.”

              Of all her guards, it turned out that the burly Beau was having the most trouble with the neuro implants.  Complications during surgery, combined with abnormal amounts of swelling and an unknown allergy to one of the pain meds had kept the big wolf in the medical facility for almost a month longer than all the others.  Tamara could conduct nearly all her business from here in the shipyard complex or on board
Moxie-2
, so it allowed her to remain at the yards to monitor his progress.

              Being in the yards also allowed Tamara to drop in on her R&D team and to bring presents for her friend Ka’Xarian.

              “What have you got for me, Tamara?” the cheerful insectoid engineer cackled, rubbing his carapaced hands together.  It made a strange noise, like leather rubbing against sandpaper.

              “Nothing candied this time, Xar,” she replied with a smile.  She handed him a data card.  “But I do have some goodies here for you and your team to chew on.”