First Principles: Samair in Argos: Book 3 (73 page)

              In short order, the rest of her crew was rounded up and shackled with the same kinds of binders.  They were deposited in the galley, and kept under watch by three armed men.  Their visors were kept down but their carbines were held at the ready, leveled at the crew of the ship.  Ernie was bleeding from a wound in his shoulder and another in his leg.  He was very pale and his breathing shallow.

              “Ernie, what happened?” Lujayne asked.  But he didn’t answer; he only shook her head.

              “One of those thugs grabbed me,” Trudy said, her face blotchy from crying.  “He hit me because I wasn’t moving fast enough.  Ernie,” she flicked her chin in his direction, “got mad and hit him with one of his big wrenches.  So they shot him.”

              “He needs a doctor!” Lujayne said, glaring at the soldiers.  They ignored her.  “He’ll bleed out if you don’t do something!”

              “He’s a criminal,” one of the soldiers replied coldly.  “He attacked one of us.  And as his captain, you share responsibility as well.”

              “We’re peaceful traders!” she protested.  “We had bought and sold cargoes and we were leaving the system.”

              “You’re outsiders,” the soldier retorted, as though that was all he needed to say.  “And outsiders consort with criminals.”

              “What?” Lujayne demanded.  “We bought cargoes on the orbital!  You have criminals running unchecked there?  Trading and selling cargoes right there on the docking ring?  If you’re so interested in stamping out criminal activity, why wait until ships are underway?”  One of the soldiers stepped up to her, shoving his carbine right in her face. 

              “Please,” the first soldier said, his tone smug.  “Keep talking.”  Lujayne closed her mouth, trembling a bit with fear and rage.  The man emitted a chuckle from the speakers and gave her a shove, knocking her out of the chair at the table.  “Get up.” 

              Nazan Tariq sat on the bridge of
Cavalier
and fumed.  “That is a civilian trader, licensed to carry cargo.”

              “You’ve been warned to keep your distance,” the man on the display told him.  “We are carrying out a routine inspection of a suspected smuggler, as is our right as a security patrol in this system.  Do not test my patience,
Captain
,” he said, as though Nazan’s rank was an insult.

              “Suspected smuggler?” he demanded, continuing to be astounded by the accusation.  “Who said they were smugglers?”

              “I am not under any obligation to explain myself to you,” the customs officer sneered.  “If we get a tip that there may be contraband aboard any cargo ship we will investigate and if necessary, detain that ship and its crew.”

              “This is ridiculous.”  Tariq couldn’t help but let his frustration at this situation show.  “There is no contraband aboard that ship.”

              The man frowned.  “You’re an outlander.  Of course you would say that.  I’ve had more than a few ship captains who assure me that of course there isn’t anything illegal aboard their ship and then I find containers full of drugs, holds full of slaves, crates of weapons.  If you think that you can just slip back over the hyper limit, away from out jurisdiction, you can think again.”

              He took a deep breath, trying to find a shred of calm.  “And what exactly is it that you expect to find aboard that ship?  Your people watched them load cargo onto that ship.  You checked containers and you checked manifests, everything matched.”

              The customs officer glared at Nazan through the monitor.  “We’ll inform you of anything we think you need to know. 
Prima
out.”

              Tariq slammed his fist into the arm of the chair so hard it hurt.  “Damn it!” he shouted.  It took him nearly a minute to notice that the rest of the bridge crew, including the XO, was doing everything they could to look busy and to keep from attracting his attention.  What could he do?  Firing on the frigate wouldn’t get the cargo crew released, and might actually harm some of them.  It would make things worse, actually, since most likely any attack he made on the patrol ships would spark a war between the two star systems and wouldn’t everyone back home just
love
him for bringing that to their door?

              “Maintain position,” he growled, rubbing his gloved hand. 
I won’t just sit here and let this happen.  But what can I do? 

              “This is incredible,” Vincent Eamonn said with awe.  He was walking down the corridor of the medical facility, waving his hands in front of his face.  There was nothing there; of course, he was seeing the information feeds and readouts from his HUD.  “Now I finally understand that faraway look you get on your face sometimes, Tamara,” he remarked with a smile.  Then he frowned.  “Though I admit it’s a little overwhelming.  How much of this stuff do you usually have up?”

              Tamara smiled at him.  “When the disruptor was on, I didn’t use the HUD all that much.  I have to say, though, I’ve missed it.”  She shrugged.  “Typically, I would keep up a few readouts: the time, the regular updates to the area I’m in.  Also a few other things along the edges.  Though I know a few people back in the old days who would have very little in the way of empty space on their HUD.”  She grinned.  “I don’t honestly know how they managed to actually see what was in front of them what with all the data in the way.”  Tamara clapped him on the shoulder.  “Just take it slow.  The implants will help you with information processing and computer control.  But if you try to do too much too quickly, you’re going to give yourself a long and lasting headache.  Believe me, I know.”

              “It is strange,” Turan put in.  He was keeping his large flipper hands at his sides as he walked, calm and reserved, like most times.  “I so much as think of something and the information pops up on the HUD.”

              “It takes some getting used to,” Tamara admitted.  “But you just have to make sure that they enhance your abilities, but that they don’t become a crutch.  And by the stars, Captain, just because you have the ability to access all the systems on the ship from the comfort of your chair, don’t turn into a giant slug who can’t be bothered to even leave his chair because it’s simply easier to do it this way.”

              He laughed.  “I’ll try and remember that.  Wouldn’t want to lose my sex appeal.”

              “I’m more concerned about your public image.  You are the one who’s in charge of this company,” she reminded him.  “I’m the one who runs things, but it is still your company, Vincent.  You turning into a blob who can’t even lift himself off his bed isn’t something that’s going to instill confidence in our investors.”

              Vincent wrinkled his nose at the image.  “No, I can see that.  And I would hate having that sort of thing happen.  I don’t much care for exercising but I’m suddenly getting the urge to go for a run.”  They all chuckled.  “But before I do that, I think I’m going to head back to the ship and try these babies out.”

              “Do us all another favor, Captain?” Tamara interjected.  “Stay away from any of the command feeds and the engineering sections.  Open doors, play with lights, things of that nature.  Access the databases, but please don’t change any of the current settings on systems.”

              He smiled at her.  “Don’t worry, Tamara.  I have no intention of messing up my ship.”

              “And go easy on the implants at first, Vincent,” she said emphatically.  “Trust me when I tell you that the headaches will be quick in coming and long in duration if you overdo it.”

              “I trust you, Tamara,” Turan replied, before Vincent could speak.  “And you, Captain, are not going to hole up in those quarters or the wardroom with migraines because you’re too stubborn to get help.  You are going to report to me every day in sickbay for a checkup, understood?  Or I will get Saiphirelle to find you and drag you down to me in front of the whole crew.  Understood?”

              Vincent scowled, first at the doctor and then at Tamara.  “You see what you did here?”

              She slapped him playfully on the arm.  “You bring it on yourself, Captain.  Especially since I think it
will
take at least one session of Saiphirelle throwing you over her shoulder to get you to start coming to sickbay for checkups.”

              “Don’t you start!” he growled at her.  The others laughed again and after a second, he joined in as well.

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

              “Sir, we’ve swept the ship,” one of the soldiers reported, returning to the galley where the crew was being held.  “Most of the cargo is fine, but there’s a load of what is listed as ‘pharmaceuticals’ in the manifest.  We’ve opened the containers and they are actually containing drugs.”

              “Of course they contain drugs!” Lujayne shouted.  “It’s a load of antibiotics and other medicinal drugs.”

              “What?”  One of the soldiers, apparently the leader, turned his head in Lujayne’s direction.  His faceplate on his helmet was still down and the completely opaque, so she had no way of telling what his thoughts were, what his facial expressions were projecting.  But the fact that he had turned toward her, even just to face her as she spoke, made her think that perhaps it was curiosity, not something more hostile that his face would show.

              “I bought pharmaceuticals to bring back to Seylonique.  The doctors there are always interested in new medicines, hell, even just increasing stockpiles.”

              There were chuckles from the soldiers.  “Stockpiles?” the leader asked, mirth clearly evident in his voice.

              “Yes,” she replied.  “In case of an outbreak or a rash of injuries.”

              There was another silent stare from the leader, or rather his helmet was still pointed in her direction.  It was maddening that he was clearly looking at her, but she had no way of telling what he was thinking.

              Lujayne let out deep breath.  “So, did you find any contraband?”  Another long pause.  “Did you?” she demanded, keeping her voice level.

              One of the armed soldiers cuffed her on the back of the head.  It wasn’t a hard hit, but it was enough to knock her to the side.  “Keep a civil tongue in your head,
Captain
, or you might lose then both.”

              Lujayne struggled back to an upright sitting position, difficult to do with a ringing head and hands tied behind her back.  “So what happens now?” she asked.  “Are you going to execute us all?”

              The soldiers turned and looked at one another.  Perhaps they were conversing over an internal comm channel, which made the most sense.  Otherwise all they were doing was standing and staring at one another.  “No,” the leader finally said.  He looked over to the others.  “Untie them.  Transmit a copy of their manifest to the ship.”

              One of the soldiers began cutting away the restraints on the crew.  Once they were all free, the soldiers began to retreat back down the corridor toward the airlock.  The leader was the last one to remain, with only one of his men with him.  “I appreciate your cooperation in this endeavor.  I apologize for any inconvenience.”  He didn’t sound the least bit sorry.  “I hope that you have a safe journey.”  He turned and walked out, his man training his weapon on the crew as he backed out of the compartment.

              Lujayne gaped.  After a few seconds, they could hear the airlock cycling and then they were gone.  The rest of the crew sat there, stunned, everyone just looking at one another.  Finally, Trudy spoke up, her voice very quiet.

              “Captain, what the hell just happened?”  She spoke as though she was afraid her voice might shatter the unnatural calm.

              She leaned back, trying to make sense out of all the madness.  Finally, she cleared her throat and stood, rubbing her wrists where the plastic had bit into them.  “All right, everyone back at your posts.  I want a full report on our status.  Vashta, help Ernie over to the medbox.  Those quick patches the soldiers gave you probably won’t prevent infections or hell, even seal the wounds.”  The young cargoman nodded, helping the ship’s engineer to his feet. 

              “Huznall, get on the comms to
Cavalier
.  Let them know we’re all right, but we need engineering assistance, possibly medical as well.”

              They were up; they were moving.  That’s what was important.  It would take a while for everyone to recover from this, but Lujayne suspected that they could.  Ernie might be the worst off, since he’d been shot, though judging by her own shaking hands it was going to be a while to put this whole affair behind her.  She turned and followed the rest of her crew out.  Moving up to her Chief Engineer, she helped him hobble to the medbox.  The clamshell device was located in an alcove just off the primary cargo hold and it opened up at a touch of the controls.  They gently laid Ernie inside and the clear armorglass lid closed over him.  Sensors activated immediately and he was pumped with drugs to sedate him and deal with any infection.  A nanite solution of quick heal was also injected and the tiny robots went to work.

              “He’ll be all right,” Vashta said, checking the readouts.  “Luckily the wounds were not life-threatening, unless untreated.”