First Principles: Samair in Argos: Book 3 (9 page)

              “I find it highly insulting that you immediately accuse me, Triarch,” Kly said, stalling for time.  What could he say?  He
had
had dealings with Ghovorak in the past, but then so did his co-conspirator, Hyacinth Cresswell.  He’d have to start working quickly to move himself out of the limelight here and maneuver her into it.

              But the bug would not be deterred.  “Don’t play games with me, Kly.  I know you and Cresswell have been in closed door meetings together.  I spoke with Chakrabarti just after he invested in FP.  And he told me how upset the two of you were.  And two months later, suddenly, this happens.”  He hissed.  “And you really think that I wouldn’t notice this amazing coincidence?”

              Kly clenched his teeth.  “Was I upset about those outsiders coming into our system?  Yes.  But I would not even consider a military option to-…”

              “Spare me the lies,” Kozen’ck interrupted.  “I will be looking into this.  And I’ve already been speaking with members of the admin council.  I
will
discover the truth of what happened out there.  And the guilty parties will be brought out into the light.”  He cut the connection, leaving Kly sitting on his couch, staring blankly.

              There was one bright side to the whole experience, as Tamara discovered on a trip with the newly restored
Cavalier
to the orbital.  People were showing a serious interest in joining FP.  Hits on the recruitment website were up by almost 300%.  Tamara rented out a conference room at the Union Hall on the orbital to meet with some of the applicants but it quickly became clear that she could not handle all of them.  She started sending people from the corvette in shifts to start preliminary interviews, renting out five of the seven rooms and conducting interviews in two eight-hour shifts.  This went on for more than a week and in that time almost five hundred applicants were pre-screened.

              To assist with the vetting process, Vincent brought the
Grania Estelle
in from the Kutok mine and parked his ship ten kilometers from the station, allowing Stella to be in real-time communications with the people on the orbital.  They were looking, as before, for trained workers, anyone with engineering background.  Of course, there wasn’t much that could be found, the applicant pool hadn’t really changed.  But this time, FP had facilities for training, both out on the Kutok mine, and now on the various ships they controlled.  There was talk among Vincent, Tamara and Stella about setting up training facilities either here on the orbital or down on the planet, but it was decided to hold off on that.  At some point, perhaps, but for now they would use their existing facilities and ships for training purposes.

              “Are there any ships here we can pick up?” Vincent asked, a week after the initial recruitment had begun. 

              Stella tipped her head from side to side.  “There are two, Captain, but to be perfectly honest, they wouldn’t be worth the effort.  I think a better option would be to follow Tamara’s idea from a few days ago.  We should move forward with the yard idea.”

              Tamara smiled.  “It would go a good way toward helping with trade.  It would essentially make the Kutok mine and surrounding area a one-stop shop for the incoming trader.  Fuel, maintenance, and a little R&R on the mining station.”

              “Which means we need to seriously work on expanding the civilian sectors.  And look to bringing on more businesses up there.  Eateries, entertainment, maybe a few shops, though I think we can go easy on those.  If we have trader ships or shuttles coming in, I think the gods of commerce will be satisfied.”

              “Get a few in-system ships running,” Vincent mused.  “Don’t even need to have hyperdrives on them.  Just freighters that go to and from the planet and the orbital and out here would make for a decent amount of business.”

              Stella looked a bit pensive about this.  “Captain, are we sure this is really a good idea?  I mean, aside from the one convoy from Ulla-tran a couple months ago and Captain Vosteros’s
Redcap Madness
, we haven’t seen any other traffic out this way.”

              Vincent nodded.  “I know.  I’m thinking mostly about in-system traffic to start.  If we can get two ships a week coming from the orbital or the planet it will allow us to fund more defense ships.”

              “Well,
Cavalier
is back up to strength.  And we’re ready to lay the keep for corvette number two as soon as I get back,” Tamara said.  “While we were back at the mine, I authorized the parts on the
Samarkand
’s replicators, so we should be looking at a pair of automated satellite defense turrets ready to deploy as soon as we get back.”  She tipped her head in acknowledgement.  “It won’t solve our problems, but it would certainly help me sleep a little easier next time.”

              “Am I the only one who really,
really
hopes that there is no next time?” Stella asked. 

              The other two nodded.  “But, Stella, my dear, if we’re prepared enough, if someone tries to attack us again, they’ll be the ones who are afraid.”

              The AI looked at the Captain, not quite convinced by his words.

              Tamara looked pensive.  “Vincent, there are a few things that I think we should talk about.  Things that I want to start changing once I turn over command of the
Cavalier
.”

              He nodded.  “Okay, but I have a department head meeting in a few minutes.  Can this wait?”

              Tamara hesitated for a long moment; she could see that the freighter captain’s mind was already straying to his upcoming meeting, to his reports, to the thousand and one things that he would need to be doing in a few minutes, a few hours.  “Yeah, it can wait a while.”

              “Excellent.  Don’t worry,” he said, though his tone indicated his attention had already shifted.  “I won’t forget about you.”  And he signed off.

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

              “So, Colonel Gants, now comes the time for a reckoning,” Triarch Kozen’ck said to the commander, who looked like he was trying very hard not to squirm under the scrutiny.

              The colonel had brought his ship into the station after an excruciating trip.  With his main propulsion shot out, once his engineers had patched the power systems back together and jump started the reactor, he had to use his maneuvering thrusters to gain any sort of acceleration.  Which meant that a trip that normally took a week took two and a half.  And even better, once they reached the orbital, there were no tugs to ease them into the dock, which meant that Gants had to have his demoralized and exhausted crew fly their battered ship to a dead stop at their customary airlock.  After that, a caretaker crew was brought over from the station to watch the ship and the entire crew, the Army contingent, even Gants himself was hauled in for a full debriefing.

              Gants sighed.  Just about everything that could have gone wrong with that mission had.  But how to spin it to take the lion’s share of the blame off of him?  Of the entire crew of the
Leytonstone
, as well as the army unit, he was the only one who knew who had really authorized this operation.  Well, Ghovorak probably did and maybe the captain of the
Kara
, but no one else aboard the
Leytonstone
knew.  As far as they were concerned, they were performing a security action against FP personnel and assets.  They’d been told that some illegal activity had been going on and that the government was sending in the battlecruiser to deal with it.

              The other members of the admin council were here, including Kly and Cresswell, both of whom were giving him stormy expressions.  Gants could feel the laser beams coming out of their eyes, trying to burn him alive.  He knew they would be extremely unhappy if he ratted them out.  Family connections or no, Gants would be lucky to escape with his life and any shred of dignity after this failure.  His career was most likely over.  Of course, he
had
demanded more time, more resources, more upgrades to his ship.  If he’d had more power to work with, another reactor, things would have turned out very differently.  His paper thin shields wouldn’t have failed so spectacularly to the fire of a corvette, and he would have been able to bring more than only half his weapons online. 

              “Yes, Triarch, I suppose it is,” he said, finding himself cheering a bit, though he kept his voice somber.  No matter how he spun it, this was still a failure.

              “Colonel, I want you to tell us,” the zheen ordered, his voice very clinical, “exactly who ordered you to go on this mission.”  As the human actually started to squirm, he went on, this time with a touch of scorn in his voice.  “And don’t tell me that you don’t know, or that there were intermediaries or too many levels separating you.”  He leaned forward, his antennae pointing straight ahead.  “I know you, Colonel.  I’ve seen how you work.  It’s impressive, really, how you refuse to be budged when you decide you don’t want to do something, just because someone of influence is asking.  And I know that you would take the
Leytonstone
out on a mission like this only if you knew who was giving the orders and you felt that they had the authority to give them.”  He gestured toward the colonel.  “Please.”

              He steeled himself but managed to find his voice.  “Well, Triarch, no orders came directly to me.  As you say, they
did
come through intermediaries…”

              “You’re stalling, Colonel.”

              “Triarch, you need to understand,” Gants started.

              “Colonel…”

              He sighed, fidgeting with his hands on the table. 
Why wasn’t I this nervous in combat?  Oh, that’s right, because I never really believed that the FP people would actually kill me.
  “Very well.”  He saw the daggers in the eyes of the two admins, but he squared his shoulders and continued forward.  “Through a long and winding road, the orders came down from Mister Chakrabarti,” he said, gesturing to the dark-skinned man toward the far end of the table. 

              Chakrabarti’s jaw dropped, as did those of Kly and Cresswell.  The latter two recovered quickly, trying to hide their looks of astonishment.

              “What?  That’s outrageous!” Chakrabarti demanded, getting to his feet.  “I did
not
give
any
sort of orders for that!  Why would I?  I’ve been a supporter of FP since nearly the beginning.”

              The room then erupted with shouts as the various members of the admin council were on their feet.  The meeting degenerated into accusations, denials, and even insults as the room changed from a needle-focused inquisition of a single officer to a multi-pronged squabble.  Gants simply remained in his seat, staring at a spot on the table in front of him, trying not to draw attention to himself.  It hardly mattered, however, as no one in the room was paying him the least bit of attention, including Kly and Cresswell.  The two of them were right in the thick of it, adding to the chaos, anything to keep the attention focused anywhere else.

              “That went well,” Hyacinth Cresswell murmured to Kly as they lounged in his spacious living rooms on the orbital.  They were sipping some of his whiskey, him on his couch, and she in one of his overstuffed armchairs.  It was a sign of how stressful the situation was that they were closeted together like this.  The two of them could work together, but they loathed each other.  In fact, it was a sign of the times that they had spent as much time together in recent months outside of official council business, something that had never occurred in all their collective time on the orbital.

              “Yes, it did,” Kly said, taking another sip and savoring the smoky flavor.  He looked over at her.  “But the question should be, ‘Why did it go so well?’”

              “I agree,” Cresswell said.  “What happened in there?  We were dead.  He had us spitted over the fire; all he needed was to light it.”

              “I know and so did he.  I saw his face while everyone started shouting.  He had a calculating look in his eye,” Kly said, gesturing at her with his glass.  “He wants something.  Something he’s going to expect us to provide.”

              “What are you thinking?  I mean, he’s never been very materialistic.  All he’s ever cared about is that damned ship.”

              Kly nodded.  “Which means it’s going to be something involving that damned ship.”  He sighed.  “Probably something we’re not going to like.”

              Tamara sat in her stateroom aboard the
Cavalier
several days later, staring at the same paragraph in the report.  It took a while for her to realize that in fact, she
had
been staring at that same paragraph.  Accessing her HUD, she saw that more than forty minutes had passed.  Pressing a control, her display shut off and she leaned back, inhaling deeply and rubbing her hands down her face.  It wasn’t terribly late, and the ship was on a lazy patrol near the Kutok mine.