Hold the Star: Samair in Argos: Book 2 (83 page)

              He waggled his antennae.  “Really?  How well is that working?”

              She sighed.  “Yeah, not well.  Hopefully, once we get these fighters out there, I can link the Delphon up with the Aploras and have them train together.”

              “You should be the one doing the training with them, Tamara,” the zheen told her, pointing at her.

              “Tell that to the Captain,” she growled.  “He’s the one who saddled me with the job of running the
Cavalier
.”

              “It’s necessary, Samair,” Quesh said.  “It’s not like any of us know what we’re doing as far as running a warship.”

              “I just wish there was someone else who could help shoulder the load,” she said.  “But I’m whining now.  In a few more weeks, Leicasitaj will be able to take over the
Cavalier
and it will free me up to get back to handling operations and get both squadrons of fighters up to snuff.”

              “Is he up to it?” Ka’Xarian asked.  “I’ve never met him.”

              Tamara nodded.  “He’s got a good head on his shoulders, as it were.”

              Quesh blinked.  “What does that mean?”

              “He’s a Romigani,” Tamara replied.  “He doesn’t have big, strapping shoulders like this ship’s Chief Engineer,” she teased.

              “Well, few do,” Quesh said, preening a little.  The others laughed.  “So, about the ships, what are we going to call them?”

              “They’re the
Zlk’vzn
class fighters,” Xar said immediately.  “Well they’re based around a zheen design.  I think as the ranking zheen here, I should get the honor of naming it.”  He sounded smug.

              “
Zlk’vzn
class it is,” Tamara replied.  “It looks good.  And as Chief of Operations for FP, Inc, I charge you, Second Engineering Officer Ka’Xarian, to build the prototype.  Get to it,” she said, waving him off with both hands.  He buzzed happily and after a nod from Quesh, he skittered off.  “He really is excited,” Tamara noted.

              “He was over the moon when you called us,” Quesh said, unable to hide his own smile.  “He really was a little hurt that you never thought to ask us for help.”

              “All right, all right,” she said, throwing her hands up.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t think.”

              “Well, you came to your senses; that’s all that matters,” Stella put in.

              “Eventually,” Quesh said.

              As the
Kara
left its docking slip at the orbital station and started its journey toward the outer part of the system, Glacis Ghovorak stood on the bridge, staring out at the black through the armorglass port at the front.  His arms were crossed over his chest, but he had said little since the ship had buttoned up over an hour earlier.  His soldiers, a mix of species, but all well-trained and hardened in battle, were below getting comfortable for the voyage.  It was a hundred hour trip from the orbital to the target, the Kutok mine.  The Kutok mine.  Such a strange name for such a large facility.  What the hell was a kutok anyway?

              The wiry man shrugged to himself, ignoring the bridge crew as they went about their business of flying the ship.  They, in turn, were doing their best not to look over at him, as all of them were radiating fear.  It wasn’t every day that these civilians would deal with someone such as him, and armed to the teeth as well.  It wasn’t perhaps the best impression he could have made, and he knew that, even as he stood there and watched as the orbital slid out of view to the side as the ship turned away and accelerated slowly away, he knew that he shouldn’t be standing here.  He was just intimidating the crew to no good purpose, but he couldn’t quite help himself.  Glacis was not really an imposing man, he wasn’t huge and bulky like some of his men, or some of his contemporaries, but he had presence, as his woman was always proud to say about her man. 

              He was a leader of a mercenary company, operators who went into dangerous places and did things that other people didn’t want to know about.  Business had been booming about a decade ago, but since then, things had slowed down.  His company had shrunk down from the five hundred souls that had come with him to Seylonique fifteen years before; he only had one hundred and fifty on his roster, though for this job he’d called in a few friends to join in the festivities, which brought his numbers up to just under three hundred fighters.  All of them were battle hardened, armed and armored.  He didn’t have any of the powered armor suits that the big governments like the Republic or the Federation equipped their soldiers with, but he’d managed to make do with conventional armor.  His weapons, his soldiers’ weapons, however, were the best that money could buy.  He’d also managed to scrounge up skinsuits and breathing gear for all of them to wear since they would be operating in space instead of on a planet’s surface.  The weapons and ammunition weren’t exactly conducive to maintaining the structural integrity of the hull of the station, but that wasn’t his problem.  And if the breathing gear held up as advertised, he wouldn’t need to worry. 

              Glacis had drilled his soldiers mercilessly, running them through improvised shoot houses put together from prefab shelters at his compound on the planet.  It wasn’t quite the same as working in space, especially since there was always the possibility that gravity might go out, the hull might breach, atmo might be purposefully vented and any of a thousand other things he couldn’t simulate down on the planet. 

              He shrugged to himself.  He hadn’t been given a huge timeframe to prepare but that hardly mattered.  He’d been presented with a job, and he’d taken the contract.  For a job this large and with as many people on his payroll, fifty million was a bargain.  He didn’t know where they got the money and frankly didn’t care.  From what Glacis understood, once he and his troops secured the gas mine, the government tech weenies would take over and the money would be just rolling in.  Of course, someone would have to secure other facilities; that construction ship for starters.  Then the fueling tanker…

              Glacis shook his head, chuckling to himself.  His mind was wandering, but he could afford to let it for the moment.  They had a week’s travel yet, so a few moments of levity wouldn’t hurt much.  Without a word, he whipped around and stalked off the bridge, causing all the crew members there to flinch.  It would only be a few days before he and his soldiers would be getting to work.  In the meantime, they would all get to deal with the cramped and makeshift accommodations aboard the freighter. 

              The ship had previously been a hospital, so it wasn’t that there wasn’t enough room to fit all his soldiers, it was that all of the accommodations had been torn out to make the ship better for hauling cargo.  Then, on extremely short notice the ship had to be converted to carry his troops.  The compartments were cramped, but at least the life support was keeping the smell of so many bodies down.  The ship had a crew of forty and with the extra two hundred eighty-five soldiers on board, the life support was stressed to the limit, but it would be able to do the job for the short time the passengers would be on board.

              His soldiers waved to him or nodded as he passed.  No one said anything to him, if he wanted to speak to them, he would.  They weren’t the friendliest bunch, but that wasn’t what he paid them for.  He paid them to be stone killers and they delivered.  Reaching his cabin, which in ground side terms would be charitably called a closet, he closed the door and flopped down on the bunk.  Rank had its privileges, after all.

              Corajen nodded in satisfaction as she watched a group of her deputies on the gun range.  They’d been coming down here in their off time, and all of them loved to be firing the big weapons, the assault rifles.  Those were weapons that didn’t get to be used in day to day operations and the gun range had turned into a popular spot to blow off steam.  Ammunition was cheap, since it could be produced locally on the
Samarkand
and a special compartment had been designed and constructed to withstand gunfire.  The compartment was away from the habitation areas, in fact, it was located on the outer edge of the upper platform of the mine. 

              “Looking better, Garank,” she said, clapping a young zheen on the shoulder.  She pointed to the target at the end of the range.  “Nice tight groupings.  I’m impressed.”  He chittered with happiness from the praise and she grunted.

              “Miller!  Miller!” she said loudly as she approached a wiry young woman who appeared to be having trouble with her rifle. 

              “Boss, it jammed!” Miller declared, looking petulant.

              “Miller,” Corajen said, grabbing the barrel and pointing it upwards.  “If I ever have to tell you again to keep that muzzle pointed away from other people, you will be taking a long walk out the airlock,” she growled. 

              The young deputy gulped, nodding.  “Yes, Chief.”

              She snatched the gun out of the woman’s hand.  She popped the clip, racked the bolt, ejecting the shell.  Checking down the barrel, Corajen saw that it was empty.  “Take this weapon to the bench and go over every micron of it.  I don’t want to see it or you back on the range until that thing is immaculate.  Do you get me?”

              Miller nodded quickly, reaching out to take the weapon.  Corajen handed it over and she scurried off.

              “Came down a little hard on her, don’t you think?” Garank asked.

              “Get back to your practice, Garank,” she told him gruffly.  “Don’t make me come over there and show you how a real warrior shoots.”

              He hissed in laughter and reloaded his rifle.  Corajen growled mockingly and then laughed and walked on.

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

              “Commander Samair, we have a ship incoming,” Ykzann called out from his position at sensors.

              Tamara looked up from the status report she’d been reading.  Things aboard
Cavalier
had been progressing well, as she had kept the training schedule going full tilt.  It was clear that the crew of the corvette were settling into a good groove, but Tamara refused to let up much on the workload.  She was convinced that the pirates would be coming here eventually and she was determined that she would have the best defense possible in place. 

              “Talk to me, Ykzann.  What kind of ship?”

              “It just entered sensor range, Commander,” he answered.  He buzzed.  “It’s not moving very quickly.  It’s large, the sensors are indicating it’s highly probable it’s civilian freighter.”  Another hesitation.  “Ma’am, it’s an eighty-two percent match to the ship in the database called the
Kara
.”

              Tamara accessed the sensor feeds and sure enough, the readings were similar.  Similar enough that it probably was the ship they were expecting.  “All right.  Mister Wymea, bring us on course to intercept the ship, we’ll escort it in.  Comms, get in touch with them, let them know we’re coming and that we’d be happy to ride in with them.”

              “Yes, ma’am,” the comm specialist replied, sending the message.

              “Mister Leicasitaj, you have the conn,” she said, getting to her feet. 

              “Aye, Captain,” the Romigani said, moving over and seating himself in the command chair.  “Ykzann, how long until we can intercept?”

              The zheen checked his displays and confirmed information from the helm.  “If we increase speed to two-fifty, we’ll intercept them in three hours.  Be another five back based on their speed.”

              Leicasitaj blinked clear membranes over his shiny black eyes.  “Understood.  Lay in the course and engage engines at two-fifty.”

              Under Wymea’s control, the corvette changed course and accelerated away from the parking orbit it had been holding above the mining station, heading in system toward the approaching freighter.  A number of construction bots were working on the station, but they and the various tugs and shuttles were keeping well clear of the transit lane.  The
Samarkand
was holding position five hundred thousand kilometers from the station, in its own assigned parking orbit, as was the
Grania Estelle
.  Both ships were working on the new starfighters for Delphon squadron and were scheduled to be finished with the ships in another sixteen hours.  After which point, the bulk freighter would leave orbit and head out for the hyper limit, back on its intended transit for another nearby star system.

              “Hey!” the sensor officer on the bridge of the
Kara
exclaimed in sudden excitement.  “That corvette is heading towards us, and she looks like she’s in a really big hurry.”

              “Time to intercept?” the captain asked, looking nervous himself, but trying very hard to hide it from his bridge crew.  He wasn’t succeeding very well.

              “About ninety minutes.  What do we do?  They weren’t supposed to come out to meet us.”

              “Calmly,” the captain said, taking a deep breath.  “There’s nothing wrong here, we’re just a chartered freighter headed for the fueling station before our run out of the system.”