He blinked in surprise, but then nodded. “Sure. I knew some of them a long time. Is the Captain going to be there?”
She nodded. “I talked with Turan earlier. He’ll bring the Captain down on a hover chair, but they can’t stay long. He shouldn’t be moved too much with his injuries. He needs to be resting, according to the doctor.” She couldn’t quite manage to keep the bitterness out of her voice.
Quesh wisely moved off the topic of the Captain. “I’ll see if I can come up with something,” he mumbled again. He rose, patted Tamara on the shoulder with one of his four hands and then moved off to resume his work.
The entire crew turned up for the memorial, even Stella, though she was only there via a display screen in the background. They had all gathered in the mess hall, which aside from the cargo bays was one of the only compartments on the ship that could comfortably fit everyone. The mess attendants had passed out drinks to those who wanted them. Everyone ended up taking something, whether it was something alcoholic or even just coffee. There were a lot of hard faces and very few dry eyes. Turan brought the Captain in on a hover chair, a blanket draped over his lap to hide the fact that his leg had been amputated, though no one really paid much attention. Their thoughts were elsewhere.
Quesh stood up from his place in the middle of the room, where he had been seated at one of the tables. “I’ve known all of the crew since they came on board. With the exception of the Captain and George, no one’s been aboard longer.” He sighed, looking at the cup of beer in his hands. “Those that lost their lives will never be forgotten. They died here, on the ship, their home. And none of them did alone, at least, we were all here with them.” Everyone’s thoughts strayed to poor Kutok at that moment, who had been alone with her killer. Serinda choked back sobs, putting her hand hard against her mouth to avoid making much noise. George put his arm around her shoulders and she didn’t fight him. “The ones who did this are dead now. Their deaths avenged. But that won’t bring them back. I will remember them all.” He looked up, his gaze sweeping the crew members. “Our family is a lot smaller now, but that should only serve to bring the rest of us closer together. Holding on to old hatreds or perceived wrongs will only drive us apart. And none of us can survive out here in the cold of space alone.”
People seemed to take hope from the Parkani’s words. Tamara’s gaze darkened a bit, and she couldn’t help her eyes swiveling over to take in the Captain in his chair. He looked like hell. Physically, he looked pale and wan due to his injuries, but his face was just a mask of pure grief. For one instant, Tamara’s armor slipped, her hatred and anger at him burned off at seeing him this way, concerned for his crew. She sighed, her right hand unconsciously touching the device attached to her neck. But that device was a constant reminder of everything and the pain came rushing back.
“We will give our departed a proper send off when we get to a safe system, launch them into the star so that they can pass on without fear,” Quesh went on. On one of the displays, one of the ones Stella wasn’t showing her image, was a list of all the crewmembers that had died since the attack at Ulla-tran. It wasn’t a short list. Thirty-six people in total, all of them friends and colleagues. Kutok’s name was there, as was Cookie’s, the engineering teams, Martinez and the other cargo people, the deck crew. “But for now, I want to celebrate their lives, not their deaths. Their pain has passed; it is only a memory now. Tonight, let us remember those who are gone. Tears are okay,” he said, and more than a few people gave a watery chuckle. “I ask you all to raise your glasses.” There was a small shuffle as people moved around to raise up cups, mugs, glasses. Serinda didn’t pull away from George Miller, but she raised her cup to shoulder height, her sobs stifled for the moment.
“To lost friends,” he said simply, then drank deeply.
“To lost friends,” the crew chorused. They all followed suit, some throwing back shots of beer and spirits, others sipping coffee or tea. At that point, the group broke up. The mess attendants brought out trays of food for everyone, and everyone loaded up plates. Watch standers took their meals quickly and headed off, but everyone else stayed, reminiscing, swapping stories about their friends and comrades. It wasn’t quite a joyous occasion, but the wracking sobs from earlier seemed to have left the party, as everyone allowed the flame of memory to burn bright.
Tamara walked up to Quesh and put her hand on his big shoulder. “Good eulogy,” she said, toasting him with her coffee mug. He clinked his cup against hers and they both drank.
“Thanks,” he said gruffly. “I’m sorry I had to give it. Been a bad month and a half.”
She snorted. “You can say that again. I’m going to miss those kids,” she said.
The Parkani nodded. “Yeah. For a bunch of dirt-grubbing farmers, those Instow people were all right.”
“Think we’ll ever get back there?” she asked. “To Instow, I mean.”
Quesh considered the question. “No reason we couldn’t. I mean, we’d have to traipse around the Cluster, going back through Ulla-tran and Hecate wouldn’t be a smart move, but yeah. The fish were good and they had a lot of good mining opportunities.”
“Yeah. My first away mission here on the Grania Estelle.”
The Parkani snorted. “I’d forgotten about that. Yeah, that’s right, it was.”
She smiled at him, a genuine one. “Getting old there, Quesh?” Tamara asked playfully. “Memory already starting to go?”
He swatted her playfully, growling at her and she stepped back to avoid it. Ka’Xarian came over to them, plopping down on the bench at the table they were standing next to. He had a plate with some greens and a small pile of roasted beetles. “Good speech, Boss,” the zheen said, taking a mouthful of salad.
Quesh sat down next to him, Tamara across the table from them both. Watching a zheen eat was not the most appetizing of experiences, but for some reason this time was different. It was comforting watching him enjoy the food before him, knowing that Cookie would have approved of seeing his crew fed. Tamara sighed at the thought. Cookie wouldn’t be making any more casseroles or stews again. No more laughter at his stories or just his warming presence. Everyone felt safe around the man, but now he was gone. One of his attendants would have to step up to try and fill his shoes and if they weren’t up to the task, they’d have to see about hiring someone on at Seylonique.
George and Serinda came over to their table. A good portion of the remaining crew had wandered off, heading out to other compartments or to find their racks. “Can we join you, Chief?” George asked.
Quesh waved one of his right hands to indicate they should sit, raising his cup to his mouth with his lower left hand. They sat, Serinda next to Tamara and George on Serinda’s other side. Serinda stared dully at the table, and Tamara reached over and placed her hand over the other woman’s. The young communications officer looked up at the engineer, grief still shining in her eyes.
“How are you holding up, Serinda?” Tamara asked gently.
She gave a very shaky sigh. “Not well,” she admitted. “I can’t stop thinking about that day. I just left her up there. I asked her if she was going to need me to stay, and she told me to go. I knew what that… that… animal was going to do and I just bolted.” She closed her eyes, tears streaming down her face.
No one said anything. Tamara didn’t remove her hand and George put his arm around Serinda again and pulled her in closer to him. They sat like that for a while, watching Ka’Xarian crush and slurp down his beetles and salad, just taking comfort from each other.
“Don’t you have a wife, George?” Serinda asked after a few minutes.
He nodded. “I do. I don’t think she’d mind.”
Tamara barked a laugh. “You must have married a very understanding woman.”
“Beatrice is,” George said loftily. “She puts up with her spacer bum of a husband.” They all laughed.
“Where did you leave her?” Tamara asked. “Obviously she’s not aboard the ship.”
“Nah,” he said, releasing Serinda and sitting up a bit straighter. The young woman sniffed and then gulped down her drink. “Haven’t seen her in two years. She’s on Romana with her family, on the edge of the Cluster. She’s working in the botanical gardens there. Hell of a pair of green hands. The flame lilies I have in my berthing compartment are hers.”
“Really?” Serinda asked. “I didn’t know that.”
He shrugged. “Keeping flowers from my lady? Not terribly masculine.”
“And now you’ve just announced it to all of us,” Quesh said with a smile.
George shrugged again. “I’m not ashamed. No one ever asked where the flowers came from. They just assumed one of the female crewmembers put them there.”
“Well good for you, George,” Tamara said boisterously, drawing all of their attention. “I’ve seen those lilies. They’re beautiful.”
“Thank you, Tamara,” he said primly and then grinned. Even Serinda managed a small smile.
It took four days of scanning for Stella to track down the sabotage in the navigational systems. It was a series of components that had been plugged into the navigational suite in four different sectors of the ship. “It must have been when the pirate techs were here and tearing out sections of the power grid,” Tamara said, nodding, pressing one finger to her lips. “Those bastards. They weren’t fixing anything at all. Just making sure that we couldn’t get away. Stella, you’re sure you found it all?”
“I’m sure, Tamara,” the AI replied. “I’ve run eleven hundred fifty-three diagnostics and just as many sweeps of the navigational systems. Chief Trrgoth has a team replacing the components now, said they should be done within the hour. Mister Vosteros on the bridge says he is ready to plot a course to Seylonique.”
Tamara nodded. “Very good. I’m on my way there now. If you could please inform him of that.”
“Of course.”
Tamara started out of Main Engineering at a brisk walk. It was a long way to go; she had to traverse nearly the length of the ship to get to the bridge at the bow. It would be a good fifteen minutes before she got there. She pulled her communicator out of her pocket and flipped it open. “Bridge, this is Samair.”
“I’m here, Tamara,” Frederick Vosteros replied immediately.
“Anyone up there with you?”
“Not at the moment. Where are you?”
“I’m on my way to the bridge,” she told him. “Did Stella fill you in on what she found?”
“She did. I’m in the process of recalculating our course for Seylonique.”
“Good. I’ll be there in a few minutes, and once Quesh gets the bad components swapped out then we can get back on the road. I just have to make a quick stop.”
“Understood. I’ll be here.”
Tamara continued on, eventually reaching the berthing compartments. Coming to the hatch of one room in particular, she keyed the door chime. A voice inside called, “Come in.” And the hatch unlocked. She waited while the door opened, took a steadying breath and then she stepped inside.
“Moxie,” Captain Vincent Eamonn acknowledged, from his seat at the small table. “Come in, come in.” He seemed far happier than he should be.
“Good to see you’re more or less up and about, Captain,” Tamara said stiffly. She stood at parade rest, just inside the hatchway which had closed behind her. She activated her HUD, looking him over. Her implants helpfully provided scans of him, showing his medical status. His skin temperature, perspiration and pupil dilation were all showing signs of artificial alteration, in other words, he was high on drugs, most likely painkillers for his amputated leg.
“So stiff and formal,” he chided, a smirk on his lips. “You’re really going to stand there in the hatchway.”
Tamara gritted her teeth. “Captain, I came here to inform you that Stella has located the problem components in the navigation system and Quesh has people swapping them out. We’ll be ready to roll in an hour or so.”
“That’s excellent news.” He frowned. “Moxie, I –…”
“Stop,” she growled, eyes flashing. “I didn’t come here to try and repair anything with our… relationship. But as the acting leader of the ship, I wanted to keep you informed.”
He smirked. “The acting leader? I left Quesh in charge.”
“Yes, you did,” she confirmed, unable to stop a flash of smugness from crossing her face. “But then he turned command over to me. He didn’t want to leave Main Engineering and he felt I had more experience.”
“So, after all your talk, after all your little speeches about how you wanted to leave your military lifestyle behind, that that life was dead, the first opportunity for you to snatch up a command you take it,” he sneered. “Is that it? Is this to punish me? Steal my ship?”
“I’m not stealing anything,” she scoffed. “What’s the matter with you? We all went through a terrible time just now and a lot of people didn’t make it through at all. Be grateful you’re alive.”
“I’d think you’d be a little more grateful that my plan worked,” he shot back, anger washing over his face and pouring from his gaze. “My plan got you and the lupusan out of the brig. We liberated this ship.”
Tamara ground her teeth in frustration. She hadn’t come here to fight. “As I said, Captain, I’m only here to inform you of our status. We should be ready for hyperspace in another hour or so and then we’ll be on the way to Seylonique. At best speed we should be there in thirty-two days.”
Eamonn chuckled, but with no mirth. “That’s better than the sixty or so it would have been before all of the fixes to the shields and superstructure.”
“Yes, Captain, it is. So, if that’s all?” Without waiting for a response, Tamara pivoted with perfect military precision and keyed the hatch open.
“I didn’t mean for any of these past months to happen, Moxie,” he said, his low voice causing her to pause in the hatchway. “It was supposed to just be a merger of ideas and resources in a system I thought would have the population and industrial capability to support a little merchant co-op. I wasn’t expecting pirates.”
“It’s not that, Captain,” she said, her back to him, voice just as low as his. “It’s when it all hit the fan. Suddenly I became a bargaining chip instead of a member of your crew.” Before either of them could say anything that could make things escalate, Tamara stepped out of the compartment and pulled the hatch shut behind her. Without a backward glance, she headed off at almost a trot for the bridge.
A few minutes later, she was on the bridge. Vosteros looked up at her as she came in. “You all right?” he asked, seeing her expression.
Tamara glowered at him for a moment. Then she visibly got a hold of herself. “Sorry, Frederick. Just had a meeting with the Captain.”
His own face darkened a bit. Everyone knew exactly what had gone on between the Captain, Tamara and the pirates. No one was terribly happy with it, though there were some in the crew that felt that since both of them had survived, they should just bury the hatchet. Of course there were others, the majority, who felt that Tamara had every right to feel as she did.
“What did he want?” the man demanded.
Tamara smiled a little, but it quickly faded. “I just went to give him a status update. I let my emotions get the best of me.”
“It’s understandable, Tamara.”
She let out a long breath, walked over to the helm console and plopped down in the seat. “Yeah, I know. I’ll figure it out. Let it drop.” She cleared her throat again, getting control of herself again. “All right. How’s that plot looking?”
“Ready. I double checked it and had Stella take a quick once over.”
“And?”
Vosteros chuckled. “She said it’s an efficient course, but not elegant.”
Tamara laughed. “That’s my girl.” Stella appeared on the edge of the helm display and winked, then disappeared. “All right, when you’re ready, lock in the course and I’ll make the announcement.”
He pr
essed a few keys on the navigation console and then nodded in satisfaction. “Course is plotted and locked in. Transferring control to the helm.”
There was a beep on her console. Tamara nodded in satisfaction. “Course received. Spinning up hyperdrive.” She pressed a control, activating shipwide communication. “This is the bridge. All hands, we are preparing to activate the hyperdrive. Stand by for jump in one minute.”
Across the ship, everyone grabbed hold of nearby handholds, as per usual on the Grania Estelle. When the timer reached ten seconds, Tamara began counting down. When she reached zero, she pressed the control and the hyperdrive activated. There was a sharp lurch, a whine from the drives, and the ship was suddenly in hyperspace.
“Speed in hyper is increasing,” Tamara reported, pushing her controls up. “Red five… six… seven… We’re up into the next level. Two… leveling out at Orange level three. Power level stabilized. We’re holding at the best speed we’re going to get with our structural integrity.” She sighed. “This poor baby needs a lot of structural work. Not to mention the engines, the sensors and the list goes on.”
“From what I hear, that’s your idea of a good time, Samair,” Vosteros replied with a grin, securing his console. “Nav station secure. We’re on course for Seylonique. Estimated time of arrival is thirty-one days, nine hours, present speed.”
Tamara secured her own console and leaned back in the chair, scrubbing her face with her hands. She groaned, then pushed away from the helm and stood. “Well, Mister Vosteros, I think I’m going to leave the bridge watch in your very capable hands and go and check on a few things. I’ll have someone up to relieve you in a few hours.”
Hold the Star: Samair in Argos: Book 2 Page 20