Hold the Star: Samair in Argos: Book 2

by Michael Kotcher

  Lukai nodded again. “Are we going to Byra-Kae after that? I heard that the freighter we’re chasing managed to elude us.”

  Harth smiled. “Only temporarily. They pulled a fast one on us in hyperspace and I think they changed course for Tyseus. Which is where we’re going once we leave here.”

  “All right. I’ll keep you informed about my engine room, sir.”

  He nodded to her as he turned to leave Main Engineering. “Carry on then, Chief.”

  It was inevitable that trouble would happen while they were here in the system and Republic sailors were on the station. It happened on the third day of the crew’s shore leave in one of the drinking and gambling establishments, naturally. Also, the crew was under orders not to be gambling, but these were people who had been cooped up on Legacy and later Ravage for weeks and months with little to do but stand endless watches and chase a civilian ship across tens of light years with little to show for it. Those were the breaks, of course, but even the most disciplined needed a break, some way to blow off steam. And there were those that found that particular way of stress relief lay in the rush from gambling.

  The establishment where the trouble started was called Orco’s and like most of the places aboard the station, it was a dive, though not the worst by far. The humans and other patrons there looked rough and had an air of menace about them, but the sailors and chiefs who went inside weren’t intimidated. The games played here were loud and raucous, some involving cards, dice, even others that looked much more alien and complicated. Credits, barter and alcohol all flowed freely and emotions and tempers rose accordingly.

  It was unclear who threw the first punch. Perhaps it was multiple someones, Navy and local alike. In seconds, there were fists flying, glasses smashing and people being thrown over tables. It degenerated into a full out brawl before anyone quite realized what was happening. By the time security arrived less than two minutes later, the whole mess had turned into a just a mob of violence, unchecked, without direction. If not for the damage being caused or the people being injured, anyone looking upon the scene would almost find it comical, like a vid-cartoon with animated characters in a cloud with the occasional fist or foot poking out then rushing back in to connect with anything within reach.

  After several minutes, security managed to get control and hauled the main perpetrators, six Navy people and five stationers out of there and down to the brig. The rest of the people in the bar managed to slip out just before security arrived or else were too injured to be arrested and were taken to the station infirmary. By the time news reached Legacy, the fight had been over for nearly two hours.

  “What the hell happened?” Duncan Harth demanded when Kamerov stepped into his stateroom to deliver the news.

  Kamerov put his hands behind his back, one of them holding his datapad. “Looks like a drunken bar brawl, sir. No one seems to know who started it, even the locals are claiming they don’t know. Surprising, actually, I thought they would have just blamed our people and that would have been the end of it. But they didn’t.”

  “How many of our people made it out?”

  “Three, sir. Two are in the station’s infirmary under guard, and six are in their brig.” Kamerov’s face darkened. “No word from the station authorities in any official sense, sir.”

  Harth pursed his lips. Then he nodded. Standing up from where he’d been seated on the end of the bunk, he went to his closet and pulled out a clean uniform. He dressed quickly and as he was fastening his jacket, he glanced at his XO. “Get Gunny Rajendra and the Marines up and ready. I hope it won’t come to it, but I want him and his full platoon ready to roll in full gear in thirty minutes. If need be they’ll board the station and get our people back.”

  Kamerov blinked, surprised, but then nodded. “Yes, sir. There are a lot of people on that station, sir, we have one platoon. The sergeant and his marines are good, sir, but I don’t think even they could fight them all and win.”

  Harth nodded. “I know, Lieutenant. I’m hoping it won’t come to that,” he repeated. “But I want them ready to move if we need it.

  “Yes, sir, I’ll get them up and moving.” The lieutenant turned and exited, already talking into his wrist communicator.

  Five minutes later, Harth was on the bridge. “Comms, get me Primary Yokusk on the station.”

  The communications watch immediately worked the console and in less than thirty seconds, she turned back to him. “I’ve got him, sir. Audio only.”

  “Primary Yokusk, this is Captain Harth on the Legacy. I understand there was some unpleasantness on the station and some people got hurt.” He straightened in his command seat, even though he knew the other couldn’t see him. “I’d appreciate an update.”

  “We’ve taken eleven people into custody, six of yours, who were part of the brawl, Captain,” the Primary said coldly. “I’ve got over twenty people in the infirmary, four of them are critically injured. All because your people decided to get rowdy.”

  “From what I’ve been told, Primary, no one seems to know who started it.”

  “Perhaps not, Captain. But this fight wouldn’t have happened at all had your people not come there in the first place.”

  Harth sighed. “Yes, Primary, I can acknowledge that. But you should also acknowledge the amount of money my crew is pouring into your local economy. Not to mention the spare parts and fuel that we bought from you. I should think that might buy my people some leeway.”

  “Leeway?” the Primary huffed angrily. “You throw some money around and now I’m supposed to be grateful for twenty people in the infirmary?”

  “My people will pay for the damages, of course,” Harth went on. “And any of yours that need medical assistance, we will be happy to treat in our sickbay, free of charge. And of course those of my crew who are guilty will be punished.”

  “Aboard your ship?” Yokusk asked suddenly.

  “Yes, aboard my ship. But I can guarantee they will be punished for this. I do not encourage such activity among my people.”

  “And then you bring them aboard, you sail out of the system and we never see you again?” Clearly he was outraged at this prospect. “I absolutely will not accept that. We have nothing further to discuss.”

  “He’s cut the transmission, sir,” the comm watch announced.

  Harth tapped the arm of his chair lightly. He could feel the bridge crew straining to catch his next words, his very inflections, even his thoughts. No one was looking to him, they were all staring at their various consoles waiting for his decision.

  He took a breath and squared his shoulders. “Take us to Condition One, inform Ravage that we are moving to action stations and they are to do the same.” He pressed a button on his chair.

  “Boat bay, Chief Morrigan.”

  “Chief, are the Marines loaded in the shuttles?” he asked.

  “Fully armored up and ready to go, sir,” the chief replied. “They’re good to go, both shuttles.”

  “Very well.” He pressed a control, ending the call. “Bring weapons and shields online.”

  “Incoming call from the station, sir,” the comms watch reported. “It’s the Primary again.”

  “Thought that might get his attention. Put him through,” Harth ordered.

  “How dare you!” Yoksusk’s voice bellowed. “We are in independent space! You have no authority to act this way or to attack my station.”

  “I haven’t attacked anything, Primary Yokusk,” the captain replied calmly. “But I’m not leaving my people to rot here. Because we both know that you’re going to find them guilty and the best they could hope for would be to spend time in a prison cell.” There was silence on the other end of the transmission. “So I’m going to ask nicely that you turn over all of my people and we’ll be on our way, and no more said. If not, then I will send in my Marines to retrieve my people.”

  “This is unbelievable!” the Primary spat. “You would attack my station and kill people to prevent justice coming to those
who deserve it?”

  “Jail or worse for a bar fight? No one was killed. The worst punishment that there should be for such an offense would be a fine. Turn my people over to me, I’ll pay the fines and we’ll leave. This is the last time I will ask… nicely.”

  “You Republic bastard. You have no authority here. You have no right to dictate any sort of terms to me or anyone else.”

  “Very well,” Harth replied. “Inform the boat bay that they are to launch shuttles. Weapons,” he said, addressing the bridge. “Lock on to the station’s weapons and prepare to fire. You are to provide fire support for our shuttles as they go in.”

  “Understood, sir,” the weapons officer replied from her station.

  “You bastard,” the Primary growled. “I will have all of your people delivered to the airlock at Section one-aleph. You can retrieve them there.”

  “And I will have appropriate compensation in hard goods delivered to you as well.”

  “Very well,” Yokusk replied. “And then I expect you and your ships to leave this system.”

  “Yes,” Harth said easily. “I feel that we’ve worn out our welcome here. But I do thank you for your hospitality and your cooperation, Primary.”

  The Primary growled low in his throat and then ended the call. “Stand down to Condition Two but maintain the weapons status. Launch the shuttles, but make sure the Gunny knows what the situation is. If our people aren’t waiting for him at the docking bay, he’s to call Legacy immediately.”

  By the end of the third day, six hours later, Ravage reported that her hyperdrives and shields were back up to acceptable levels again. “My shields are holding at eighty-six percent, Captain,” Tran reported happily. For someone who had just increased his defensive output by almost a third, he was ecstatic. “Hyperdrives are back up as well. Though I’m a little concerned with the drives, I’m thinking I don’t want to push them too hard. We’re going to top out at Yellow level one, I’m afraid, sir.”

  That was a blow. “That’s all?” Harth nearly despaired at such a slow speed from the corvette.

  Tran earlier happy mood evaporated. “Yes, sir. Without a full dockyard and repairs, upgrades and all the rest, that’s the best we can do right now. We possibly could get the work done at Byra-Kae, but I’d have to see what they have to offer.”

  “It’s supposed to be a full outpost, but I’ll have to see what kinds of repair facilities they actually have. The information we got from Fury didn’t really give a lot of details. There is a yard, but I don’t know if they already have ships laid up there.”

  Tran shrugged. “Yes, sir, they might. But even if that’s the case, they might have the parts and equipment we need and our own crews can do the work.”

  Harth nodded. “All right. Are your people back aboard?”

  “Yes, sir,” the other replied. “I’m ready to leave when you are.”

  “Then let’s not hang around any longer. Take up position on my starboard side. We’ll fly in formation for the hyper limit.”

  Tran gave a smile. “Very good, sir.” The call ended.

  “Navigation,” he said, looking up at the other officers and crewmen on the bridge. “Plot a course for the hyper limit, with a vector toward Tyseus.”

  “Aye, sir,” the navigation officer replied.

  “Helm, once the course is plotted, engage engines and get us going. Communications, make sure that we’re linked to Ravage and make sure she stays with us.”

  The various officers acknowledged and Harth settled himself more comfortably in his command seat. The station had been an oddity; that much was certain. Once his shuttles had launched, the people of the station had done as they were told. Perhaps they were concerned about the amount of firepower he and his people represented, he mused. An Amun-Ra heavy cruiser wasn’t the biggest beast in the yard, not by a long shot, but out here in the Cluster, Legacy was among the meanest. His supply officers had triple checked everything they’d bought from the station, checked it all for poison, biological contamination, hell, even explosives and everything had come up empty. Nothing they’d bought was terribly appealing, sadly. Mostly the quartermaster had picked up a lot of military rations, something the crew would grumble about, but would eat all the same. These types here were different than the ones they were used to and so far were decent. They’d tried them out the day before and the crew’s grumbles were fewer than they had been before the ships had arrived here at the station. The galley crew did what they could to try and spice up the meals but there was only so much they could do with what they had to work with. Fresh food was a huge luxury on a warship and they’d gone through it in fairly short order. The station’s people didn’t have anything resembling fresh protein or fruits and vegetables that they were willing to sell in any sort of quantity, so the Quartermaster had done her best, as always.

  The two ships swiveled in place and then accelerated away from the station as their main drives kicked in. They were in no great hurry, once they arrived at the hyper limit, Ravage’s slower hyperspeed would dictate the pace of the journey. Shaving a few hours off here in normal space probably wouldn’t gain them anything for the trip to Tyseus, so Commander Harth had ordered an economical cruising speed away from the station.

  “Sensors, what’s that destroyer doing?”

  Drommen consulted his displays. “She’s moving to put herself in between us and the station, Captain. But other than that it doesn’t appear that she’s trying to shadow us.”

  “No signals coming from them either, sir,” the communications watch piped up.

  “Very well.” It wasn’t like he’d really expected anything fancy from the other warship. They’d been conspicuous in their silence during Legacy and Ravage’s three day stay. The warship had done a long, looping patrol, sent a shuttle of their own to the station, received one back that the sensors had determined was full of cargo, organics, most likely foodstuffs of some sort. But at no time did they send any signals to the Republic vessels. Drommen managed to catch a few comm laser transmissions to the station, but as neither of the Republic ships interposed themselves between the destroyer and the station, they couldn’t listen in on the transmissions. It was suspicious, certainly, but nothing came of it during their stay, so Harth had done his best to tamp down on his curiosity. It was their star system, after all, and if they wanted to be standoffish and rude, that was their business, so long as it didn’t interfere with his mission. They had wisely stayed clear when the unpleasantness on the station occurred, and hadn’t sent any transmissions until a few hours later.

  The crews of both ships had been rounded up and brought back to the station, their credit balances quite a bit lighter but their spirits lifted. More than a few had bought trinket and souvenirs from the various shops on the station and while the locals had been less than cordial at first at the arrival of a horde of Republic sailors and Marines, they were more than happy to part them with their money in exchange for some inventory.

  A worthwhile stop, Harth said to himself. A bit of a dustup, but it was all worked out in the end, and only an additional two thousand credits were required to quiet things down. Of course, Duncan was willing to admit, if only to himself, that he was more than willing to carry out his threat. For their sakes, he was happy he didn’t need to, but this was a Republic ship with a military crew and he would do whatever it took to keep his people safe. He sighed. It was just too bad they hadn’t caught up to the freighter. He was concerned about that. They should have only been a few hours behind and even with the additional three day stop, Grania Estelle never arrived. Well, they’d catch up at Tyseus.

  He straightened in his command seat and watched the displays as the two ships continued to move away from the station.

  Chapter 10

  “Captain, I’m not liking what I’m seeing on the starboard side hull,” Quesh reported. They were less than a day from breakout at Seylonique and Vincent Eamonn had resumed his command of the ship. The regenerated leg was scheduled to
be attached shortly after breakout so for the last few days he’d been making do with a mechanical prosthetic and a cane. He didn’t like either, for the prosthetic put painful pressure on his stump and chafed, and he hated the cane because he needed it to walk. Of course, Eamonn hated the hover chair even more, so he suffered through it.

  “What is it?” Eamonn asked, lowering himself slowly into his chair at the wardroom table. He gasped as the weight came off his leg. He put the cane on the table and leaned into the back of the chair. Looking up, his eyes happened to catch one of the cleaning bots hovering near one of the bulkheads to Quesh’s right. It was humming cheerfully as it gathered any dust or dirt that may have accumulated.

  “There’s a lot of stress being put on the hull, sir, a byproduct from Ganges firing on us on that side,” Quesh explained. “Samair, Xar and I got a good portion of it patched and spackled over, but all this time in hyperspace has put a lot of stress on the old girl.”

  Eamonn nodded, wincing at the pain in his leg. “Right, but we knew that already. I thought you said we would be good for the trip into Seylonique.”

  “I did say that,” he conceded, “and it wasn’t a lie or an exaggeration. But the higher speed we’re currently piling on has put some additional stress on the hull. I thought we’d compensated for that, but apparently it’s more than we’d expected.”

  “Meaning what?” Eamonn asked, looking at his Chief Engineer.

  The Parkani set all four hands on the table. “We’re going to have to reduce speed. Red level seven.”

  “We’re eighteen and a half hours from the hyper limit, Quesh. Reducing speed will add another week to our trip.” He eyed the Parkani. “Can’t the ship hold up for that long?”