Quesh raised his upper two hands. He let out a breath before speaking. “I don’t know, Captain. Maybe. But I would say in another five hours we’re going to have serious… breakage in that section of the hull. Might even cause a breach.”
Eamonn sighed heavily. “Stella? What’s your take on this?”
The holo projector on the table immediately glowed and the image of the young AI sprang to life, as though she was standing on the table. She was dressed in a standard ship’s uniform, her black hair still sporting the three red streaks, as per usual. “I have to agree with the Chief, Captain. The hull isn’t compromised yet, but it won’t hold for the eighteen and a half hours we need. The Chief is correct in his estimates as well. If we hold this speed for another five hours, we may have a breach in the hull.” The young AI grimaced. “In fact, it’s not that we may have a breach, we will have a breach. And then we will violently transition back to normal space.”
“Even though the shields will still be holding?” It wasn’t a question.
“The shields protect us from the stresses of hyperspace, from the huge amount of energy required to travel this fast, but there’s still stress being put on the hull. Normally, we don’t even notice. The hull’s made of strong stuff and when it’s in good repair, the stresses don’t bother us. But with the hyperdrive pushing us forward through space, pressure is put on the ship and if it’s enough, the metal could warp and twist, it could fracture and crack and eventually breach. If the hull breaches in one place, it could breach in others. Not to mention support trusses and braces,” Quesh put in. “And once that starts…”
“All right. I get it,” Eamonn said. He pressed a control on his wrist communicator. “Bridge, this is the Captain. Reduce our hyper speed to Red level seven immediately.”
“I…” There was a sigh from the woman at the helm. “Yes, Captain. Reducing speed now.” There was a small reduction in the background noise, of the hyperdrive slowing down slightly.
Stella looked up, as though she was consulting some screen outside of the pickup of the projector. Quesh checked his own data pad. “That’s helped,” the Parkani said. “It’s reduced stress on the hull by over sixty percent. I know that the extra week is a pain, but I’d rather that than…”
“Ripping a huge hole in my side,” the AI finished. Both males looked to her and nodded.
“Well I certainly want to avoid that,” the captain agreed. “Now, have you started working up your maintenance and overhaul schedules once we get there?”
Quesh tipped his head from side to side. “Working it up, still. But Captain, when we get there we have got to look into hiring on new people. More people for my engineering teams, anyone with welding experience. We can work on computer systems, enviro and drives later. But I need bodies and I need them ASAP.”
Eamonn nodded. “Yes, we need all sorts of crew. I’m hoping we can find the ones we need here in Seylonique. And I’m also hoping that this industrialized system is much more friendly than the last one we were in.”
“To be fair, Captain,” Quesh said giving him a look, “Ulla-tran wasn’t all that bad until the pirates showed up. And it’ll be good to see the people from the Kara again.”
“Yes, it will. And you’re right, it wasn’t all that bad until they decided to come in and ruin everything. Except for the bastards who assaulted and captured the crew of the Emilia Walker.” Quesh had the good grace to look embarrassed. “Keep me informed of any changes to the schedules.”
“Yes, Captain,” the Parkani said, getting to his feet. “I surely will. I am still concerned on the stresses to the hull, especially on that starboard side, Captain. We’ve done some patches and tried to beef it up as well as we can, but you need to go easy on the old girl. She can’t take much in the way of serious jolts.”
“I understand, Chief,” Eamonn said soberly. “I’ll speak with my bridge watch and ease her out of hyper when we get to breakout.”
Tamara sat in the mess hall, eating a passable facsimile of Cookie’s fish soup with a crusty roll and a glass of ale, her datapad turned off on the table next to her bowl, just sitting by herself and eating. The last seven days had been long, especially at first. To know that they had less than nineteen hours to go before breakout and then be told that there was now an additional week to be added on was hard to accept. Morale was already low, though it had been steadily on the incline ever since the retaking of the ship and with the imminent arrival of the ship in Seylonique, things were almost back to normal, or as close to that as they could get on a ship that had lost so many.
It was odd that they would all be so excited about arrival into a system they knew little about. They did have an ally here, potentially, in Administrator Galina on the Kara, who if she’d taken a direct course from Ulla-tran should have beaten Grania Estelle here by about two and a half weeks. Which meant that the good Administrator would be there to greet them and hopefully give them an introduction to the locals. There was no way of knowing what they would find there, in the system. They had a decent spacefaring society, one of the few true ones in the Argos Cluster and that battlecruiser certainly gave them a blanket of security. A ship as powerful as that one would certainly give anyone with hostile intentions pause and there were few if any other vessels of that size and power in the Argos Cluster. One would think that would make Seylonique a hub, a place where people would want to go for security and safety.
But it appeared the locals on Seylonique had other ideas. They apparently were very territorial and did not appreciate uninvited visitors. On occasion they would allow ships to come in, Grania Estelle had come here once before, several years ago, but it was one of the few. The bulk freighter had a load of processed minerals at the time, which was something the locals were willing to trade for, were eager to trade for, in fact. It was one of the few times in Grania Estelle’s journey that they had actually sold everything in the ship’s holds, and had actually turned a tidy profit. The captain had always meant to come back to Seylonique with another load of refined materials, but things had never seemed to work out. The rising damage and the inability to secure another load of materials had prevented another trip. Even now, they were coming here with little more than a large load of helium 3, intended for the pirates, but perhaps they could sell some to the people at Seylonique.
Tamara looked around at the mess hall. There were several others here, stragglers from the end of lunch mess. A few nodded to her from their own places in the mess, but no one got up and she was glad of it. There were times when she would be grateful and eager for conversation and banter, but not today. Not during this meal. It wasn’t as though this particular meal was very special or significant, but for just this short period of time, she wanted to be alone with her thoughts as she ate. She was morose and in a funk but she wasn’t in any mood to break out of it.
She wasn’t lonely, per se. And it wasn’t as though she was bored. She’d been running diagnostics and patch jobs all throughout the starboard section ever since the reduction in speed. It had been an exhausting trip and for the moment, Tamara was just thinking that some time off would be nice. Not that she’d be getting any serious rest in the next month or so. Repairs to the Grania Estelle would take at least that long, probably longer. In fact, she was sure they would, but it was unlikely that the ship would be hanging around in one system for much longer than that. The Captain, the Cargo Specialist and the Chief Engineer would get itchy feet sitting here hammering out dents in the hull. They’d repair the outer hull and support beams and trusses, fix up a few of the sublight engines and then they’d be on their way again. If at all possible, the captain would hire on enough crew to bring them up to a full complement, Taja would stuff the holds full of goods and then they’d probably be on their way. Hopefully the ship had enough of whatever the locals in Seylonique would want or enough money in the ship’s accounts to purchase enough to make the trip worthwhile.
She chuckled to herself as she took a bite of bread. Of course it
would be worthwhile. According to the charts, Seylonique had a good-sized asteroid belt that was rich in minerals. Three gas giants and a beautiful inhabited world. All anyone could ask for. Hopefully there would be some sort of meeting of the minds that could happen which would allow Grania Estelle and her crew the chance to exploit and enjoy the resources there, maybe even make some friends.
Tamara turned at the sound she heard behind her. Hearing the familiar shuffle-thump-clunk, she sighed. She could feel her hackles starting to rise and she immediately tamped down on her emotions. She saw the Captain entering the mess hall, Tamara gritted her teeth and went back to her soup, though her heart wasn’t in the meal anymore. Oh, I am not in the mood for this right now. She wasn’t normally one to shovel food in her mouth, or rush through her meals, else she might have done so now. As it was, she was seriously considering it now. She would risk a lack of decorum and a bit of rudeness to now have to speak with him. She wasn’t ready.
“Moxie!” he called, shuffling over to her, a tray with a sandwich and glass of milk clutched in his fist. He clumped over to the table she sat at and plopped down heavily onto the bench across from Tamara.
Tamara plastered a bright smile on her face, one that she’d used in the past as a commander of a Republic station, having had to deal with unpleasant situations and people. “And how can I help you today, Captain?”
He blinked in surprise. Eamonn hesitated for a moment, clearly having expected a different response from her. “I hope you don’t mind that I join you.”
She shook her head, taking another spoonful of soup. It was starting to cool down. She’d need to eat more quickly. “No, of course not,” Tamara replied, her lips still locked into that smile.
Another hesitation. “I’m not your enemy, Moxie.” He had a hurt look on his face that was quickly squelched.
Tamara lost the smile. “What do you want, Captain? My soup is getting cold.”
He raised an eyebrow at her, taking a bite of his sandwich. “Clearly your soup isn’t the only thing that’s cold around here.” He gave her a knowing look.
“Good afternoon, Captain,” Tamara said, standing and swinging a leg over the bench. She grabbed the tray, slopping the remainder of the soup onto her hands and the tray, cursing. Hustling over to the sideboard, she tossed the tray and dishes onto it and stormed out of the mess hall, flicking the soup off her hands. Those few in the mess hall, especially the Captain, were watching her as she left. The mess hall was silent for the long seconds it took for the sound of her ship boots to disappear down the corridor, and then those who remained spoke only in very low voices.
Vincent Eamonn sat at the table and let out a deep breath. Looking away from the doorway, he went back to his sandwich, though he could not longer taste it. He stayed for a few minutes longer, finished his food, quaffed his drink and then stood, awkwardly. Bussing his tray, he shuffled and clunked his way out of the mess hall, but his head was held high.
“What was all that about?” Stella demanded, appearing on one of the displays in the boat bay as Tamara walked in.
“Not now, Stella, I’m not in the mood to talk about it,” Tamara barked harshly. “I really don’t want to talk about that now.” Her vision was tinged in red.
“But why not?” the AI asked, confused. She trailed behind Tamara on the various screens as the woman stalked through the boat bay. “Tamara!” Stella bellowed through the speakers.
She stopped and turned to the display, a look of pure rage on her face, her hands rigid at her sides, her fingers splayed outward. “What?”
“Look at yourself!” the AI demanded, looking stricken. “Look what you’re doing! You just were incredibly rude to the Captain just now and you’re stomping around the ship like a raging beast. Now what is wrong?”
Tamara stood there, staring at Stella in disbelief. The young AI was just sitting there on the display, arms crossed over her chest. She raised her eyebrows. “I’m waiting.”
The engineer just stood there breathing heavily, not speaking, muscles in her cheek working, her fists clenching and unclenching. “I don’t…”
“And I don’t want to hear it, Tamara,” the AI spat. “You’ve been brooding ever since I’ve woken up and every single time you see the Captain, you clench up. And you’re like a raw nerve, just exposed and… and… burning! And you won’t tell me why!”
Finally, Tamara found her voice. She turned away from the monitor, but she didn’t walk off. But her breathing was still heavy, as though she had just been running uphill with the whole of the Grania Estelle on her back. “You have access to the entirety of the security datanet and you ask me that? You can’t just pull the answer and find out?”
“I could,” Stella said, doing just that as she spoke with Tamara, but her expression didn’t change. And with her implant’s ability to connect with the ship’s computers disrupted, the human would not know. Could not detect what Stella was doing. “But I want to hear it from you.” And then the datafiles unlocked and unfolded and all the information flooded in. And the AI saw it, she saw it all, saw and heard everything. But she managed to maintain her stern composure. She was a digital construct, after all.
“No, you’ve already accessed the information, Stella. Don’t lie,” Tamara told her. “I know you accessed the information.” She snorted. “I programmed you, I know how you think.”
“All right, so I know. He betrayed you,” Stella said. She frowned. “He told the pirate Jax about your replicator access and how you were the one with the codes to get the restricted military technology. And you’ve hated him as much as you hated the one who tortured you. But do you know why?”
Tamara bit her lip, scowling. “I’m sure that bastard threatened to kill him. Or to torture him the same as he did to me. He wanted those replicators. Even though he would have to trust that I would work them for him since I wouldn’t be able to give him the codes directly.”
Stella nodded. “He would have had to work through you; that’s correct. I’ve scanned your implants and replicator codes and your explanation to the Armsman was correct. You couldn’t have given him the codes. And even if he’d torn the implants from your head and hooked them into his own brain, it still wouldn’t have worked. But I’m getting off the point. You’re only partially correct about the why.”
Tamara blew out a breath and turned back. “All right, Stella. Out with it.”
“Armsman Jax did threaten him,” Stella said, looking horrified. But she carried on. “He threatened to bring Taja into the wardroom, have her beaten bloody, stripped naked and raped on the wardroom table. And Vincent Eamonn would be forced to watch and forced to listen, but be unable to do anything to stop it.”
Tamara nodded. “That’s about what I’d expected.” She started to turn away.
“That’s not all.” The monitor blanked taking Stella’s image with it and then an image appeared on the screen, an overhead view of the wardroom, obviously taken from one of the wardroom’s security cameras. There was Gideon Jax, standing up, one hand on his hip, the other on the tabletop. Eamonn sat in his customary chair, looking defiant. The camera angle put both men in the field of view, showing each of their profiles. Even sitting down, the captain was a bigger man than Jax, but the Armsman’s presence made him seem much larger, even on a recording made months previous.
“Beginning playback,” Stella said. Suddenly, it wasn’t a frozen, static image.
“She’ll be screaming and whimpering and begging for it to end, Captain,” Jax was saying, a vicious sneer on his face. Tamara was transfixed. She couldn’t tear her eyes away. “And I will make sure that every one of my men will get a turn. I will pump her full of drugs and give her a blood transfusion if that’s what is necessary to prolong her suffering. And rest assured, she will suffer.”
“You monster,” Eamonn hissed. “I have a deal with your Captain!”
“But the Captain isn’t here,” Jax pointed out. “And he charged me with looking after this ship and all the as
sets on board. And I’ve discovered this great new asset that he is going to very much want. And you’re standing in the way of me giving it to him, Eamonn. Give me the replicator codes and show me how they work, or else I will begin.”
But Vincent Eamonn, clearly distressed, simply sat up straighter and glued his lips shut.
Jax beamed at him. “The silent treatment? Very well. I can counter that. I won’t just stop with your little cargo specialist. That lovely little minx on the bridge, your dark haired communications officer. I’ll throw them both to my men. Some of the zheen would love to spend time with her. And the other one, the screamer, who had to lose a hand. I’ll give her to them.” He tapped his fingers on the table top, putting his other hand down and leaning lightly against both. “Very well. You think your show of strength here will stop me?” He gestured to one of the guards who turned, opened the hatch and left the wardroom. Tamara couldn’t actually see him leave, but the sound of the hatch opening and him stepping through was clear on the camera pickup.
Jax stood up straight, a triumphant leer on his face, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes blazed with power and contempt. A moment later the guard must have returned, but this time he wasn’t alone. Temmis Dendre, one of the environmental techs, a hard working spacer who had never harmed anyone in the twenty-six years she’d plied her trade on the spaceways, was pushed into view on the camera pickup. The two guards moved from the doorway to take up positions on either side of Eamonn, as Jax fastened a grip on Temmis’s somewhat pudgy arm.
“Tell me the codes,” he said to Eamonn, who still remained silent, but whose eyes Tamara could see were darting back and forth between the Armsman and the female tech.
The Armsman drew a knife from a sheath on his arm. “Tell me the codes.”
Again the Captain remained silent.
In a movement so calculated, so slow and almost languorous, Jax changed his grip and pulled, twisting Temmis’s arm behind her back painfully and wrenching back, he caused her back to be pressed against his front. She whimpered and went up on tiptoe to try and ease the pressure, but he didn’t release his grip. With his free hand, he took the blade and raised it to the woman’s face.
Hold the Star: Samair in Argos: Book 2 Page 24