It was unlikely that he would be able to, for the other stations were locked down by the Captain’s order and only certain authorized personnel could actually bring the bridge consoles online. But, and George agreed, the Captain believed that young overenthusiastic crewmembers had an innate and utterly frustrating ability to get around lockouts and somehow manage to get themselves and the ship in trouble. Young ones seemed completely incapable of sitting at a console without getting the urge to press buttons. It was easier on the experienced hands now, for Stella was also keeping an eye on things and would tell the spacer apprentice he was doing something wrong. If he got too excited and ignored her orders, she had the ability to lock down the consoles or even cut the power to the station. So far, the AI hadn’t been needed to use such drastic measures, but the Captain was taking no chances.
“When we’re in port, yes,” he replied. “If we were underway, all the stations would be in use and there would be more to do. But for right now, we’re just keeping an eye on things. Checking for incoming ships, transmissions, and basically just watching the internal feeds to make sure there are no problems.”
Byron frowned. “But can’t Stella do all those things?”
George nodded. “She can. But Stella is busy doing other things right now, like getting the hull trusses replaced and assisting the engineering team out on the hull getting the first open section buttoned up.” He shrugged. “She’s got a much higher ability to multitask than we organics do, but that doesn’t mean she can be everywhere at once. Besides, you need the practice.”
The young spacer apprentice nodded. “Okay, I can understand that. So basically we’re just sitting here, minding the fort?”
The older man smiled, glancing up from his console and his displays. “You are. I’m keeping an ear out for any communications, I’m monitoring the ship’s automatic functions, since we’ve got a lot of systems either rerouted or being worked on and I’m also watching the sensors. The computers will beep if there’s a new contact coming into range, but I’m actually making sure that the EVA teams have someone watching them.”
“You’re doing all that?”
George shrugged. “Well, technically, most of it isn’t needed on an in port bridge watch. Most of the time, you just have to keep a general eye on things and report anything that does happen. But once you get to specialist rating you get more responsibilities.”
Byron looked impressed by this. “What’s your rating, Mister Miller?”
George chuckled, tapping a few keys. “You mean you didn’t look me up?”
“What?”
“All of the crew are logged into the computers, Mister Janacek. You can access mine and everyone else’s personnel jacket on your tablet. Not all the information, of course, but the various crew and their ratings and some low level information.” He frowned. “But that information is meant to stay on the ship, Mister Janacek. Our security chief will be very unhappy if you were to get loaded in a bar on the station and start blabbing about all your shipmates to everyone you meet. You get me?” He looked up and made eye contact.
The young man gulped and nodded. Corajen had thoroughly scared the shit out of him and the other recruits that had come in on the last round. She seemed to take an interest in him in particular, as she got right in his face when she delivered her speech about being very unhappy with those who didn’t follow protocols and it was all he could do not to wet himself. Thankfully, she’d backed off and he’d managed to keep control of his faculties. He didn’t want to find himself in a position where the lupusan security chief or her sister would be unhappy with him. Ever.
“Good,” George said, moving on. “But, going back to my original point, you can look me up. In fact, do that now. Go into the menu and look up ‘personnel’. Then just follow the prompts.”
Byron did as George instructed and a moment later, he had George’s personnel jacket up on his display. It didn’t show a whole lot of information, his name (George Ezekiel Miller), age (34 years), homeworld of origin (Malachai-Dae), favorite food (pepperoni pizza), relationship status (blocked), rating (Specialist rank 1 Operations). “How is some of the information blocked?”
George chuckled. “Are you interested in hooking up with me, Byron?”
“What?” the young man sputtered. “No! No, that’s not it at all.”
George raised a hand to stop him. “It’s all right. I’m sorry, I was teasing you.” Byron looked a little wary, but seemed to be put at ease by that statement. “I’m happily married, though I haven’t seen my wife in quite a while.”
“Where is she?” Byron asked, enthralled.
The ops officer smirked. “She’s on Volarus. With my two daughters.”
“Volarus?” Byron repeated, a look of puzzlement on his face. “That’s… that’s on the edge of the Cluster.”
George sighed. This had been a mistake. He should have kept his mouth shut. This was far more information than he wanted to share with the new guy on his watch. “Yeah. Yeah, it is. But I think I’m done talking about this for now, okay?”
“Um… sure, Mister Miller.” Byron looked chastened, his head was ducked just a little.
The operations console pinged and one of the displays lit up. Both of their heads immediately whipped around, looking at the new signal, both of them grateful for the interruption.
“Um, Mister Miller,” Byron’s voice was sounding confused, but the tone of his voice was rising just a little. “What am I seeing here?”
George pulled in a long breath, then let it out slowly. “What you are seeing there, Mister Janacek, is eight ships entering sensor range and they are closing on our position.”
Byron’s mouth suddenly went dry. “So what do we do?”
George looked up at the young man, with a look of mild disappointment. “What have I been trying to drill into your head, Mister Janacek about any sort of contact on the sensors?” The young man was looking all over the communications console, but his eyes really weren’t tracking. He was starting to panic. “What have I told you?” he demanded, his voice cracking like a whip.
The increase in volume seemed to pierce the veil of Byron’s panic. “Um, we call for help.”
George nodded, a slight smile on his face. “That’s correct. Now, calm down. Those ships are still over a day away at their current speed. Plenty of time for us to come up with something.” He pressed a control. “Captain, we’ve got ships incoming. Eight total, looks like two of them are warships of some kind, about a day away from us, present speed.”
“Understood, George. I’m on my way. Inform the EVA teams to police up their gear and their bots, finish up any jobs that can be done in the next sixteen hours and then get back inside,” the captain told him.
“On it, Captain,” he replied, as the captain cut the connection. “Now, we just do our jobs and let the Captain take care of things,” he said, looking over to Byron, who was starting to look a bit more collected. “Deep, slow breaths, Byron. Panicking won’t help. You have to remain focused. It’s okay to be scared. Just don’t let it overwhelm you.” And he looked back down to his operations console and tapped some keys.
Byron Janacek looked over at Spec 1 Operations George Miller, seeing a cool and collected individual. And while Byron had surely embarrassed himself, the ops specialist hadn’t come down on him like a ton of bricks and he hadn’t humiliated the newbie for his panic. The young man straightened his spine, vowing he would never panic like that again.
“All right. Try it!” Tamara yelled from her position under the engineering console. She was aboard the small cargo ship moored at the station, working with one of the engineers from Grania Estelle, the zheen Kay’grax. When the young tech had learned that his former captain was looking to get a ship and get back into space, he immediately wanted to help. Eamonn, however, wasn’t quite as thrilled with Tamara’s decision to go and work on another ship.
“I’m not leaving,” Tamara told him just before she’d left for the station. �
�Not for good. I’m taking two days, I’m going to survey Captain Vosteros’s ship and I’m going to see what I can do for him.”
A look had passed over Vincent Eamonn’s face. She hadn’t been able to determine what it meant. “What would you need?”
“One of our techs and probably some replicator support,” she said, looking him square in the face, challenging.
He hesitated for a long moment, and then nodded. “Whatever you need.” Another pause. “I owe him.”
“I’m on it. And I promise, two days,” she said, suddenly unsure of herself.
He waved a hand, shooing her out of the wardroom. “Go, Tamara.” It was the first time in a long time, if ever, that he had used her given name. She’d turned with purpose and strode from the wardroom.
The ship was actually not in terrible shape. The reactor needed a good flush, and more than a few components needed some work. But the ship itself just needed some TLC and effectively a good service to get back into operation. She and Kay’grax had been tearing into the ship for hours, and after near thirty-six hours of straight, exhausting work, main power was up and the sublight drives were ready for a test.
“Bringing sublights on line,” Kay’grax said. He was emitting a slight hum due to fatigue. The both of them had been downing stimulants fairly regularly in the last ten hours, coffee and nutrient bars in Tamara’s case, and verigo sap (diluted) and nutrient paste for the zheen. At this point, however, they were both dead on their feet, but they were so close.
The tech tapped a few keys on the console and a resounding thrum filled the engineering spaces as the sublight drives powered up. Kay’grax kept his compound eyes fixed on his displays watching as the readouts slowly climbed into the green. Engine and core temperatures were all rising, but well within parameters. “Output is steady. Fuel flow is nominal. Everything’s in the green.”
Tamara nodded to herself and closed up the panel she was working on. Sliding out from under the console she climbed unsteadily to her feet and checked the displays herself. A weary smile creased her lips and she clapped him on the shoulder. “Good job.” Fishing into her pocket, she pulled out her communicator and flipped it open with her thumb. “Captain, this is Tamara.”
A second later, he responded. “Go ahead, Tamara.”
“Sublight engines are up,” she reported.
“That is excellent news!” Frederick crowed. “You’re a sorceress, Tamara, seriously.”
Kay’grax chittered a laugh. “Thanks, Captain. Do you have a few minutes? I want to give a full brief on everything else that needs doing.”
“Absolutely,” he said. “Captain’s cabin?”
“On my way.”
Tamara walked through the ship, heading for the Captain’s cabin which was on the second deck of the four-deck ship. The ship was different than what Tamara was used to and it was vastly different from the Emilia Walker. The ship only had one cargo hold, as opposed to the three on Vosteros’s other ship. The hold was twenty percent larger and had one main cargo hatch that opened to the front. The bay was the entirety of deck four, the bottom deck. Above that and aft was the engineering spaces, which took up most of the room, to the fore was the galley, capable of seating eight. Deck two held living spaces, crew berths and lavatory and showering facilities that offered a decent amount of privacy. The Captain’s cabin was located in the forward section of deck two, which had a bunk, a desk and a small couch against the bulkhead. It was enough to do what he needed, with a dedicated terminal attached to the desk.
The trip to the cabin took all of two minutes and Tamara had to marvel at the amount they’d managed to get done in the short time she’d been aboard. Frederick had brought the two engineers aboard to survey and if possible, make any repairs needed to get the ship back up and running. Meanwhile, he and Taja had started on cleaning the ship. Most of the problems that were affecting the ship, aside from some hull work needed, were cosmetic. The previous crew, curse them, had neglected and disrespected this vessel. Trash and filth were everywhere. It was similar to the condition of the Emilia Walker the first time Tamara had come aboard, but thankfully the stench of the other ship wasn’t present here. It was just dirty.
So Taja and the captain had let loose with a pair of cleaner bots and with a crate of cleaning supplies had attacked the galley. In just a few hours, the place looked infinitely better. Every surface gleamed, every fixture sparkled. The stained floor was clean, all the crufts of dirt that had accumulated in the corners were swept away. After that, and a short break, the two had moved to the berthing spaces. They’d pulled the soiled and filthy mattresses and dragged them down to the cargo bay where they had piled them up for disposal. The bots, meanwhile took care of the sleeping compartment. It would need a fresh coat of paint, and the ventilation ducts would need a good going over, but the big, painful, sweaty jobs were getting squared away.
When Tamara reached the cabin, she knocked on the open hatch frame and Vosteros looked up from where he was scrubbing one of the bulkheads with a soapy sponge. A suds bucket was on the deck at his feet and he, like everyone aboard, was sweat soaked and covered in grime. “Welcome to my kingdom,” he said expansively, holding his arms out to the side, soap dripping to the deck.
Tamara smiled back, stepping inside and leaning against the hatch cowling. She started to rub her face with her hands but quickly realized she was just smearing grease onto her skin. She cursed softly.
Vosteros chuckled. “I think you look better that way.”
Tamara looked up with a friendly grimace. “I’d give you a disgusting hug, but I think you’d get me more dirty,” she said, gesturing to his sweat soaked shirt.
“Oh, the glamour of the spaceways.” He dropped the sponge in the bucket and sat down on the bare bunk. “So, you said something about a full brief.” He looked her over, sighed at the sight of her stained and dirty shipsuit then gestured her to the hard plastic chair at the desk. She sat.
Tamara was just about to start when a figure appeared in the hatchway, just to her left. “So I hear things are working,” Taja said, crossing her arms under her breasts.
Tamara nodded, tamping down on her irritation. This was about Frederick, about the ship, not any petty problems she and the cargo specialist might have. Tamara mentally chuckled. She wasn’t really sure why she even had any problems with Taja. Her talk before about ‘stealing a captain’ wasn’t true. It wasn’t as though she had any romantic feelings toward either man. Her own feelings towards Vincent Eamonn were complicated enough that she didn’t really understand why she stayed aboard Grania Estelle, but she was working through her difficulties.
“Yeah,” Tamara said. “Things are looking good. Sensors are working, hyperdrive is up.”
“It is?” Taja asked, surprised.
Tamara glared at her. “Yes, Taja, it is. This crate isn’t powerful enough to hit the higher levels of the rainbow, but she really only needed a tune up. She’ll make Yellow level three now, but you won’t get much more out of her.”
Frederick blinked. “I’m… wow. That’s amazing. You really can get this ship up to Yellow three?”
Tamara shook her head. “Not me. You are going to get her that high. The engines and the shields are tuned, you just need to fly her. Hyperdrive was in surprisingly good shape, actually.”
“Wow,” he repeated. “What about weapons?”
But she shook her head again. “You got that one front mounted laser cannon and the one top turret laser. But they’re not going to really let you win any battles, Frederick. This is a cargo runner, not a warship.”
“You like saying that,” Taja said with a smile.
Tamara smirked. “I keep saying that because it’s true. Neither this ship, nor the Emilia Walker, nor the Grania Estelle is a warship. They’re all cargo ships.” The other woman nodded. “You won’t be able to fight off any serious pirates, Frederick, you know that. You’re going to have to find some nice safe milk runs to start.”
He nodded. “I
know. I’m just not really sure there are any safe milk runs anymore. Not any ones that have any kind of profit.”
“Oh, I think I can make it work,” Taja said, smiling a bit. Frederick returned her smile.
Tamara forced herself to resist rolling her eyes. “Anyway, you’ll need to completely replace your algae tanks for the environmental systems, but that’s easy enough. Other than that, Captain, you are ready for space. Well, as far as the engineering systems are concerned. I’m sure you’ll need to stock your pantry and actually secure a cargo.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know how to thank you for this, Tamara.”
She waved it away. “Don’t mention it.”
Frederick raised an eyebrow. “Not to you, anyway.” He sighed. “So just how far in hock with Captain Eamonn am I for all this generosity?” He had a slight grimace on his lips.
Tamara shrugged. “He told me to get this ship up and running. He didn’t say anything about payment. He’s paying for my time, and Kay’grax, but as I said, he didn’t mention any kind of remuneration on your part. You’ll have to speak with him.” She pushed off the hatch cowling. “So, I’ve uploaded all the nitty-gritty details to your computers,” she said, pointing to the console on the desk. “Feel free to peruse. Oh, I made sure your electronics spares are stocked, but the rest is up to you. And whatever crew you decide to hire.”
Vosteros came forward, extending a hand. “Really, Tamara, thank you. I owe you big time.”
Hold the Star: Samair in Argos: Book 2 Page 46