She glowered. “I think that’s a discussion for when we get out of this, don’t you?”
“Fine. Communications,” he said, flicking his chin in that direction.
Tamara stepped over to the console, skipping her vision over the controls, her implants helpfully indicating what each button and switch did. Like everything aboard the Grania Estelle, the console was old and well worn. She laid her palm on the console, putting her thumb over the port for an implant jack. Once she was in, she accessed the ship’s communication array and directed a narrow-beam transmission to the pursuing ships.
[What do you think you can accomplish?], the AI asked, text scrolling along the bottom of her vision.
“Not now please,” Tamara whispered, trying to look casual. “I’ll talk about it with you if we get out of this.” The AI didn’t respond after that, to which she was grateful. “Ready to transmit, Captain,” she said in a normal tone. “And I have to ask that you not question any of the things you’re going to hear me say.”
He nodded his assent, though the worry was still there.
“This is Commander Tamara Samair of the Republic Navy, aboard the Naval Reserve vessel Grania Estelle, to the vessels currently pursuing my ship. State your identifications and intentions. Over.” She pressed a key to mute transmission while they waited to see if they would answer.
She smiled at the bridge crew, who were gaping at her like a school of landed fish. “What?” she asked. “You all knew I was Republic military.”
“I never knew my ship was in the Naval Reserve,” the Captain replied dryly.
“Don’t worry,” she said with an evil grin. “I might give her back to you one day. George, I’m sending you a list of transponder codes that I need you to update into the ship’s registry. They will confirm that the ship is Naval Reserve.”
“I have it. Captain, do I update the registry?” he asked, turning to his boss.
The Captain hesitated for the briefest moment. “Yes, go ahead, George.”
The man punched a few commands and Tamara saw the information scroll across her display. Serinda nodded as she saw it too. “It’s all set, Captain,” the young woman reported.
“Very well.”
George piped up. “Captain, two hundred fifty thousand kilometers.”
“Incoming transmission,” Tamara said with a slight chuckle. “I’m putting it on the forward screen, but I’m keeping the video pickup off on our end. For the moment, anyway. I don’t think they’d believe me if I said I was Republic military and wasn’t wearing a uniform.”
“And they would believe an audio transmission they can’t verify with a picture?” The Captain seemed skeptical. Tamara didn’t answer, just brought up the video image.
The display at the comm console and in front of the Captain activated, showing a human in his mid-thirties wearing an unfamiliar uniform, dark gray with red piping, but it had the Republic galactic spiral device on his right breast. His collar bars showed he was an officer of the rank of senior lieutenant. He was pale, like most people who spent a lifetime in space, out of the uv rays of the sun, he had a short haircut, a mustache and very piercing gray eyes.
“This is Captain Wallace Sykora of the Republic vessel Fury. I don’t know who you think you are, but you will heave to and prepare to be boarded.” His voice had a heavy Republic Core World accent, aristocratic and arrogant, but it was more that he was trying hard to put on airs, not that he was born to title.
“No, Lieutenant,” Tamara replied, putting as much command voice in her words as she could. “I am under orders to continue on my mission unmolested. I will not heave to for your pissant little corvette.”
The lieutenant visibly blinked in surprise. Clearly he wasn’t used to being refused by someone on board a freighter. “Who the hell is this? Why are you only transmitting on audio?”
I’m only on audio because I don’t have a Republic uniform. My ship suit isn’t going to impress anyone, nor is my disheveled appearance. “Lieutenant, you had better watch your tone with me. You are making me repeat myself, which is making me quite cross. I am not in the habit of explaining myself to junior officers, but because my mission is so pressing, I will oblige.” Her voice was like frozen helium. “As I have already informed you, I am Commander Tamara Samair, aboard a Navy Reserve vessel. Show me that you have the slightest amount of brains and follow your procedures. Check the ship’s registry and transponder codes. Now.”
The man looked to the side, where, presumably, someone was checking. Tamara could hear someone speaking from off the camera pickup. “I am registering your ship as a reserve vessel. I wasn’t aware that we had any cargo vessels out this way.” He didn’t sound convinced. The tension level on the bridge was rising as everyone saw the icons representing the corvettes drawing ever closer. They were now in range to be picked up by the short range sensors. However, only the bow sensors on the ship had been repaired, which left a huge blind spot, the entire aft arc of one hundred twenty degrees. They couldn’t get a fine-degree scan, not yet. Not that it mattered much. The weapons on the freighter couldn’t shoot anything more than a hundred kilometers anyway.
“Lieutenant, I have no need to explain the parameters of my mission to you.” They were less than a minute from intercept, little more than eight from the hyper limit.
“You will submit your identification codes,” the man replied, insolence dripping in his tone.
Tamara smiled to herself. She had prepared for such an eventuality, after hearing Ka’Xarian’s story about Admiral Tandred. Her codes were as good as she could make them, though she didn’t have all the most recent protocols. Though the salvaged data core had helped her refine her work. She went ahead and transmitted.
She had the joy of watching the man’s eye’s bulge nearly out of his head. Lieutenant Sykora straightened in his seat. “My apologies, ma’am. I had no idea.”
“You will cease pursuit of my vessel. At once!” she thundered. “Return to your previous duties.”
He nodded, look as though his neck was made of rubber. “Changing course now.”
George nodded, and a window opened up on the display, showing the two ships turning away.
“Very good. You were doing your duty and I appreciate your vigilance. End transmission.” She leaned back against the bulkhead and blew out a long breath.
“You have hidden talents, Moxie,” the Captain said appreciatively.
Tamara grinned. “I did manage a shipyard, you know. I’m used to jumped up little pricks like that trying to act as though they own the galaxy.”
“Some of them actually do,” Serinda mused.
Tamara laughed. “You’re right at that. Though never any of the ones I’ve had to deal with.”
Even the Captain chuckled at that.
“We’ve reached the hyper limit, Captain,” the pilot at the helm reported.
“Good. Get us out of here. Shipwide,” the Captain ordered. Serinda pressed a control and a droning beep sounded through every compartment in the ship. “This is the Captain. All hands, brace for jump to hyperspace.” He nodded and Serinda shut off the shipwide comm. “Helm, is the hyperdrive ready?”
“Hyperdrive is ready, Captain.”
“Astrogation?”
“Course plotted and laid in, Captain.”
“Operations?”
“All systems ready, Captain,” George replied. This was a little formality that the entire bridge crew engaged in every time they jumped. Everyone was stating the obvious, but it also made sure that every section had checked over all their responsibilities.
“Very well. Let’s get the hell out of here. Helm, punch it,” he said. The control was activated. The hyperdrive spun up and a fine tremor spread throughout the ship. Everyone grabbed on to handles, or anything they could find to brace for the jump. The last ones done by the Grania Estelle were quite violent. The Captain looked over and saw Tamara holding onto a handle, but only with one hand and not as though she was concerned she’d
be thrown across the room.
As the drives kicked in, there was a very tiny jolt, like an elevator coming to a stop and then… nothing.
“We’re in hyper,” the pilot reported, confused.
“We are?” George asked, then confirmed it with his instruments. “We are!”
“No teeth rattling jolt?”
Tamara laughed. “No, Captain. I know you hardcore freighter jocks are used to bone-jarring jumps, but the only reason that had been happening was because your hyperdrive was so far out of tune. Quesh and I made sure that it was properly aligned. He reckoned this would be the smoothest ride any of you had ever been through.”
Serinda released her handle. “I’ll say.”
“Helm, talk to me,” the Captain said, chuckling.
“We’re on course, speed is holding at Red level two. I can’t get any more out of it, Captain.”
“Understood. ETA to Folston?”
“If we maintain speed, one hundred fifty-three days, nineteen hours, sixteen minutes,” the helm watch stander reported. He didn’t sound too happy with that report.
The Captain wasn’t thrilled to get it. Normally, with the hyperdrives the way they were before the attack by the raiders, the trip from Instow to Folston would take about thirty-one days. Now it was going to be four and a half times that.
But there was nothing to do about that. There were some tricks that they could do to save on fuel consumption and the Chief had some overhaul to the power grid scheduled, which would certainly assist in that, but they couldn’t coax any more power out of the drives. Not with the shields at the abysmal levels they were at. Eleven percent? They could sustain Red level two for the entire trip to Folston, but they wouldn’t be able to increase speed any.
“Very good, helm.” He turned to Serinda. “Shipwide, please.” The beep sounded again and she nodded. “This is the Captain. We’re safely in hyperspace, though I’m sad to say we have a very long flight to Folston. Schedule will be posted on the bulletin board in the mess shortly. For now, I just want to congratulate everyone on the fantastic work you all have done during our stay here at Instow. I’m proud of all of you. Keep up the good work. That is all.” Serinda disconnected.
“Well done, all,” he said, standing. “I’ll be in my cabin. Set normal watch rotation and by the stars, make sure all of you get some food, coffee and sleep.”
“Aye, Captain,” they all chorused, watching him leave before turning back to their stations. A moment later, Tamara followed, though not to officer country. She went to her own cabin, fully intending to lie down and catch a few hours of sleep.
Aboard the Fury, Wallace Sykora turned to his ops officer. “Sylla, get with the Intelligence people. Go through everything we have on the sensor readouts of that ship, and in particular, that audio conversation we had with that woman. Find out who this Commander Samair is. Get me every piece of information. Granted, we are out in the fringes here, but I’ve never heard of a naval officer named Tamara Samair, and certainly no one risen up to the rank of commander. And find out more about that ship. I know we’re out here pretty far,” he admitted, “but I’ve never heard of that ship being part of the reserve. And certainly not this far out from the Republic.”
“On it, Skipper,” Sylla said, turning to her console and beginning to work.
Sykora turned his face back to his own display, but he really wasn’t seeing it. This small squadron, really only two ships, was pretty far from the official jurisdiction of the Republic. Centuries ago, they were well within the borders, especially with Hudora nearby, but that was before the war. He had his orders and he was out following them.
That freighter looked to be a fat prize. According to Fury’s sensors, it had seen better days, but more than likely its holds were filled with swag, to quote his security chief. They’d been tracking it ever since they had arrived in the system. It was a close pursuit, he had to admit. He also was willing to admit to himself that he had botched the approach. He should have raced in system, hell bent for leather and overtaken them closer to the planet. He hadn’t expected the Navy officer to be on board, but if he had gotten them farther out from the hyper limit he could have made more of it.
He kicked himself. I really did not handle that well. I allowed that woman to get me flustered. In any other circumstance, I would have forced them to heave to and boarded them. He’d been so surprised by the forcefulness of the “commander” that he’d ignored procedures and his common sense. Well, he would be passing this up the chain. He’d take his lumps and then get past it. He was already out in the middle of nowhere, it was unlikely he could get a worse assignment.
Admiral Tandred would be very interested to hear about a reserve vessel operating in his sector.
Book 2 – Questions and Evasions
Chapter 10
The first day in hyperspace, the Captain came over the PA system. “All hands, this is the Captain. I am declaring this to be a day of liberty. Standard watch rotation will continue, but I am requiring everyone else to have a day of rest. Sleep. Eat. Celebrate our escape from Instow, pirates and whoever else might have been trying to get us. Enjoy the rest, you’ve all earned it. That is all.”
If anyone expected the corridors of the ship to resound with cheers, they would have been disappointed. Instead, more than a few crewmembers simply groaned and sagged to the deck in exhaustion. There was a great deal of laughter at this, both in relief and in mockery at their fellows. More than a few headed to their quarters and their beds, while the rest headed to the mess hall. The lounge was open, but for now, everyone was going to find sanctuary with Cookie.
And the man delivered. The smell of crispy fried chicken, cheddar mashed tubers, corn muffins a granapple cobbler was enough to make many of them swoon. Getting in, everyone discovered that the food was delicious, the food was plentiful and the beer flowed. Within a short while, the exhaustive pallor that had sunk in to the crew of the Grania Estelle had abated and conversation, laughter and a renewed sense of vitality pervaded.
A short while later, the party moved from the mess hall to the lounge, though more than half of the partiers had retired to their beds. New people trickled in as they came off watch and were greeted with enthusiastic cheers. Cards and dice were broken out. Gambling was allowed aboard ship, with the proviso that this was a friendly atmosphere. The Captain was up for a good game of chance, but he would not allow members of his crew to be fleeced. There was probably more than a little of that going on below decks, but after one of the crew had won so much from his fellows, he had set himself up as the ship’s bookie and was doing what he could to reduce his own workload. The debts he was owed amounted to more than those in his debt could ever repay on their shares. So he had begun to use them as indentured servants, working his shifts to pay off some of the debt. A very profitable enterprise for him, and self-sustaining, since they would never actually pay off their debt.
When the Captain got wind of this, he was livid. Taja had needed Corajen to physically restrain the man. Three separate times, the Captain ordered the man’s death, he was to be tossed out of an airlock, but between the two females he managed to calm down enough to think things through clearly. There was no mistaken the smoldering anger in his eyes, however. Even the lupusan backed away, seeing her Captain like this. He had marched down to the crew spaces and collected everyone who owed the man money. After a thorough grilling, he’d worked out just how much was owed. He was appalled at the amount.
The day they arrived at their next port of call, the Captain pulled the man aside. He bought the man out, buying his crewmates debt. Then he told the man to leave and not come back. He had Corajen accompany the man down to the planet, to make sure he went, and then to make sure the man did not return on the shuttle. She didn’t kill him, but rumor had it that the man spent a few days in the hospital after that.
To the crewmembers that had been taken to the cleaners by that man, the Captain took them all aside. “I now own all of your debts. If I
catch any of you gambling again, you’ll be serving brig time. I will be restricting your pay and half of your shares, as of right now, are going toward paying me back.” This hadn’t gone over well. Those unfortunate souls had believed, foolishly, that the Captain would sort out their problems and wipe the debt clean. They should have known better. “Shut your mouths!” he had roared. That had instantly silenced them. “I have already lost one crewmember over this, I will not lose any more! You will be continuing aboard at my sufferance, all of you. None of you are leaving until that debt to me is paid. If you decide you want to leave the ship, you will either pay me in full, or else you will forfeit all pay and shares until that debt is clear. You were the ones foolish enough to gamble away everything to a man like that.” A couple of them had the grace to look embarrassed. Some looked belligerent.
“Some of you might think that I am being unfair. Some of you might think that this is not part of your contract and that I am in breach of that contract. I refer all of you to Section C, under ‘other duties as required’? Well I’m making this a required duty.” They all looked as though they would argue. “Are we going to have a problem here?” His voice had shifted dangerously. No one had the courage to face that.
Vincent Eamonn ran a very tight ship but he wasn’t a cruel man, as evidenced by the treatment of the man who had done this to his fellows. As the Captain, his word was law; the Articles gave him that right, as did spacer tradition. He was well within his rights to order this as punishment, and since he was only taking half of their shares until the repayment was complete, he was still allowing them to earn some money until that time. This was also an incentive, for those wise enough to see it. If the ship earned more money, the shares would be higher and the debt paid sooner. He hadn’t expected anyone to catch that, not right away. It was still too humiliating and raw a wound yet. But he had been confident that some would.
That had been two years ago. Sadly, the shares had not significantly increased, in fact, they had continued to slowly sag during that time as the ship became less capable of carrying out its primary function. Tamara’s arrival had changed that a bit, but the setbacks by the raiders had impacted the shares as well. The ship had made some small amounts of money at Instow, but barely enough for a good meal at a nice restaurant for most of the crew. Even the Captain’s share had been low.
Pursue the Past: Samair in Argos: Book 1 Page 23