Pursue the Past: Samair in Argos: Book 1

by Michael Kotcher

  [Are you all right, Tamara?]

  She didn’t answer. Instead, she flung the blanket off her and rushed into the refresher where she was violently sick. When her stomach was empty, bile came up. After it was finally over, she lay on the tile, feeling the coolness on her cheek.

  [This behavior you are displaying is causing me concern, Tamara. Please, are you all right?]

  “It was a nightmare,” she groaned, her throat raw. Thankfully, the sick hadn’t splashed onto the floor; she had managed to get it all into the toilet. “Were you able to see it?”

  [I was.]

  She lay on the deck for another moment before pushing herself to a sitting position and then clambering unceremoniously to her feet. Stripping out of her ship tee and underclothes, she climbed into the shower, letting the hot water sluice over her.

  A bubble came through the water pipe, causing the water to spurt and flow irregularly for an instant.

  Gunshots. A fusillade of bullets coming straight at her. She screamed and flung herself to the back end of the shower, landing painfully. Tamara lay there shaking, shivering even though the water was quite warm. There were no gunshots. No one was in the room with her.

  [Gunshots? There is no one in your quarters with you, Tamara.]

  She drew in a long, shuddering gasp. “I know that, thank you. I think it was a panic attack.”

  [Why are you panicking?]

  She sobbed, unaware that tears were streaming down her face due to the water of the shower. “I don’t know. I keep remembering...remembering…”

  [I understand. You are remembering the scene with the man with the gun at the escape pod.]

  Tamara picked herself up off the floor of the shower, her breath coming in little gasps. Squaring her shoulders, she forced herself to calm down. Taking the soap, she cleaned herself, then shut off the water and got out, grabbing the towel.

  [Are you going back into your rest cycle?]

  “No,” she replied. “I’m going to get some coffee and something to eat. I think I want to be around other people.”

  [I am here with you.]

  This time, Tamara actually smiled. “Yes, you are. But I think I want more than just one other person with me right now. I’d like to be surrounded by people.”

  [I understand.]

  “Do you? I don’t want you to feel insulted. I want you to understand that this isn’t about you. These are my own personal issues that I’m trying to deal with.”

  [And being around other people helps.] The AI was asking a question.

  “It helps me cope,” she answered honestly. “I’m not sure how well it actually helps me deal with it.”

  [I shall think on this.]

  She snorted. “Please do. If you come up with any answers, would you share them with me?”

  [Of course, Tamara.]

  When she arrived in the mess hall, it was deserted. Checking her watch, she saw that it was only 02:23, ship’s time. Cookie wouldn’t be in for another three hours. She sighed. Walking to the ready cooler, she took a sandwich. Grabbing a plate and a mug, she walked to the coffee urn and poured herself a cup. She sat down at the table to eat.

  [There isn’t anyone here, Tamara.]

  She sighed. “No, there isn’t.” She took a bite of the sandwich. “I wish that there was.”

  [Maybe you should go and find someone.]

  Tamara chuckled. “Maybe I should. I’ll finish this up and then go for a walk.”

  She eventually did find a few people, some of the cargo workers working out in bay eight. They were busy running laps and she didn’t want to disturb them. She sat down on one of the lounge chairs, just soaking in the atmosphere, being around people but not in a crowd. Eventually, she got up, stepped onto the track and began to run.

  Tamara went slowly, it had been a while since she’d engaged in this kind of physical activity and she was still sore from falling over in the shower. Her lungs still burned from all the hyperventilating and screaming she’d done in her quarters. She allowed herself to forget about the present, just feel the rhythm of her feet on the track, concentrate on her breathing, keeping a steady pace. Before she knew it, over an hour had passed.

  She smiled. She was drenched in sweat, her whole body ached, and she was wheezing like a set of leaky bellows, but she felt exhilarated. It was the first time in quite a while that she actually felt relaxed.

  [But you’re more tired now than you were before,] the AI protested.

  “Yes I am,” she whispered, the corners of her lips remaining turned up. “But the run I think… it helped. The exercise helped to clear my head. And yes, I’m quite tired and sore, but it loosened me up a bit. I was really tense after… earlier.”

  [This is confusing to me.]

  “It doesn’t make much sense to me either,” she admitted. “It just seems to be the way the human mind works. I’m sure there’s perfectly scientific and logical explanations for everything. Exercise causing the brain into releasing endorphins into the body, things like that. And it all makes sense. Personally, I like to think that it allows you to get into sort of a… meditative state, I guess. You do the workout and the outside world fades away and your mind can process things without having all the chatter and din of the real world.”

  The AI didn’t seem to have anything to say to that. She didn’t have much more to add, so Tamara headed back to her quarters for another shower and greatly daring, a short nap.

  The arrival at the hyper limit was a relief for everyone. The trip in hyperspace hadn’t been that bad, actually, it had been a welcome respite. Oh, there had been work to do the entire trip, even before the increase in speed after the “pit stop” as everyone was calling it. Maintenance, small repairs, watches to be stood. But now, the routine was being broken by the big transition, the end of the trip from “here” when it became “there”.

  They were ten minutes from reversion when Tamara came up to the bridge. “Permission to enter the bridge?”

  The Captain turned and looked over at her. “Granted. What’s so important?”

  “I’m thinking that we need to rethink our entrance to Folston.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

  “When we got to Instow, we dropped out normally at the hyper limit, right?”

  “Correct.”

  “I’m thinking we need to drop out a few seconds early, which would give us a few hundred thousand kilometers of wiggle room.”

  The Captain nodded slowly. “Good thinking. Helm, you heard the lady. Drop us out twenty seconds from the limit.”

  “Roger, Captain,” the pilot said, hands moving over the controls.

  He pressed a stud on his chair and the PA system activated shipwide. “All hands, this is the Captain. We are going to be dropping out of hyperspace early. We all remember what happened at Instow and I do not wish a repeat of that. So I want all hands to be prepared for combat. All security teams, I want you armed and ready to repel boarders. I will provide updates as we have them. That is all for now.”

  “Inspiring speech, Captain,” Tamara remarked, smirking. “I’m sure the new kids are very happy with that explanation.”

  He shrugged. “They’ll live. I want to make sure that we do as well. George, you be ready with those sensors.”

  “Ready, Captain. We’ll go live as soon as we drop back into normal space.”

  “Very good.” He turned to another station. “Astrogation. I want a plot for emergency jump should anybody be waiting for us when we get there.”

  But George spoke up before the astrogator could. “Captain, we don’t have the fuel for that. We’re committed to this system.”

  The Captain grimaced. “Great. How bad are we talking?”

  George shrugged, going over the numbers. “We have enough for a transit across the star system, if we’re economical with the engines. But we don’t have anywhere near enough to make it to another star system.”

  “Very well.”

  “One minute
to modified normal space reversion,” the pilot reported.

  Everyone on the bridge tensed as the clock ran down. Finally, the time reached zero and the pilot pressed the control. The Grania Estelle exited hyperspace in a wash of tachyons, a burst of color on the sensors for an instant as the ship came back into normal space.

  “Report.”

  George checked his sensors. “We’ve dropped out of hyper 1.6 million kilometers from the hyper limit. No ships are showing up in range, though I am showing neutrino emissions from one ship in orbit of the primary planet. They’re no threat to us at this range.” He grinned. “Listen to me. Four months ago we had to wait until we were right on top of something to see it. Now I’m seeing a ship half a star system away!”

  Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief. “Helm, plot a course for the gas giant. We’ll drop off the collector and then head in system. Moxie, if you please, we’re going to need a collector to drop.”

  She grinned at him. “Already in process, Captain. It’ll be ready by the time we get there.”

  “Approaching the gas giant, Captain,” the helmsman reported.

  “Very well. Launch the shuttle, let’s get that collector out there.”

  The cargo bay door opened and the shuttle slid out into space. Mairi banked away from the freighter, headed for the upper atmosphere of the Jovian. It was the work of only moments to get to the optimal release range for the collector. “Open the bay, Pip. Let it out.”

  “Copy that,” the young man replied, pressing the button. The cargo hatch popped and the bay’s atmosphere evacuated. The collector wasn’t a pretty contraption, but the engineers who had built the thing had all checked off on it. After that, Tamara, Ka’Xarian and even Chief Quesh had given it a full workover. Since the collector was going to be gathering up the fuel that they were going to be using form now on. They could not afford for it to fail.

  Using the grabber arm connected to the shuttle, Pip gingerly lifted the collector and pulled it out into the emptiness of space and released it into the upper atmosphere. The collector slid down into the atmosphere, looking as though it would continue dropping until it was crushed. Then the stabilizer jets fired and it steadied out.

  “Activating collector.” Pip pressed a control on his datapad and the systems activated. His eyes scanned over the readouts. “Looking good. The system will be filled in forty hours. Need to swing back here by then to pick it up.”

  “Captain, this is shuttle one,” Mairi said, opening a channel to the Grania Estelle. “Collector dropped and online. Heading back to the barn now.”

  “Understood, shuttle one.”

  “All right, people. Once the shuttle is back aboard, we head for Folston. Serinda, once we’re moving, send a message to that ship. Tell them who we are and see if you can get a response.”

  “Yes, Captain. Sending now.” She tapped a few controls. “This is the freighter Grania Estelle to the unidentified vessel in orbit of Folston. We are looking for opportunities to trade. Please respond.”

  “How long until we can expect an answer?”

  “They’re eight light minutes away, Captain,” Serinda replied. “Probably ten minutes at best guess.”

  He nodded. The light speed delay was frustrating, but it was a fact of life that they all had to deal with. In fact, it was something that everyone had to deal with, as no one had developed a faster than light communication system yet. It seemed strange that in a time when it was commonplace for ships to travel faster than light and yet no one could send messages any faster than the speed of light. On a planetary surface it was fast enough to be done instantly, but in the vastness of space, it took time.

  Twenty minutes passed and Serinda spoke up. “Captain, incoming message from the ship. Audio only.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “…is the freighter Emilia Walker to Grania Estelle. We are affecting repairs in orbit of Folston, as well as looking for opportunities for trade and profit. We have no hostile intent. We are not detecting you at this time, please relay your position.”

  “What?” Serinda burst out. “They can’t see us, but they’re asking for our information?”

  The Captain smiled. “It’s what we were doing before the sensors got upgraded, Serinda,” he reminded her. “In fact, I think we sold Folston a set of comm gear the last time we were here, what… two years ago? Unless they’ve had a win fall like we did, I don’t see why we should expect them to have any better gear now.”

  She flushed. “I guess I’m used to the gear we have now. But even still. If you can’t see who’s actually calling you, why would you answer? Wouldn’t it be better to wait until you can see them?”

  “I suppose. If they can actually see you anyway, I suppose it might be best to try and get as much information as you can.” He nodded. “Speaking of which, Serinda, tell them we mean no harm and that we’re coming in. Give our position, but put it five degrees to port and up. I want them to see us coming, but I don’t want them to have our exact position. Or on the planet either, if they’ve got any designs on attacking us.”

  She smiled. “Aye, Captain. I’m on it.”

  On the way in, the shuttle made two separate flights, bringing in two large asteroids to break apart. Cargo bay eight was dismantled from a lounge area back into a storage bay. Ka’Xarian had led a team on the outside of the hull, working to seal the bay from the outer side. A half dozen bots were skittering around the area of the hull, sealing what small microfractures and tiny breaches that they could, marking the bigger ones for the work crews to get to. Xar and his teams, eight people in total, were tirelessly filling the holes with sealant and then welding plates over them to enclose the breaches completely. It wasn’t a proper job, they’d have to unskin the entire section and then replace it with all new hull. But as Tamara had said earlier, it didn’t need to be. This was a cargo ship, not a battlecruiser. By the time the second rock was brought in, bay eight was repaired and cleared out and the shuttle easily slipped the rock into inside where it was tethered and then cut apart for materials. A bit of water was in this one, which helped to raise the level of water in the fuel tanks.

  By the time the Grania Estelle made orbit, healthy progress was being made on cargo bay seven, though they all knew it would be nearly two weeks of work at least before it was closed up enough to use. A huge rent in the hull sliced through in a roughly diagonal direction, cutting through hull, doors, a rent three meters wide at its largest part. They were having to plate over it, making it look like a hodgepodge of repairs; like they were making a quilt and tacking it onto the outside. The doors were also a problem, they’d had to be removed, cut apart and then fed into the replicators for new material. Once it was done, however, the shiny new metal clashed with the slightly corroded older material. The new doors that were installed were “a wonder” as one of the techs said. They were smooth and would open and close exactly as the operator wanted, something that was unusual for the sometimes sticky and cranky doors on a few of the other bays. The other doors still worked and it wasn’t a high priority for repair, so they were left as they were.

  The other ship, Emilia Walker, was a much smaller vessel than the new arrival. Whereas the Grania Estelle was a bulk hauler intended to move huge amounts of cargo between the starts, Emilia Walker was a fast tramp freighter, meant to move quickly, with probably more high value cargoes than what the Grania Estelle if in much smaller amounts. Based on the sensor scans of the smaller ship, it most likely would be able to achieve higher speeds in normal space than the lumbering bulk hauler, meaning they could be in hyperspace by the time Grania Estelle was a quarter of the way to the hyper limit. Their overheads would be lower of course, less to maintain and a much smaller crew. Emilia Walker probably only needed a crew of ten at the most.

  But based on further scans, it appeared that “effecting repairs” was an understatement. Their primary engines were down, shields were down, and intermittent power spikes indicated their power grid was fluctuati
ng as well.

  “They’re in bad shape, according to these readings,” Quesh admitted. “It’ll take a whole whack of new parts to get them going again.”

  The Captain got a mischievous look in his eye. “Then perhaps we might offer them our services. See what kinds of fixes we can do.”

  Quesh started. “Captain? You want to help a competitor?”

  The Captain shrugged. “He’s not in our league, Quesh. Look at it. That can carry, what maybe a hundred metric tons? We can carry fit nearly their whole ship in bay seven. They might get there quicker than us, but even that’s a stretch. Once we get the other engines online, we’re going to be much better off. Besides, if we can get them up and running, and they pay us, they might spread the word to other freighters. And we can start a little repair business.”

  “But what about our own repairs?”

  “Keep on that,” he indicated. “I want to be well fitted out before we leave here, but I’m willing to give two more weeks to give people time for leave, and to get repairs done. And if possible, I’d like to be in the upper levels of yellow band.”

  Quesh smiled. “Guess I’ll need to break out the whip.”

  He clapped the Parkani on one of his upper shoulders. “Whatever you need to do, but please give your crews at least two days off. I want everyone to have at least some time.”

  Tamara was taking a break. She and the others had been working nonstop since their arrival in the Folston system and she had decided she wanted a few hours to herself. Sealing the Perdition's cockpit around her, she started the launch sequence. Seconds later, the main engines ignited, the electronics powered up and kicking in the repulsors, the fighter hovered off the deck. Sending a signal through her implants, the bay depressurized and bay doors opened.

  She keyed her comms. "Bridge, this is Moxie One. I'm going out for a little joyride. I'll be back in an hour."