Pursue the Past: Samair in Argos: Book 1

by Michael Kotcher

  “Isn’t that sort of ship meant for use with some sort of large task force?” one of the cargo handlers asked during dinner mess. “Like for a fleet or something?”

  One of them leaned over and yelled across the mess hall. “Hey, Samair! What’s the story with the hospital ship?”

  The whole room went immediately silent as everyone turned to look at the engineer, who was in the process of raising a forkful of fried fish to her mouth. She sighed, and set the fork down on the plate. “Okay, Martinez. And thank you very much for putting me on the spot.” The man smirked at her from across the room. She didn’t need to raise her voice to be heard in the now quiet room. “Yes, the Kara is a ship that very well could be used in a fleet, to handle large numbers of casualties. But a ship like that would also be ideal for dealing with planetary wide disease outbreaks, serious disasters, things like that.”

  The crowd seemed to take that in, working to digest it. While they did that, Tamara took another bite of fish and then chewed quickly, for she knew there the question and answer session wasn’t over yet.

  “Okay, then what the hell were they doing all the way out here?” someone demanded.

  “Probably an emergency of some kind,” she said reasonably. “What else would they be doing out there? I imagine they’re doing the same thing we are, just going from system to system, plying their trade and helping people wherever they can. They had reactor problems, as you all remember and got stuck.” Tamara rolled her eyes and went back to her food. Conversation started back up again and people turned back to their own meals.

  “What was all that about?” Tamara asked her companions.

  Corajen shrugged. She was busy tearing apart a leg of lamb and wasn’t terribly interested in the conversation to begin with. The lupusan wasn’t particularly dainty when she ate and didn’t believe in using any kind of tableware. She wasn’t a total barbarian, after all, the whole point of meals was to eat the food, not wear it. But it was clear that despite her trappings of civilization, she would have preferred to eat her food fresh from the kill, not in a five star restaurant.

  Taja set down her cup. “Crew is interested. And you’re the woman in the know, Tamara.”

  “I suppose,” Tamara grumbled. “But aren’t these questions that should have been asked back when we linked up with the Kara? Not now, two jumps later?”

  “Probably,” Taja admitted. “And who’s to say they haven’t been asking?”

  “Then why are they only bringing this to me now?”

  Corajen chuckled. “Maybe it’s because of your frightening reputation, Tamara. I mean you did just go to a bar and shoot three people.”

  Tamara waved that away. “That was weeks ago,” she joked. “I’m sure they’d all forgotten about that by now.”

  The other two laughed.

  “So tell me about implants,” Turan asked. The officers all looked over.

  The senior officers were gathered in the wardroom, having just finished the morning meeting. The meetings had become a much more congenial affair, now that the officers and the crew had a functioning ship beneath them. It was amazing what that did for morale.

  Tamara set down her datapad on the table where she had been making notes about jobs that needed doing, preventative maintenance, mostly. “Well, there are all sorts. There’s your most basic identification chip. Most everyone had those back in the day. It was a chip implanted under the skin on the top of your left hand. It contained all of your personal information, medical info, banking data, everything. It couldn’t grant you any serious access to computers or anything more than that. It was also used as a means of security. Anyone without the right data in their chip couldn’t get through locked doors.”

  “And do you have one of those?” the doctor asked.

  She nodded, holding up her left hand and wiggling her fingers. “Yup. Everyone in the Republic got them shortly after you are born.” Tamara frowned. “At least they did. I assume they probably still do.”

  “What other kinds are there?” Taja asked, fascinated.

  Tamara shrugged. “Lots. My implants are actually on the low end of spectrum. I’ve seen ones that are far more extensive. People with cybernetic limbs, whole computer systems within their bodies.”

  “Isn’t that what you have?” the captain asked.

  Tamara shrugged. “On a very small scale. I’m talking about people with crystal data cores imbedded in their bodies. Not very common.”

  “When can you start making them?” Corajen asked bluntly.

  “As soon as one of you illustrious merchant traders finds me a class five industrial replicator, and the software upgrades to make medical tech,” Tamara replied. She crossed her arms under her breasts. “Until then, I can’t make any.”

  “Why not?” Taja asked. “You can make hyperdrives and replicators and shields, why not implants?”

  “Because implants pack a lot of complicated machinery into a very small package,” she replied. “Class three replicators, like the ones we have, are not capable of building implants.”

  There was a collective grumble around the table, as the various officers either expressed irritation at the answer, while others seemed to be thinking that Tamara was just making this up. The engineer gave them all a cool look, then turned her gaze back to the Captain.

  Stella’s holo image appeared above the projector. “I’m afraid she’s telling the truth. I’ve gone through the specifications and software on the replicators and they are not capable of building the things we need. Not for nano and micro tech that we would need to make implants.” She turned her fact to Quesh. “So unless you have the plans and schematics for implants in your personal database, I’m afraid that for now you’ll have to go without.”

  Turan looked confused. “Wait, wait. Stella, that didn’t make sense. Tamara already said that the replicators we have can’t make the technology we need. Why then would it matter if the Chief had the schematics?”

  “Because we could then try to do things the hard way, by hand” Tamara answered before the AI could speak. “It would take longer and would be more difficult to do, but I think we could do it. Instead of replicating the machines we need, we build them by hand.”

  “Could you design some?” the Captain asked.

  Tamara sighed. “I’ll look into it for you, Captain. They would have to be simple to start. I can try and reverse engineer my ID implant first and then go from there.”

  “All right. Work with Turan with that. Keep me informed.” The Captain nodded to Tamara then looked back to the table at large. “All right. Now, onto bay six. I think we need to transfer the big containers over to bay five to trim out the load…”

  The breakout into the Ulla-tran system was uneventful. There were no ships or battle stations waiting for them at the hyper limit, though the Grania Estelle and the Kara had dropped out of hyperspace thirty light seconds from the limit itself. It had become standard procedure and while it wouldn’t necessarily save them if a ship was waiting right on top of them, it would certainly be better than blundering in all fat and happy into the waiting arms of a pirate ship. The two ships began the long run in to the inhabited world; the third planet in the system. There were seven planets here, and the main world, called Darcannia, had seven moons. It made for some interesting tidal effects on the very large seas and two large land masses.

  Ulla-tran was a more industrialized system than most in the Cluster, though it was far from the only one. However, it did boast a small orbital station around the largest gas giant in the system, with a dozen fuel collectors, similar in function to the one in the Grania Estelle’s cargo bay. They were using highly refined helium 3 and the fueling station was a throwback to the Republic days. The station itself was in decent repair, though as the Grania Estelle and her companion approached, sensors indicated that there were sections of the orbital that were showing corrosion. Possibly there were particulates that were coming up out of the swirling storms from the Jovian’s atmosphere, san
dblasting the station. As they approached, the sensors detected a group of technicians in EVA suits making minor repairs to one small section. It looked as though they were welding new plates over a particularly weathered part of the hull.

  “Well, that complicates things a little,” the Captain said, frowning as he studied his displays. “I suspect the locals wouldn’t be too pleased with us just dropping our collector into the gas giant and topping off.”

  “Probably not, Skipper,” George agreed. “I’m actually showing six tugs carrying the fuel bladders from the collectors to the station and what looks like three small, fast ships moving in our direction.”

  “What kind of ships?” he asked, adjusting his view.

  George shrugged. “I’ve never seen this configuration before, Captain. Could be pinnaces? I would imagine they’re there for security of the station.”

  Stella appeared on the right side corner of the Captain’s display. “I’ve scanned the… pinnaces, to use Mister Miller’s term, Captain. They’re armed with a graser and a pair of missile launchers in the bow. Our shields might be able to absorb attacks from one of the small ships maybe two, but not from three. And the Kara is in even worse shape. She can’t withstand any kind of serious attack from them.”

  “Could Moxie stand up to them in her fighter?”

  “Probably,” the AI admitted. “She would be faster and more maneuverable, but from what I’m seeing on those scans, the pinnaces have shields and Tamara’s Perdition fighter does not. One good hit and she’d be free floating ions.”

  “Well, they’re just being cautious at the moment,” the Captain mused. “They’re moving toward us, but it doesn’t look they’re being too aggressive. I think they’re just seeing who we are and I imagine they’ll probably start talking to us soon.”

  “Good call, Captain,” Serinda piped up a second later as an indicator on her console flashed. “The lead ship is hailing us.”

  “Let’s see it.”

  The image of a young woman appeared on the Captain’s display. She was young, probably in her twenties, with dark skin and dark curly hair. She was wearing a red flight suit, with some sort of rank tab insignia on her shoulder straps. “This is Vanku Sobris Maakan, of the Ulla-tran Defense Forces to incoming ships. Please identify yourselves.”

  “Put me on, Serinda,” the Captain ordered. She nodded to him. “This is Vincent Eamonn on the Grania Estelle. We are forty-one days out of Yullankla with cargo to sell and trade. We are accompanied in convoy by the hospital ship Kara.”

  The woman nodded. “Understood, Grania Estelle. I will escort you into the system. Please follow along and do not deviate from course.”

  The Captain frowned. “Actually, we could use a top off on fuel,” he said. “Could you bring us into the fueling station?”

  The pilot nodded again. “Of course, sir. I have to advise, the rates are a bit steep. We’re not selling hydrogen or seawater here.”

  “Understood. Actually, if possible, would we be able to use our own helium 3 collector in the gas giant? A possible rental situation?”

  Vanku Maakan shrugged. “Not my bailiwick, Grania Estelle. You’ll have to speak with Goris Hana on the station. He’s the one who deals with fuel.”

  “Roger that, Vanku,” he replied. “Altering course now.” He nodded to the pilot, who had twisted around in his chair to look. The pilot gave the thumbs up and turned back to his console, entering the commands. The Captain cut the connection. “What the hell is a ‘Vanku’? Is that her name?”

  George shrugged. “No idea, Captain. Maybe it’s a title or rank.”

  Stella appeared on the bridge holo projector. “I believe it’s her title, Captain. Based on intercepted chatter I’m overhearing, I think it’s her title. It seems to be roughly equal to Lieutenant in the military. I believe that she is the leader of her little flight here.”

  The two large vessels made their ponderous turn toward the fueling station. Vanku Maakan’s pinnace led the way, staying in front of them, leading the strange convoy toward the station. The fueling station was of a strange design, for all intents it looked like a king’s scepter, or a baby’s rattle. It had a spherical section on the “top” with a flat section of three levels below that with docking ports for small ships. Jutting out from the bottom of the station was a kilometer long spike; the fueling pier meant for very large ships, such as the Grania Estelle. Smaller ships, light freighters, tugs, and shuttles would dock with the station or land in one of the two hangar bays along the flat disk-like section. The upper, spherical section held administrative offices, crew quarters and several score of cylindrical fuel tanks.

  “Captain, I have Administrator Korneyev on the comms for you,” Serinda reported as they drew closer to the station.

  “Put her through.” A second later, the lupusan’s face appeared on the Captain’s display. “Administrator?”

  “Captain, our fuel tanks are running very low,” she said, a slight growl in her voice. “I’m concerned about this. In fact, even running on reduced power and with the upgraded fuel of helium 3, we won’t make it to Seylonique.”

  “I understand,” he replied. And he did. The overhaul his crews had done to the Kara had been extensive, but there was only so much that could be done for the ship’s old engines. The ship was designed to be a hospital, not a long distance racer. It wasn’t terribly fuel efficient, even compared to the much larger Grania Estelle. “How can I help?”

  “Well, we need to top up our fuel and normally I know that you would use your own collector to gather and refine the helium 3 that both our ships need. Is that something that you can do again here?” Her ears flattened in frustration. “I know that I’ve racked up quite a tab as far as all the repairs, parts, labor and now fuel that you’ve been supplying. Would we be able to continue that arrangement here?”

  He sighed. “I’m honestly not sure. I’m going to have a meeting with the manager of the station here and I will let you know. We’ll work something out. I’m not going to leave you hanging out here.”

  Galina perked up a bit. “Thank you, Captain. I will make sure that the governors in Seylonique know of your contributions and of course, your expenses.” While lupusan didn’t have the range of expressions that humans did due to different musculature, Galina’s face was an open book to the Captain. She was concerned about the constant uptick in expenses and her deepening debt to the Grania Estelle. More specifically, her deepening debt to him. He knew that she didn’t have the credits to pay him off and Eamonn was concerned that her employers might not be willing to pay on that debt. The look on her face was telling him that she was starting to feel that way too.

  But that was an issue for when they reached Seylonique. For now they had other business to attend to. “All right, Administrator. I’m going to contact the fueling station now. I’ll contact you as soon as we have an answer.”

  The lupusan nodded. “Very well, Captain. I thank you again. I await your call.” And the connection broke.

  The Captain rubbed his forehead with one hand. “Well,” he said after a moment’s contemplation, “let’s do this. Serinda, please get me this Goris Hana person. Let’s get this fueling situation underway.” The last time the Grania Estelle had been in the system, the fueling station was here, but it wasn’t as massive an operation it seemed to be now. There had been only two collectors floating in the Jovian’s upper atmosphere as opposed to the dozen now hanging suspended. Also, it had been over three years since the bulk freighter’s last arrival here and at the time she didn’t run on such a refined fuel. And even if she did, the Captain didn’t have the funds to pay for that kind of fuel. At the time, and up until recently Grania Estelle was running on straight hydrogen from seawater. They would purchase the water from the authorities on the planet, so he’d never had the need to work with anyone from the station before. He’d never heard of Goris Hana.

  “Captain, I have him.” A second later, the Captain’s display changed to show a human male that
he presumed was the man in question. He was a rotund toad of a man with what looked like graying sallow skin, which seemed to hang off him, as though he was a very heavy candle that had started to melt. His small beady eyes were made smaller by his persistent squint and his skin had a dull sheen, which the Captain was unsure if he was covered in sweat, or if his skin was just greasy.

  “Yes, who is it?” the man asked, his voice a nasal drone.

  A look flashed over the Captain’s face, quickly suppressed. “This is Captain Vincent Eamonn on the Grania Estelle, the bulk freighter approaching your station. We’re in need of refueling, as is our companion ship, the Kara.”

  “Well, now,” the man replied, his eyes brightening. “I believe I can assist you there. Our rates are a little high, but we’re talking about premium helium 3 fuel here.”

  “Yes, I can see your operation is quite extensive,” the Captain agreed. “I want to discuss some sort of arrangement to lease some space in the gas giant’s atmosphere.”

  The toad looked confused. “To what end?”

  “We have a helium 3 collector of our own and rather than waste your time and resources, I’d like to set ours up to get the fuel my ships need.”

  “And why would I allow this?” Hana asked.

  “I will pay you in fuel, I’ll give you a percentage of all the fuel my equipment brings in.”

  The man seemed to consider this. “Very well. You will pay me fifty percent of all fuel collected.” He crossed his arms over his very large chest. “If the fuel isn’t of sufficient quality, I might have to go as high as sixty percent.”

  “That’s unreasonable,” the Captain said, frowning. “You’re not doing any of the work. It’s not even your equipment. I’ll even use my own shuttles to transport the fuel.”

  The toad ran a pink tongue over his lips. “Forty-five percent.”