Pursue the Past: Samair in Argos: Book 1

by Michael Kotcher

  “And you think it’s your responsibility to do this, do you?”

  “May I ask your interest in this, Mister Hana?”

  “Oh, that’s no business of yours,” Hana replied, looking smug. “You leave that ship alone. My people will handle this.” And he cut the connection.

  Great. The locals have decided to start a pissing contest. He stood, heading for the door. He flipped open his communicator. “Vakkon, it’s me. We’ve got a serious problem.”

  “Yeah, I saw it boss,” the other zheen replied. “One of the pinnaces has altered course to intercept the freighter.”

  Ka’Xarian chittered a curse. The Emilia Walker wasn’t a heavily armed ship and certainly wasn’t up for fighting off one of the pinnaces here. The shuttle would be no help. Each of the Grania Estelle’s shuttles had a laser cannon mounted on a turret on the top of the nose section, but that would be next to useless against the well-armed ship coming to intercept. And with only four crewmen aboard the freighter and only Jesma and a co-pilot on board, they would not be able to prevent a boarding action on the Emilia Walker. The pinnace had enough space aboard for decent amount of weapons, a flight crew of three and passenger space for at least seven or eight troopers, maybe a high as ten if they were crammed in tight. There wouldn’t be a lot of room for amenities, but if the ship was heading strictly out for a snatch and grab, the crew might be willing to put up with the cramped quarters.

  Which meant he had to explore other options. “Call it in. In fact, can you connect me to the ship?” Entering the code on his communicator, he waited while the other zheen patched him through. Vakkon had brought with him a serious communication package that would allow him to make calls across the system. It wasn’t a large unit and it drew a lot of power. So far, Xar had made sure that Vakkon had used it sparingly, because he really didn’t want to have to negotiate the use of the fuelling station’s fusion reactor to charge it up.

  “Roger that,” Vakkon replied. “You’re on.”

  “Captain, this is Ka’Xarian on the fuel station. We’ve spotted and made contact with the Emilia Walker. They’re in bad shape and they’ve lost a lot of crew. We were moving to intercept them but the locals seem to have taken an interest as well. They’re sending one of their pinnaces out. I think they intend to board her. Requesting immediate instructions. Message ends.”

  “Sent, Xar.”

  “Good. Let me know when the captain gets back to me.”

  “You know I will.”

  “Now what the hell is this?” the Captain demanded as he watched the message from Ka’Xarian. “Why the hell are the locals going after Emilia Walker? She’s damaged and under crewed and if what Ka’Xarian says is true about her cargo, they’re not carrying anything. What the hell?” he repeated.

  “I don’t know Captain,” Stella replied, a bit meekly, her image hovering above the holo projector. “There was no indication of any interest in them from any transmissions we intercepted from the orbital.”

  The captain could help but smirk at that. It wasn’t until the AI had been integrated into his ship that he decided that intercepting any transmissions from other ships or stations was a good idea. Now, he found it an invaluable resource. “Were there any transmissions from the orbital and the fueling station?”

  “Yes, Captain, several. Only two did not contain regular status updates. One was a personal message from the head of the fueling station to one of the leaders on the orbital wishing him a happy birthday, the other was a thank you message back.”

  “A happy birthday message?” the Captain said, tipping his head to one side. That didn’t make sense. “The people here don’t seem to be the fuzzy cuddly type. Maybe it’s code of some sort.”

  “The only thing that does make sense, Captain,” Stella replied.

  “Get me the admin from the orbital on the line.”

  Stella looked away for a moment, then nodded. “Kutok has a channel open. Go ahead, Captain.”

  “This is Vincent Eamonn on the Grania Estelle,” he began. “I understand that a freighter has entered the system. They are friends of mine, why are you boarding them?”

  “This is Orbital Control,” an unidentifiable voice came over the comms. There was no video image accompanying it. “We are not seizing the vessel. Our pinnace is moving to intercept the freighter as it is showing damage and we have heard that the crew is in need of assistance. We are moving in to provide aid. That is all. We would appreciate it greatly if you do not interfere with official business. End transmission.”

  The Captain raised his hands to shoulder level in disbelief. “Why is it that I don’t believe a single word of that?”

  “Well, Captain, the ship is damaged,” Stella pointed out.

  “That is as may be, Stella,” the Captain conceded, “but I get a nagging suspicion that this is no mission of mercy.”

  “What makes you think that, Captain?” she asked, concerned. It was clear that the AI didn’t understand his thought process.

  “I think it’s that birthday message, Stella,” he said, leaning his rear against the edge of the wardroom table. “That’s just too weird for it to be genuine. And then there’s the polite but firm ‘stay the hell out of our way’ message.”

  “Yes, but you’d expect that kind of a message in any space-faring system,” she replied.

  “Yeah,” he acknowledged. “But this was nastier. As though they knew they were doing something I wouldn’t approve of. Not that they need my permission to do anything,” he growled. “And it’s not like there’s anything I can do about it, either.”

  “Why not?” she demanded, flaring. “I’m armed for battle! I have fully functional shields. Let’s get the crew back aboard and go find my sister!”

  He blinked at her sudden ferocity. “You’re not a warship, Stella,” he reminded.

  “No, but the only warships here are trying to steal that ship,” she raged. “They might be there to imprison or kidnap the crew. I can’t just sit here and do nothing. Please, Captain. Let’s go get them.” She stared at him, her eyes pleading.

  He hesitated for just a moment. “Kutok!” he barked. “Recall the crew, now. Drop what they’re doing and get back to the shuttles.”

  “One of them is on board, Captain,” Stella said. “I’m getting a pilot down to the boat bay now.”

  “Get Moxie and Corajen out of the workout room,” he ordered, heading for the hatch. “I want all crew to stations, now.”

  “Understood,” the hak’ruk replied.

  A moment later he was on the bridge. It was ridiculous, really, him being here. But he felt as though he needed to be here now that momentous events were occurring. But it would be at least two hours before the shuttles were back and the ship brought back up to full crew strength. He had absolutely no intention of taking off without them, leaving those left behind to the tender mercies of the orbital’s population, especially after the cabal saw what Eamonn intended to do. But he was antsy. He wouldn’t be able to sit still and in truth, he wanted to be here on the bridge.

  “Captain, are you sure about this?” George asked. He flinched when the captain turned an iron glare at him, but he didn’t back down. “Seriously, Cap. I mean, I told you before when we entered the system, we might be able to stand up to two of those pinnaces, but certainly not three. And that’s almost a day’s long jog to get over to the fueling station. By the time we get there, any fight will be long over and the Emilia Walker and her crew would be docked, in station hands.”

  The rest of the crew went completely silent, the only sounds to be heard were the whispering of the blowers and itinerant beeps emitted from the various consoles. They all knew that George wasn’t speaking out of cowardice, but out of practicality. This white knight gesture the captain was making was gallant and all, but it wouldn’t amount to anything if they couldn’t get there in time. And despite all of her overhauls and upgrades, the lumbering bulk freighter couldn’t sprint as fast as those pinnaces across the star system.


  “And there’s another wrinkle, Captain,” George plowed on. “What about Kara? She’s no fighting vessel either, in far worse shape than us. If we’re going after Emilia Walker with any real chance of saving her, we’d have to leave Kara behind. But if we do that, she’d be a plump target for the locals here at the orbital.”

  Damn, Eamonn swore to himself. He hadn’t considered Kara when he’d jumped on the train of enthusiasm Stella was driving. But his Ops officer was right. Kara wasn’t a warship, far less so than Grania Estelle. She couldn’t come with them into what was almost certainly going to be a firefight and she couldn’t remain behind, either.

  “Kutok, get Administrator Korneyev on the line,” he ordered. A moment of manipulating the controls and the lupusan appeared on the Captain’s display. “Administrator, we are going to do something that the Kara has no business being a part of. I want you to break orbit and start on course to Seylonique. Don’t stop, don’t turn back and don’t wait for us. We’ll meet you in Seylonique.”

  “I understand, Captain. We’re getting underway now, but it’ll be days before we can reach the hyper limit. I’ll try to wait for you…”

  But he cut her off. “No, I want you to go. Don’t wait. Don’t burn your engines out, but hold your best speed until you hit the hyper limit.”

  The Administrator looked unsure. Clearly this went against her nature, both as a lupusan and as a healer. But eventually she nodded. “I understand. I’ll see you on the other side.”

  He slashed his finger across his throat and Kutok closed the connection. “Get Moxie on the horn.”

  A moment later, “Captain, it’s me. What’s going on?”

  “Get your ass down to the boat bay and get your fighter prepped. We’ve going on a trip and we’re going to unleash hell. I assume you’d want to partake.”

  She laughed and it was joyous. “Oh, Captain my Captain, you do know how to make a girl’s day.”

  “You going to be okay? I know Corajen was giving you a good beating only minutes ago.”

  “I’m in sickbay with the doc. He’s giving me a shot of Combat Heal, and I should be good to go in a little bit. Besides, we’ve got long hours before we can get to the fueling station. More than enough time.” She stopped and gasped in pain. “Damn that burns.”

  “You all right?”

  “I’m fine,” she ground out. “Damn Combat Heal. Don’t worry, Captain. I’ll be good to go in a little bit. How long do I have?”

  “About thirty hours. I know it’s a long shot that we’ll even be able to do anything, but I’m taking us back there.”

  “Understood. Samair out.”

  “Captain, they’re gettin’ closer,” Jolene cried, pointing out the front viewport in the cockpit. “Look, one of the pointy ships is angling toward us.”

  “Great,” Vosteros said, wiping a hand across his brow to get the sweat out of his eyes. All he did was transfer sweat between his arm and his face. “What’s the status on the sublights?”

  “Only one lit, Captain,” Jolene replied, her grease smudged face looking grim. “We couldn’t outrun them even if all of them were.”

  “Maybe not,” he said, stroking his chin. “But maybe we can make it harder for them to board.”

  “How?” she demanded. “I didn’t sign up to die!”

  He glared at her. “I didn’t either. But I didn’t fight my way out of that hornet’s nest just to get boarded by more hornets here. I thought this system was supposed to be safe. Apparently not.” He stepped out of the cockpit. “Kay’grax! What’s the status on our shields?”

  The zheen looked over at him, white scratches all over his exoskeleton. He was scorched and his right plating on his thorax was pitted from corrosive chemicals that had splashed on him during their tussle with pirates. He was the only engineer left on the ship, this poor beleaguered ship and even then he was barely a power tech. He had a feel for engines but up until his rapid promotion, he’d had only six months of experience. He was learning the ropes very fast but there was so much to do and not enough crew to help him do it. He was starting to buckle under the strain.

  “They’re up, Captain,” he said, body and antennae drooping with exhaustion.

  “Yes, thank you, Kay’grax, I know that. But will they hold?” The Captain glared at his engineer as well.

  “No,” the young zheen stated bluntly. He shook himself as the Captain’s stare intensified. “Those ships fire on us? The ones I’m seeing on the sensor feeds? No, the shields will collapse. The shields are at…” He rechecked the feeds. “Twelve percent. They might withstand one hit. Maybe. But the next one would rip through them like tissue paper and with the hull the way it is…” He trailed off. “So if you’re asking me can we try to outrun that ship closing on us the answer is no.”

  The Captain sighed. He’d already known the answer, but was hoping that the engineer would have a different answer for him. “All right. Thanks. Where’s Marcos?”

  “Here, Captain!” the burly cargoman replied, coming up the ladder from the cargo area.

  “What kind of small arms do we have left?”

  The big man shrugged. “Not much, Cap. I got this stunner here,” he gestured to the pistol in a holster on his hip, “two more of the same and one shotgun. Ammo is pretty low too, only one box of shells for the shotgun.”

  Four guns. Very low on ammo and three of those were only stunners. If a team from that ship tried to board them, and he had every reason to believe they would, he and his crew would have no chance. Most likely they would come aboard with heavy weapons and just blast their way on board. Stun blasts from those pistols wouldn’t slow the boarding party down very much.

  “Are you planning to fight them?” Jolene demanded, her voice trembling nervously. The last time they had fought boarders hadn’t turned out well. They’d only just barely escaped with their lives and even then, two thirds of the crew had been killed.

  Vosteros sighed. “I don’t want to fight anyone.” He pointed to the front viewport over his shoulder. “I don’t think they’re going to give me a choice.”

  One of the consoles beeped and Jolene whirled to access it. “Captain, the incoming ship is hailing us. Again.”

  “Answer them this time.”

  The ship had been trying to speak with them ever since the Emilia Walker had exited hyperspace. At first, Vosteros had declined to answer because it had taken all three of his crew and himself to get the ship moving under sublight power. The sublight engines had been damaged by pirates before they had jumped into hyperspace but the myriad of other essential repairs had eaten up all their time and effort during the trip to Ulla-tran. Four people trying to do the work normally for ten meant there had been a lot of sleepless nights during the long haul through hyperspace. He had ignored the calls since then because he didn’t like the look of the local security ships hovering around the fueling station. They didn’t look all that friendly and he was just being cautious.

  This probably hadn’t been the best strategy, upon reflection. Ignoring communications requests would probably only increase their interest in the Emilia Walker. It would also make him look a bit more like a tempting target.

  “Unidentified vessel, this is Vanku Sobris Maakan, of the Ulla-tran Defense Forces. Our sensors are showing a great deal of damage to your vessel. We are moving in to assist you. We have medical and engineering teams aboard. We request you cut your acceleration, lower your shields and allow us to board and assist. Please respond. End transmission.”

  “That was sent four minutes ago, Captain,” Jolene reported, rubbing her cheek and smearing grime on her skin. She looked up at him, clear worry in her eyes. “You really think they’re coming in to try and help us?”

  He looked at her. “Do you?”

  She hesitated. “I’d like to. But no.”

  “Yeah, me neither. Keep an ear out.”

  “Do you want me to send a reply?”

  “Not just yet. Let’s pretend we’re really dam
aged and we’ve lost a lot of crew.”

  She frowned at him. “Captain, we are really damaged and we’ve lost a lot of crew.”

  “Good! That’s the way to look at it,” he replied with forced cheerfulness. He clapped her on the shoulder. “Then you’ll be able to make that silence convincing.”

  Jolene gave him a look, but then went back to her instruments. The cockpit was designed to be operated by three, two in a pinch. There was simply too much to do if only one person was at the controls, though it did make things easier that they were on a ballistic course, which meant no course corrections were needed on the helm. But if something did pop up, someone would be needed to fly the ship, which meant someone flight certified.

  Vosteros checked the console, looking at Emilia Walker’s weapons. She wasn’t a heavily armed ship to begin with, only a pair of laser cannon turrets, one ventral, one dorsal. The fight with the pirates had damaged both, but during the trip in hyperspace, Vosteros himself had managed repairs on the ventral cannon. They needed to get someone outside to so some spot repairs and it was probably a good idea to get to that now before that incoming ship got them in their crosshairs.

  “I’m going outside,” he told her. “I’m going to try and get the ventral gun online.”

  “Are you kidding?” she nearly screeched. “You’re going outside now?”

  He didn’t answer, just went into the main part of the ship, leaving her alone in the cockpit to stare at the displays and the local ship growing ever closer.

  Going out in an EVA hardsuit was never fun, even under the best of conditions. Frederick Vosteros was trained in doing repairs in one (Emilia Walker’s crew was so small that there was a large degree of cross-training, and everyone needed to know their way around a wrench, a welding torch and a datapad) and he’d kept up his skills by going outside every few months. Now, however, trying to get a gun turret online with an enemy ship bearing down was the textbook definition of nerve wracking. It wasn’t easy to concentrate with that ship literally hanging over his head, but there was nothing he could do about that now. He needed to focus.