First Principles: Samair in Argos: Book 3

by KOTCHER, MICHAEL

  He nodded slowly, mulling this over. “I guess that makes sense. If pirates were to come into the system, they’d most likely be using fast raiders, right? Not big heavy combatants.”

  “Yes. That was my thinking.”

  “So what kind of ships were you thinking? Something like the designs that FP uses?”

  “I don’t want to use their designs, but yes. I was thinking that we could get a pair of corvette sized ships and a pair of cutters from Tegean. R3 and Vulcan’s Forge could provide two more corvettes each.”

  “You know this?” he asked. “They told you?”

  “Well, R3 built that first corvette for Samair,” Kozen’ck pointed out. “So I know that they can. I put out feelers to the other companies, and I believe that given the right financial motivations and a full set of design specs, they could produce the vessels we need.”

  “Wait, you included First Principles in that list as well, Triarch,” Chakrabarti pointed out. “You want them to pump out a few more corvettes for you?” He chuckled. “For us?”

  “No, Mister Chakrabarti, I don’t. Oh, I’m not saying they couldn’t. No, I’m thinking that we need to set our sights on a bigger prize.”

  The man sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Triarch, it’s late. Please speak clearly because I’m really not in the mood for follow the leader games right now. What bigger prize? I thought you said you didn’t want another battlecruiser.”

  “Oh, that is not what I said. I said that it would be better if we had smaller and faster ships.” He chattered with laughter. “I would love a second battlecruiser, but I think building one is a little outside our budget right now. No, I was thinking of something else. You remember how FP fixed up the Commodore’s destroyer?”

  “Yes,” Chakrabarti replied, annoyed at the obvious question. “What about it?”

  “I heard through the grapevine that they didn’t receive a standard payment for their services,” Kozen’ck said. “Which isn’t a surprise really. If we believe the Commodore’s story, it makes sense that they wouldn’t have a lot in the way of currency or goods aboard. And if the ship itself needed to be fixed up, I can’t imagine there was much in the way of physical components the Commodore would surrender to pay for it.”

  “Just spit it out, Kozen’ck,” Chakrabarti snapped, his patience with the slow and measured build up finally gone.

  “All right, all right,” the bug said reassuringly. “I heard that the Commodore paid Samair to fix her ship by giving her a full technical readout on the destroyer.” Seeing the man’s stunned reaction, the zheen continued. “Unbelievable, I know. But I guess it’s understandable, they’d need the specs to fix up the ship. But I guess the technical readout was what would pay for the job.”

  “And you want FP to build us a Republic destroyer?” Chakrabarti said with a growing smile. The possibilities with Republic tech?

  Kozen’ck hissed with laughter, spinning his antennae again. “No, Mister Chakrabarti, I don’t want them to build us a Republic destroyer. I want them to build us two.”

  Chapter 17

  Tamara leaned against the bar, cradling her drink in her hand. Marat stood only a meter to one side of her, that same, disinterested look plain on his face and his demeanor. Unless they knew differently, anyone looking at him and his charge would not realize they were together. As far as anyone could tell, he was simply lounging against the heavy oaken bar, looking at the various patrons of the high-end establishment.

  And Tamara had to admit, this was a swanky place. There was a list. And you did not get in without your name being on that list. It was certainly not a place that she had ever been to in her life before, having been nothing more than a Republic Navy officer, then a freighter techie until a year ago. Hell, only until a few months ago when she’d leveraged Vincent Eamonn into paying her commensurate to her worth. But it wasn’t just about having money for this place. The owners of the club were very concerned with and impressed by status. There were celebrities and dilettantes all talking and laughing and swaying a bit to the music, moving around and mingling. The music was provided by a live band, there was no singer, but was a collection of females: one black-carapaced hak’ruk, one very dark skinned human, one black furred lupusan and a black and silver furred Severite. All of them were playing some sort of string instrument, violins of various sizes, Tamara decided. The tune was discordant but not grating, thankfully, but with a beat that was easy to dance to.

  Every so often, someone would wander over to where Tamara was lounging and try to strike up a conversation. She would make pleasant small talk, chat about nothing in particular, and then they would give her an odd look and walk off. Tamar chuckled to herself. “Apparently, I’m not all that attractive,” she muttered.

  “I don’t see why you care,” Marat said, leaning comfortably against the bar. “This whole outing doesn’t make sense.” The lupusan male managed to look as though he was lounging whenever he sat; here at the bar was no different.

  Tamara snorted. “I’m actually surprised you volunteered for this detail, Marat. It certainly doesn’t seem like your scene.”

  “It isn’t,” the male admitted, sounding lethargic. “Serzhant Eristov decided I needed to get out more, so I ‘volunteered’.” His eyes lazily traced across the room, not like a military scan, or looking for threats, but more like someone who had nothing better to do and was interested in staving off boredom.

  “Do we have any serious problems?” Tamara asked, bringing up her HUD and running her own sweeps. There was just the same mix of partygoers that she’d seen for the last twenty minutes.

  “Nothing of any interest to us. Though there are a fair amount of recreational drugs being used here,” Marat said. He yawned widely. “I’ll be surprised if anything of any serious import actually happens here.”

  Tamara snorted. She took a sip from her glass. “I’m beginning to agree with you. I’m also really starting to wonder why Triarch Kozen’ck wanted to meet me here. It isn’t as though we couldn’t converse by radio.”

  “Maybe he just wanted to see you in that dress,” Marat remarked, looking across the room.

  She frowned. She had spent a fair few amount of credits, a ludicrous amount, really, on this cocktail dress, deep red with a knee-length flowing skirt, a bit lower cut than she was used to but she liked it. The amount of compliments from female patrons, and appreciative looks from males (as well as a few females) meant that she must look good.

  “I suppose that could be,” she admitted. “Though I haven’t known many zheen to be attracted to humans.”

  “That’s true,” he said, yawning again. “I certainly don’t see the point.”

  “That’s because lupusan tend to be attracted by scent. And I smell like prey to you, not a potential mate.”

  He sighed, looking over to her, actually meeting her gaze. “I don’t do humans, Tamara. And forgive me, but you don’t know what attracts me.” His gaze was sharp, piercing. She would have said angry, but Tamara didn’t know what Marat looked like when he was angry. That actually frightened her a bit and she stamped down on her emotions, refusing to allow her to back down.

  She nodded. “I apologize, Mister Siyasinov. I had no right.”

  Marat nodded and then looked away, the laser focused gaze fading back into his glassy-eyed malaise again. His eyes looked back out across the crowd, and it seemed as though he was following a trio of Severite females that were pointing and blinking laughter at a clump of nearby zheen.

  She went back to her drink. The party was just getting started up. Music from the band changed, and instead of a lively tempo, they were now playing a slower waltz. Tamara sighed. Getting herself one more drink from the bartender, she turned back to crowd watching. While this was somewhat cathartic, just observing the ebb and flow of rich and influential people here for a night of fun, this was a colossal waste of time. She’d had to fly all the way to the orbital for this, which was keeping her from construction projects back at the yar
d. Galina and Eretria could handle things in her absence, she knew that, but it was still annoying to be pulled away for some sort of meeting.

  “Your meeting has arrived, ma’am,” Marat drawled, gesturing with one clawed finger.

  Tamara set the drink down and turned to look. Sure enough, Triarch Kozen’ck, resplendent in a tunic of burgundy trimmed with gold, accompanied by a trio of lackeys, two human males in very expensive business suits and a human female in a black cocktail dress. All of them looked to be slightly inebriated, enjoying the music and the atmosphere. Kozen’ck went to a door at the side of the room, nodded to the lupusan bouncer standing there and his group went in.

  “Signal Eristov,” Tamara said. “Inform her we’re going into that side room.”

  “Done,” Marat responded as the both of the pushed off from the bar and made their way across the room, working their way through the crowd of people. Once they reached the door, the bouncer opened the door, allowing the two of them in.

  Once inside, once the door closed, the ambient noise dropped considerably. The inside of the room was comfortably furnished, with a pair of polished oak tables, a number of comfortable chairs, and what seemed to be holographic images projected on the lowly-lit walls, replicas of some popular (and more importantly, expensive) paintings from the planet’s surface. There was a well stocked bar, and a computer console at the far end of that bar.

  Kozen’ck had seated himself at one of the tables, while his fellows had wandered over to the bar to get themselves some more liquid refreshment. Once the door closed, he waved Tamara in. “Ms. Samair, please. Thank you for meeting with me.”

  Tamara gave a genuine smile and moved to the table, sitting herself down across from him. “Thank you for having me. This is a very swanky place.”

  He chittered happily. “It’s a bit obnoxious for my tastes. But this room here is very private and very comfortable.” He graciously accepted the glass bowl of sugar seltzer from one of the women as she sat down on the same side of the table from him. Tipping his head forward, he put his mouthparts into the water and then scooped some of the liquid into his mouth. He gently rose up, clacking his mandibles in satisfaction. “Excellent. Now, I asked you here for a reason, not just for the booze and the prestige.”

  “I understand. Although I am impressed with this club. It’s certainly very exclusive.”

  “It is!” the women gushed, raising her drink. She leaned forward a bit. “It can take years to get in here. There’s a waiting list that’s three years long. You jumped the queue. You’re very lucky.”

  Tamara shrugged. “Just lucky, I guess. So, you were saying, Triarch?”

  He hissed a little, as the others with him all settled into chairs and started sucking down their drinks. “Yes, of course. I’m sure you may have heard, but the admin council has decided to increase our defensive presence here in the system. We’ve already signed contracts with three companies to build us some corvettes and cutters. We want ships that can support the Leytonstone should any serious threats come to the system.”

  Tamara smiled wryly. “Nice to know that you are all starting to take my warnings seriously. And it seems the warning from Commodore McConnell seemed to penetrate a few thick skulls, hmmm?”

  He waved his antennae. “There’s no need to be churlish.”

  “I apologize. But I am glad to hear that there’s going to be a stronger military presence here in the system. But,” she said, leaning back in her chair a bit and giving him a stern look, “I would like to get some kind of assurances that you and the rest of the council aren’t going to decide to turn your ships against any of my company assets.”

  Kozen’ck hissed, a slow, long breath. “The attack on First Principles’ property and the deaths that came about because of that… error, was a tragedy. I can assure you that unless you start attacking Seylonique property or citizens, you have nothing to fear from the Defense Forces.”

  She gave a small chuckle. “It’s nice to see that FP isn’t going to be doing all of the heavy lifting as far as defending this star system is concerned. Not counting your battlecruiser, of course.”

  “No, you cannot discount the Leytonstone,” he said enthusiastically. “But we’ve decided that it would be best to have some proper support vessels to increase the battlecruiser’s effectiveness.”

  “Spit it out, Triarch,” Tamara demanded, finally getting tired of all the verbal dancing. “What is it you want from me?”

  He paused for a long moment, as though thinking, but Tamara suspected he had already rehearsed this whole little affair down to the last little detail, as well as he could, anyway. “It has come to my attention that FP, Incorporated has started construction of a Republic-class destroyer.”

  She smirked. It wasn’t as though she was concerned about the leak; it wasn’t exactly a secret that she was building the ship. Tamara had known it would only be a matter of time before the information made it back to the ears of the admin council. “It’s technically an Adder-class destroyer, but I take your point. Yes, we are building one.”

  He nodded slowly, acknowledging the correction. “Yes, of course. But that’s why I asked you here.”

  “You’re going to tell me to stop?” she asked bitterly. Like hell.

  He clacked his mandibles. “Stop? Why would I ask that? No, of course we don’t want you to stop. We want to commission you to build two of them for the space defense forces.”

  She blinked, her mind racing. “Well, I have to say I didn’t know why you wanted me here, but I can honestly say I didn’t expect that.” She nodded, the possibilities coalescing. “All right. Let’s talk about it. I’d be happy to lease one of my slips to you. We can build two of them in there without any problem.”

  “Good. Now,” he said with a slight sour tone to his voice, “let’s talk about payment.”

  She smiled winningly. “It isn’t going to be cheap, Triarch. A warship like that? We’re talking a lot of money.”

  The zheen folded his hands on the table, while Tamara sat up straighter in her chair. Negotiations began, both sides resigned to the knowledge that neither of them would be truly satisfied with how things turned out. In the end, however, they came to a number that they could live with. “So for the price of 780 million credits, you get yourself a destroyer. I still think you’re stealing that ship from me, you do know that.” Tamara didn’t really have much cause to complain. The price they’d settled at was on the low end of her projections, but that amount of credits coming into the company coffers was more than she’d ever received in one go. Of course, most of that would go toward actually paying for that ship, but there were still a few tens of millions of credits that would be profit for the company.

  “I think both sides are getting what we want,” Kozen’ck replied, sounding decidedly smug. Tamara figured that she could have squeezed him for another twenty million credits. She mentally shrugged. “And we will want a total of four.”

  “Four destroyers? I thought we were talking about two.”

  “That was until we agreed upon the price for one,” the Triarch replied. “And I did originally think that we could use two, but if we can get four of them, plus the Leytonstone, plus all of your defensive assets should be sufficient to keep the system safe.”

  “I, meaning FP, Inc, has what would be qualified as a light squadron. Barely,” she replied. “Once the latest round of ships gets completed, we’ll have four corvettes, two escort frigates and a Republic destroyer of our own.”

  “Your own new flagship,” he said, his voice still sounding smug.

  Tamara shook her head. “Males and their toys. You really want to compare sizes?” she asked, looking amused.

  “I would win,” he replied and the three lackeys chuckled. “Leytonstone outguns your entire fleet.”

  She nodded. “Yes, of course,” she said sardonically. “So, four ships.”

  “Are your facilities up to the task?”

  She glowered at him. “Of course they ar
e, Triarch. But ships of that size and complexity, they aren’t going to be done in a week, even with all the builder bots we’ve built and with the increased computer and AI support. But I believe that with all that, I could have the ships ready to fly in four months.”

  Kozen’ck’s antennae went completely straight. “Four months? That’s… that feels fast.”

  “It is,” she replied, shrugging. “There might be some delays, but four months is the best time frame I can get for you at this juncture. Give or take a week.”

  “I’m blown away,” the council member stated. “And very pleased. I’ll have the contracts drawn up and delivered to your ship by tomorrow morning, Ms. Samair. Please have your attorneys go over them and once you have them back to me, I’ll green light the funding.”

  Tamara smirked. “Don’t you need to run this by the others on the council?”

  “No,” he stated simply. “I’ve been given full authority to act.”

  She shrugged. “Okay, so long as the payment vouchers that come in clear, it isn’t my concern. I’ll get the contracts reviewed as soon they’re sent over. This should be a busy time.” Tamara leaned in and looked straight at Kozen’ck. “One last thing before I go.”

  “And what’s that, Ms. Samair?” the zheen sounded distracted, as though he was already mentally moved on to other arenas, other items of more pressing concern.

  “Once the work begins, you can send someone to check on things, but I will not be subject to constant nagging and oversight,” Tamara told him.

  “You are going to be working under contract for the government,” one of the men said, perhaps a bit too loudly. “You’ll be subject to… government regulations!” His voice was slurred.

  “I didn’t say that I would be shutting you out,” Tamara replied, glaring at the man, before shifting his gaze back over to Kozen’ck. “Send an inspector, but I’m not going to put up with someone hanging over my shoulder or nagging my construction teams.”

  “You know who you’re talking to?” the woman screeched, slapping the table. The others looked at her and the other man, who hadn’t yet spoken, put a hand on her arm to try and calm her down, but she shook him off. “This is the Triarch of the administratory council aboard the orbital.” Tamara smirked. Considering how much alcohol she had imbibed, Tamara was impressed she could even say a word like ‘administratory’ without slurring. “He’s in command of this star system. Just because you’re some jumped up freighter trash who happened to make a lot of money, it doesn’t mean you get to dictate terms.”