He shrugged. “I know. But I think I might be able to do enough moving and shaking behind the scenes while all the real focus will be on him. While all the scrutiny is on him.”
She raised her eyebrows. “That’s a point. But that also implies that you’ll be able to meet with your counterparts at Ulla-tran.”
“True, but I think that it should be doable, so long as the locals there don’t just open fire on us as soon as we close with the planet.”
“You’ll be riding in a battlecruiser,” she reminded him tartly. “With a strong escort. Unless they’ve got one of their own hiding out where Samair’s ships didn’t see, I can’t imagine they’d be stupid enough to fire on you. At least until they gathered up every one of their defense ships to try and encircle you.”
He glanced at her. “You’re in a hell of a mood today. Upset that you walked out of the council meeting before the good stuff?”
“I think this is a mistake. I’ve made no secret of that.”
He chuckled, eyes going back to his displays to the side. “No, you were quite clear on your position. Mostly when you stormed out of the meeting.”
“So you’re really determined to go through with this?”
He stopped and turned his attention back to the comm display. “Why do you care all of a sudden? Why are we even still talking about this?”
She grimaced. “I don’t want the battlecruiser to leave the system.”
He raised an eyebrow. “We kind of need it. Colonel Gants did make a good point, we need to project an image of strength and nothing says strength like the Leytonstone would.”
“But we need that ship here,” Cresswell protested, sitting up straighter.
“We need that ship in both places,” he argued. “But we’ve only got one battlecruiser, and the council decided that it’s going to Ulla-tran.”
“You’re not the least bit worried that the system might be attacked while you’re gone?”
He glared at her. “I thought you never really believed in that pirate claptrap.”
She huffed. “I don’t. But it’s easier to disbelieve that when there’s a battlecruiser here to keep us safe.”
Kly stared at her for a long moment, not speaking. “I’ve never seen this vulnerable side of you before. I have to say I’m not sure how to handle it.”
“Chakrabarti is an idiot,” she retorted. “You’d better bring back a trade agreement, one that favors us over Ulla-tran. Make this whole ridiculous endeavor worth it.” And she reached out and cut the connection, interrupting him in mid-reply.
She sat there and stewed for a long few moments. Kly didn’t call back, which gave her mixed feelings. It wasn’t as though she really wanted to talk with him anyway, since he was clearly distracted and insufferably smug since this whole mission had come up. Hyacinth sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. Why did she feel this way? It wasn’t as though she believed that Republic Commodore or Captain Eamonn. Oh, she’d seen the scan footage, the same as the rest of the council, and while it was clear that it hadn’t been faked (as far as she was concerned), but she was convinced that the Republic ships had hit the pirate flotilla hard enough that they weren’t going to be any threat to anyone for a long while. Besides, pirates couldn’t stay together for very long anyway. The kind of temperament and aggression that inevitably led to infighting, which would be why no real pirates had ever been seen in Seylonique. That and the menacing presence of the Leytonstone. But after all this time, she tried to reassure herself, what were the odds that any pirate ships would show up here during the few months Leytonstone was gone, along with her escorts?
“This had better be worth it,” she muttered.
“I want to make sure it’s clear just who has authority on this mission,” Chakrabarti said to the room at large. The conference room was surprisingly light on personnel; only himself, Triarch Kozen’ck, Kly, Arathos, and Colonel Gants, who was attending the meeting via comlink. The colonel’s face was on the display to the side of the conference table, the Triarch had his normal place at the head of the table, while the other three sat opposite the colonel’s image.
Gants frowned, the other two on the negotiating team made other signs of irritation. “Triarch, why are we having this meeting? All of you are members of the Administratory Council, your authority is already established. Unless there are any serious matters we need to discuss, I have things to do on my ship.” He looked as though he was reaching to close the channel.
“Just a moment, Colonel,” Chakrabarti said quickly, before he could end the call. “I want to make sure this is firmly established before we’re out of the system.”
Kozen’ck waggled his antennae, clearly not happy with this situation. But he wasn’t speaking. Finally, he leaned forward. “What exactly is it that you want, Councilor?”
“I want to make sure that the Colonel here,” he pointed to the display, “Understands just who is in command of the mission.”
“That would be you, Councilor,” the Triarch said, cutting off what looked to be the start of a particularly heated tirade. “But as far as matters concerning the Leytonstone or the other warships in the task force that is going to Ulla-tran, those fall under the responsibilities of Colonel Gants. He is in command of the warship flotilla, you are in command of the mission. You will not micromanage him, Councilor. Councilors,” he indicated, his antennae sweeping back and forth, as though he was pointing at all of the males on that side of the table. “If the Colonel is doing something that appears to be compromising your mission or your negotiations, you have the authority to step in. But other than that,” and he gestured to the councilors, “do not interfere with his command of those warships. Am I clear?”
They nodded. “If that’s all, Councilors?” Gants asked again.
“And Colonel,” Kozen’ck said, turning to look at the display. “Do not push this. Yes, you command the Leytonstone and the rest of the warships, even the one coming from First Principles, but this mission is critical. I want it clearly understood that this mission has top priority for both government, the people and by extension, you. Do you read me?”
Gants nodded. “Of course, Triarch. I will do everything I can to make sure that this trade negotiation is a success. Despite what you’re clearly thinking of me, this dumb brute of a military officer, I believe that this is in my best interest as well. I intend to show the people of Ulla-tran how a real military officer behaves.”
Kozen’ck clicked his mouthparts. “Thank you, Colonel. We have some things to discuss. You may return to your duties.” The battlecruiser commander nodded and signed off, the display going blank. “Now, are you satisfied, Councilor Chakrabarti?” It was clear that the head of the council was determined to get past this and move on to new business.
“I am, Triarch,” the man replied, and both he and Kly looked smug. The zheen let that pass.
“Now, I want to hammer out some details about these trade talks. I wish we had a read on what our counterparts in Ulla-tran are going to be like, but we don’t.”
“No,” Kly agreed. “I wish we had that too. But, I’ve been on the comms with absolutely everyone in this system who has ever spent any amount of time in that system, which includes freighter crews, and FP personnel. I haven’t had much time, based on the expedited time frame of this mission, but they’ve all been helpful.”
The others all turned and looked at the man. Harmon Kly was known for being pompous, arrogant and enterprising. However, when he got his teeth sunk into something, he had all the tenacity of a mongoose fighting a cobra. The man was vicious, relentless and would do whatever it took… so long as he himself wouldn’t suffer. But it appeared as though he was burning through the midnight oil on this one. “What?” he demanded. “I want this trade negotiation to go through smoothly. And any insight these people might have on the Ulla-trans could potentially be helpful.”
“I agree,” Chakrabarti said with a small smile. “I’m just surprised at the zeal with which you’re attac
king this mission.”
He shrugged. “I don’t want this system to be embarrassed, and I want us to be able to secure a deal. Preferably the best deal we can manage. Is that so wrong?”
Arathos huffed a laugh. “No, it isn’t. But it’s uncharacteristic of you to be so enthusiastic about something that has no direct effect on you.”
Kly looked to the others and put on a face of innocence. “Anything that increases the prosperity of the Seylonique system has an effect on me.”
The lupusan snorted. “Yes, I’m sure it does.”
“Oh go to hell,” the man retorted. “I’m dedicated to make this work. Is there a measure of personal gain here? Of course. The whole thing is intended for this system to gain.” He waved a hand. “Oh, them too, but if we can make this thing work, then everybody wins and we start carving out a little empire out here in the Argos Cluster. Think about it. How long has it been since anyone has actually thought this area of space has been worth a damn?” He looked around the room. “At all?”
“Empire?” Kozen’ck repeated. “Who said anything about that?”
“Oh, not literally,” Kly said quickly, waving his hands. “Although I’m sure Colonel Gants and his ships and soldiers could do a good job of that, that’s not what I meant.” Chakrabarti didn’t look convinced by that denial, but he didn’t refute it. “We have two of the only space-faring star systems on this side of the Cluster in even a partial alliance? The things we could do from that point are astounding. Which is why I’m so passionate about this. Tamara Samair is a piece of work; you all know my feelings about her. But her coming whining to us about how one of her freighter crews was treated gave us the perfect pretext for pushing forward with these negotiations. Hell, even thinking of doing this in the first place.”
The others exchanged glances but it was clear he’d gotten through to all of them. Finally, Kozen’ck spoke up. “Very well. So, in all of your diligent work, Harmon, what have you learned?”
Kly nodded, picking up his datapad and bringing up some of his notes. “Well, not as much as I’d like about their political system or the players involved. But it seems there are actually two different centers of authority in that system. One of them is here,” he said, activating a macros on his datapad, which brought up the Ulla-tran system map on the main display. A blip appeared around the gas giant closest to the inhabited planet. “There is a fueling station in orbit of this planet, and at last count, they had twenty or so fuel collectors in the gas giant’s atmosphere. Similar to Samair’s gas mine, but on a much smaller scale. And I guess the fueling station is run by a man named Goris Hana, and he treats the place like his personal fiefdom.”
“Is he going to be a problem?” Arathos asked, studying the information.
Harmon tipped his head to the side. “Possibly. From what I’ve been able to gather from the various people I’ve spoken with, it seems that Mister Hana here holds significant power in the system because he’s in charge of the fuel. Samair has instituted a strict hands-off policy when it comes to her trade vessels. I guess the good Mister Hana has a habit of attacking and capturing ships that come in to his sphere of influence that he feels won’t be missed.” He pressed a control on his datapad and a picture of the man appeared. It was clearly a shot taken from security footage, but it was a clear enough picture.
“He’s a pirate?” Sebastian demanded, looking back and forth between his fellow councilor and the bloated features of the fueling station leader.
“Of a sort,” Harmon confirmed. “He doesn’t do that for every ship coming through, or every one coming from the orbital station or the main inhabited planet. If he did, I think that either his own personal fleet might be bigger, or the government would crack down hard on him. But I think his position as fuel baron allows him great freedom, so long as he doesn’t get too ambitious, or vicious.” Harmon paused for a moment, pursing his lips. It was clear he was wondering whether he should continue with a particular thought. Apparently, he made a decision in his head and continued to speak. “It seems that he might have loftier ambitions than simply controlling the fuel for the system. Samair and one of her AIs believe that he is gathering resources, favors, blackmail fodder, anything he can do to get himself the power needed to make a run at taking command of the system as a whole, ousting the governing council.”
Kozen’ck gave a low hiss. “Is he someone we’re going to need to be concerned over? Are we going to have to treat with him as well as with the governing council at the planet?”
Harmon gave a half-shrug. “I’m not sure, to be honest. Probably is the honest answer,” he admitted, shrugging again. “But at first, I think, we can speak with the governing council and take the temperature of the system. I’m sure if he decides that the best thing for him is to stick his nose into our negotiations, he will.”
Arathos nodded. “And at that point we can decide how much power he actually wields.”
“Actually, with the amount of fuel FP’s gas mine is producing, we might be able to turn the tables on him. If their production yields continue to rise, we might be able to supplement their usable fuel and reduce his stranglehold on them.”
The meeting continued, more ideas were brought up and discussed and it seemed as though these negotiations might actually have a chance at succeeding.
By the time Mondragon was fully fueled, supplied and with the fuel pods secured to the ventral side of the ship, the rest of the task force departed from the planetary orbit and set out on a vector for the hyper limit. Mondragon departed the shipyard a day after their departure, putting themselves on an outbound vector at a sufficient pace so that the rest of the flotilla would catch her up about twenty hours before they reached the hyper limit. The refueling tanker came out to top off all the ships’ fuel bunkers, just to avoid a full stop at the mine. It was a well-choreographed dance, one that looked as though had been performed a thousand times.
“Not bad for their first refuel on the run,” Leicasitaj muttered from his command seat on the bridge. He watched as the fuel lines detached from two of the Seylonique SDF corvettes and the two smaller ships pulled back into formation. The whole process of refueling all the ships had taken a while, but it had been done flawlessly, which was a feat all in itself, since the crews and commanders of the defensive ships (not counting the battlecruiser) were new and had little ship-handling experience. “Not too bad at all.” He checked the navigation display. “Looks like they cut it a bit close, though. Less than forty minutes from the hyper limit. Comms,” he ordered, “contact the flagship. Make sure that Navigation’s jump vector is matching with theirs. We’ve never jumped with a convoy this large, I’d like to try and make it as smooth as possible.”
The communications officer activated a channel and started speaking in a low voice. Leicasitaj looked over to the navigator. “Make sure you have a hyperspace course set for Ulla-tran, Nav,” he ordered. “It might get changed by Colonel Gants, but I want to be ready in case.”
“Aye, Captain,” the young woman replied. “I’m already on it.”
“One of these days I’m going to anticipate you, Nav,” he remarked, twitching his facial tentacles.
She smiled. “In your dreams, sir.” Another moment. “Calculations complete. Assuming no changes from the Leytonstone, we’re ready to jump.”
“Very well. Maintain course for now.”
“Captain, incoming transmission from the Leytonstone for you, sir. It’s the Colonel,” the communications officer called.
“Put him through to my chair display.” There was a beep and the display activated, bringing up the human commander’s face. “Colonel.”
“Captain Leicasitaj,” the man replied, sounding harried. “We’re approaching the hyper limit.”
The Romigani nodded. “Yes we are. I just wanted to see how you wanted to deal with the jump. Are we to all jump separately? Or are we going to look into slaving our navigational computers to yours?”
The colonel allowed a very brief l
ook of concern cross his features. But as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. Leicasitaj wasn’t even sure he noticed it, if he was honest with himself; human facial expressions had never been easy for him to read. No tentacles to show what you’re thinking. “That would be the best way,” Gants said after a moment’s hesitation. “I have my navigation section calculating the course right now.”
He nodded. “Very good, Colonel. Mondragon is slaving our navcomp to yours.” He nodded to his navigation officer who began to type in commands. After a moment, the navigator turned back to him and gave him a thumbs-up. “We’re all set, Colonel. Awaiting your signal.”
“I am linking the rest of the convoy to our navigation,” Gants said, apparently building up a rhythm. He turned his face away from the vid pickup and the sound cut off. He was clearly giving orders to someone outside the camera pickup. He turned back. “We will cross the hyper limit in twenty-five minutes. Prepare for hyperspace jump, sending out jump clock time now.” A secondary display activated, showing a timer counting down.
“Understood and received,” Leicasitaj replied. “Jump clock is running.”
“Very good, Captain,” the colonel replied, trying to sound confident, but again, the Romigani thought he detected that the human was a bit flustered. Then he nodded and signed off.
“All right, people,” Leicasitaj said, addressing the bridge crew. “We’ll be jumping in twenty-four minutes. Make sure all items are secured. I expect this jump to be smooth, and we’ll soon be on our way. We’re making history here,” he continued, trying not to sound pompous. “A new star system for this ship and this crew. And let’s show the system defense forces how a proper crew handles a trip through hyperspace!” There was a roar from the bridge crew.
The XO smiled. “Comms, send the security recording of the captain to every compartment on the ship. Make sure the entire crew sees it.”
First Principles: Samair in Argos: Book 3 Page 66