First Principles: Samair in Argos: Book 3

by KOTCHER, MICHAEL

  “They dropped out of hyperspace?”

  “No, sir,” she replied, starting to get anxious. “They’re well beyond the hyper limit, and they’re coming in at high speed. Five light seconds out.”

  “What?” he demanded. He leaned in closer to her display. “Why the hell are we only detecting them now?”

  “They weren’t emitting much in the way of an engine signature until just a few moments ago.” The young woman frowned. “They must have just powered up their engines and started racing in.”

  Tariq started to feel something cold filling his stomach. “Do we have a reading on how many ships?”

  She squinted at her displays. Then she gulped. “Sir, the sensor reading, it’s… it’s large. Eighteen ships!” Her voice had started to go up in pitch and volume and all the bridge watch standers were turning around to look.

  “How long until they’re in range?” he asked, standing up straighter, trying to project confidence and control.

  “I don’t know!” the young woman said, clutching one hand to her forehead.

  “Calm down, Lacey,” he said, his voice stern. “Focus.”

  She took in a shuddering breath. Then she sat up straight in her chair and squared her shoulders. “Sorry, sir.” She stabbed a few keys on the console. “Ninety-six minutes, sir. Wait.”

  “What is it?”

  “There are four ships breaking off from the rest of the pack. They’re diverting from a vector toward the Kutok mine and are headed toward…” She pressed a few more keys, then she nodded. “Yes, sir. They’re on a course toward the mining station.”

  “Damn,” he whispered. “We just pulled Angara out of there. That’s a destroyer and a corvette, yes?”

  “That’s correct, sir,” Lacey said, her voice clipped and professional.

  He turned and went back to his chair, sitting down. “Action stations!” he called, pressing the appropriate control on his chair. The lights dimmed and the illumination changed to red and flashing, klaxons blared throughout the ship. The bridge crew looked at him, stunned for a moment. “Move!” he snapped. Getting up from his chair, he rushed to the his cabin and as he was leaving he saw one of the crewmen start getting skinsuits out of a locker at the side of the bridge to distribute to the others. He skinned out of his clothes and was dressed in his suit and back on the bridge, helmet in hand in less than two minutes.

  The comms officer, dressed in her suit with her head bag open and lying flat on her back, like a hood, was speaking into her microphone. “Action stations, action stations, this is not a drill. All hands battle stations. Action stations, action stations.” She looked up as he entered. A moment later, she said, “All stations report ready, Captain.”

  He nodded. “Very well. Comms, inform the station of what’s going on, as well as the rest of the defensive ships. And send a message to the yard and the orbital. Yes, I know it’s going to take a while to get the information back to the orbital, but I want them to be informed. And also, send a message to Persistence of Vision. She’s scheduled to arrive here in sixteen hours. Tell her to haul ass; we’re going to need her.”

  When the klaxons in the hangar bay started blaring, Tamara nearly jumped out of her skin. Pulling up her HUD, she tapped into the station net to find out what was going on. She needn’t have bothered.

  “Action stations, action stations. There is a large group of warships on a vector this way that are not broadcasting IDs or responding to hails. They are assumed hostile. All pilots, to your ships and prepare for launch.”

  “Pallas!” she shouted at one of the techs nearby. The woman was pushing a hover pallet that had eight of the throat ripper missiles loaded on board. She looked up and waved. Tamara waved her over.

  “Yes, ma’am?” she asked. “The alarms are sounding.”

  “Where are you going with those?” Tamara asked, gesturing to the missiles.

  “Going to load up one of the birds,” Pallas said simply, rubbing her hands and hopping from foot to foot. “Why?”

  “Are they earmarked for anyone?”

  The grease monkey shook her head. “No, ma’am.”

  She nodded. “Then put them on my ship.”

  “Ma’am?” Pallas squeaked. “On your ship?”

  “Yes, Pallas, on my ship. It’s a strike fighter, we have hostiles incoming, Commander Korqath is going to need every ship and pilot in space.”

  She looked uncertain. “I don’t know…”

  Tamara scowled. “Look, Pallas. Don’t waste time. My ship needs those weapons there, and you’re here. Load up my ship please. Now.” She put the full weight of her gaze on the poor grease monkey. Tamara felt bad about this, badgering the young woman, but this was an emergency! If they made it out of this mess, she’d make it up to the girl later.

  Pallas nodded, pulling the pallet closer to the Perdition’s strike foils. “Make sure that one is straight, ma’am. I’ll control the lifter.”

  As the last of the missiles was locked into place, Tamara was about to climb up into her ship, her helmet in hand, when three figures appeared at the ladder. With a sigh, she stopped, but didn’t climb down. “What?”

  “Ma’am, I’d sure like to know what the hell it is you think you’re doing,” Viktoriya asked, sounding calm.

  “I thought that should be obvious, Viktoriya,” Tamara replied. “I’m going out there to help. I’m a skilled pilot and I have combat experience. They need me out there.”

  “No, ma’am,” the lupusan guard replied. “They need the people that you hired to perform military operations to do their job, while you stay here, out of the way.”

  She sighed, leaning her head forward for a second. “I know. I know that. But I can’t just sit here in danger while I’m waiting for that fleet to get here. I need to be out there! Doing something!”

  “No, ma’am,” Viktoriya shot back. “What you need is to let the professionals do their jobs.”

  “I am one of those professionals!”

  “No, what you are is the Chief of Operations of the biggest company in this star system. And while yes, you do have the combat experience that most of those pilots lack, you’re also a very juicy target. You know that once the shooting starts, those pilots cannot afford any distractions. And if you’re out there, flying around, then their attention is going to be split between fighting that fleet and protecting you.” The wolf woman pointed a clawed finger at her primary. “You know that. Whatever assistance you might be able to lend isn’t enough to justify this. We are not in a win or die situation, not yet.”

  “Are you kidding me?” she demanded. Pulling up information from the sensors on her HUD, she shot the desired image to her three guards. “You see that ship there?” she asked, indicating one of the larger ships. “It’s a light cruiser. A light cruiser I’ve seen before. It’s a ship that belongs to that pirate lord, Verrikoth. That’s the Ganges, one of the ships that was in his flotilla that attacked Grania Estelle at Ulla-tran, and again trashed the Republic outpost in Byra-Kae. That’s him out there. And he’s coming right at us. I need to be out there!”

  But the lupusan shook her head. “We were hired by Chief Nymeria to protect you, Ma’am,” Viktoriya replied, her voice harsh. “And the Chief indicated that there were times when you would need to be protected from yourself.”

  Tamara froze, as it was clear the three lupusan that were clustered around her were no longer her guards, willing to take bullets for her, they were now predators that might attack and subdue her all under the pretense of keeping her safe.

  “Don’t do this,” Tamara said softly. “I have to go out there and help them.”

  “You’ll be doing that best by staying here.” Viktoriya crossed her arms over her chest. “I can force the issue if it comes to that, ma’am. Please don’t make me do that.”

  The other two wolves were looking at her, even Marat. “Please, ma’am,” the male said, his voice almost sounding… engaged. Pleading even. “Come down off that ladder and we can get
up to Operations.”

  Tamara watched them all for a long moment, judging whether or not to try and fight them, to try and argue her case further. But then Ekaterina took a step forward, a slight rumbling in her voice and Tamara nodded. “All right. All right.” She took her helmet and tossed it into the open cockpit, then climbed down the two steps. “Let’s go to Ops.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Viktoriya said graciously, nodding as they all stepped back, as if by some unseen signal. Tamara was monitoring and the serzhant didn’t send out a message via implants. It was just as though they all knew it was time to take a step back.

  “Well let’s go then,” Tamara snapped irritably. Without looking behind her, she raced for the hangar bay door leading back into the station, but she could hear their feet touching the deckplates as they rushed to keep up.

  Operations was like stepping into a meat locker. All of the technicians were frozen into their seats, most of whom weren’t even moving, barely breathing. They were stunned and there was a detectable chill in the atmosphere here. The station had come under attack before, and a great number of people had been hurt or killed when the mercenaries had cut a swath through this place. It was a horrible time, an experience that some of the remaining workers were still trying to come to terms with it.

  But that, for all of its horror, was a domestic issue. People within the system fighting with one another. This was nothing new. It wasn’t as prevalent in the most recent decade, but there were those factions that thought the best ways to solve their problems involved violence, either directly or by hiring mercenaries. But this? A fleet of ships rushing in to attack the mine? Outsiders? It had been fantasy. Or lies. Or stories told by the crew of the Grania Estelle and the Horus to drum up business or sympathy. It was never real. And even for those who did believe, this pirate lord, this pirate fleet was never something that was coming here. The pirates, well, any hostile forces really always stayed away.

  And there was a very specific reason everyone stayed away. And that reason was currently engaged in trade talks with Ulla-tran.

  “Report, please, Ms. Moreetz,” Tamara barked, stepping up behind the station master’s seat at her console. Everyone in Operations jumped as though they had been stabbed. One of the young men screeched a sound that would have made a mature hak’ruk proud.

  “Four of the ships have broken off from the rest of the group, ma’am,” Tiyaana said. “Two freighters, a ship that looks like a destroyer-sized ship and a corvette. But our ships are out of position, they’re all clustered here.”

  “Understood,” Tamara replied, staring at the readouts. Then she glanced to her sides, looking at the petrified looks on the various crewmembers’ faces. Then she straightened. “I know you’re all frightened. You see those ships coming,” she pointed, “and you think to yourself, ‘how can this be happening?’ And then you’re thinking, what about the Leytonstone or the other supporting ships? But they’re not here. And we can’t expect that they’ll be back anytime soon, certainly not to pull off an eleventh hour rescue. Persistence of Vision is on its way here and I confirmed with Captain Tariq that the message has been sent to our destroyer telling her to pour on the speed.”

  There were looks of hope that started to spread among the crewmembers. It was a brief, faint hope but one that Tamara didn’t want to crush. “Right now though, we only have four corvettes and two fighter squadrons as well as the fixed defenses standing in the way of Lord Verrikoth’s ships.” She took a deep breath. “Yes, those are his ships. I recognize one of his cruisers and the sensors have confirmed it: that is Ganges out there amidst those ships. The bastard is on his way here and he thinks that this station and its crew will be an easy mark. It’s up to us to stand fast.”

  “I know this isn’t what you trained for, or what you signed up for. I know that you’re scared. But I need you to hold it together. We have to do this together and panic will not save us.” She looked around. Their courage was hanging by the most gossamer of threads and further pep talk wasn’t going to do anything except sound condescending.

  “Right. Tiyaana, get with Corajen down in security and make sure that everyone there is armed and armored, full load outs. All workers are to get to your designated safe zones and make sure that all refinery and collection sectors are fully powered down. Have all nearby space traffic, shuttles, pods make for the landing bays immediately. Any larger vessels, like the refueling tanker and the tender are to get out of here, best speed. Have them make for the yard complex. Go.” She waved her hands in front of her, as though shooing a small dog.

  It was as though she’d flipped a switch. Crewmen started stabbing at keys on their consoles, speaking into their headsets. They were moving, doing something instead of just sitting there bathing in their fear. There wasn’t going to be a whole lot they could do until and unless the pirate fleet came within range of the station’s fixed defenses and the fighters would be launching in a few more minutes.

  They were holding together. And in just a little while, Verrikoth and his pirates would learn just how well the people of Seylonique could fight.

  Afterward:

  This book was a blast: literally. I really pushed to get this one finished and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it.

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