“The feeling is mutual. But I thought it might be worth it to go to the man most likely to try and shoot down the idea, convince him. If I could, then the hard job would be over.”
Miklos nodded. “Makes sense. So, what is it that a hard-working engineer can do for a high-flying corporate operator?”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “When do you get off shift?”
He checked his watch. “Another hour.”
“Buy you a beer?”
He blinked in surprise and then smiled. “I’m always up for having a beer with a good-looking woman.”
She rolled her eyes. “Meet up at McKee’s up on Sixteen?”
“I’ll be there.”
As they left, the serzhant commed Tamara. [Just a chat, Ma’am?]
[I can’t have a beer when I talk with a friend of mine, Serzhant? Would you prefer I brought him on the ship and have the beer there?]
The wolf scowled. [It would make things a bit easier from a security standpoint, Ma’am.]
[I’m sure it would be, Serzhant, but that’s just not going to happen unless we get mobbed by an angry torch-bearing mob.]
[Don’t even joke about that, Ma’am. The idea of having to extract under heavy fire in a confined environment is one of my worst fears.] The wolf’s fur rippled. [I’ve done it twice before and it was not pretty either time.]
[I apologize, Serzhant. But for now, we’re going to McKee’s for a drink and some conversation. It should only be a short stop and then we’re back out into space.] She shook her head briefly and then smiled. “Buck up,” she said aloud. “We’re going up to Sixteen, have a drink and sit for a while and then we’re out of here. At least this trip won’t be a complete waste.”
They were two days out from the orbital when the Leytonstone caught up weith them, going in the same direction. The guards all watched from one of the displays as they battlecruiser closed on Moxie-2. They were moving in the same direction as the civilian ship, but they were not moving to close the one hundred thousand kilometer gap between them. Tamara was seated on one of the counches with her eyes closed, tied into the ship’s sensors. She watched the battlecruiser’s approached and then, suddenly, its acceleration tapered off. The big ship still had a higher rate of velocity than Moxie-2, but she wasn’t silly enough to try and race the behemoth. It would only waste fuel and accomplish nothing.
She still is a magnificent ship, Tamara mused, unable to stop herself from smiling. It’s outdated, almost paranoid level of redundancy made for a tougher ship, but it did make for longer repair times when in dock. There was a hope, a small one that the pirates might never come back to Seylonique. Tamara didn’t really believe that; there were too many reasons for them to return for her to ignore her own logic; Seylonique was just too tempting a target. She only hoped that the council would agree to fund construction before it was too late.
Then Tamara sat up, opening her eyes. Thought-clicking a few icons on her HUD, she engaged the ship’s comm system. Perhaps it was to time to try and recruit a potent ally to her cause.
“Moxie-2 to Leytonstone, this is Tamara Samair calling to speak with Colonel Gants.”
A moment later, a zheen’s voice came over the comms. “This is Ensign Zk’nel. I will relay your request, but the Colonel is extremely busy. He does not have time for civilian requests. Good day, ma’am.” And the line went dead.
Tamara gritted her teeth. She was tempted to call back but she forced herself to remain calm. She was not going to harass the bridge crew and comms officer like some peacenik protester. Nor was she going to crawl and beg to get a moment of the Colonel’s time. She wanted Gants’s help but she’d be damned if she was going to debase herself to get it.
Two hours later, Tamara was going through the quota reports for the asteroid mining outfit when a call came in. She was impressed with the output of the mining station and of the workers there, as tons of ores, metals and various trace elements were being gathered and refined. Large orders for all that material were coming from the FP yards, the orbital, R3 Systems and various smaller operations on the planet. Now Ulla-tran wanted refined minerals and Tamara was more than happy to sell them as much as they could haul. We really do need another bulk freighter, she mused, or else another tanker to free up Grania Estelle for more runs of metal instead of fuel.
Her HUD lit up with an icon for an incoming call from the Leytonstone. Only two hours. I wonder if I should be honored or upset at the response time? Switching the display before her to a comm screen, Tamara accepted the call. “Samair here.”
The slightly irritated visage of Colonel Malachai Gants appeared on the display. He looked harried as only a starship commander could be. Tamara remembered that expression well. “Samair. I understand you wanted to speak with me.”
“Yes, Colonel, I did. First, how’s the battlecruiser handling?”
A huge smile split his gruff face, one that he didn’t even attempt to hide. “So far, we’ve had no problems. My engineers have been watching everything closely and I have no complaints so far. We’ve been running the engines very hot. I want to see what they can do.”
Tamara nodded. “Eretria Sterling does good work.” She was unable to stop a smirk.
“That she does,” he replied, nodding back. “So what is it you think I can do for you, Ms. Samair?”
“Well, it’s more what I think I can do for you and for the Navy,” Tamara said. “I have something to sell to the Navy that I think you’re going to like, but the only problem is the Councilors are none too happy with me about things l’ve been stirring up lately.”
He snorted. “It isn’t as though anyone ever really needs a reason to get irritated with you, Samair. You’re very good at getting people angry.”
“Thanks. I’m trying to do you a favor and you come back and insult me?”
“You haven’t said anything except about how you’re going to do something for the Navy,” he shot back. “You haven’t actually given me anything.”
“How about a cruiser?”
The man paused for a long moment, studying her face through the display, as if he could find a lie somewhere there. Finally, he slowly blinked and his own face relaxed. “A cruiser? What are you talking about a cruiser?”
“I’m sure that the colonel remembers the pirate cruisers that came here a few months ago,” Tamara said, her tone smug. Seeing him starting to scowl again, she went on. “Well, I have the blueprints for one of the light cruiser designs.”
“What the hell? Why the hell didn’t you turn that information over to the Navy sooner?” he demanded.
“And just what they hell would you do with it, Colonel?” Tamara shot back. “You, Colonel, do not have shipbuilding capabilities of your own, nor does the Navy. You, Colonel, do not have R and D teams working on new weapons and ship designs. If I’d simply turned that information over it would have been stored in a database somewhere either on the orbital or the planet and collected digital dust for another decade before someone finally remembered it was there.”
Gants clenched his jaw and she could see he was about to explode. “That is military technology, Samair.”
“Indeed, Colonel, it is,” she replied, sounding almost defeated. “Technology and designs that you currently can’t use. And when FP got the designs, they needed some work. So I turned them over to my R and D teams and made a number of improvements. They’re ready for a trial run and implementation, if you can get the go ahead and the funding.”
A muscle in Gants’ cheek twitched, before he calmed. “Ms. Samair, perhaps I could prevail upon you to repair aboard the flagship? I think we have some things to discuss.”
“You’re not going to have me arrested? Because if you are I’m going to make you work for it.”
He glared at her. “Samair, I wouldn’t waste time with an arrest. If you made me work too hard for it, I would just shoot out your engines. Would you please come aboard ship? I think we have some things to talk about concerning your company’s shi
pyards and a certain warship. And bring everything you have on those ships, if you please.”
Tamara’s eyes widened at the completely naked threat, but then she nodded. I guess I did have that coming. “Very well, Colonel Gants. I believe I can find the time to come over. I’ll maneuver my ship to dock.”
“I’ll have instructions sent over. Gants out.” And the screen went blank.
“Yes!” Tamara crowed, startling the wolves. Even the normally mellow Severite jumped in alarm. “Mike!” she bellowed.
“Ma’am?” the pilot answered immediately over the ship’s internal speakers.
“Catch up with the battlecruiser. You’re going to get docking instructions soon, make sure you follow them.” She rubbed her hands together in anticipation, then began gathering together the appropriate files.
Chapter 25
“One minute to point zero, General,” the helmsman Rix reported. It was completely unnecessary, of course, as everyone aboard the warship knew the time remaining to arrival down to the second. It had been a whirlwind of activity in Esselon-Moor to get as much supplies, ammunition and fuel aboard the ship in the three days the General had allotted before departure. He was forcing them to learn the systems aboard the captured destroyer at a reckless speed, but the sooner they could get to Seylonique, the better chance they could catch the battlecruiser while it was still in spacedock. Two hundred Grenadiers were brought up to the destroyer from HT-626 and then assigned bunks in the warship, often sleeping four to five to a room. Things were cramped, but the prospect of combat (on a battlecruiser, no less) helped the wolves cope with the uncomfortable living conditions. Besides, these were Army soldiers, combat veterans, used to roughing it. If they’d wanted ease and comfort, they’d have joined the Navy!
A ritual had started among the Grenadiers which began during the initial transfer of personnel. Crew from Illuyanka was coming over to the destroyer and one young environmental specialist, confused by all the bustle and barely eight months out of training, made the mistake of loudly complaining, “Where are we going?” A burly sergeant got up in the young specialist’s face and bellowed, “Grenadiers! Tell this pup where we’re going!” Six nearby soldiers, all grinning as they lugged gear and weapons aboard screamed, “SEYLONIQUE!” in response.
This, naturally, led to a craze among first the soldiers and eventually infected the crew. Someone would enter a room and ask, “Where are we going?” to which everyone within earshot would shout, “Seylonique!” at the top of their lungs. This would then be accompanied by further shouts, whoops, howls, barking, and stamping of feet and rifle butts on the deckplates. After a few moments of bedlam, it would quiet and then another soldier in a different compartment, or in a corridor would ask the question loudly again and once again bedlam would reign.
It wasn’t long before everyone aboard the Equinox joined in, though they did manage to keep it away from the reactor spaces and from the bridge. Around General Typhon, the rank and file managed to keep themselves under control, though on occasion, he did indulge himself and howl right along with them, to everyone’s delight.
“Understood, Rix,” the general replied, nodding in satisfaction. Not much of a learning curve was needed for his crew to adapt to the controls for the destroyer’s systems. While he had utmost confidence in his wolves and their ability to overcome any obstacle, the provincial humans, bugs and felines must have been ludicrously inept. Of course, the fact that they didn’t even think to lock down their ship’s computers when Nezerek’s wolves boarded shows a level of ineptitude that boarders on the insane.
“Dropping out of hyperspace in three… two… one… now,” the wolf said, pulling the activation lever back. There was a shiver throughout the ship and on the sensor feed an explosion of high energy tachyons. Had any ship been nearby, Equinox would have been lit up like a beacon.
“Sensors: report all contacts,” the general ordered, his voice calm. This isn’t my first snipe hunt.
“Scopes are clear, General,” Bek replied.
Typhon nodded, his expression like stone. He was glad that Bek had joined this expedition, though it would have probably been better had his tactical officer stayed behind in Esselon-Moor. They needed an experienced hand to back up Major Nezerek in minding the store and command Illuyanka in his absence and Bek was it. But the Lieutenant had all but begged to be a part of this mission; it wasn’t every day that the Dog Soldiers got to face down a battlecruiser. And Typhon didn’t want to leave him behind. He was the best tactical officer the General had. Hopefully Bek’s talents and skills would not be required for this mission. Even though this ship was a decent ride, the general was forced to admit that if they had to fight the Seylonqiue fleet, they would be hard pressed to deal with them all. It would be best if they could get in and out without being detected. Not that he expected things to go perfectly to plan. Things never did.
“Excellent. Navigation, plot us a course in system, sensors on passive only. Bek, keep those sensors looking for our target. You know what to do.”
“Yes, General, I’m on it.” The tactical officer nodded, turning his full attention to his station.
“Course laid in, General.”
“Then by all means, helm, engage engines at maximum.” He adjusted his seat in the command chair. “Get us up to speed and then cut acceleration. Get us down to absolute minimum power expenditure. Same sort of plan we used the last time we were here. This isn’t a stealth ship, but I want to make as close to a hole in space as possible.”
“Understood, sir,” the helmsman replied, pushing up the throttles.
Typhon began running through the various simulations in his mind again. It wasn’t like he had a great many; much of this operation was going to rely on the stealth functions of the assault shuttles. The Seylonique gear was decent; in fact the sensors on this ship at least were able to pick up emissions from the shuttles. It was slight, but the data was there if you knew what to look for. Thankfully, the oafs in this Navy didn’t know what to look for, but there was always the chance that some overeager young operator was going to happen upon the information and guess correctly. Of course, there wasn’t anything he could do about that, not at this juncture in the operation. He wasn’t especially worried, but there was always some chance.
“All right, Samair, you said you had the information on one of those cruisers, I’d like to see it,” Malachai Gants said, sitting himself down behind his desk in his ready room. He hadn’t been happy about having the civilian come all the way to the bridge of his ship, not now, not while they were underway, but there was nothing for it. He wanted that info.
She pulled a data card from her pocket and handed it over to him, then seated herself in one of the chairs on the other side of his desk. “There it is.”
He took it, eyed her for a moment and then plugged it into the console. The file opened, and the display activated. “Impressive, but then after that simulation I’d expect nothing less.”
“The pirates found a way to get themselves what they need,” Tamara said. “They have one shipyard that I know of out in the Hecate star system. I think that the pirate Verrikoth was working through intermediaries when I went through the system. He paid various companies to build the components for one of his cruisers and then had the yards put the mishmash together and make it work. It’s a brilliant feat of engineering, though one I’m sure one that gave the engineers there migraines.”
“Brilliant? That seems unlikely.”
Tamara shook her head. “I’m impressed that the engineers managed to get so many mismatched parts with different stress tolerances, different power ratings, all that to work together. I wonder if they had power lines and conduits blown out or needed to constantly replace them?” But then she waved her hand dismissively. “But I had my R and D team go over everything and iron out all the discrepancies. It’s all one company building everything now, and I’ve gone over their work, had my AIs go over the work. It looks good. This will be a superior vessel
compared to the one that we based the design off of.”
He nodded slightly, not looking at her. “What’s the armament?”
“Virtually unchanged,” she answered. “Two turbolasers in the forward firing arc as well as four heavy lasers. Heavy lasers, a half dozen on each broadside, accompanied by six rail guns on each one as well. Four laser cannons and an equal number of rail guns on the aft arc.”
Gants pursed his lips. “Impressive, for a ship that size. What about missiles?”
Tamara sighed. “Two bow launchers, four on each broadside. Doesn’t have a huge missile magazine though, considering her size, so you have to be careful about shooting yourself dry pretty quickly.” She shrugged. “It’s not meant to really flood space with the weapons anyway. More to add an extra punch. But she’s fast, maneuverable and with these extra cross-braces here,” she pointed to a section on the blueprint, drawing the colonel’s attention to it, “she’s a bit tougher as well. Though it’s a light cruiser. She doesn’t have any real serious armor and she’s meant for slashing attacks, not to hold position and take fire.”
“Not a battleship or a dreadnaught, huh?” the colonel said wryly.
“Honestly, out here in the Cluster, a ship that big and heavy would be a bit of a liability. Oh sure,” she said, settling more comfortably in the chair a bit, “They have a huge weight of fire they can throw, but considering the number of light, speedy warships that we’ve seen and we have, a battleship would be vulnerable to strikes on its engines. Its guns would be bigger and have better range, but fast strikes might wear her down and she wouldn’t have the speed to turn fast enough to keep them away.” Tamara gave a half-smile. “Of course, any of those ships that tries to get in range would regret it. So it would take probably a six to one advantage in hulls to try and bring the big ship down. Possibly eight.”
A Greater Interest: Samair in Argos: Book 4 Page 61