Hold the Star: Samair in Argos: Book 2

by Michael Kotcher

  Nine long hours later, Quesh brought his teams back inside. There was little more than a reactor watch keeping an eye on things in Main Engineering and he needed to get his people back inside to rest and refuel. Cookie had fired up the kitchen, not that he ever needed a reason, and greeted the work crews with a hearty fish soup and platters stacked with towers of sandwiches. Not the most elaborate fare he’d ever provided, but the crew fell upon the food with ravenous abandon. He didn’t receive any complaints, and would have boxed the ears of anyone stupid enough to even jest that his food was no good.

  The Captain came down to the mess while Quesh was finishing up a bowl of the fine soup. He loaded up a tray of his own with soup and a pair of sandwiches and came and sat in front of the Parkani, who nodded in greeting, spoon in his mouth. “Captain,” the engineer grunted.

  “Chief,” he said in reply. He dug into his own food and the two males simply sat and ate in silence, or rather they didn’t speak while the crew around them carried on excitedly. It was nice to see them cheering up a bit. No one would forget the awful days they had just been through, but the hard work and the break in the tedium certainly helped to lift their spirits.

  “So,” Eamonn said after several minutes of ingestion, “Talk to me about the work.”

  “On schedule,” the Parkani said, taking another spoonful of soup. “We’ve got three of the nodes installed, two more should be done next shift. We’ve got three more to do after that and at that point our shields will be up to about seventy percent. But Xar was right. The inspections of the hull are concerning me.”

  The captain looked worried. “Concerning you?”

  Quesh nodded. “Yes, sir. The damage we took has put some serious stress on a lot of the hull. The bots have done a good job mapping them, but when we get to S-…” he stopped and looked around furtively. The captain grimaced and waved his hand surreptitiously to indicate he needed to watch his words. “Um, I mean to Amethyst, we need to concentrate on hull work. That and the sublights. My engines are trashed, Captain. Engine One is the only one that’s even partially working and that’s a complete hack job. We need to do a complete overhaul of all the sublight engines, the lateral sensor array, and three of the communications antennae.”

  “My poor ship,” the Captain lamented.

  Quesh cocked his head in sympathy. “I’m working on her, Cap. She needs a lot of work and we definitely need more hands.” He sighed. “I don’t want to think about replacing anyone, but I simply don’t have the luxury of that kind of grief-thinking, Cap. Not if we want to keep this old girl running, to say nothing about fixing her up again.”

  Eamonn nodded slowly. “Captain Verrikoth said in my last meeting with him at Ulla-tran that this was still my ship and that so long as I was delivering his cargo and following his rules, I could operate how I like. I think that might still apply, though I’m not sure if Armsman Jax got that memo. Or cares. He might be thinking that this is his own private little fiefdom that he’s stewarding for his boss.”

  “That’s dangerous, Captain,” Quesh said, gesturing with his spoon. “We can’t work like this. I know he let you get away with this pit stop, but would he let us bring on more crew?”

  The captain shook his head. “I don’t know, Quesh. That’s something we’re going to have to worry about when we get to Amethyst. For now, just keep doing what you’re doing. Get the hyperdrive and the shields ready. Oh, what’s our best hyperspeed going to be once this is all done?”

  The Parkani sighed. “I know we were all hoping for and talking about Yellow, but with the structural issues, the ship just can’t get going that fast, not and cause serious stress problems. I’d say best we can hope for is Orange level six, sir.”

  “Not even top of the Orange,” the captain griped.

  The chief laughed. “Captain, only six months ago we would have crowed in celebration to be going that fast. Before Samair came on board best we could hope for was level three of Orange, remember?”

  “Amazing how quickly you get used to working and living in luxury,” Eamonn said, taking another bite of sandwich.

  Quesh chuckled in agreement. “Yes, sir. There are a number of structural supports and hull plates we’re going to have to check over, patch or more likely outright replace before we’re going to be able to jump any faster.”

  “Understood.”

  “And it’s going to be a bitch of a job, I’m afraid,” Quesh said, sighing in dead for the work that was ahead of him and his teams. “Got to get to some not quite so easy to access places, sir. But we can do it. Might take a couple of weeks to get the structural supports done. We’ll definitely need to grab a few more rocks for raw materials.”

  “Understood,” the captain said again.

  “Sir, I know it’s a touchy subject, but is there anything you can do about getting Samair out?” the Parkani asked, keeping eye contact with the other male, but ducking his head a bit, looking uncomfortable. “I know she and I have had a bit of a history, but I need her.”

  The captain nodded. “I’ll see what I can do, Chief, but I can’t make any promises. And I owe her for everything she’s done for my ship and for this crew, I know that.” His face darkened. “Just keep doing what you’re doing for now. And make sure you let your teams get some rest. I know there’s a lot to be done before we can jump out of here, but let’s just say the sooner the better.”

  Quesh swiveled his gaze to the pair of pirate soldiers that were standing next to the bulkhead near the main door to the mess hall, trying to look menacing. That effect was marred by the crew’s complete and utter lack of interest in them at all. They were basically just looking grumpy, and the crew couldn’t care less. It was a bald-face lie, of course, but the crew were putting up a good show of ignoring them; everyone was still a bit nervous about trigger-happy pirates with guns.

  The Captain finished his meal, bussed his dishes and left, Quesh followed a few minutes later. The engineer for his rack, the Captain went looking for a certain pirate.

  Armsman Jax was in one of the lounges, one of his fellows there with him. They had stripped off their armor, though both men still wore their weapons. They were dressed more or less similar to the rest of the crew; apparently Verrikoth didn’t believe in following holovid stereotypes of what pirates should look like. They weren’t all wearing leather dusters with skull jewelry. In fact, aside from the armor and weapons, they looked like otherwise ordinarily dressed spacers, though the trope about tattoos seemed to be correct. None of the thugs aboard the Grania Estelle seemed to be without any. Even Jax had one on his right hand, some sort of tribal design, though it clearly went up his forearm, though it was usually covered by his sleeve. He and his fellow seemed to be playing some sort of dice game, though as Vincent Eamonn entered the compartment, he could see from the look on Jax’s face that the Armsman’s heart really wasn’t in the game.

  He looked up as the captain entered. “Well, you’ve got some serious stones coming in here after the performance you’ve put forth.”

  Eamonn crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m either the Captain or I’m not.”

  Jax’s smirk wasn’t a friendly one. “You could very easily be ‘not’, Eamonn. Don’t push me too far.”

  “So I’m here to talk about our destination.”

  The pirate chuckled, as did his fellow, who was putting the dice into the pocket of his coveralls. “No you’re not. You’re getting things moving forward on the repair projects and you want me to release my prisoner from the brig.”

  “Actually, I did want to talk about getting my crew members released, yes,” Eamonn replied. “All three of them.”

  “Well, you can forget it,” Jax said flatly. “Those two mutts are far too much of a threat. I release them I may as well just put them down. Because that would be the end result. They’d get out, they’d start attacking my men, and I’d have to kill them. It’s that simple. So if you want them dead, I can certainly oblige.”

  Eamonn ground his
teeth, but didn’t rise to the challenge. “No, I don’t want them dead. But we need to talk about Moxie – er, Samair.”

  “You sweet on that bitch?” Jax demanded suspiciously. “Got the pet name for her, always checking up on her. I’ll bet you bedded her the first week she came on board.”

  Eamonn sighed. “So you won’t object then, if I let her out of confinement.”

  Jax laughed. “That woman doesn’t leave that cell until Captain Verrikoth gives the order. She can sit in there until she rots, so long as her ability to access replicators remains unchanged.”

  “I need her,” the Captain protested.

  Jax stood, unfurling from his seat with the grace of a jungle cat. “And I just said she can sit there until she rots. That… woman…” it looked as though Jax was struggling to find the right adjective, “killed my soldiers. She stays right where she is. She cannot be trusted not to try something stupid again and you can’t afford to lose any more of your crew if she misbehaves.” His eyes glinted with malice.

  The captain stood there and just glared at him for a long moment, but he didn’t rise to the bait. “Fine, but I would like to discuss what we’re going to find at Amethyst.”

  The Armsman shrugged. “Nothing, it’s a waypoint. There’s a small station there, we’ll take on supplies, offload the fuel cargo and I’ll pick up a few replacements.” He smiled again. “Get my security teams back up to full strength.”

  “Habitable planet?” the captain asked. “We’ve never gone through Amethyst before.”

  “You’re awfully inquisitive,” Jax answered. “But for your information, no, there’s no habitable planet. Just a way station.”

  “Too bad. I could use some replacements as well.” Eamonn made it sound as though a few people had quit the ship’s company and he need to find more, as though it was just a regular occurrence. Not that twenty-six people had been brutally executed. “But if it’s only a way station then I would like to suggest our next port of call.”

  Jax shook his head. “Oh, but I thought you were the captain, Captain,” he said mockingly.

  “Good, then we’ll head for Seylonique.”

  The Armsman exchanged glances with his fellow, who shrugged. “Why there?”

  “Because the locals owe me money,” he said truthfully. “We fixed up one of their ships a few months back. They owe me.”

  Jax nodded slowly. “And you think that by going there, you can convince them to pony up?”

  It was Eamonn’s turn to shrug. “We would have gone there straight from Ulla-tran if the excitement hadn’t occurred.”

  “I see.” Jax pursed his lips, seeming to consider. “Well, I have no other orders aside from dropping off the fuel at Amethyst. I was hoping that we’d have an escort, but since Ravage got herself captured by the Republic, we’re going to be a bit light. You sure this tub can make it?”

  “You just worry about your people,” the Captain said, caustically. “I’ll worry about my ship.”

  Jax stepped right up to the other man, and Eamonn had to force himself to hold his ground. “You don’t tell me what to do, Captain.” His breath was hot on Eamonn’s face and it was all the captain could do not to pull away. “Ever.” He held the Captain’s gaze for a long moment, then turned away, deliberately putting his back to the merchant spacer.

  Eamonn gulped a breath, then turned and walked out of the compartment. He heard the two men behind him chuckle evilly. When he was far enough down the passage, he clenched his fists to stop them from shaking. “Damn, damn, damn!”

  Chapter 5

  Eamonn went from the lounge compartment straight to the brig. The guards at the door grunted and tried to look threatening but he ignored them. They didn’t stop his entering the brig, though one of them did get on his communicator, presumably telling Jax about their uninvited guest. He walked swiftly inside, and up to cell two, where the lupusan were being held.

  He rapped on the metal of the door with one knuckle. Immediately, there was a scuffling noise from within and then Corajen’s dark muzzle appeared in the slot. “Captain! It is good to see you, sir,” she said gruffly. “You hear for a jailbreak?”

  His heart sank. “No, Corajen. I’m sorry. The bastards have outright told me, I let you out, they kill you in the very next second.”

  She paused. “I think I might want to stay in here a little while longer, Captain, if it’s all the same to you.”

  He nodded. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I want you out of there and I want those bastards off my ship.”

  “I know, Captain. We’ve been going crazy in here, but not as much as she has,” Corajen flicked her muzzle in the direction of one of the other cell.

  “Speak for your damned self!” Saiphirelle called from the back of the cell. “I want out of this fucking box.”

  Eamonn chuckled. “I’m doing everything I can to get you out. We’re on our way to Amethyst and once the Chief gets the overhauls to the shields done, we’re jumping back to a faster hyperspeed.”

  The lupusan grunted. “Figured as much, boss. Then what?”

  “Seylonique,” he told her.

  He could see her ears flick back in confusion, then her eyes brightened. “Kara.”

  “That’s right,” he said. “They’re going to repay us for the work we did for them.” He tried to put as much meaning into his expression as he could. She nodded almost imperceptibly. “And then we’re going to carry on.”

  She nodded again. “I understand, Captain. Any idea when that might be?”

  Eamonn shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Just hold it together a little longer.”

  But Corajen was unceremoniously shoved aside. “This is bullshit, Captain!” Saiphirelle barked, naked fury in her eyes, ears folded back against her head. “We’re stuck in this box because the pirates are scared of us and you’re not doing anything about it! Doing everything you can? You’re not doing anything from where I’m standing.” She was giving off that serious predator vibe.

  Eamonn stood there, looking at her for a very long moment. Saiphirelle maintained eye contact but her menace was dampened somewhat by the metal door separating them. “Take a step back, Specialist,” he ordered, stepping right up to the door, his nose less than ten centimeters from the slot. “Now.” A growl came from her throat, but he refused to back down. In fact, he growled back at her. “Step back, Specialist.”

  He could see into the cell and could see Corajen sitting on the bunk, arms gripping the bunk’s edge. However he could also see that she was listening intently to the conversation, interested to hear what her Captain would have to say.

  With a snort, Saiphirelle pushed back from the door, but her gaze and demeanor didn’t change. “You’re lucky there’s this door between us… meat,” she breathed.

  That actually forced a bubble of laughter up and Eamonn didn’t fight it. The lupusan’s eye’s narrowed further. A quick glance showed that Corajen looked upset at the Captain’s turn as well. “After all I’ve been through in the last few weeks, do you think anything you do is going to frighten me? At all?” He pointed to the cell across the way. “After what she’s been through because of what I…” He broke off. “No, Specialist. You don’t frighten me anymore.”

  “You let me out of this box and I promise I’ll change your mind, meat,” she said, her voice almost a purr. “I… promise.”

  Eamonn laughed again, though it sounded almost like a sob. “Just keep it together a little longer, you two. I promise I’ll bring you a cake as soon as I can.”

  The two wolf women looked at each other, but didn’t say anything as he walked away. “What the hell was that?” Saiphirelle demanded. “He’s going to bring us cake?”

  Corajen forced herself to calm down. “Maybe it’ll have a file in it.”

  The captain walked over to the other cell, his posture indicated he was going to open the cell to look in on the other prisoner. The guards were instantly on their feet, weapons drawn but not pointed. “Move along…
meat,” one of them told him, using Saiphirelle’s word. He glared at them, and threw a nasty glance back in the direction of the lupusan cell, then walked out of the brig.

  The work continued. Quesh and Ka’Xarian finished the install on the shield nodes, but it took an entire day to integrate them properly into the ship’s existing shield grid. This caused a massive row between Jax and the Captain, who actually got into a shouting match over the issue. There was nothing for it, however, since the engineers would not release the ship to hyperspace until the shields were taken care of. The pirate Armsman knew that the ship couldn’t fly without shields, though he was certain that the crew was stalling. This suspicion was only reinforced when the Parkani put a stop to plans for jump when a host of cracks and microfractures were discovered on one of the trusses holding the topside hyperdrive nacelle on. More work had to be done to remove the engine, then remove the truss, get the metal support down to the replicators for breakdown.

  “Just jump without the second engine,” Jax demanded after the third day of sitting idle in the void. He was chafing at the delays and knew, knew, that the people on this ship were stalling just to try and buy time to get loose from his grip. “You have two hyperspace engines, just jump without the second one.”

  The captain shook his head. “Do you have any idea how you sound? This ship is huge, as you well know. With only one hyperspace engine giving us thrust our speed will be cut to less than half our best speed. Half.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” the pirate said, though taken back by the merchant captain’s vehemence. “Your engineer is stalling.”

  “Do you want to be flying along at an even slower speed than we were at before?” Eamonn shot back.

  “We have wasted nearly a week with these repairs,” Jax spat. “What is it you expect to accomplish with all this?”