“Hard times?” Tamara demanded. “We’re in Republic space. I can’t imagine that you need to be running illegal cargoes just to try and make a few extra credits.”
Now it was the zheen’s turn to look surprised. “Republic space? Little girl, this hasn’t been Republic space in over two hundred years. Since the war. This is all independent space now.”
She went pale. “What about Hudora? The shipyards? The fleet base?” It can’t all be gone.
Ka’Xarian sighed. “The colony and the fleet base were destroyed in the opening battles. Then, when things continued to go bad, the Federation launched asteroids down at the planet. The cities and the bases were completely obliterated. The dust cloud that was kicked up completely enveloped the planet. Only about five hundred people got off the planet. But when ships left the atmosphere, the Federation ships there just shot them all out of orbit before they could escape. They blew apart the station, the shipyards, and all the Republic ships there. The Republic retaliated at Holdred, Tetria and Solange, and then the Federation blew apart Uni-Sahn and Jovia. It went on for years. I think a total of forty or so planets were devastated on both sides. The Federation and the Republic both still exist, but they’re only shadows of what they once were. A lot of planets went independent after that.”
Her legs gave out. It was too much. All of it… gone? It couldn’t be gone. And while she was never a fan of the Federation, they were never known for such extreme actions. And the Republic too? What had happened? How did all of this happen? And I missed it all. I could have been there, I might have been able to do something.
And then it came to her. Do what? You were twenty seconds away from getting convicted for theft and smuggling, looking at a prison sentence. If Islington hadn’t put you in that pod, you’d have been in the penitentiary and would have been no good to anyone.
“You all right?” Ka’Xarian asked. It was hard to tell if he was concerned about her well-being; he wasn’t human after all.
Tamara breathed heavily for a few moments, but nodded. She didn’t want him touching her. It wasn’t a species thing, she just wasn’t in the right headspace now. As she was getting to her feet, Ygris returned with two others, a man and a woman. Both of them were heavily muscled, both were armed with heavy duty pulsers. And both of the weapons were pointed straight at Tamara. “On your feet, stowaway,” Ygris growled.
“You just don’t understand the term ‘stowaway’, do you?” Tamara whispered, as the security officers snapped a pair of handcuffs on her wrists. After so long without them, it almost seemed a comfort to have a pair on again. Ygris growled at her, but she ignored him.
Ka’Xarian watched them lead her away, a strange look on his insectoid face.
The guards were far less cordial than the ones back on Hudora Station. Each had a hand around her upper arm and they were frog-marching her through the corridors of the ship. And she had been right, this ship was a mess. Lighting panels were flickering or simply out, wires and cables hung from the ceiling, conduits were showing scorch marks from pinhole leaks or in some cases full on breaches. The crew and the corridors were dirty, the clothes they wore were mismatched and threadbare. The ship has replicators. How could things have gotten this bad?
Eventually they arrived at the Captain’s cabin. After being let in, they dumped Tamara unceremoniously into a seat across from his desk. The cabin was tiny, as was expected on a space ship even a freighter this large. But, there was more square cubage here than in an Admiral’s cabin on a warship, but then, all things were relative.
The Captain was human, male, probably in his early fifties, judging by the gray in his hair and beard. His skin was a dusky brown, but his eyes were what caught her attention, they were very bright and alert. He looked like a very hard man, forced to make difficult choices to preserve his ship, crew and perhaps even his own life. He certainly didn’t look happy to see her.
“Well, so this is our stowaway,” he said, in his deep, gravelly voice. It might have been pleasant to listen to under other circumstances.
Tamara sighed. “Why do people keep saying that? I’m not a stowaway. I was in the escape pod that you picked up.”
He chuckled. “Speak when spoken to, girl.” His eyes took her all in. “You’re pretty enough. Trim, pale, athletic. Hair could be a bit longer, but I like brunettes. Though it looks like you’ve had a bad time of it with all those scars on the face.”
She felt herself flush, as though she was being scrutinized for a modeling job. “You could say that. I needed a disguise, so I figured some class-220 thermal paint across my face might hide my looks.”
The captain grimaced. “I’d say it worked a bit too well, girl.”
“Well, I was in a hurry, and I got interrupted before I could get to my vanity and get cleaned up.”
“Ha!” The captain roared with laughter. “Oh, I like you girl. You’ve got… moxie.”
Tamara’s eyebrow raised. “Moxie? I’ve never been accused of having that before.”
“That’s what I’m going to call you. Moxie.”
She sighed. It was better than some of the nicknames she’d been called in the last eleven months. Or rather, two hundred forty-eight years and eleven months. “Fine, I guess I’m Moxie. I’d like to talk with you about an arrangement between the two of us.”
The captain frowned. “Listen, Moxie. Like I said, I like you. But I don’t do scars. They’re sexy on men, but not so much on women.”
She gave him a baleful look. “Not that kind of an arrangement. I was thinking more about fixing up the Grania Estelle.”
Now she had his attention. “If you’re not a stowaway, how do you know anything about my ship?”
“I got into the computer systems before your boys found me. I noticed that your operating systems are infested with viruses, and everything in there could use some cleaning and updates. Hell, two and a half centuries ago the computer software systems on a ship like this would have been better.”
“Sorry we disappoint you,” he replied sourly.
“I’m not saying it to be insulting,” she told him, smiling a bit to try and take out the sting of her words. “It’s the truth. I also uploaded a dozen or so virus cleansers into your systems. Call the bridge. Ask them if the computer systems are suddenly and inexplicably running faster and smoother. I’ll wait.”
The captain looked at her for a long moment. Then he pulled a cylindrical comlink out of his pocket and thumbed it on. “Bridge, this is the Captain. Status report please.”
There was a pause. “Things look good, Cap. We’re moving away from the ecliptic, readying for hyper.”
“How are the systems working? Any problems?”
The person sounded puzzled. “No, Cap. Things are looking good. The computers are actually behaving for once. I’ll have an update for you in about twenty minutes, but things look to be going smoothly for a change.”
“Thanks. I’ll be up on the bridge in a bit. Have that update ready for me.”
“Will do, Boss.”
He shut off the comlink and stuffed it back into his pocket. “How did you do that?”
“I told you, I got into the systems.”
“Yes, Moxie, you did say that. But how was the word I used.”
She sighed. “I’m an engineer. I was chief engineering officer aboard the Hudora Shipyards, before I got stuck in an escape pod for two and a half centuries.”
The captain leaned back in his chair. He studied her intently this time. This time, Tamara felt as though he was going over her with a microscope, looking at her in the most intimate way possible, though she had the sensation that it had nothing to do with sex. Finally, he spoke. “All right. I’m willing to see what you can do. In fact,” he said, brightening. “I think I have a way to test it.”
Uh oh. “Test? You wouldn’t want me fixing things on the ship?”
He shook his head, a smile on his face. “I don’t want you touching any more of the ship’s systems. Not yet. You pass my test, I’ll conside
r it.”
She took a deep breath. What would he ask? “All right? What’s your test?”
He stood up. “Get up. Come with me.”
He led her to one of the other cargo bays, it was the same size as the first one, but whereas the first was stacked with barrels and crates, this was filled with… well… junk. “A junk pile?” she asked.
“Yes,” he replied, turning back to her. “Take those off.” She stiffened. He nodded to the guards. One of whom moved over to Tamara and removed the cuffs. He laughed as she almost sagged in relief. “You thought I meant you? To remove your clothing?”
Her cheeks flamed in embarrassment. “Glad to see I was wrong.”
He shook a finger at her. “Never assume. But in this case you’re right. I’m far more interested in your alleged abilities than your body.” He gestured toward one corner of the massive bay. The junk piles were stacked haphazardly everywhere, but in that corner, there was one pile that was covered by an oil-stained tarp. “That there, under the tarp, is your test.”
She threaded through the piles, though she made careful note of the various items here. There was no real organization, but most of it was engine and hydraulics parts for starfighters, shuttles, and larger ships, like freighters and even a corvette or two. A lot of it might be salvageable, though it would definitely require some TLC. If nothing else, the parts could be fed into the replicators for raw materials to make new parts and equipment. Making her way to the tarp, she lifted it, seeing the nose of a small vessel beneath. Gently but firmly, she pulled the tarp free, then whistled in approval.
“You know what it is?” the captain asked.
Tamara smiled. “It’s a thing of beauty,” she gushed. “That is a Perdition class strike fighter. They were just being put into service back in my time. That is a beautiful and nasty ship.”
“It’s a pile of junk,” the captain corrected. “Right now, it’s taking up space in my cargo bay. But, if you can fix it up, we’ll talk about your situation.”
“Fine by me,” she replied. “So long as I get to fly her once she’s ready.”
He laughed, throwing his head back in pure joy. “Oh, I like you, Moxie! I haven’t smiled this much in a long while. How about this? You fix up that little ship, and I like what I see, I’ll sell it to you at cost. You and I will then talk about you working off the cost by fixing up my Grania Estelle.”
She turned and looked at him. “That sounds good. I’ll get the ship,” she looked up and around to indicate the freighter, “running at much better than this.” She spit on the palm of her hand and held it out to him. “Deal?”
“Ha! Deal!” He spit in his own hand and they smacked the palms together, sealing the deal.
“I will need a few things. First of which, I need to take a look at your replicators. I think I might be able to get them running properly, and then I can get things moving.”
“I’ll leave you to it. Is there anything else you need?”
She paused. “Ka’Xarian. Is he any good as an engineer?”
He looked puzzled. “He’s the assistant chief. Of course he’s good. As good as I can afford, anyway. Why?”
“I’d like to enlist his help if I can.”
He sighed dramatically. “I’ve lost my luster already and to a zheen no less!” He threw up his hands in mock disgust, but those bright lavender eyes twinkled. “Fine! If you can pry him loose from his precious engines, you can have him!”
Ten minutes later, she was standing in front of the dead replicator with Ka’Xarian right next to her. The two guards stayed as well, though they were well back and out of the way. It was large, about two meters high and about a meter wide, the front side which had a pair of doors. One was meant for raw materials, which would be fed in and broken down to the molecular level by the internal nanomachines, which would then reassemble those materials into useful components, which would be removed through the second compartment door. Parts could be made in single units, or in gross lots depending on the size of the items, all that mattered was the amount of raw materials. This replicator, however, had clearly seen better days. But, armed with her datapad she stepped forward to access the systems. Tamara plugged it into the USB port and the datapad began its song and dance.
“You really think you can fix this thing?” Ka’Xarian asked, skeptically. “It hasn’t worked in half a century.”
“All the more reason to try to get it working now. You’re already using the other one, though I intend to fix that one too.”
The zheen blinked. “You do? But we’re already using it, like you said. It meets our needs.”
She looked up at him from her datapad. “’It meets your needs?’ That’s the best you can do? At full operational capability, that replicator can build any parts you need, not just nuts, bolts and conduit casings.” The datapad beeped. “Well that’s unfortunate.”
“What is?”
“Someone apparently decided to try and make restricted technology without the proper codes. The replicator automatically locked down. Thankfully, the chips didn’t melt.”
“They melt?” Ka’Xarian looked worried.
“If you try to bypass the lockouts, the replicator self-destructs. Luckily, whoever did this was smart enough to stop when they did. Now, it’s just a matter of entering my codes and updating the software. Then we’ll have to go through and refurbish this baby. It’s been neglected for almost a century. I’m impressed at how well you’ve managed to keep the ship going, even with such limited support facilities.”
“Now you’re just being insulting.” Ka’Xarian leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his upper thorax. His tone was light, though, indicating he wasn’t really insulted. “What are you doing?”
What she was doing was pressing her thumb to the right side data jack. She didn’t have the serious cybernetics that some did; she couldn’t morph her fingers or hands, she couldn’t jump sixty feet into the air with enhanced musculature or robotic limbs. What she did have was a standard military implant package which gave her the ability to access computer systems, run scans on nearby objects, among other things. Implants were handy to have, though she had found that some people relied on them too much. She wondered how many people in this time had implants. None of the crew she’d met so far did.
Shoving that thought aside, she concentrated on her task. “Good, it’s only in lockdown. I was afraid that the idiot who did this had actually tried to force the replicator after it locked. Just be another minute.” Her implants also included optical enhancements, as well as a HUD that would pop up on the edges of her vision. It helped a great deal with target acquisition when she was in the starfighter corps, and with enhancing data that she would see. She could (and did) also use the implants to record conversations, and to keep shots of things she saw and heard for later replay. Now, she could see scrolling text and numbers, and with a thought, she added her codes to the text, which now began blinking a bright magenta on her HUD. With another thought, she ended the lockdown, which had been in place for decades, and then, just like that, the replicator reactivated.
The lights on the front panel suddenly came to life, as did the screen and controls. “There,” she said, with a self-satisfied sigh. “All set.” She let go of the replicator and turned back to the zheen engineer.
Ka’Xarian was gaping at her. “You did it.” His voice was unbelieving.
She smiled, slapping him lightly on the shoulder. “You don’t know me that well yet. When I say I’m going to do something, I follow through!” She stooped and picked up a piece of burned conduit. Opening the feeder door, she gently set it inside and closed the door behind it. Through the transparent viewport, she could see the item begin to dissolve, looking as though it was melting, or as though the replicator was pouring concentrated acid onto it. “That’ll take a few minutes. In the meantime…” She punched a few buttons on the control pad. A green light turned red and a countdown clock began running down from four minutes.
&nbs
p; “What’s that?” he asked, pointing at the clock.
“Time remaining until the new item is completed. I put a pair of full toolkits in, because I know I need one, and I want to make sure the assistant chief engineer has a complete set as well.” She smiled at him again. “I don’t want to insult you, but I also don’t want to slow things down by having to make new tools for you while we’re working.” The timer took forever to run down while they stood there, awkwardly.
Finally, Ka’Xarian asked. “So who were you? In your former life, I mean. It isn’t just anyone who can access replicators with their hand and a datapad.”
She hesitated. “What do you think of the Republic?”
“They’re a bunch of crooks,” he said bluntly. “Bloody pirates, but thankfully, they don’t venture too far from their borders anymore.”
“Pirates?” She was getting a sinking feeling in her stomach.
“Yes. About a year ago, one of their finest, an Admiral Tandred, took his battle squadron out to Bidexia System. Apparently, the Republic Navy was running low on resources, so they excised a tax.” Ka’Xarian spoke in a clipped voice, clearly he was upset about this. “From the bridge of his battleship, he destroyed a few hundred million credits in orbital platforms, and then stole a few hundred million more when he sent shuttles and troops down to the planet and liberated a number of warehouses full of foodstuffs, raw materials, and items of wealth. And on the way out, they killed a number of citizens on the planet. A few of my relatives were living on one of those orbital platforms.” His antennae were quivering in rage. “The worst part was when weeks later, I got video messages from them, from a few days before Tandred’s attack. All filled with happiness and humming. No way of knowing that only days later they would be dead. Slaughtered to line an Admiral’s coffers. So my thoughts on the Republic? I think it should burn.”
She couldn’t catch her breath. She held her hands up, palms out in a supplicating gesture. “You need to understand something. I’m two hundred and fifty years out of time. Things were much different back then.”
Pursue the Past: Samair in Argos: Book 1 Page 4
