Pursue the Past: Samair in Argos: Book 1

by Michael Kotcher

  “We’re really going in there?” Corajen asked, dubiously.

  Taja glared at her. “Yes, we are, even you. Besides, what would you be doing tonight if you weren’t out with us?”

  She actually thought about it. “I’d probably fine some dive bar, drink until they closed, then start a fight and then take someone somewhere more private to spend the night.”

  “Spend the night?” Tamara articulated with a grin.

  Corajen shrugged. “Well, that is the euphemism. But I don’t think I would actually need the whole night.”

  “Just use ‘em and lose ‘em, huh?” the engineer asked.

  The lupusan shrugged. “I’m not one for big attachments. Besides, the land rats here don’t interest me that much.”

  “But you’d bring them back for the night?”

  The lupusan sighed. “They serve a specific purpose. I don’t lose any sleep over it.”

  Tamara wrinkled her nose. “Aren’t you worried about, well, disease? Especially in a place like this?” She waved a hand to encompass their surroundings.

  Corajen shrugged again. “I’m careful and I don’t sleep with anyone who doesn’t smell right. And the doc takes good care of me.”

  The lupusan’s sense of smell was legendary. Not only did they make excellent trackers, but it was even rumored that they could smell when someone was ill. Obviously, there were times that anyone could detect illness, like if someone was vomiting or covered in sores, but the lupusan carried that to incredible heights. The wolfen race could detect cancer as well as other ailments and if what she was implying was to be believed, sexually transmitted diseases as well.

  “All right, no more of that,” Taja admonished them. “I want to have fun and you two are not going to ruin it for me.”

  He next morning, the Captain was just stepping out of his stateroom when his communicator beeped. He pulled it from his pocket and flipped it open. “Eamonn here.”

  Serinda answered. “Captain we have an incoming transmission from the surface. Their security service is calling.”

  He blinked. “What? Why? What happened?”

  “They didn’t say, Captain. They’re demanding to speak with you.”

  He sighed. “All right. I’m on my way to the wardroom, I’ll take it there.”

  A minute later he was in his chair in the wardroom, hand on his forehead, resting on his elbow. “Are they on video?”

  “Yes, Captain,” Serinda answered. “Should I put them through?”

  He straightened up. “Yes, go ahead.” The display over the table came to life, showing a man wearing a gray uniform, with a pin showing a pair of crossed swords on collar. Eamonn presumed this signified he was a member of planetary security. “This is Captain Eamonn. How can I help you today?”

  “Captain,” the man began, speaking with the same lazy sort of accent that all the locals seemed to have. “I’m Officer Tremaine. I have some of your crew down here that were caught causing a bit of a ruckus.”

  A ruckus? “What happened, Officer?”

  “They got into a drunken brawl in one of the bars. They actually caused quite a stir. A few people are in the hospital, Captain.”

  “I see.”

  “There was quite a lot of damage as well, though the owner of the establishment isn’t pressing charges for damage.”

  That was unusual, especially, if the amount of damage was as serious as the officer here was intimating. Maybe the owner had been persuaded not to do so for fear of offending the captain of the ship that was helping so much with the construction projects. He suspected that was it.

  “Well that’s certainly generous of him. How many of my crew do you have?”

  “Five, Captain,” the man told him. “And I’d certainly be grateful if you came down and got them. Normally, I’d be tossing them in jail, but since they’re not locals and if you’re willing to take them aboard, well, I think we can just put the whole matter behind us.”

  For just an instant, he bristled. But then he relaxed. Planetary security wasn’t answerable to him. Yes, certainly there was some political pressure to keep him and his crew happy, but if his crew crossed the line somewhere the locals were well within their rights to lock them up. And he wasn’t going to let his people swing. Or rather, if they were going to swing, he was going to be the one to hold the rope.

  “Very well, Officer Tremaine. I’ll be on the next shuttle down to collect my people. Please have them ready for transport.”

  “Thank you, Captain. I appreciate the situation this puts you in.”

  “Thank you, Officer. I’ll be down directly.” He cut the connection. Then he pressed another control. “Security, this is the Captain.”

  “Saiphirelle here, Captain,” the lupusan replied immediately.

  “Good. Sai, get me a shore patrol, five person team, armed with stunners. We have some naughty crewmembers to collect.”

  “Yes, Captain. We’ll be in the boat bay in ten minutes.”

  “Right.”

  The bedraggled, battered group of crewmembers waiting at the edge of the landing field were flanked by a trio of Planetary Security officers. All five of the crewers were cuffed, with their hands behind their backs. As the shuttle touched down and the landing ramp lowered, their spirits rose; they would finally get out of this degrading position and back up to the ship. When they saw the Captain standing there, looking down from the ramp, those spirits plummeted.

  The Captain looked every one of them over, his face like stone. He trotted down the ramp, the members of his shore party with him. He heard a snort from Saiphirelle, but he didn’t look back. Eamonn walked up to Officer Tremaine.

  “Officer Tremaine, thank you for collecting my people,” he told the man.

  Tremaine saluted him as the Captain walked up and Eamonn returned it in a more sloppy fashion. “Captain Eamonn, I’m sorry that we had to meet under such circumstances. It seems that your crew did not sustain any life threatening injuries, but we did have the medics look them over. Contusions and scrapes, and I think that one has a big gash on her leg, but I don’t think it’s serious. I understand you have a doctor aboard your ship.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Yes, I do. I’ll make sure he looks them all over. I will speak with the Governor about this and again, I appreciate you doing your job bringing them back.”

  The man nodded. “Then I formally present you with these prisoners, Captain. Per our agreement, I ask that you remove them from the planet’s surface immediately.”

  “That will not be a problem, Officer,” Eamonn replied. He nodded to Saiphirelle, who was trying mightily to hide her smile at the fate of the prisoners. The black-furred lupusan stepped forward and, with the rest of the team behind them, ushered the prisoners aboard the shuttle. The battered crewmembers didn’t even answer, though one glared at the lupusan with what was certainly murder in her eyes at Saiphirelle’s mirth at their situation. They all trudged up the ramp. One looked as though she was going to speak, but one look from the Captain, who was following them up the ramp, silenced her.

  Thirty silent minutes later and the shuttle had landed safely in the boat bay. The prisoners looked about ready to explode because the Captain had not removed the handcuffs. However, he refused to listen to anything they had to say. Once the shuttle was down, he had them marched out of the shuttle’s hold and paraded them out in a line. He didn’t try any more dramatics; he simply stood in front of them, roughly in the center of the line and looked them over.

  Two of them were members of the cargo division, looking as though they’d been dragged behind a car down a gravel road. The young woman, Sylvia, had road rash on both of her forearms from her wrists to her elbows, a nice shiner forming under one eye, and her scalp was bleeding because of a clump of hair that looked to have been ripped from her skull. The other, a young man, one of the new hires, had a cut on his face and a purpling bruise on his cheekbone. His clothing hung on him like rags and there was enough blood splattered on what remain
ed to look as though he’d rolled around in the stuff.

  The other three were Taja, Tamara and Corajen, all three of whom looked battered and torn, though strangely defiant. All three were bleeding from a number of cuts, the lupusan’s knuckles were skinned, as were her knees, elbows and the way she was favoring her right side indicated she might have a cracked rib or two. An impressive feat, considering her size, build and species. Lupusan were notoriously difficult to injure. Tamara was leaning to the left, and had a hefty amount of gauze wrapped around her right foot. Her trousers and blouse were torn, showing off a great deal more skin than she was used to. Taja’s dress was shredded, filthy and her beautiful hairdo was matted in dirt, blood and what smelled like cheap, nasty beer.

  “All right,” he said after a long moment of just drinking it all in. “What’s happened down there?” He held up a hand before anyone could speak. “One at a time. Sylvia? You first.”

  “They started it, Captain,” she said sullenly. “Togren and I were in there, drinking and having a good time, and then these thugs just came up to us and started hassling us.”

  “Hassling you?” he asked, his voice monotone.

  “Yes, Captain,” she replied. “One of them kept harassing me, making passes that I got fed up with it and threw my drink in his face. He grabbed my arm and threw me into the next table over. That got those people all excited and they joined in. One of them tried to help me up, while another one grabbed my ankle and dragged me across the floor.”

  “I see. And then what?”

  “Someone grabbed my hair and something hit me in the eye, and then Togren was trying to get me up when two of those bastards hit him.”

  “With a chair,” the man put in helpfully. He then cowered under the Captain’s withering glare.

  “And what about you three?” he said, looking to Corajen.

  The lupusan sighed. “I think that if planetary security hadn’t shown up, between Samair and I, we might have had it sorted out.”

  “There were five of them on you,” Taja muttered, though it looked as though she was shaking a bit.

  Corajen shrugged and then hissed painfully. “The hardest part was keeping my claws from shredding them,” she admitted without a trace of glee. “One of the little bastards snuck a billy club under my arm and thunked me good.” Now she did give that feral smile. “He won’t be walking anytime soon.”

  “How did you get involved?” he demanded, looking at Tamara.

  “I stayed out of it, for the most part. But then when three of the godless fuckers tried to drag Taja out of the room, I pulled out my holdout pistol and shot them.” She gave her report deadpan, as though she took no pleasure from the act or from reporting it. “Oh, not to kill. One in the shoulder, one in the kneecap, the other in the leg. They'll be fine. One of their buddies tried to back away from one of Corajen’s punches and stomped down on my foot with all his weight.” She winced. “Bastard broke a bunch of the bones in my foot. Still hurts. Should have shot him too,” she said dryly.

  “What about you?” the Captain said, turning his now burning gaze on Taja.

  The small woman shrugged. “Tamara saved me from being raped. But she couldn’t protect me from the fight. I had to dive under a table, but I caught my dress on a splinter or something, which ripped it. Then someone tried to pull me out from under the table, and I kicked him in the face and smashed his nose. He leaped up, which dumped the table on me, along with all the clay mugs and the beer and food and silverware. I got drenched and covered in food and cut by all the knives.” She chuckled. “I for one was glad Planetary Security showed up when they did.”

  He sighed, taking this all in. “All right. All of you get to sickbay and have Turan fix you up. You look like hell. You’re all restricted to the ship, except for business. Go. I’ll deal with you all later.” His burning gaze hadn’t reduced its heat in any discernible measure. For now, at least, he was letting them get to the doctor for the medical treatment they obviously needed. He turned and left the boat bay, hearing them shuffling along as well.

  The Captain maintained his visage of towering rage until he was safely back in his stateroom. He was absolutely incandescent about this. Five members of his crew were in the infirmary. But it was just too much. He collapsed into one of the chairs at his table, wracked with guffaws of uncontrollable laughter. It was good to see his crew could handle themselves, and it appeared that the dustup had helped to cement a few relationships among some of his senior people. Taja, Corajen and Moxie would probably be spending some more time together, getting into similar scraps on other planets they would visit. He shuddered to think on the people they were going to trample on their quest for "fun".

  Chapter 20

  "We have realspace reversion, Captain," the helmsman reported.

  Legacy had arrived in the Hecate system without incident. Moving at a comfortable hyperspeed of Yellow level four, Commander Harth expected that they might finally catch up to the bulk freighter they'd been chasing for months now. There was simply no way a ship that size or in that state of repair based on Fury's reports, could possibly have that big a lead on them, even allowing for a small amount of repairs. Most likely, the Grania Estelle would hold speed at somewhere in the Red level, even allowing for the best possible speed of Red level seven, Legacy would easily close the gap on the slow, pondering freighter.

  "Running sensor sweeps now, Skipper," the sensor officer spoke up.

  "Very well," he replied, nodding, his eye on his displays. The heavy cruiser's sensors were bringing in every bit of information that could be seen, and within moments, he would be able to see them. The light from the system came into the sensors and what there was to be seen appeared on his display. The system boasted a spacedock in orbit of the inhabited planet, in which rested what looked to be a light cruiser about two-thirds the size of Legacy, and what looked like a dozen or so starfighters flying maneuvers nearby to the docks, still in easy reach at a distance of less than twenty light seconds away. Other than that, no bulk freighter.

  "Damn it!" he swore. Then he reconsidered. "Did we beat them here?"

  "Possibly, Captain," the XO replied, looking at his own displays. "Though it looks like there's been some activity here. Sensors are showing debris clouds near to the planet, and also on a vector in the general direction of the hyper limit on a vector toward..." he checked the data, "Kazyanenko."

  "So they might have beaten us here and been long gone?"

  "Possibly, sir," the sensor officer reported. "I'm not detecting any cargo vessels in the system the size of the bulk freighter."

  "Might have to talk to the locals," the XO put in.

  "Could they have destroyed her?" Harth asked.

  The sensor officer shook his head. "No, sir. Not enough debris. Looks like enough for four of those starfighters that are on maneuvers."

  "What kind of ships are those?" he asked.

  "Unknown type, Captain," the report came back. "Based on the maneuvers and engine outputs we're detecting, they might be on par with the old Sentry-class fighters."

  Harth nodded slowly. Sentry-class starfighters were of an obsolete, but still useful design, which had gone out of production in the Republic Navy about forty years previous. A good, solid fighter with decent speed and maneuvering, but the upgrades in maneuvering thrusters as well as navigation computers and weapons targeting had eventually retired the Sentry for more advanced craft. "Do we need to worry about them?"

  The XO shrugged. "If they try to swarm us, maybe," he hedged. "But trying to attack a modern heavy cruiser with a squadron of fighters with capabilities like those? Our anti-fighter guns should be able to handle them."

  "What about the cruiser?"

  "Again, Captain, unknown configuration. Power output and size indicate she's a light cruiser, but I have no idea on her speed or maneuverability."

  "Wait, their reactors are up?" Harth asked, incredulous. "In a spacedock like that?"

  "They appear to be affecting repai
rs to their hyperdrives, Captain," the sensor officer replied. "Without closer scans, I can't be sure of their actual power output, but at a guess... they seem to be at about half power right now." The man shrugged.

  "How long would you think it would take them to get up to combat readiness?"

  Again the man shrugged, causing the XO to get a tiny wrinkle in his brow. A junior officer did not shrug with such uncertainty on the bridge of a Republic cruiser. Sadly, he didn't have any more or better information for the Captain either, so he bit his tongue.

  "Best guess? Probably anywhere upwards of an hour, sir. They'd have to detach all of the umbilicals and bring the ship's systems up." He nodded. "An hour at the earliest, Captain."

  "Understood. Keep an eye on them. I don't want them surprising us. They make so much as a peep, inform the XO and myself."

  "Aye, Captain."

  It took about six hours of inbound travel for the Legacy to get within communications range of the planet. Harth was sparing the engines a bit, not because they couldn’t take it, but because of fuel consumption. His ship ran on helium 3, as did all warships in the Republic, and so far his reserves were at just above ninety-two percent. Once they dipped below eighty, he would have to break off pursuit to head to the nearest Republic outpost to refuel. That sounded like an awfully large reserve, but per regulations, unless engaged in combat maneuvers, he couldn’t allow his reserves to drop below sixty percent. Warship operations were much different than those of a cargo vessel, who might decide to run a bit closer to the ragged edge. He couldn’t let Legacy get too low on fuel, for she might be required to go into combat at any moment.

  And combat was a state that looked to be more and more likely in this system. The locals hadn’t said anything yet, though the way that the fighters had shifted position to block the heavy cruiser’s direct approach to the spacedock. It also appeared, as reported by his sensor watch, that the light cruiser was powering up, releasing the locks and umbilicals to get ready for space. It was clear that the locals were not going to be sucker punched by the incoming Republic warship.