Pursue the Past: Samair in Argos: Book 1

by Michael Kotcher

  “You’ve already identified Ganges on your sensors, Stella,” the captain reminded her. “I can’t imagine that the good Commander Tyler is going to be very generous after we humiliated him back at Hecate.”

  “Perhaps not,” the AI admitted. “But maybe you can distract him and keep him talking long enough to get us to the hyper limit.”

  “They’re going to catch us about an hour distance from the limit,” he pointed out, his face sour. “There’s not much that conversation is going to do to change that. Anything he says to us is going to include the words ‘cut your engines and prepare to be boarded’. You know that, Stella. That’s if he doesn’t just start firing. And if he does, we are beyond screwed. We are a giant target.”

  “Are you calling me fat, Captain?” she asked, pretending to be indignant.

  He smiled. “First of all, this was my girl before she was yours, Stella. She’s big and perfect. But she’s not meant to try and evade and outfight a cruiser. Much less three.” He sighed. “No, for now, we continue on. We can try your malware package once they get a little closer, but I can’t count on that working a third time.”

  “We are entering the extreme edge of our weapons range, Commander,” the tactical officer on Ganges’s bridge reported. “Locking on with forward batteries.”

  “Fire only on my order,” Tyler stressed. “Not before.”

  “Yes, Commander,” the officer replied. His controls were set. “Ready on your order.”

  “Hold for now,” he ordered. “Wait until those targeting solutions firm up a bit. I want to be able to take them down with a single salvo.”

  “You are not going to desstroy that sship, Commander,” Verrikoth warned him.

  “No, sir, I’m not,” Tyler said, nodding. “But I want to make sure we get the point across to those freighter jockeys.”

  “There are four warsshipss chassing them, Commander,” Verrikoth said wryly. “I think that they will undersstand the point we are trying to make.”

  “They need to heave to and allow us to board.” Tyler was adamant about this point. “And we know that they sent some sort of transmission to those pinnaces chasing them.” He pointed to the display. “Look, they’re completely dead. That’s no act. The freighter hit them with some sort of cyber attack.” He punched his fist into his open hand. “Damn.”

  “Then open a channel and order them to ssurrender.”

  Tyler nodded, a wicked smile on his lips. “Yes, let’s do that. Communications, open a channel to Target One.”

  “Channel open, Commander.”

  “This is Commander Jensen Tyler of the warship Ganges to pirate freighter Grania Estelle. You will heave to immediately, lower your shields and prepare to be boarded, or we will fire upon you. Respond.”

  “This is Vincent Eamonn, Captain of the Grania Estelle to Commander Tyler. Under whose authority are you demanding I stop? This is an independent star system, of which you are not a part. And should you try to push the matter, you’re only proving yourself to be the very pirates you claim I am. I am continuing on course. Grania Estelle, out.”

  Tyler ground his teeth in frustration. “That arrogant bastard. I warned him. I warned him. I gave him the chance to surrender and he spit in my face.”

  “Am I going to have to liszten to you whine all day, Commander?” Verrikoth asked, amused.

  “Guns, open fire on Grania Estelle’s engines. Disable them.”

  The light cruiser’s forward turbolasers opened up, pouring coherent energy into the aft section of the freighter. Tyler had to marvel at the strength of the big ship’s aft shields. It didn’t take long however for the constant hammer blows of charged particle spears coming from Ganges’s forward weapons array to batter down the larger vessel’s shields.

  “Once the shields go down, I want pinpoint accuracy, Guns. Disable their engines but don’t destroy them. I want to be able to recover that hull.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Damage report!” Eamonn bellowed over the howling of alarms. “And shut that damned thing off!” George pressed a control and the alarm ceased.

  “Aft shields have failed,” he reported. A jolt shook the ship as another shot lanced over from Ganges. “Damage to the aft section. Engines still online.”

  “Helm, alter course, port six degrees, up nine degrees,” the captain ordered. It was a small enough change that they wouldn’t waste too much time, fuel and effort, but enough to throw off the targeting of the Ganges, if only for a few moments. Another hit rocked the big ship and damage markers flashed over the Captain’s display.

  “Engine two is out,” George said, trying to maintain calm. “Engine three is showing damage.”

  “Shut down power to the engines,” the captain ordered, his voice completely flat. “Bring us to zero acceleration.” The bridge crew all looked at him in astonishment. “We can’t outrun them and they’re just going to keep pounding us until we stop. We can’t stand up to that. Get security on the line, tell them to prepare for boarders.”

  Engineering was a madhouse. Techs were working their consoles and stations furiously, while others were running, carrying tools and trying to lock down damaged components. Damage control parties were dispatched from engineering to the after sections to cut fuel lines and patch up any hull breaches, which were thankfully few. Quesh stood at the main console, rerouting around damaged systems and other components.

  “We better not keep taking hits like that,” he muttered to himself. “Or we’re going to be dead.” He pressed a comm button. “Engineering to bridge. You’d better do something about those ships and fast. My engines are not going to stand up to that.”

  “We’re cutting the engines, Quesh,” the captain replied. “I’m not even going to try and outrun them anymore. Our inertia will keep carrying us forward and hopefully we’ll be able to reach the hyper limit.” The captain’s tone told the Parkani how hopeful he was at that possibility. “But keep the engines on standby. If possible, I’m going to need you ready to accelerate all out.”

  Quesh sighed, rubbing his forehead with one hand. “Aye, Captain. I’ll be ready, but remember, two of the engines are out. We won’t have as much acceleration as before.”

  “Understood. Just be ready.”

  “They’ve cut acceleration, sir.” The sensor watch officer sounded confused. “But they’re not slowing.”

  “They think that if they follow the letter of my orders, I won’t blast them into oblivion,” Tyler replied.

  “You won’t, Commander,” Verrikoth reminded him, hissing slightly. “I want that sship in uzable condition. Move uss closser and uze the tractoring beamz on the cruiserz to sslow it down. I don’t want them accidently reach the hyper limit and escape.”

  The commander nodded in agreement. “Yes, they’re going to try and do that again.” He nodded to the helmsman who complied with the order. “Communications, order Target One to drop their shields and keep their weapons powered down or we will open fire.”

  “Captain, the cruisers are closing in on us from three sides,” George reported. “They’re pulling in damned close, too. They’re moving to ten kilometers off. Ganges is taking station above us and the other two on either side. They’re deploying tractoring beams.” The ship lurched a bit as the cruisers locked on. “They’re using their own thrusters to slow us down. Apparently they’re not going to let us sneak across the hyper limit when they’re not paying attention.”

  “Well, it was a dim hope at best.” The captain rubbed his chin. “But that does give me an idea.” He pressed the comm control on the arm of his chair. “Quesh, Captain. Begin increasing atmospheric pressure in all the cargo bays.”

  The Parkani sounded harried. “What? Why?”

  “Because I’m going to blow the doors of the cargo bays open and shower the cruisers with the cargo like missiles. And if the overpressure is enough, the mass of the cargo will shoot out like bullets.”

  The Parkani sighed. “Roger that, Captain. I’m on it.”


  “Pressure is rising in all of the cargo bays, Captain,” George reported a moment later. “Boat bay is remaining normal.”

  “Can the cruisers detect it?” Eamonn asked.

  George shrugged. “They’d have to be looking for it. We’re not increasing our power output or anything. I honestly can’t say, but their postures haven’t changed. They’re not trying to maneuver. They’re holding position relative to us and pulling us to a stop with their tractoring beams.”

  “Small favors then. Let me know if anything changes.” The captain was keeping an eye on the atmo pressure in the cargo bays. The indicators were well out of the green and into the yellow and continuing to rise.

  Tamara checked the feeds on her console and looked up, accessing the internal comms with her implants. “Captain, I’m showing we’re approaching the go moment.”

  “Understood, Moxie. Tell me when,” he replied.

  She kept a watch on the readouts, watching as the indicators climbed ever higher and stress markers on the internal seals climbed closer to the red. She looked up from the console, taking a deep breath. “All right, Captain, ready to go.”

  The captain took a deep breath and checked his display. He pressed the comm control. “All right, Moxie, do it.”

  Down at her engineering console, Tamara pressed the activation control. The massive cargo doors to all eight cargo bays burst open, the atmosphere inside rushing to escape into the void carrying with it all of the tons of cargo contained inside. The cargo broke apart into its individual containers, spreading out into a near cloud of debris rocketing out from the bulk freighter. None of it was volatile or explosive, a great deal of it was simply junk that Taja had picked up from the station for a song, trading their cargoes in from previous stops for bits and bobs that might turn a profit in other systems, or feed the replicators for some useful things.

  But what the debris lacked in explosive punch it all made up for in mass. The projectiles sped out and crashed into the hulls of the two cruisers bracketing Grania Estelle. The velocity was only a few dozen kilometers per hour but the mass was significant. The odd-shaped containers, crates and other cargo boxes thunked into the hulls of the two light cruisers, battering the relatively light armor. Individually, the cargo containers wouldn’t be able to do much damage, but with hundreds of them hammering the hulls, the damage couldn’t be ignored or denied. A pair of turbolaser batteries were smashed on Meghna and a crate of metal ingots punched through the ship’s armor, breaching the hull. Small rips, scrapes and outright breaches the mass of containers pounded all along the length of the two hulls. A sensor array was torn apart as a half-dozen barrels of food stuffs winged the edge of the array. Damage sparkled up and down the hulls as the mass punched through the hull, causing both ships to drop their tractoring beams and lurch off course.

  It wasn’t a crippling attack. Both cruisers had taken light to moderate damage, but only on the sides facing the Grania Estelle. They weren’t mauled enough to be out of action completely and Ganges and the corvette were out of the line of fire and were undamaged.

  “Direct hits on both cruisers!” George said, punching the air. “The two ships have lost their tractoring lock and are moving off course.”

  “Nice shooting, Moxie,” Eamonn said. “Shields up. Helm, full ahead, best speed.”

  The Grania Estelle’s engines came on at full, as did her shields, and with a bit of modulation on the part of Ka’Xarian, the tractoring beam from Ganges slipped off. The bulk freighter lumbered forward, ponderous and slow, the light cruiser easily matching pace, but no longer attempting to try and lasso the bigger ship.

  But this was a short lived victory. The corvette Ravage locked on and launched a pair of Sierra-class missiles which quickly closed the gap between the two ships and exploded against Grania Estelle’s aft shields. A follow of pair of missiles blasted through the buckling shields and detonated against the ship’s engines.

  “Thiss iz intolerable!” Verrikoth grated, incensed. This freighter, a barely armed merchant had the sheer gall to attack and damage his brand new flotilla. His was holding perfectly still, but a subsonic buzz was emitting from him, causing all around him, Jensen Tyler included, to shiver because of the pure predatory feeling emanating from the zheen. “Ssend sshuttlez!” he hissed, mandibles clacking in anger. “Board that sship! They will pay for thiss outrage!”

  Chapter 28

  “Bring us in behind Target One,” Tyler ordered, his voice like iron. Ganges’s helmsman easily complied with the order, simply reducing acceleration to zero and allowing the bigger ship to slip past. In less than a minute, the bulk freighter was five kilometers ahead of the light cruiser and the distance was opening. “Fire all batteries!” the commander ordered. “Take down their shields. I don’t want them playing any more games.”

  All of Ganges’s turbolaser batteries and laser cannons opened up, sending a wave of coherent light lancing out as the charged particle beams briefly connected the two ships. Grania Estelle’s shields weathered the onslaught for only a few seconds before they collapsed. From there, Ganges began firing pinpoint shots, destroying all of the shield nodes on the dorsal and port sides. Without full shield coverage, Grania Estelle was now trapped in the Ulla-tran system. The stresses of hyperspace would shred an unshielded vessel.

  “We have you now,” Tyler said, eyes bright.

  “Shuttles launching in three minutes, Commander,” the boat bay officer reported over the comm.

  “Very well,” he replied. “Helm, move us back to a safer distance. Five thousand kilometers.” Well within easy targeting range of the bigger ship. “I want no more surprises.” The extra distance would increase the shuttles’ flight time to get to the freighter, but it would only be by a few minutes. And with their engines blasted apart and their shields ripped down, they were trapped.

  “Shields have collapsed!” Stella announced, her voice breaking. Though she was a digital projection, she was clearly upset and her actions betrayed her pain. She wasn’t programmed to feel physical pain, even if the ship took damage, but she could interpret the damage data as pain and mimic the appropriate body language. “Ah!” she screamed as the ship jolted from Ganges’s shots. “They’ve completely destroyed my dorsal and port side shield generators.”

  The comm beeped and Quesh’s voice came on. “Only engine one is up, all the rest are completely trashed. I’ve shut that one down and cut all the fuel lines. We’re not going anywhere, Captain.”

  The Captain’s face was a terrifying mask of pure hate. They had attacked him, his ship, his home. He had tried to defend himself, but these people paid no mind to that. They took what he’d dished out and then broke both of his kneecaps. Now his ship was adrift.

  Adrift, not dead.

  “Ready the rail guns,” he ordered, his voice extremely calm. Dangerously so, with a tone no one had heard him use before. No one argued, they simply obeyed. Despite his rage (and if he was honest, utter terror) his mind was still sharp. The laser cannons would draw a noticeable amount of power but the rail guns used considerably less. The guns wouldn’t get off more than a few shots, but they might make a difference if the Ganges and her fellows attempted a boarding.

  Of course, attacking any boarding shuttles would only enrage Commander Tyler further ensuring Eamonn and his crew’s swift deaths. But in the grand scheme of it, if they were being boarded by hostile forces, they might all die anyway, but it wouldn’t in any way be quick or painless. He didn’t have the time to brood over the morality of this. He was protecting his home and his crew. Others might debate his right or the wisdom to strike at these other parties; they had that luxury. He had a second to make such judgments and others would spend hours and days tearing those decisions apart. But they weren’t in charge; they weren’t sitting in the big chair. They didn’t have the responsibility of all these lives and the life of the ship weighing down on them.

  “If any shuttles launch, let them get close and then knock them down.”
His voice stayed cold and the responses that came back were scared. Either of him or of the pirates outside, he didn’t care. They were following his orders and not wasting time or undermining his authority. “Tell Security to prepare for boarders. Let Corajen play with all her new toys.”

  “Captain, shuttles are launching from all four ships,” George reported. “Two each from the big cruisers and one from the corvette.”

  “Incoming transmission,” Serinda spoke up. “We’re being directed to surrender and prepare to be boarded.” Her voice was hollow as she pronounced their doom.

  He glared at her. “My orders stand. We’re not surrendering.”

  The dark-haired beauty visibly swallowed but nodded, clearly frightened. He swept his gaze over the bridge. Everyone was scared, but they weren’t panicking. Perfect.

  Shuttles cruised out of the bays of the four ships, loaded with armed boarding parties. These small ships were not the large, bulky cargo shuttles meant for hauling freight to and from a big merchant ship. These were speedy, armed assault shuttles, meant for ferrying troops from one place to another. Verrikoth had spared no expense here, commissioning a dozen of these manta-like shuttles, capable of moving ten troopers fully loaded with kit, while still being able to achieve decent speed and maneuverability and armed with a pair of laser cannons and a nose mounted rail gun.

  The shuttle was loaded up to the bulkheads with troopers, eleven in total, ten sitting in the shock couches and one more standing up, holding onto the handle in the ceiling. All of the troops in this shuttle were wearing skinsuits, the head covers pulled down like hoods. These were not military issue, but they wore civilian type body armor over the chest and back. They were a bit mismatched; Verrikoth may have splurged on the assault shuttles, but apparently had spared a few credits on body armor. Their weapons were a mix of assault rifles, pistols, shotguns and even a few energy blasters. They were a mismatched group as well, some tall, short, broad and wiry. The one thing that unified them, other than the aggressive attitudes, was that they were all, to the last, zheen. The interior of the shuttle hummed with excitement as they all continued to pump themselves and each other up for the boarding operation.