Pursue the Past: Samair in Argos: Book 1

by Michael Kotcher

  The AI lowered her eyes. “All right. I understand. Just until we take the ship back.”

  But Tamara shook her head. “Stella, we’re not going to be able to take the ship back. I would disconnect you from the mainframe, transfer your core matrix into a portable, but I’m afraid we’d lose the fusion bottle if I did that and everyone would die. I don’t have time to reprogram the computer to balance the fusion reactor without you monitoring and get you transferred out.” She could feel her eyes burn. “And even if I could, there’d be nowhere to go. Even if I could get us off the ship on my fighter or a shuttle, we’re trapped in the system. They’d find us. And they’re a lot faster and meaner than we are.”

  “Than I am, you mean,” the AI replied, with a weak smile.

  Tamara chuckled. “I’m sorry, Stella. I truly am. I don’t know how this all fell apart like this.”

  The thunder of more gunshots could be heard down the corridor. Tamara sent a command through her implants to the replicator systems, ordering a full meltdown and destruction sequence of the constructor matrix and computer files. Lights began to flash on the LCD screen on the front of the device, warning of the self-destruct in progress. Thirty seconds later, the screen went dead and she could detect the unmistakable smell of burned electronics.

  “That’s that, I guess,” Stella said. “Going into burrow mode. I’ll keep an eye on you, Tamara.”

  “Discretely, please,” Tamara warned. “Don’t tip them off that you’re on board. Don’t do anything to draw attention to yourself.”

  She nodded. “I understand. Replicators two and the e-rep are gone now too.”

  “Thank you, Stella. For everything.”

  Stella laughed. “You brought me to life, Tamara! I should be thanking you.” And her image winked off the HUD.

  Tamara turned just as a pair of troopers entered, their weapons raised. She raised her hands to shoulder height in surrender as they approached. They were careful, one of them watching her, while the other swept his gaze and his weapon over the whole room. They noted the burned out machine behind her, but said nothing about it. They still had their skinsuit helmets raised, but based on their body movements and other information being helpfully fed to her by her implants, Tamara quickly realized they were zheen. She raised her hands over the top of her head, lacing her fingers together.

  They drew close, one of them covering her with his weapon, the other relieving her of her stun pistol in her thigh holster. “On your knees,” the zheen hissed. She obliged, and the zheen produced a heavy plastic zip tie, and expertly secured her wrists behind her back, pulled the draw tight. Tamara winced but they weren’t so tight she’d lose her hands. But the restraint wouldn’t budge.

  “Close out on thirteen!” Quesh ordered, pointing with one of his left hands. With his others, he was working the reactor console, helping the AI to keep the reactor stable. They were reducing power to everything except gravity, life support and minimal sensors. Everything else was being shut down, seeing as how they weren’t going anywhere.

  “Got it chief!” Stranz replied. “Closed down conduit thirteen and all the lines from the reactor to the port side. Compensating on the starboard side.”

  “All right, I’m stepping down power to the reactor. Bringing us down to twenty percent. Shouldn’t need to strain the reactor any more than that to keep things running, what with nearly all the primary systems offline.” Quesh twisted a control and then eased a lever down. The reactor slowly came down in power output, stopping at twenty percent. All the lights in main engineering dimmed a bit before the system compensated and the brightness came back up to normal levels.

  “And why the hell isn’t the AI responding to my commands?” the Parkani demanded.

  “I don’t know, Chief,” one of the other techs reported. “Stella hasn’t responded to anyone in the last…” he checked a display, “Four minutes. She’s still running, I can see she’s helping to keep the reactor steady, but she’s not responding to communication from anyone, nor is she visible on any of the displays.”

  Suddenly, every display in engineering blanked, to be replaced with a simple message in text only. [I am hiding from the attackers. Please do not let them know I am here. If they do, Tamara and I believe they will do horrible things to me and to all of you to gain control of me. This will be my last transmission. Please keep me a secret.] The text stayed on the screens for ten seconds, giving them all a chance to gawk at the words, then it vanished, to be replaced by the standard status displays.

  “What the hell?” Quesh demanded, throwing all his hands into the air.

  “Nobody move!” a voice shouted from behind him. All of them turned to see a full score of heavily armed troopers standing inside the doorway to the compartment, their weapons trained on everyone. “Surrender!”

  Main engineering was quiet, for perhaps the first time in decades. The only sounds were that of the computers and the machinery running in the background. All of the engineers were on their knees as troopers tied them up, all under the watchful eyes of their fellows. Quesh was lying on the deck, unconscious, a bullet wound in his upper arm’s tricep muscle, but the four stun shots were what laid him out. Both sets of his arms had been secured behind his back and one of the engineers was tending to his wound, doing little more than bandaging it up. One of the troopers raised a communicator to his face and spoke into it, calling for reinforcements and a crew to run the machines. No one wanted the reactor to fail because no one was monitoring it.

  Eamonn watched the scene from his display on the bridge, coming through from one of the cameras in engineering. Once the stopgaps failed, the attackers had poured through. There was no stopping them. Corajen had done what she could, Saiphirelle had done considerably more, with eleven kills to her credit, but it hadn’t been enough. They’d been overrun. He had no idea what had happened to his two fiercest security officers, but they hadn’t reported in. The soldiers were sweeping through the living quarters, dragging anyone they could find out into common areas where they were being secured.

  It seemed that they were leaving the bridge for last, as no one had come here yet. Taja had arrived shortly after the fighting started, carrying a box filled with guns and ammo, as well as a pair of Moxie’s fancy grenades and the bridge crew had loaded up. He wasn’t sure exactly what they were going to do in the very cramped confines of the bridge when the soldiers showed up. He and the other bridge officers could fire a gun if it came to that, but he had no expectations for longevity if it did. In fact, all the boarders needed to do was toss in a grenade or two and they’d all be dead. Critical functions could be rerouted to Main Engineering and that would be that. It might seem noble to die in defense of his home and his ship, but that’s all he and his officers here would be doing. It wouldn’t change anything and it wouldn’t save anyone, much less the ship. He kept the pistol in his hand, ready to use if needed, but the futility of the situation was starting to get to him.

  Stella’s message had just disappeared from the bridge consoles a moment earlier and it was an action that he fully supported. AI were so rare nowadays that to be given one was a gift beyond measure. And in the time that she’d been integrated with the ship’s systems, he’d seen a considerable uptick in performance in the ship’s operations. Being able to literally talk to the ship to diagnose problems and iron out wrinkles had been invaluable. But Stella was right. If the pirates, or whoever they were, found out that the ship had a functioning AI, bad things would happen to both her and the crew in their zeal to gain control of her.

  “What do we do, Vincent?” Taja asked, looking over at him, fear plain on her face. He hoped he was doing a better job of concealing his own terror at the situation.

  But he shook his head. “I think we’re done. Enough of my crew have died trying to hold them off. I’m not going to kill any more of them. Serinda, contact the Ganges. Send them our surrender.”

  The rest of the bridge crew was giving him horrified looks, all but George. Hi
s expression was more resigned and he and the Captain shared a nod when their eyes met. But Serinda dutifully picked up her headset and sent the message to Ganges.

  “All of you, put your weapons down,” Eamonn told them, setting his own weapon in the box Taja had brought to the bridge. The others followed his lead, George gratefully, though the pilot looked a bit reluctant to relinquish hers. “I’m sorry, all of you. I wish there was more we could do. But short of committing suicide, I can’t think of it.” He sighed. “I’m sure the welcoming party will be along in a minute.” He gestured to the doors to the bridge as he sat heavily back down in his command seat.

  They didn’t have long to wait. Soldiers burst onto the bridge, screaming at them all to surrender. The bridge crew, as one, raised their hands above their heads. One of the men moved forward with zip ties to bind their wrists while the others kept their weapons trained on them. The Captain and Taja were first to be secured, but when the man moved to Serinda and leered suggestively at her voluptuous body, he let his hands roam a bit. The communications officer tensed, gritting her teeth, but didn’t say anything.

  “Get your hands off her!” George bellowed, charging the man, his hands outstretched.

  A gun went off and George flopped to the side, blood flowing from his stomach. He growled and thrashed on the deck. Serinda screamed and tried to run to him, but the man grabbed her arm and yanked her back. She tripped and fell, her head hitting the flat side of the console so hard the metal rang.

  “You fucker!” Eamon shouted, trying to get to his fallen crewmen. One of the soldiers clubbed him with the butt of his rifle and the captain went down to his knees.

  “Do not try it,” the leader ordered to the pilot, who had started inching forward. “I will shoot this man.” He aimed his weapon at the captain’s head.

  Taja touched the pilot on the arm and she calmed, though her expression was still murderous. Come to think of it, Taja’s was too.

  “Wise decision. Open a channel to the Ganges,” the leader said, pointing to Taja.

  “You just knocked out my comm officer,” the captain groaned. “I can do it.”

  “Then get up and open a channel to the Ganges,” the man repeated. He took a small step back, giving the captain room to get up.

  He pulled himself to his feet and walked over to the communications console. Hitting a few commands, made a bit more difficult because of his tied wrists, the channel was open. “It’s all yours,” he said, stepping away.

  “Commander? Captain? I’m getting a transmission from Target One,” the comms officer reported. “They’ve surrendered.”

  Tyler nodded in his head in satisfaction. “Excellent. Send comms to our teams aboard Target One, but remind them that they are to continue to secure the vessel. I want no surprises.”

  But Verrikoth wasn’t looking as pleased, as difficult as it was for most humans to tell looking at a zheen face. “Your teamz cauzed conssiderable damage to my prize, Commander.”

  Tyler didn’t back down. “Yes, Captain, they did. But all things considered, that is still a functional ship. It will take a little effort to repair the engines and the shields, but once that’s done, the ship will be flying again. Lucky for us, this system has engineers capable of doing the work and the crew will be very motivated to make sure she is ready for space in short order.”

  The zheen considered that. “Yess, I ssuppoze you are right. Bring her Captain, or sshould I now ssay former Captain over here to Gangess. I would like to meet the one who withsstood our attack az well az they did.”

  Tyler’s face brightened, though anger still flooded his eyes. “Yes, Captain, I believe that is an excellent idea. I, too, would like to meet the man.”

  Morale aboard Grania Estelle had reached a point that was so low it couldn’t be tested for, one had to dig for it. All of the survivors of the crew, all ninety-nine of them out of the one hundred and twenty-six originals, were herded into Cargo Bay Eight, which had been closed and aired back up again, making it a perfect holding pen. There was nothing in the bay for the crew to get into mischief with, the internal cameras and sensors all still worked and it was more than large enough to hold so many people. Both of the lupusan sisters had survived the attack, though both looked more than a little worse for wear. Corajen had a few light gashes in her hide, her light brown fur stained a bit with blood. She’d been pinned in a corridor junction, trying to drag the wounded Ygris away. Rather than try and take them all on, Corajen had dropped her weapons and surrendered. They had secured her with metal shackles, ones that had covers for her large hands, preventing her from slashing anyone with her wicked talons. It actually looked as though she was wearing a pair of steel mittens. The wrist shackles were then secured to more chains around her waist, which prevented her from striking anyone with those heavy metal hands. She had bitten off the hand of the zheen who had attempted to muzzle her; the greenish ichor staining her mouth and teeth. When she’d spit the appendage back into his face, everyone decided that they would leave her head unmolested, ignoring the squeals of pain from their fellow.

  Saiphirelle hadn’t gotten off quite so easily. She’d killed a number of the invaders, but had finally been overrun and subdued. Those who had tried regretted it, however, as her claws had gutted one man, slashed another’s throat and punctured so deeply into the thigh of a third it was likely he would lose the leg. Under orders from Commander Tyler (reinforced by those of Captain Verrikoth) the survivors switched from lethal ammunition to stun weapons. More than a dozen shots were necessary to bring the lupusan down. Once she was down, they’d run forward and begun beating her with the butts of rifle stocks, or simply kicking her with mag-booted feet. When her bloody and mangled body had finally been shackled, they’d fitted her with a muzzle and tossed her onto a hover pallet, dumping her unceremoniously into the bay.

  The rest had been pushed into the bay, their hands still secured with zip ties and left to wander around for several hours. Turan had his work cut out for him trying to help the wounded. Serinda had quickly recovered but had fussed over George, who was in a crippling amount of pain. It was likely that the gunshot had perforated his intestines and possibly his bowel. Sepsis was likely. It would have been treatable, in sickbay, but here in the cargo bay, with his hands tied and no medical equipment, not even bandages, it was likely that the operations officer was going to die. After the third hour of waiting, finally the main interior doors slid open and a squad of ten soldiers hustled inside, weapons leveled at the crowd of freighter crew. “Get back!” the leader bellowed, his mandibles clacking. “All of you, get back!”

  No one was trying to argue with an angry zheen carrying a heavy blaster rifle. The freighter crew had no weapons and they were all still restrained. It took a moment, but the Captain elbowed his way to the front. “What do you want?” he yelled back at the soldiers.

  “Where is the Captain of this ship?” the zheen replied.

  “I’m the Captain,” Eamonn told him flatly. Several of his crew stood at his back and shoulders, trying to present a unified front. More than a few, however, sidled away, afraid to draw too much attention to themselves. Tamara stepped up right beside him, he glanced over at her, but quickly back to the soldiers in the entryway. She was looking at them, not him, determination on her face. “I’ve got wounded here that need immediate medical attention.”

  The zheen emitted a high pitched, trilling hiss. “I could end their suffering right now, if that would make you feel better, Captain.” He hefted his weapon suggestively.

  “I’m serious,” Eamonn demanded. “My crewmembers will die if they and my doctor cannot access the equipment in sickbay.”

  “I am serious as well, Captain,” the zheen replied, mockingly. The laughter stopped. “If your crewmen will not survive, then so be it. I have no orders to save anyone. In fact, I do have orders to put down any further resistance. So if these dying crewmen are going to be a problem for you and you make it a problem for me…” He trailed off. “Then I w
ill make it so there is no problem. Do I need to demonstrate my seriousness?”

  “No you do not,” Eamonn ground out, the muscles in his jaw clenching.

  “Now, you are coming with me.”

  Eamonn started. “No I’m not. I’m staying right here.”

  The zheen buzzed again, his antennae straightening slowly. “Yes, Captain, you are. Or I start shooting.” He aimed his blaster rifle straight at Eamonn’s chest. “Now.”

  The captain nodded. “Moxie, take charge. Corajen’s out, Quesh is out, and George is out. That leaves you.” He started walking forward, not waiting for an answer.

  “Aye, aye, Captain,” Tamara replied. “Good luck.”

  “Moxie is in charge,” the captain yelled as he walked forward to the doors, where the soldiers closed in around him, keeping a respectful distance. “Be back soon!”

  The murmurs among the crew rose to a crescendo as the Captain was lead out of the cargo bay, the doors closing behind him and his “protectors.” Several of the nearby crewmen turned to Tamara, concern and worry all over their faces.

  “What do we do, Tamara?” Mairi asked. She was the closest, having followed right behind when Tamara had fought her way through the crowd to stand by the Captain.

  Tamara chuckled. “The very first thing we do,” she said, pausing for effect, looking out at everyone staring back at her, “Is get these damned restraints off.” The others laughed nervously, grateful to at least have some small amount of direction. The plastic zip ties were tough, designed to resist breaking, normally would require snips or some sort of blade to remove them. “See if there’s any exposed or rough surfaces,” she ordered. “Everyone not working with the Doctor, please look around and find something to cut off these bindings.” They all started moving, which was good, it would keep their minds off their situation, the condition of the ship and the thousand other things that might paralyze them.