A Greater Interest: Samair in Argos: Book 4

by Michael Kotcher

  Tamara climbed aboard Moxie-2 and slapped the control to get the hatch closed. She signaled the pilot and the ship roared out of the gas giant’s atmosphere. She’d sent the recall order for the rest of the shuttles and tugs that were operating in this area to come in and help, adding her authority to Captain Raydor’s, though it didn’t appear that it was needed. Everyone in the area was moving in to assist with the diverting of the rocks. It would be tight, but she was fairly certain that they could do it. With everyone going after the rocks, dragging them out of the way, and then rounding it out with a few missile and heavy laser salvos, they could do this. And, she would get a chance to actively help protecting the system and company assets from the pirates. Oh, the battle was effectively over, and she had organized the workers on building more of the missiles as well as launching those salvos up from the hangar bay, but now she actually felt as though she was making a serious contribution.

  Hustling up into the cockpit, she brushed past Viktoriya, who sat down on one of the long couches. “What’ve we got, Mike?”

  “We’ll be out of the atmosphere in another minute, Ma’am,” the man replied. “Then it’s a good hour and forty minutes to rendezvous with Persistence of Vision.”

  She sighed. “We’re going to be the last one there.”

  He chuckled slightly, then coughed, trying to cover it. “We’ll still get there in time to help out, Ma’am.”

  “I know, that’s the important part. I was just hoping to get there a little sooner than dead last so it doesn’t look like the COO is showing up to make a political and moral gesture.”

  “This girl here doesn’t exactly accelerate like one of your starfighters, Ma’am. But she’s pretty quick, even for her size. I can shave maybe fifteen minutes off the trip if fuel isn’t an issue.” He glanced over at Tamara and raised an eyebrow questioningly.

  “I knew there was a reason I kept you around, Mike,” Tamara said, clapping him on the shoulder. “But once we clear the atmosphere, I’ll take over,” she said, slipping into the copilot seat.

  “If you’re sure, Ma’am,” the pilot asked, his voice flat.

  “Oh don’t be that way, Mike,” Tamara said with a smile, bringing the controls online. “I so very rarely get a chance to fly this ship. And doing precision maneuvers like the ones we’re going to be doing?”

  “Ready for handoff, Ma’am,” he said, hand on the switch.

  “And I’ve got it,” she replied after he gave her control of the ship. “Can you handle engineering duties for a while?”

  “The ones from the cockpit, Ma’am,” he said. “I’m not rated on actually doing engine repairs and maintenance.”

  “Well, I want you manning the grapplers. I’ll get the ship into position.”

  “I’m on it, Ma’am,” he said, bringing up the grappler systems. “Running a quick diagnostic now. Last thing we need is for you to get us there and then we get to just float around and watch. That really would be perpetuating the stereotype of the fat cat executive standing over her workers making sure they get the job done.

  She laughed out loud. “All right, I think that’s quite enough out of you. Get on that diagnostic.”

  “We’re making good progress, Captain,” Wotan reported, almost two hours later. “Sixteen of the largest shards have been moved out of the strike vector, and the shuttles have started on some of the next size pieces. The tugs are maneuvering to get the last two big ones and then we’ll be clear to fire.”

  “Where are the fighters?” Kol Raydor asked.

  “Approaching now on a vector directly up from the gas giant, sir.”

  “Captain, I’ve got Chief Samair on the line for you, sir,” the comms watch called out.

  He sighed. I do not need a micromanaging Chief of Operations breathing down my neck right now. “Put her through to my chair,” he ordered instead. Tamara’s visage appeared a moment later. “Ma’am.”

  “Captain. You’re doing good work so far. Only two more of the big bastards left then we can see about pulverizing what’s left before it hits atmo.”

  Tell me something I don’t already know. “Yes, Ma’am.”

  She smiled broadly. “But you knew that already. One of the perks of being the boss. I get to say obvious things and you get to nod and agree with me. I apologize for jogging your elbow. I’m locking on to one of the rocks, and I’ll get out of your way. Carry on, Captain. It’s still your show.” And she closed the channel.

  Kol blinked. I didn’t expect that, that she would allow me to retain command of the situation. I figured she’d have to take over, show everyone that she was in control of the situation. Perhaps he’d misjudged her. This would take some thought, trying to figure that woman out. Assuming he could.

  “She’s not setting you up to fail, you know,” Wotan said quietly, for his ears alone.

  He started. “What?”

  “Tamara Samair. She is good at finding people that can do the jobs she needs them for and then stepping back and letting them do them. First Principles, Incorporated would be a tiny fraction of its size and wealth if she couldn’t properly delegate.”

  “I realize that,” Kol said irritably, nodding slightly. He watched the display as the icon for Moxie-2 moved in and latched onto one of the middle-tier shards of fast-moving rock with its grapplers and began slowly pulling it out of the mass of the shattered asteroid. Surprised she built herself a glorified cargo shuttle as a personal yacht. Figured she’d have made something more grand, a flying hotel or something. Though she does have her own starfighter. “I’m just used to people in authority, most notably the governing council, moving in to sweep up credit and assign blame whenever they can.”

  The AI considered this. “I’ve spoken a great deal with Stella and Magnus,” he said, referring to two of FP’s other AIs.

  “In your copious free time?” Kol asked with a snicker.

  “How droll, Captain. Anyway, I wanted to get an understanding of the woman through their eyes. I don’t think she’s like that. Oh, I’m not saying that she wouldn’t be eager to snap up some credit for the company, but I find it unlikely that she would do so for herself. And assigning blame seems to be something that she would do in private, and only if it’s actually deserved. She’s big on safety.”

  “And yet she’s diving right into a shattered asteroid in nothing but a cargo ship to start hauling out flying daggers? Tell me another one,” Kol scoffed.

  “I think it’s kind of heroic, sir,” the comms officer said, and his voice trailed off as Kol speared him with his gaze. “Sorry, Captain,” he said meekly and turned away from his commander and back to his console.

  “Bring us back around,” the captain ordered, annoyed that he’d allowed Wotan to drag him into this conversation out in the open on the bridge. He didn’t want rumors starting that he didn’t trust Samair. He didn’t know her very well yet, and it seemed as though she was doing a fair job running things. She was taking a fair amount of reckless chances, especially coming out here and diving into danger. What is she trying to prove? That she’s just as much a thrill-seeker as the rest of us? That she missed her calling as a tug pilot doing salvage work and other dangerous duties? That hardly seems like the best use of her skills. Is this some game to her?

  He shook his head angrily. He was doing it again. “Helm, bring us in to grab that last big rock.” He forced himself to feel nothing, to concentrate on his duty.

  “And… we’re clear of the danger area,” Tamara’s copilot reported, nodding. “Ready to release grappler.”

  Tamara sighed in relief and nodded. “Go ahead.” He pressed a control and suddenly Moxie-2 was flying free. “Well, we managed two of those sharp pieces,” she said. “We won’t get any more. Not now that the big ones are out of the way.”

  “How are you not exhausted with all that concentration, ma’am?” Mike asked, wiping a hand across his brow.

  “Practice,” she replied. She grinned, ruefully. “Though I have been flying a desk more
than a ship lately.”

  “I’m the one who’s been flying, Ma’am, but never anything like this.”

  She looked over at him. “You interested in moving up, Mike? Get out of this cushy job flying me around and get to doing some real work?”

  He frowned, as he powered down the grappler. “What are you talking about, Ma’am? You need someone to fly this ship so you can work.”

  “True. But that doesn’t mean you have to be stuck here.”

  “I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about, Ma’am. This is a good job. You’re usually not too demanding and crazy.”

  She chuckled. “Thanks. But if you’re working out there, in one of the shuttles or tugs you can work salvage, which can net you a share of the profit.”

  “What profit?” Now the pilot looked confused.

  “I’m putting in a salvage claim on all of the pirate wrecks out here,” Tamara replied. “Well, not me personally, but the company. And then, I’m going to sell back anything worthwhile to the government at cost. I’d been speaking with Councilor Chakrabarti about it before the delegation left for Ulla-tran. Anyone of my employees who works salvage gets a share.”

  He blinked in surprise. “Any of them?”

  “Well, actually doing the job. There’s a bump for hazard pay, and I pay over and double time depending on how much time you actually work.”

  “That sounds too good to be true,” he said.

  “Well, there are degrees,” she admitted. “The people in EVA actually doing the salvage, the cutting and extraction on the hulls themselves, are going to get the most. But shuttle and tug pilots are going to get a share too. There’s a lot of debris and derelicts and just crap flying around here. It’s got to be swept up and a lot of it we can just throw into the industrial furnaces and melt it down for use later.” Tamara sighed. “Do I want to lose you as my pilot? No, of course not. But I think you’re meant for something better than shuttling the Old Lady around.” She shrugged. “Something to think about. Look it up on the company site.”

  The man looked thoughtful, but it was clear he was concentrating on his controls, not looking up information on the company site. Tamara approved, they still had some work to do.

  “Order all the ships clear of the targeting area,” Kol ordered. Wotan nodded, his holographic image flickered.

  “Your order has been sent to the rest of the ships in the area,” the AI replied. “Two minutes for the slowest of them to get clear.”

  “Thank you, Wotan,” the captain said, sitting up straighter in his chair. He avoided looking at the display showing the gas giant getting larger as Persistence of Vision and the host of asteroids drew ever closer.

  A comm window opened up, showing a feed from the Aplora leader. There was no vid pickup; the pilots didn’t want or need the distraction of having a camera in their faces while they were trying to fight their ships.

  “Captain Raydor,” the zheen’s voice came through the speakers at Kol’s chair. “My ships are in position, ready to fire.”

  “Very well, Leader,” Kol said. “I want this all timed down to the second. Coordinate your missile salvos with our weapons’ fire. Wotan,” he nodded to the AI, “will send you the targeting coordinates and the timing.”

  “Understood. We’re awaiting transmission.” There was a pause. “Thank you, Wotan. Data packet received.”

  “The shuttles and tugs have cleared the area, Captain,” Wotan said, crossing his arms over his holographic chest. “Twenty seconds to fire.”

  “Make sure your people are ready, Leader Korqath.”

  “You just worry about your end, Captain Raydor,” the zheen said, sounding slightly snippy. “I’ve been a combat veteran a lot longer than you. And just in case you didn’t remember, Captain, my squadron was right in the thick of things throughout the whole battle. We can’t all be… lucky enough to show up right at the end.”

  Kol gritted his teeth, but didn’t rise to the bait. Before he could make any kind of reply, Wotan spoke up, a slight frown on his face and he caught the captain’s eye. Kol grimaced and fell silent. “Five seconds. Four. Three. Two. One. Now!”

  Missiles streaked out from the destroyer’s broadside tubes, and from the launchers of all the assembled fifteen Aplora Vision fighters. Five seconds later, nuclear fireballs bloomed in and in front of the hurtling cluster of projectiles. Once the sensors cleared from the radiation a few moments later, Wotan nodded in satisfaction. “Perfect execution, Captain, Leader.”

  “Report,” Kol answered, standing up from his chair and going over to the tactical station.

  “We’ve accomplished our goal, Captain,” the AI replied. “Most of that asteroid has been blasted down into sand, a good portion of the more dangerous bits were thrown off course by the explosions, and the rest will burn up in the gas giant’s atmosphere.”

  Kol considered it for a long moment. Before he could speak, Korqath’s voice came over the speakers. “One more volley to be sure? I don’t really fancy having to float around waiting to run out of air because the gas mine’s been wrecked and we’re all out of fuel.”

  The captain nodded. “I was thinking the same thing. I trust your calculations, Wotan,” he said quickly as he saw the AI about to bristle. “But I don’t want to have chance play too much a part here. Run the numbers, please. Calculate another salvo, Wotan and feed us the data.”

  The AI scowled. “I have the coordinates and timing set up. Feeding the data to you all now.” He looked highly offended at having his work questioned.

  “Thank you, Wotan,” Kol said, inclining his head to the AI. “I… we appreciate all your efforts.”

  The AI harrumphed. “Five seconds.”

  Tamara watched on sensors as more missiles raced out from the gathered military vessels, and smiled as more explosions hit the now expanding cloud of asteroid debris. Checking her own readouts, she nodded in satisfaction. Well done, boys. She breathed a deep sigh of relief. There was nothing more than a cloud of sand and the largest bits her ship’s sensors were picking up were roughly fist-sized. Those would burn up in the atmosphere of the gas giant, leaving the mine unscathed. She sent a message to all the nearby gathered ships, congratulating and praising all of the ships, captains and crews on their job well done.

  Then, a thought hit her and she keyed the comms again. “Shuttles and tugs in the area around the asteroid, move in and see if you can grab those large pieces that you pulled out of position. The pieces marked six, nine, twelve, thirteen and fourteen you can ignore, those are going to plunge into the atmosphere of the gas giant well away from the Kutok mine, but the rest of them should be on vectors where they can be caught and stopped. Acknowledge receipt of signal and your change in orders.”

  “You want to grab them, ma’am?” Mike asked, puzzled.

  She shrugged. “You never know. There might be some precious minerals there that the good pirates just decided to throw away. We found that huge load of gadolinium almost completely by accident. Maybe there’s more in these pieces. Could be some osmium or other metals in the platinum group.”

  “You think so?” Mike asked, his jaw dropping.

  She chuckled. “No. Sensors were reading cooper, zinc, iron, some gold. Might be worth a few credits, but since the rocks are out here anyway and still within range of the tugs and shuttles, seems a shame to waste them. And there might be enough trace amounts of other more valuable minerals that the ship’s sensors didn’t pick up to make the harvesting worthwhile.”

  The pilot looked dubious then nodded. “I guess that makes sense. I mean, they are all out here anyway.”

  “That they are.” She leaned her head back against the headrest. “After they capture the rocks, we’ll do a proper survey, keep the good ones and get rid of the rest. After that, the tugs and shuttles will get back to work in cleaning up the salvage and the scrap and we can get back to work.”

  Her cheerful demeanor suddenly darkened. “And we’ve got a lot of work to do.”


  Verrikoth clacked his mouthparts, hissing in anger. That bastard deliberately disobeyed me! He threw a rock at the gas mine after I told him to leave it alone. Nemesis was far enough away from the gas giant at this point that they couldn’t pick up much in the way of detail of what was happening here, but Verrikoth had enough information. Hopefully the locals would be smart and capable enough to deal with the asteroid before they lost all of the real estate Verrikoth had gone to such lengths to protect.

  But the general… well, it was obvious something was going to have to be done about him. He was a powerful force, to be sure, but that came from his weight of soldiers. His fleet presence was rather light, as was his skill in fleet actions. The pirate lord would have to show the general a thing or two about fleet actions. And he would have to remind him who was in control of this area of space.

  Chapter 7

  “This is Vanessa Marchant with S-Int News. We’ve received unconfirmed reports that an invasion fleet has entered the system and is in the process of attacking several facilities on the far side of the system. No one seems to have a clear picture of what has happened yet, and sources inside the government have been suspiciously quiet. Representatives within First Principles, Incorporated have been scrambling for information about the attack but have been unwilling to comment. Is this all just a ruse to drop stock prices? Or is the system actually under attack? And if the FP facilities near the gas giant and at the asteroid belt are under attack, is it only a matter of time before the invaders hit the inner system? We will bring you more news as the story updates.”

  The news of the pirates’ arrival in the system had hit the civilian sensor nets and communications nets and set them on fire. People were in an absolute panic. Half of the population on the inhabited planet’s surface had gone indoors, locked themselves away and considered whether it was better to just cower in the basements or if they should board up the windows from the inside. The other half of the population grabbed up any sort of weapon, be it a pistol, rifle, pitchfork or pickaxe and marched on government buildings. Unfortunately for the torch-bearing mobs, the members of the administratory council were not on the planet’s surface, and were content to let their underlings take the pointy end of the stick for them while they remained in their armored offices up on the orbital station.