“Yes, I just bet you are,” Tamara said with a chuckle. Perhaps that was a bit unfair. While she had proven to be a pain over the last two years, and a source of embarrassment (when she’d called him out publicly on some rather unflattering comments), the zheen didn’t actively hate her like some of the other councilors did. In fact, they’d worked well together for most of her tenure here in this system. In any case, First Principles had proven to be a serious money maker and it had helped to drag Seylonique out of the doldrums it had found itself in after years of isolation.
“I would like to discuss with you the terms for building another of the Republic-class destroyers for the Navy, as I’m sure you’ve already guessed; there’s a need for them now. Our citizens and our infrastructure have been attacked, our sovereign star system has been attacked and we must not let that happen again.” He calmed a bit. “So there will be a separate message concerning the construction contract.” She brightened a bit at hearing that.
“In regards to your request…” He trailed off. This was the part where his friendship would fade. He had to save face with the council, she thought bitterly. Can’t be showing favoritism to a local businesswoman, especially not to me, even after all I’ve done for this system. “The orders to Captain Greer got a bit jumbled from when I originally issued them. I deployed Curroth and her two escorts to the gas mine environs to ensure and beef up the local security. I didn’t intend for him to step in and take command of forces there, but it seems that the orders were… modified… slightly from my original intent. But you know how this goes, Tamara,” the Triarch went on. “You get mad and publicly face down a Navy Captain and then come crying to me and suddenly the orders get rescinded? You know it isn’t that simple and I can’t show that kind of favoritism.”
And there it was. Even if she believed his story, which she wasn’t entirely convinced by, it didn’t change the fact that Kozen’ck was going to leave her holding the bag with this. She and Greer would continue to butt heads until either enough pressure caused her to break, or shots were fired. Either way, Tamara Samair would lose. She sighed and continued with the message.
“That being said, I can’t recall Curroth. I won’t; you need the ships there to assist with security for the area. I won’t recall him, but I will see what can be done to keep the peace between you two. Just do what you can.” There was a pause while Tamara seethed. “I know this really isn’t what you wanted to hear, but that is what I have to tell you at this time. If the situation changes, I will let you know.” He nodded and the transmission ended.
She sighed. This was going to be an interesting time. Hopefully, Greer would agree to just run his own affairs and let her run hers. She was going to need Maitland and Persistence of Vision’s energy weapons for the shield project and she didn’t need him handing over her shoulder, demanding updates, questioning her orders and generally getting in the way.
“Miss Samair,” Aloicius Greer asked, some time later. “I take it your questions with the council have all been cleared up?”
“Yes, Captain Greer, they have,” she replied, maintaining a professional smile. “I understand that you will be in command of the Seylonique Navy ships and my forces will continue to act independently.” She nodded at his surprised look. “If we find ourselves in another combat situation, I will, of course, be happy to have your command presence with our forces.” It was a lie, she didn’t need him getting underfoot then either, especially then, but Tamara figured it might be the best way to keep him in check now, when things weren’t so dire. And having his “command presence” with the forces didn’t mean that he would actually be in command. She wondered if he would catch that little mental slight of hand.
The captain looked as though he was about to argue with her, as his orders did not specify a combat situation, but the way this woman was willing to go to the mat over this, he suspected this might be the best outcome. It didn’t mean that he was going to just meekly accept her assurances.
“Thank you, Miss Samair,” he said, trying for his most accommodating smile. “I know that this whole situation has been trying, but as you know, orders are orders. But the instant any problem occurs your ships are subordinate to my orders. We are not going to play games about this.”
“Indeed. Now, my defense ships will continue on their assigned patrols to the gas giant, but in a few weeks they will be engaging in some construction activity with the help of some tugs.”
He shrugged. “By then perhaps the Leytonstone and the rest of the trade delegation will have returned.” And I can get some more ships to bolster my authority out here. For now, I will play that woman’s game, since there might be some dispute over force levels. I don’t like that she can apparently just call up the Triarch of the council. That’s a lot of power for a businesswoman. The XO is right, I can’t take them in a stand up fight, but once Colonel Gants has returned, that will change.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“So I have a question for you, Tamara,” Nakil Radha asked a few days later. She was out of the infirmary, looking much better for all her ordeals. She was back in a clean shipsuit and back in the ship’s office.
“Before we get to that, Nakil,” Tamara said, sitting down in the chair in front of the desk, letting her take her customary seat behind it. “I am formally transferring command back to you. I’m glad the docs let you back out, though I understand that you’re on light duty.”
She nodded. “Yes. Your wolf there is very insistent about that. I have to say I’m a little unnerved by a lupusan medic.”
Tamara smiled. “Tyannikov? He certainly looks scary, but don’t worry, he and Doctor Kassix are the best at what they do out here. In fact, with the modern sickbay on the ship and the infirmary down on the Kutok mine as well as the one out in the shipyard complex, I’d say we have the best medical facilities anywhere in the system.”
Nakil Radha smirked. “So the best medicine and the best manufacturing, I’d say I hitched my wagon to the proper star.”
“Just you watch; we’re only just getting started. Now, you said you had a question?” Tamara leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, waiting for the inevitable exclamation.
“I’ve looked over the rough plans for what you want to build above the Kutok mine. A really big plate?”
“Not a plate,” Tamara corrected. “A shield. And what will eventually become a civilian station.”
“Not so civilian if what I hear about the amount of weapons and other defenses you want to stack on top of it is true,” the other woman retorted.
Tamara shrugged. “Well, there is that. As I said, it’s a shield. There’s going to be enough armor to protect both the civilian population in the living quarters as well as for the Kutok mine. It won’t be perfect; the armor will only actually cover the topside, but I want it there to protect the mine from kinetic strikes.”
“What if the pirates lob the rocks at the mine from an oblique angle?”
“It would have to be at a very sharp angle, and since they’d have to throw it at the gas mine from nearly a ninety degree angle there’s a very real possibility it would skip off the atmosphere and miss the station entirely or burn up in the atmosphere. It won’t protect against conventional weapons as much, especially against fighters or small vessels: corvettes and frigates, mostly. But once we get it all up and running, I think it would give all of us a good feeling.”
Another smirk. “A good feeling, Ma’am?”
Tamara grimaced. “Fine, it would take a load off all of our minds, if we don’t have to worry so much about keeping the fuel supply safe.”
Radha’s smirk grew larger. “I’d say that would make me feel better. Though what about the tank farm?”
“Farms,” Tamara replied. “There’s going to be two here, because of all the ships that are going to be built, both by FP and the various construction concerns back at the planet. And I’m also hoping that the trade delegation will really open up a dialogue and a friendship be
tween Seylonique and Ulla-tran. If we can get ships moving between the systems…”
“Something to think about,” the ship’s captain said. “How long will the shield… station… construct, what ever you want to call it take?”
“Well, it’ll take about a week or so for the tugs to drag the appropriate rock out of the belt and bring it all the way here,” Tamara said, staring at the tabletop as she thought. “Then it’ll be about two to three months to heat it up and separate out the undesirables and then another week or so to add the other materials to make it into steel. Figure another week to spin it out into the disc we want. Then possibly two months or so to solidify and cool. Then,” she said with a maniacal gleam in her eyes, “Then good Nakil, the real work can begin.”
Nakil chuckled. “The real work, Ma’am?”
“Oh yeah. Putting what you called a ‘giant plate’ in geosync orbit over the mine isn’t just stupid, it’s dangerous. A hit in the wrong place would make it drop out of the sky and if it didn’t crush the Kutok mine, it would just plunge into the atmosphere to be crushed under the pressure and lost, all that time and effort and money lost. No. The first things we’re going to install are stabilizing thrusters and reactors to power them. After that, it’ll be the control areas and more thrusters, then we’ll start on the initial weapons. Then minimal shields and more reactors. After that we’ll start in on the living and commercial spaces and we continue with expansion.”
The Samarkand’s captain blinked in surprise. “I don’t know what I was expecting, really, but how long do you think it will take?”
“All told?” Tamara said, considering. “I’m not really sure. At least two years to get the preliminaries done and the first of the station’s workforce to be situated there. After that it’s just upgrades and expansions. That also depends on priorities of labor and materials, if we get another attack in the system again, etc. But I’d say in two years time, the shield will be online and at least passively ready to defend the mine.”
“Passively?”
“By that I mean have partial shields over critical areas: reactors, thrusters and control sections, and at least ten to fifteen percent of the weapons.”
“Only ten to fifteen percent?” Radha asked.
“Well of course I’d like to have more, but we do have a number of other commitments for our labor and fabrication to be working on,” Tamara pointed out. “Cargo and warships, as well as an expansion to the mining station, and a new industrial furnace.”
The woman blinked again. “What’s wrong with the one we’ve got?”
Tamara shrugged. “Nothing. But if we’re going to be pumping out all sorts of ships and infrastructure, we’re going to need a lot of refined metal and other strategic minerals. Which means we need a bigger, meaner one.” Then she sighed. “Once this ship is back up and running, first item of business is to make for the mining station at the edge of the belt and get that up and running. I’m going to be leaving here…” she checked her watch, “in forty-five minutes to head over to the mining station and work with the crews there.” Another sigh. “What a mess there. They’re all scared to death. I might have to bring Maitland and a flight of Kozen’ck’s fighters with me.” She leaned her elbows on her knees and put her face in her hands. “What those… pirates… did to the security force on the station and then to some of the workers just trying to escape in the lifeboats… I can’t blame the rest of them. I’m surprised we have anyone who actually wants to come back and work.”
“Well, ma’am, I appreciate your situation, but honestly, we really don’t need you to stay here,” Nakil said. “But you’ve already queued up the replicators with the replacement parts that we need to get the ship rebuilt, and the crews are plugging away at getting it done. If you need to get out to the mining station, there’s no point in hanging around for another forty-five minutes. I mean, I’m sure that you can do whatever you were going to be doing here on your own ship while you’re in transit. Besides, having the boss show up with those defensive ships a little bit early might do wonders for morale.”
Tamara smiled slightly. “It might just at that. Thank you, Captain. I will get out from underfoot and let you get back to it. I have some calls to make.”
~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~
One hour later, a small convoy left from the Kutok mine, with the stout vessel Moxie-2 leading the way, the cant-winged corvette Maitland following along behind, flanked by four manta-ray shaped Vision starfighters. The ships accelerated, heading out on a vector for the asteroid belt.
Book 2 – Aftermath, A Degree of Normal and a New Arrival
Chapter 9
He did it. He actually went and did it. Leicasitaj, captain of the First Principles escort-frigate Mondragon sat on the bridge of his ship, watching as it all went down. He was part (the most minor part, if the Councilors and Colonel Gants had anything to say about it, and they certainly did) of a trade delegation from Seylonique to the sovereign star nation of Ulla-tran. The trade talks had been going forward with about as much smoothness as could be expected, with both sides doing their best to feel each other out without bringing the whole thing down around their ears. Thankfully both sides were actually interested in what these talks would bring for their home systems and neither side wanted to sabotage the deal. Just as important, there wasn’t some third-string hack on his first assignment working these negotiations who would do or say something stupid to inadvertently bring down the whole thing.
But then of course, there was Goris Hana.
Goris Hana was a fat toad of a human who was in charge of the fueling station in orbit of Ulla-tran’s largest gas giant. He controlled the helium 3 fuel, which meant that he’d managed to carve out a little empire for himself, finding cracks in the legal system (or forcing a crack) and throwing his weight around. He had no compunction upon doing whatever he felt needed to be done to create his desired results. Hana had collected up a nice little fleet of cargo ships by waylaying them, kidnapping crews and impressing them into his own work force. The local government members were afraid of what he might do, what blackmail he might hold and up until these talks they hadn’t had the spines to try and face him down.
So they had faced him down, metaphorically; President Montenegro sent a message to the fueling station, refusing to bow to pressure from the man. Leicasitaj was actually quite impressed with the president’s message; he’d broadcasted it in the clear for everyone to see. Apparently, President Montenegro was going for as much transparency as possible with these talks. There was very little as far as information was concerned that wasn’t available to the public, a tactic that surprised the captain of the Mondragon. It was a bold move, one that he wasn’t used to seeing from the politicos back home and it was clear that they were confused and nervous about it. The crews of the Seylonique warships were privy to all that public information (Colonel Gants refused to hide anything from them that the people of Ulla-tran would have access to) and they would be going back home and spreading this information to the citizens there.
Leicasitaj gave a watery chuckle at the thought and rubbed one tentacle on the arm of his command seat. That would certainly be a problem for the administratory council back home, and it would nice to watch them squirm as the citizens started to demand a more open approach to politics.
But it seemed that the toad was unwilling to let them simply stand by and tell him to go away. Goris Hana unleashed his threat. Streaming video, text files, video files, all manner of blackmail was unleashed throughout the digital air and spaceways. Every dirty secret, every piece of filthy laundry, every argument, every single bit of wrongdoing by every member of the government was now released from their digital containment and decrypted for everyone to see.
But he blundered. In blanketing the comm waves with this, his revenge, it was simply too much. If he had spaced it out, done it as an organized campaign of destruction, it would have been effective. He could have feasibly brought down the government with the information he had on t
he President, the cabinet members, and the various members of the legislature. But in releasing it all in one burst, it was just noise. Irritating noise that did nothing except jam up the airwaves. So now that he’d deployed his weapon, the Seylonique task force (as well as the civilians of Ulla-tran) were sitting and waiting with baited breath to see what President Nikolas Montenegro would do in response to this.
~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~
Nikolas Montenegro sat at in one of the comfortable chairs at the end of the conference table in the main room. He was nursing a glass of whiskey but hadn’t taken more than a single sip since the media bomb had hit. He was a politician and on the road to the presidency there had been things he’d done, things he’d participated in that he wasn’t proud of, things he was downright ashamed of. And now it was all here, for everyone to see.
The video displays were blaring away, images flashing past, sound files playing along with the images. It was just a cacophony of noise and light, really. There were images and snatches of sentences, phrases that would stand out. There were images of various consuls and prelates in compromising positions, engaged in scandalous sexual liaisons, taking payoffs, and other such indiscretions. There was even text documents with his signature on them, showing how he’d ordered the army in to deal with the rioters on that one terrible day. He’d managed to run a clean campaign for his election, and through his consul and proconsul days, he’d managed to be honest and virtuous and even someone that the people liked and respected. Until that one fucking day.
It was a necessary day; a day that only the people in the inner circle understood, a day that Nikolas had hoped and prayed he could forget. But unfortunately, ordering the army to shoot at rioting citizens never played well on the even news vids, even if by shooting and killing them two hundred thousand others were saved on that moon colony. The rioters were brandishing and firing weapons, they’d been throwing flaming projectiles at the life support recyclers and were in a position to (and were threatening to) breach the dome. But no one cared about the lives saved. It was only about the nine hundred fifty-six dead that day, those were the only numbers that the glory-hounds and media whores cared about.
A Greater Interest: Samair in Argos: Book 4 Page 21
