“Ha!” she barked humorlessly. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? So I suppose the Council members just appropriated my gadolinium, they’re lauded as heroes and I’m out a ton of credits.” She took a moment to get herself under control. Then she looked off to the side, out of pickup range. “All right, this contract looks okay, price is a little lower than I would have liked, but it’s still good. Vincent doesn’t know about it, of course, since he’s already jumped for Ulla-tran, but he’s a big boy and he’s got Stella and Ardeth to back him up. Should make a decent profit on this run. Hopefully he’ll be able to bring back things of equal value or at least some goods so the holds won’t be totally empty on the way back.” Tamara paused. “And why do they want our fuel again? Not that I’m complaining.”
“There was some civil unrest,” the captain of the warship explained. “Apparently the fuel baron decided he didn’t like being excluded from the trade negotiations and released a lot of political blackmail onto the communications net. The politicians wouldn’t stand for this, so he cut off their fuel. So they sent in ships to deal with it, but when Mondragon left the system, they’d lost a good number of their fuel collectors, so they need the He3 we’ve got.”
Tamara nodded. “That’s only good for us. Hopefully we’ll be able to maintain this gig for a while. A nice regular trade in He3 fuel would do wonders for our accounts.” She looked away, thoughtfully. “What does Ulla-tran have that we want that might fill up the Grania Estelle for return trips?”
He gave a gurgle, his race’s equivalent of clearing his throat. “Ma’am, perhaps that is something for a later meeting?”
Tamara chuckled. “Yes, of course, Captain. Bring your ship in, we’ll have a full debrief. I’m sure your crew could use some time off the ship.”
“Yes, ma’am, they certainly could,” he agreed. “We weren’t allowed off the ship. We were stuck on board the ship performing patrol duties. Useless ones, as my tactical officer pointed out.”
“I can’t imagine Colonel Gants was thrilled having you with his task force, despite your orders to follow him,” Tamara pointed out.
“No, ma’am, neither he nor any of the councilors were truly happy to see Mondragon, despite the slight increase in firepower we brought.” He grunted. “Though truth be told, the Colonel seemed to resent our presence altoghether. He deliberately kept us away from the planet, other ships, basically anything that might have caused… what’s that human word? A ruckus. Yes, anything that might have caused the slightest disruption to the mission, we were kept away from it.” His voice held more than a touch of bitterness. “Oh, but our… orders specified that we also stay close enough that we maintained easy communications contact.”
“I can’t say that’s really a surprise, Captain,” she said with a sigh. She waved a hand. “It was probably a mistake sending your ship along with the trade delegation. Obviously my thoughts of showing the leaders of Ulla-tran that there was more than one significant player in this system backfired, really only succeeded in pissing off our own illustrious leaders.” Tamara shook her head. “Right, like I said before, you can give me a full brief. Bring your ship in to the new tank farm, Captain. I’ll get shuttles sent up for resupply and if you like, to have some of your crew come to the mine for leave.”
“Thank you very much, ma’am,” Leicasitaj replied, seeing looks of relief and pleasure on the faces of the bridge crew. He thought about chastising them for a lack of discipline, but it had been a long mission and they deserved the moment of levity. “And you, ma’am, have a lot of things to talk about here as well. Such as what the hell happened and why are my sensors detecting pieces of some of the defense ships?”
“It’s a long and unhappy story, Captain. Take a shuttle to the mine, when you get here, I’ll tell you the whole thing.”
“Hyperdrive is secured, Captain,” Oberst reported, pressing a few controls on the helm console.
“Thank you, Mister Rann,” Frederick Vosteros said, heaving a sigh of relief. He pressed a control on his command seat and a second later, the voice of the lupusan engineer Zhahal sounded.
“Engine room.”
“Rig for sublight, please,” Frederick ordered. “We’re heading in system now.”
“Way ahead of you, Captain,” she replied, a trace of smugness in her canine voice. “Hyper generators are all secured, sublights are powering up and ready. But please go easy. I don’t need to be doing a thousand hours of maintenance because you decided to hot feline it across the system.”
Frederick chuckled. “Hot dog, Zhahal. The expression is ‘hot dog’.”
There was a brief pause. “Well now you’re just making fun of me,” she said in a sour tone and cut the connection.
He just shook his head. “All right, Oberst, take us in system, nice and easy for my engineer’s piece of mind please.”
“You got it, Captain,” the man replied, applying the new course he’d set and activating the ship’s sublight engines. There was the barest shiver through the deckplates as the drives engaged and the ship started moving in system.
“Good.” He turned to his hak’ruk comms specialist. “Kotor. I know we’ve been talking about it off and on during the trip back from Bimawae, but we need to hammer out what we’re going to do here.”
The comms specialist nodded her long, shiny black head. “Yes, Captain, we do,” she replied, her voice that same melodious timbre it always was. Oberst had commented once (well away from Kotor) that she certainly “gave good comms” which earned him a stern look from the captain and a cuff on the head from Zhahal, who happened to be passing by as he’d made his off-color comment. “I was thinking that we bypass the government representatives, as well as the ones from First Principles and go straight to the press.”
It had been a long-standing discussion between the two of them. Frederick had wanted to loop someone in some kind of authority in on the discovery of the alien ship that was hanging out in the gas giant in Bimawae, whereas Kotor wanted to cut through the middleman and get the story out there. It wasn’t as though there was any kind of payout that could be expected from this, after all. It wasn’t a derelict ship filled with all sorts of technological goodies to salvage. It was an alien ship; rather enigmatic and completely uninterested in what was going on in the system around it. The ship and its crew seemed (as of when Redcap Madness left sensor range) to be engaging in refueling operations, nothing more.
“They’re the ones who are going to get the story out anyway, Captain,” Kotor pointed out. “This way we can avoid any bias or political spin.”
Frederick considered that and then nodded, conceding her point. “The powers that be will scream to high heaven that an independent is the one who found that ship.”
She gave another nod. “I suppose they will captain, but that’s hardly our concern. And what they do afterward is their problem, as is the backlash on the Navy.”
“The Navy?”
“For not having sent a ship to Bimawae sooner and found the ship themselves.”
He snorted. “Now that’s just ridiculous. The Navy not finding the ship can hardly be their own fault. The government hasn’t allowed any long-range patrols.”
“Which I will bet you will somehow manage to be the Navy’s fault when the dust settles,” Kotor predicted.
Another snort. “No bet. You’ve been right on too many of those for me to wager against you again.”
“I’m glad you’ve finally decided to see the light, Captain,” she said haughtily. He started to frown but she twitted her taloned fingers at him and he smiled.
“S-Int News desk,” a harried sounding receptionist stated. The communications link was audio only; it was cheaper to make a call to the orbital that way. Plying the spacelanes as an independent trader was paying well, seeing as there were so few cargo ships in the local area, but he wasn’t made of money.
“This is Captain Vosteros, of the Redcap Madness,” Frederick replied, starting to warm up to give his pitch.
<
br /> “This is a news desk, Captain,” the woman snapped, “not the cargo docks. If you need to register freight you need to call down there. Don’t waste our time please, thank you.” The woman dragged out the last word and it was clear she was reaching for the control to break the connection.
“Very well,” Vosteros said, shrugging, then he realized she couldn’t see him. “Before I go, please just let someone in authority know that I’ll be going over to Lonso-NTW News for the exclusive on the alien ship detected in Bimawae.” Then he reached out and cut the connection. He glanced over to Kotor, who was humming with amusement. “You think that will get their attention?”
“I’m honestly not sure, Captain,” she replied. “Being told that there’s a ship only a few light years away normally wouldn’t elicit any real interest from the news agencies. And even now, it might be hard to get people’s attention.”
“We’ll give it a day or two. But I’m actually going to call Lonso-NTW, see what they say.”
“See if you can get a nibble?” she quipped.
“Don’t make fun,” Frederick said. “This is a hell of a find. I mean, when was the last time there was an actual unidentified ship out here in Argos that wasn’t a Republic ship or some pirate vessel? Honestly, I can’t remember even hearing about anything like that.”
Kotor considered this, then made a dischordant noise, her version of a one-shouldered shrug. “You’ve been out in space far longer than I have, Captain Vosteros. And I have to admit, before the arrival of Grania Estelle I didn’t pay that much attention to the goings on in the spacelanes.” Then she stopped and considered it. “Though now that I think on it, we had no news about the goings on in the spacelanes, other than the very odd arrival of a trade ship.”
“Mine was one of them,” Frederick said. “I came to Seylonique in my old ship a few years ago, but I didn’t make anywhere near the splash that we did when the bulk freighter came in.” But he waved a hand. “All right, first things first. Open a channel to the news desk at Lonso-NTW, please. We have a story to try and peddle.”
“What exactly are you hoping to get from this, Captain?” Kotor asked, amused as she pressed a few controls.
He chuckled. “Well, Kotor, I wouldn’t mind a fat payout from one or more of the news networks, a huge stack of contracts for jobs from various customers and I’d even settle for enviable fame.”
“Oh, so you’re aiming low then?” she asked, humming. “Males. No ambitions at all.”
Ten seconds later, Vosteros was staring at the image of a middle-aged zheen male on his display. “Thank you for calling Lonso-NTW news desk. How may I help you today?”
Vosteros smiled. “Yes, my good zheen, I think that you can. Now, before you start to get all squirrely on me, I want you to understand that I am calling because I have information that I would like to try and sell. Information that I think that your bosses might like to see. I am not trying to find the cargo docks.”
The zheen clacked his mandibles. “Why would I think you’d want to know where the cargo docks are?”
“My name is Frederick Vosteros,” he said. “I’m the captain of the Redcap Madness and I’m actually aboard my ship. I’m still about twenty hours from the orbital and I’m aboard my ship.”
The zheen nodded. “I understand, Captain Vosteros. Let me get you one of our correspondents on the line and they can discuss this with you. One moment please. If I may place you on hold?”
Frederick smiled. “That would be fine, thank you.” The display changed from the zheen’s face to a screen showing the network logo with the words “Please Stand By” in gold across the screen. “That has to be the politest zheen I’ve ever spoken with.”
A louder hum, this one more melodious. “They do tend to be more brash.”
Before he could reply, the screen reactivated. A human man’s face appeared on the screen: swarthy, heavily bearded, his skin had an almost olive-tinge to it. His eyes, however, were filled with curiosity. “This is Nanjek Hardison, senior correspondent with Lonso-NTW. I understand you have some information that you think I would find interesting.”
Vosteros blinked. “Good to meet you, Mister Hardison. I didn’t think I would rate a senior correspondent right out of the gate.”
The man smiled. “You’re in luck. I was just coming out of another one of those damned sensitivity seminars and I heard Kojell trying to get a hold of someone. So, I had a few minutes to burn and I’m not currently on a deadline. Color me curious. What would a freighter captain possibly have that could be of interest to Lonso-NTW?”
“Well, Mister Hardison, I’ve got some digitals here that I think might capture your attention,” Frederick said, nodding to Kotor. “If you’d sent the Alpha package please, Kotor?” The hak’ruk daintily pressed a key with one taloned finger. “There are four images there of an unidentified vessel that my ship detected in the Bimawae star system. Now, I know that I’m starting to sound like a nutty conspiracy theorist, but take a look at those and tell me what you think.”
The man was staring intently at something off screen, his eyes squinting slightly at the images. “It certainly looks impressive. Like a disk.”
“That’s right. A very huge disk.”
Nanjek looked back at Frederick. “What is this?”
“It’s an alien ship,” he said simply. “It came out of nowhere as we were heading from the habitable planet to the gas giant there.” He nodded slightly. “We were heading to dock with a fuel collector to top off our fuel bunkers when the thing damn near ran us over. They didn’t even slow down, hell, I don’t think they even noticed us. We managed to get out of the way in time and they settled themselves into the atmosphere of the planet. And there they sat, for the whole of the time that we were in sensor range. They were just bringing in atmo and particulates.”
“Look at that thing,” the reporter breathed, looking to the side again. “It’s amazing. How big did you say?”
“A score of kilometers in diameter. And the hull of the ship was made of some sort of strange alloy that we’d never seen before and our sensors couldn’t penetrate. In fact, our sensors tended to kind of… slide right off of it. The only ones that could even get any kind of clear readings were the visual sensors.” He pointed. “Which is where those came from.”
“You need to come in,” Nanjek replied suddenly, turning to the captain again. “We need a full interview. You and your crew. And bring any and all of those digitals and sensor readings that you’ve got. I think we may have something here.”
“You’re sure?” Frederick asked, trying not to get his hopes up.
“Are you kidding me?” the reporter demanded. “When was the last time that there was a real unidentified ship out here in the Cluster that wasn’t a pirate ship, a freighter or a Republic warship? And I mean, a real alien vessel? This is huge! I’m so glad I took this call. How long until you can get in to our offices?” The man’s level of excitement was clearly rising the longer he looked at the digital images.
Frederick exchanged looks with Kotor. “Let me recheck with my pilot and I’ll let you know. Probably by tomorrow.”
“That’d be great,” Nanjek said, clapping his hands together. “I will get some things together and be ready for this interview when you get in. Oh, ho!” he cried happily. “This is going to be amazing! See you soon, Captain!” and he cut the connection.
The two of them sat in the small bridge of the Redcap Madness for a long moment after the call ended. “Well, I think he was excited. This might be easier than I thought.”
“And that’s only the Alpha Package,” the hak’ruk noted. “Just to catch the eye. We’ve got a lot more detailed digitals and all our sensor data. I don’t think he’s even begun to be excited.”
“I hope you’re right,” Frederick replied. He sighed. “I do hope you’re right.”
“Oh, these are absolutely wonderful!” the reporter crowed, looking through the mass of digitals. “The resolution on all of these is incre
dible. How long were you positioned in range of the planet?”
“Long enough to refuel,” Frederick replied. “A number of hours. And I had the ship’s sensor array scanning that ship the entire time.”
“And this!” Nanjek said, switching over to the vid of the flyby. “We’ve got drama, we’ve got mystery. You’re an explorer, a merchant… hell, I’d go so far as to say a hero, Captain Vosteros.”
“Well let’s not get out of hand here, Mister Hardison. But I’d like to get my story out there and I’d like to get paid for it as well.” Frederick crossed his arms over his chest. “That datapad is the only copy of the sensor data and digitals that I have with me and you can’t download any of that onto your network’s computers. You won’t be able to just steal it from me.”
The journalist actually managed to look hurt. “That’s not how I operate, Captain Vosteros. I deal fairly with my sources.”
“Uh huh,” Frederick replied, not looking convinced.
“I do,” he protested. “You cheat your sources then word gets around that you can’t be trusted and then nobody will talk to you again.” He tried to maintain eye contact with the freighter captain, but his eyes kept straying to the datapad and the images on the screen.
Frederick smiled. “All right, I can buy that. So, what is a proper copy of that data worth to you?”
“I want it all,” the man said immediately. “No holding back.”
“I know.”
Nanjek Hardison considered it for a long moment. “I’d be willing to go as high as eight.”
“Eight what?” Frederick asked, keeping his tone level and even. This was a business negotiation, a trade deal like he’d been part of many times before. “Thousand? Forget it.” He knew that wasn’t what the journalist was talking about.
Nanjek looked annoyed. “Are you kidding me? These are worth far more than that. No, I was thinking about eight million.”
“You can do better than that, Mister Hardison,” Frederick replied. “I’ve asked around about your network. And this story is going to bring in all sorts of interesting people… and their money. Make me a better offer or I walk.”
A Greater Interest: Samair in Argos: Book 4 Page 29
