A Greater Interest: Samair in Argos: Book 4

by Michael Kotcher

  “Perhaps,” Eretria acknowledged. “And I’m sure that there many things that we will have to adapt to, but hearing disembodied voices tends to be disturbing for organics. And I can’t have you scaring the workers just because you think it’s a silly custom.”

  The AI made a noise that sounded almost like a sigh. The computer core had a small holo projector, installed for just this purpose, as well as for diagnostic reasons, to bring up schematics and other such constructs or diagrams. The projector activated, but instead of a roughly humanoid shape, Apogee provided an image of shimmering strands of color, weaving slowly in and out of each other. The movement was oddly hypnotic. “How is this?” she asked.

  Tamara smiled. “It’s certainly not what I expected, but I like it.”

  Eretria stared at the holo for a long moment. Apogee was apparently self-conscious at the silence and the scrutiny and broke. “You do not like it, Yard Manager Sterling?”

  She grunted and shook her head. “What I don’t like is being addressed that way while we’re in private. My name is Eretria, please use it. If we’re in front of the workers, if you must be formal, you may call me Ms. Sterling. Being called Yard Manager makes me think I’m a landscape architect.” Tamara laughed and the bodyguards all chuffed out chuckles. “You certainly did take what I said to heart, Apogee. I must agree with Ms. Samair. It suits you.”

  “Thank you… Eretria,” the AI responded, sounding almost shy.

  “Now,” Tamara said, moving forward. “We’ve got some work to do getting the automated factory systems integrated into yours, Apogee.” She stepped back from the console. “And if I know you, I’m sure you’ve already started.”

  “You assume correctly, Ms. Samair. Integration is underway. Once the factory systems are online, we can have replicators churning out parts and I can get the constructor bots moving at a much more efficient pace. You’ve done a good job so far, Eretria,” the AI congratulated, “But with my help, we can get things moving at a much greater rate of speed.”

  “So long as quality doesn’t start dropping,” Eretria warned. “We organics might be slow, but so far my people have done an excellent job.”

  “Understood,” Apogee said. It was hard to tell, based on her form, but it almost seemed as though the AI was offended by the thought that organics could be more efficient and produce better quality equipment and ships than she could.

  “You’re a new AI,” Tamara said. “And since we’ll have you taking over a large fraction of the work here, Apogee, I don’t want to overload you. If it’s getting too much, I don’t want you to just try and suck it up and deal. And I want you to devote ten percent of assets to maintenance here in the yards for both yourself and the constructor bots. If things start getting out of hand, or quality starts dropping, tell me, or Ms. Sterling and we’ll work with you on it. I don’t want you spiraling into a recursive loop because you think you can handle things on your own. We’re a team here, Apogee, all of us. You’re not alone and I don’t expect you to work alone.”

  “Understood, Ms. Samair,” Apogee replied, sounding touched.

  “All right, if you both don’t mind, I think I’ll take a tour of Verdun while I’m here,” Tamara said, clasping her hands behind her back. She waved a hand as Eretria got a slightly stricken look on her face. “I don’t need an escort, Ms. Sterling and I’ll be sure to stay out of the way of the work parties. I just want to see how the company’s newest escort-frigate is coming along. Computer images never really tell the whole story and I always like to see constructions in progress.”

  Eretria made a face, but then quickly suppressed it and nodded. “Of course, ma’am. But you will stay out of my people’s way?”

  Tamara smiled patiently. “Yes, Eretria. Don’t worry, I don’t need an accident investigation going on because of my comings and goings. I’ll be good.” She gestured to her guards, who parted for her to pass between them. “Come on, you lot. Let’s go.”

  Once she was gone, the AI spoke up. “She’s not what I expected of her.”

  Eretria snorted. “You didn’t work with her when she was building your core matrix?”

  The color swirl pulsed slightly. “Well, yes, but that was different. We didn’t actually speak. She just did the coding and, well…”

  “Brought you to life?” the woman asked gently.

  “We never really talked. Not when I wasn’t in my build stage. We never really talked until just now. She’s different than I expected,” Apogee repeated.

  “What did you expect?” Eretria was curious.

  The AI paused. “I expected her to be more… authoritative. She told me to request help if I felt I needed it, but I expected that with my core matrix online, she would be demanding maximum output from the yards.”

  “She is expecting maximum output,” Eretria corrected. But then she smiled. “And so am I. But we don’t want a seven percent increase in output only to have you overload your processors or burn out half the constructor bots in the process.”

  Apogee considered that for point three six seconds, an eternity for an AI. “Yes, I can see how that would be a detriment.”

  “For now, things are at peace,” Eretria went on. “We’re not under attack and there is no immediate threat, but make no mistake, there is a threat out there. I wasn’t personally there, but the outer system was attacked only a few weeks ago. The pirates that attacked left with a good deal of stolen goods and with only minimal losses on their side. It is the considered opinion of the upper eschelon of the company that the pirates will be back, perhaps in greater numbers or with stronger forces. So we need to be ready. So if we need you to spend ten percent of assets on maintenance to keep things running for longer, then that’s a sacrifice we’re willing to endure. It’s not a sacrifice, really. We don’t want you working yourself to death any more than we would any of the organic workers. You’re a member of the crew, of the company now.”

  “I see.” The AI considered what had been said. “Thank you.”

  Eretria reached out and patted the core processor awkwardly. “You’re welcome, Apogee. You’re one of us now.”

  The strands of color seemed to twitch. “I should hope not. I’m a construct, a program, not a flesh and blood creature like you and the others.” She sounded vaguely offended.

  “Well, yes, of course.” She shook her head slightly. “But we have work to get to. What is the status of the systems integration?”

  “Forty-one percent complete. I can begin work now, but it will be at reduced capacity, of course.”

  Eretria waved a hand. “No, hold off. Once you have full integration of the automated factory into your processors, then you can begin. It’s only a few minutes more. Familiarize yourself with the shipyards and the company while that’s going on, if you’ve got spare processors. Get yourself up to speed on company operations, but please understand, you’re not to just share information willy-nilly with anyone who asks. They need to have proper authorization for you to release information.”

  “Of course,” the AI responded immediately. “That only makes sense. But I wonder, what if a member of the admin council comes and directly asks for information?”

  The engineer grimaced. “That’s a thorny issue. They are the governing body in this star system, but they are usually respectful of the niceties. They’ll come to me or to Ms. Samair; none of them should be asking you anything directly. Unless it’s just polite conversation, of course.”

  “And if they do ask me to betray company secrets or interests?”

  She sighed. ”Then refer them to higher authority, either myself or Ms. Korneyev or Ms. Samair, or ultimately Captain Eamonn, if he’s in the system.”

  “Ah, Vincent Eamonn, Captain of the bulk freighter Grania Estelle. He is primary shareholder for First Principles,” Apogee acknowledged. “I understand.”

  “Good. Then let’s get to work.”

  She was walking through the Environmental spaces, checking things over when Tamara’s communica
tor beeped. She pulled it from her pocket and flipped it open. “Samair here.”

  “Ma’am, we’re receiving a burst transmission from the Kutok mine,” her pilot reported. “It’s from Councilor Hroth. She’s requesting you return to the mine at your earliest convenience. I guess something of importance happened with the rest of the admin council and she wants to talk with you about it.” He seemed slightly concerned, but he wasn’t panicking.

  Can’t be all that bad, though the fact that she’s summoning me back to my own station can’t be a good thing. “Understood,” she said instead. “Prep the ship for departure. We’ll be there within the hour and we can make the journey back as soon as we’re aboard.”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” he replied. “I’ll be waiting.” The call ended.

  She closed the communicator and pocketed it. “All right, kids,” Tamara said, turning to her nearby guards. “Show’s over. I have a meeting at the Kutok mine to get back for.”

  “We’re cutting the inspection short then, Ma’am?” Viktoriya asked, her ears flicking.

  “Yes,” Tamara said with a slight frown. “It seems the Councilor has need of my presence. Apparently some sort of great happening occurred between her and the rest of the council and now she wants me back at the Kutok mine to discuss it.”

  “That sounds ominous,” Viktoriya said. The others nodded, except for Calvin, who didn’t seem all that interested or concerned with the conversation. He did a visual and then scanner sweep of the compartment with his hand scanner.

  “I guess that means we’re not going to be getting our implants, are we ma’am?” Kayla asked, sounding disappointed.

  “No, I guess not,” Tamara said with a sigh. “We’ll have to make another trip. But I swear, if she tries this shit again, making me race across the system again just because she calls, she’s going to make me cross.” She groaned and ran her hands through her hair. Then she twirled a finger in the air, indicating they should turn around. “Let’s go.”

  “Wait, I’m sorry. Explain that again,” Tamara ground out. She was on the Kutok mine, in a private conference with the lupusan councilor. By private, of course, what that meant was Hroth didn’t want any of Tamara’s people present, even her guards, but two of her own aides were seated on either side of their boss. Tamara wasn’t sure what was meant by this, was it possibly to bolster the councilor’s confidence? She shouldn’t need to fear that the woman would attack her; a human going after a lupusan without heavy weapons was just asking for trouble, not to mention the legal ramifications. Right now, the councilor looked calm and almost serene and the aides looked smug. Tamara had her holdout pistol up her sleeve and the temptation to draw it was so strong.

  “It’s quite simple, Tamara,” Carriger said, trying to diffuse tension by using the woman’s given name. Tamara felt as though this was meant more as a backhanded insult, really, but let it go, wanting to know what it was that the council were up to now. “The council has discussed this at length and we have decided that the defense of this star system will be better handled by the professionals, instead of private navies and defense forces. So, to that end, First Principles, Inc, as well as any other civilian operation in Seylonique, will not be legally permitted to produce warships of size or flavor, unless it is under government or Naval contract and then only for government or Navy use.”

  “Where is this coming from?” Tamara demanded, straining to keep her voice level. The bastards are going to strip away my ships after all the work we’ve done and after all the fighting my people have gone through!

  “The pirate attack,” the councilor answered. “Your forces did the best they could, but they were far overmatched by the enemy fleet. It was only through sheer, dumb luck that the pirates didn’t completely destroy or capture all of the real estate in that part of the system. And that doesn’t even account for the loss of life.”

  “The Navy took absolutely no part in that fight,” Tamara pointed out, her voice full of vitriol. “If even one Navy ship had been stationed near the gas mine, things might have turned out different. But the admin council and the Navy chose to put all their ships in patrol around the planet, those that didn’t go on the trade mission.”

  Carriger nodded gravely. “Yes, that’s certainly true. The government and by extension the Navy failed you and we failed the citizens. But we want to correct that failure in the future and we believe that the best start for that is to completely take up the responsibility and the burden of defending the system.” She stated all that so simply. The aides no longer looked smug, now they positively beamed.

  “Well, I’m glad to hear that you are going to step up, but I don’t believe taking my defense ships away is the best way to do that, simultaneously pissing off the biggest defense builder and defense contractor as well as all the only combat veteran sailors and officers in the system.”

  But Carriger waved a hand as if shooing a fly. “No, no, Tamara. The defense ships you’ve already built as well as any that First Principles currently has under construction are fine. First Principles may maintain its defense flotilla at current levels, but no higher.”

  So that’s why she wanted to know the breakdown of company ships, Tamara thought. “I understand. So by this ruling, I can then assume that the Navy is going to be putting forth more contracts for warships?”

  Carriger shrugged. “We’re looking into that. It’s certainly something we’re considering but it’s all a matter of budget. But it is certainly a topic of discussion in all our conferences.”

  “I see,” Tamara replied and she did. The government had to pay for the materials as well as labor at a much higher cost than First Principles did and by any stretch of the definition, warships were not cheap, especially for vessels that could not be expected to haul cargoes or make money for the company. Then there was upkeep, fuel, munitions, pay for the crew and officers, and the costs just kept going up. The overhead costs just kept going up. The overhead costs of maintaining a merchant fleet on top a defensive force could break a company. Luckily, FP had numerous sources of revenue coming in.

  In fact, the budget was getting stretched tight, what with the Samarkand building weapons platforms left and right and with the moon base and now the shield station projects. Thankfully, Ma Mystere and Yellow Dolly were already out moving cargoes. Perhaps it was time to focus on current project for a bit. But, with the pirate forces still out there…

  “Very well,” Tamara declared. “I look forward to hearing about any new contracts for ships. If there is nothing else, I have an appointment back at the shipyards.” She stood from her seat at the table, turned and exited the room. It seemed as though the others were going to say more, but she just couldn’t sit there and listen to it. It was going to bite her in the ass at some point in the near future, but right now, she’d had enough.

  The guards, who were just outside the conference room, straightened as she came out. “Let’s go,” she said after a moment, when the hatch closed. “I need to talk with Corajen quickly, then we’re out of here. I’m getting you all those implants; no more side trips.” They didn’t answer, but the siblings broke off from the group and headed back to the ship while the others formed up on the principle. Calvin and Viktoriya were in front and the enormous Beau brought up the rear.

  They arrived in the Security Office a short while later to find the Chief reading over a report, while she and a deputy were glancing at security monitors. “Samair,” the she-wolf stated as they group entered, not really looking up from her work. “How can I help?”

  She sighed. “More attempts by the admin council to try and assert their dominance,” Tamara said heavily.

  “Should I be concerned?”

  “Not so far,” she admitted. “But if more starts happening, I’ll let you know.”

  The wolf looked up from her work and focused on the woman’s face. “You’re making me concerned, Samair.”

  “I don’t mean to. And all things considered, this isn’t the end of the world. Bus
iness-wise, it’s actually a good thing, at least in the short term.” Tamara explained the councilor’s summons and the council’s decision.

  “Sounds like she’s throwing her weight around because the Navy’s embarrassed that corporate defense ships got to fight in the biggest battle this system’s ever seen. And all the armchair admirals are running their mouths about they could have done better.” Corajen considered her statement, tapping one claw on the console. “Maybe they could have, I don’t know. Hindsight and all that. So the Navy’s stepping up, huh?”

  “Officially, they are anyway. Just thought I’d give you the heads up.”

  “No, I appreciate it. I’ll keep Magnus in the loop as well.”

  Tamara grinned. She could see the boarborn AI’s tusked visage on her HUD. “He’s already aware. But I’ll be sure to update you both when I hear more.”

  Corajen nodded. “Thanks. I’ll keep up my end here. Let you know.”

  Tamara nodded back, feeling better knowing Chief Nymeria and Magnus were keeping a lid on things. “All right, I’ll get out of your fur. I have to take my guards to see Kassix to get implants over at the shipyards. I’ll be there for a week or so.”

  The chief flicked her ears in amusement and laughed. “Congratulations and condolences,” the lupusan told the guards. “It’s only the first few minutes of skull-searing red-hot agony that’s the worst.” Then she looked considering. “Of course, then there’s the week of nosebleeds and headaches, not as intense, but it lasts so much longer.”

  “Stop it,” Tamara said, chuckling. “Leave the poor dears alone.”

  She yipped. “I’ll tell the kids here to hold off on the keg party until you’re out of easy transit range since you’re heading out.”

  Tamara smiled. “I appreciate that, Chief. If I’m not going to get invited, I want to at least delude myself into thinking it was because I couldn’t get back in time.” She waved to the chief as she walked out of the Security Office. Calvin looked back at the Security Chief who had already gone back to her work and he hissed quietly to himself.