A Greater Interest: Samair in Argos: Book 4

by Michael Kotcher

  But the zheen chittered a laugh. “How droll, ma’am. Lowly civilian indeed.”

  She shrugged. “I’m a stockholder, but I don’t own the company. I just run it.”

  His antennae curled and then straightened. “Of course, Ma’am. Of course.”

  Her smile didn’t slip one single inch. “So how can I help, Lieutenant?” Tamara repeated, keeping her voice calm and level.

  “Oh, I apologize, Ma’am,” the zheen said, waving a hand. “My orders are to be sure that you and your associates are comfortable while you wait for the colonel.”

  “So you’re my new babysitter?” she asked, chuckling. The zheen gave a very human shrug. “I see. What happened to the good ensign? She seemed quite capable.”

  “Ensign Sims is fine, but a more senior officer needs to be assigned for a VIP of your stature, Ma’am,” he replied.

  Tamara exchanged glances with her head guard. “Nice to be appreciated,” Viktoriya said sardonically.

  The zheen’s mouthparts clacked. “I appreciate your patience, Ma’am. The colonel will be along when he is available.” He paused for a moment. “May I ask what your business is aboard the Leytonstone, Ma’am?”

  Her smile grew wider. “Yes, I have a meeting with Colonel Gants. Or rather, another one.”

  His antennae swirled in mild irritation. “I see. May I inquire as to the substance of your meetings?”

  “Oh, just something he and I needed to discuss. I didn’t want to talk about it over the radio,” she evaded.

  “And what would that be?” It was clear that K’Vitch was intent on getting this information and he wasn’t about to be put off.

  “Lieutenant K’Vitch,” Tamara said formally. “I’m a guest aboard this ship by invitation of Colonel Gants. He and I have a matter to discuss. If the Colonel wishes to disclose that matter to the Navy Public Affairs office, I’m sure he will. I, however, am under no such obligation.”

  The zheen obviously wasn’t pleased with this response and hissed at Calvin’s very unprofessional grin. He got up from the table, nodded to them all and departed the conference room.

  “Bring Sims back,” Kiki commented, grinning. “She was good people. Smelled a lot better than him, too.”

  “I agree to both,” Kayla said. “He clearly has some sort of agenda.”

  “Or his bosses do,” her sibling put in.

  “Enough,” Viktoriya growled. Then she commed them. [They’re probably monitoring us.]

  [Sorry, Serzhant,] the two siblings commed back.

  [Ma’am, a question?] Beau asked to the group, though there was no question of who he was talking to.

  Tamara smiled. They had, every one of her guards, grown quite proficient in the use of their implants, especially in sending messages back and forth. Not everyone could get used to it, and adapt as well or quickly as they had. She was proud of them.

  [What’s that, Beau?]

  [I assume the Navy has approached you about getting implants, Ma’am?]

  The others all turned to look at her. She spoke aloud. “Well, obviously, we’re going to have to behave ourselves until Ensign Simsor her replacement returns. She gave them all a look before sending a message. [They have asked, but nothing you would call a formal request.]

  “Anyone have a deck of cards?” Kiki asked. [That seems odd. You’d think the Navy or the Army or even the government would be courting you like crazy to get them.]

  “I think I might,” Calvin said, digging into his bag and sitting down in one of the uncomfortable chairs at the conference table. [They don’t want to be beholden to you more than they already are, right, Ma’am?]

  [Got it in one, Mister Katsopolis,] Tamara nodded. She pulled out a datapad from the holster on her belt and sat down, sipping more of the subpar brew. [The government already doesn’t like me much and they’ve got doubters among them who wonder what I would do and how much more power FP would wield if we were the ones dispensing the implants.]

  “I guess I don’t have one,” the cat stated, closing his bag. “Thought I did, must have taken it out and left it on the ship.” [I understand their position. FP already is running a great deal of the show in this star system.]

  [Which I’m sure the council is already happy about.] Kayla’s message dripped with scorn.

  “Get comfortable,” Viktoriya grumped. She and this new team of guards worked well together, but it waqs clear she wasn’t as close or friendly with them as she was her previous team. No one blamed her for that, they’d known each other for a long while, though there were times when Tamara wished that her lead guard wasn’t quite so hostile with them.

  The guards took up position around the room; Viktoriya made sure Tamara moved away from the main hatch, which would at least slow down any potential assassination attempt. They were not expecting kill teams here aboard the Navy flagship, but the guards were paid to be paranoid and thorough.

  Less than five minutes later, another zheen arrived, this one shorter, with carapace such a dark shade of violet it was nearly black and judging by his rank insignia he was a low ranked enlisted. In fact, he was a just an able spacer, the lowest level of enlisted on the ship. He came to rigid attention in the hatchway.

  Tamara nodded to him. “Yes, Spacer?”

  “Ma’am,” the zheen replied stiffly. “Colonel Gants sends his compliments and asks for your indulgence. He is still on a call with the orbital, but hopes things will be resolved shortly.” Once completed with his obviously rehearsed speech, he went silent but did not move, waiting for a reply.

  “Very flowery,” Calvin said, grinning, blinking amusement.

  The shuttles arced in, closing the gap. There was a vessel holding position less than a kilometer from the mammoth battlecruiser, a small cargo ship of some kind. It was no threat and unless it was stuffed to the gills with gadolinium, it wasn’t worth the time to try and capture it.

  Now was the most dangerous part of the operation: the final approach. It was the point where they were within the target’s weapons envelope and the passenger needed to trust the pilots and the stealth gear, hoping and praying the target was still blind to their presence. Even the hardest and toughest veteran found snakes slithering around in his guts during that time. It would soon be over, though. Either they would go undetected and sail right up to the hull or they wouldn’t and the battlecruiser would rip them apart in either a blistering hail of fire or in a series of pinpoint shots.

  Well, at least if they get us at this point, we’re close enough that our explosions will scratch some paint off the hull of the battlecruiser, Arn mused sourly. He hated this part of the boarding. It was never so bad when they hit a cargo ship, since those were rarely armed. His nerves were raw; he could feel that he was wearing his battle armor, the nanofiber weave chafing against his fur, which then itched uncontrollably. He’s also developed a tremor in his left hand that manifested during these approaches, one that he had to clench his fist to conceal. The shaking would only stop once the shuttle was latched onto the target. None of the others in the division ever said anything, but he knew they noticed.

  An agonizing minute later, they were through and decelerating. Asleep at the switch again, Arn thought with a grin. Almost takes the fun out of it. Almost.

  “All right you dogs!” he stated over the comm circuits. “Remember, this is a kill, not a capture. Don’t waste time with prisoners or with looting. Do not get overconfident.” He gave another feral grin that the ones in this shuttle could see through his open faceplate. “There are only a little under thirty-five hundred of them against us.”

  “Barely makes it interesting, Colonel!” one private yelled over the comms, getting chuckles and barks from the others.

  There was a hard bump, jarring them all to the side. Immediately, the wolves were up on their feet, unslinging weapons, giving one last check on weapons and armor and equipment. The two CA800 battlesuits on this ship rose up on their heavy legs, readying to deploy.

  [We’re latched on,
Colonel,] the pilot commed. [Attempting to decode airlock protocols now.]

  “Seal up!” the colonel ordered to the troops on all five shuttles. All two hundred and four wolves reached up and closed their helmets and the battlesuit drivers sealed the hatches. Arn waited until his HUD showed a good seal on all of the soldiers. “We’ve got a good seal against the airlock, but their outer door is still closed,” the pilot radioed.

  [Sigma! Get out there and crack that airlock open,] Arn commed, instead of speaking over the radio, even though the channel was open. He preferred to send messages rather than speak when they weren’t in combat. It eased the strain on his throat, but he would deal with the pain once the op was underway.

  The combat engineer trotted forward, box in hand. She went to the hatch and went to work attacking the airlock’s control circuits. In less than a minute, she yipped in triumph and Sigma turned back to him.

  “Airlock disengaged, Colonel,” Sigma reported, the smile evident in her voice. “The lockouts are down, as are the alarm sensors that alert the bridge. They don’t even know we’re coming.”

  [All teams, report. Are you through the airlock yet?] It took less than ten seconds for the others to report in and he nodded. [Move in. All teams, move in!]

  Chapter 26

  The real problem with this assault was a lack of intel. Arn and his soldiers had no interior map of the battlecruiser and only the knowledge that they were outnumbered by a significant fraction. They had no idea what the locals would be armed with, but Arn did know from the prisoners back at Esselon-Moor that the security detachment consisted of an special Army half-regiment, but from the way the prisoners spoke of it, the regiment was something akin to palace guards: fancy and spiffy, but with very little real combat experience. The Dog Soldiers here were outnumbered, certainly, but not outclassed.

  Sigma and the other combat engineers placed a few shaped charges on the exposed plasma conduits they came across, ready to cause havoc when they detonated. Sadly, these little explosives weren’t powerful enough to ignite the He3 but they could rupture the conduits, spilling superheated plasma throughout the corridors. It would be something to cover their escape; no one wanted to try and walk through areas filled with such a hazard. They were keeping paths back to the shuttles clear, but everyone was well aware that this was a battle, a raid, not a suicide run.

  Arn was amazed at how long it took for the crew to realize they’d been boarded. Single shots from needlers brought down a half dozen startled crew before they even realized there was a problem; before they could even cry out. Emboldened by this initial success, the wolves all charged forward.

  This was a different kind of an attack than they were used to. When capturing a ship, there were specific areas you went for: the bridge, Main Engineering and Environmental control. But not this time. They were working their way toward one of the reactors, which meant they were pushing toward Main Engineering, causing mayhem and destruction on their way, but even with an edge in armor and firepower, they needed to push as far into the ship as they could as fast as they could before the soldiers aboard could get organized.

  The colonel wasn’t worried. His wolves were well-trained and battle-tested and with the fire support given by the 800s, it was unlikely that the battlecruiser’s crew or soldiers could stop the boarders from accomplishing their objective. The battlecruiser was as good as dead.

  “Commander, we’re receiving reports of weapons’ fire on the starboard side of the ship,” the communications operator reported. The young man looked genuinely shaken. He’d removed the earpiece from his right ear, but the one in his left was active and someone could be heard yelling into it.

  “What?” Lieutenant Commander Paxton demanded, turning to his own sensor display. He frowned. “I show no weapons’ fire to starboard, Fenna. There are no nearby ships.”

  The man frowned, listening intently. “Sorry, sir. It’s from within the ship. Gunfire come from several locations. Multiple hostile invaders reported on deck 15, section 612, also deck 11, section 220. There’s another group on deck 9 section 211 and deck 18-“

  But Paxton cut him off. “Sound general quarters, alert status one.” He pressed the appropriate control on the command seat and the klaxons started blaring throughout the ship. “All hands, this is the XO.” His voice boomed over the ship’s speakers. “The ship has been boarded by hostiles. Security and Army units, intercept and repel them. Hold strong, Leytonstone and we will weather this.” Paxton, despite his own fear and confusion, managed to sound cool and confident. “Colonel Gants, report to the bridge.”

  He pulled up the internal cameras, trying to get a sense of who was attacking. He could see black clad figures moving through the corridors, but the bastards were smart. They seemed to be aware that they were being monitored and whenever they discovered another camera, they opened fire on it and destroyed it. Paxton could track the movements of the invading soldiers, but only because they were leaving a swath of destroyed security cameras in their wake. He couldn’t tell what their intentions were, but he at least could get a general sense of where they were going. Not that he really needed one. It was obvious: they were trying to take the ship. Though that didn’t make sense, not really, not with the numbers they had. Were they truly arrogant enough to think that they could destroy this ship? Who are these people? Where the hell did they come from and how the hell did they get aboard the Leytonstone?

  “Scan the nearby area for ships,” he ordered turning and snapping the order to one of the operators at the sensor station. “I want to know how these invaders got aboard.”

  “Aye, sir,” the specialist replied, attacking his console with a will.

  Gants arrived on the bridge less than a minute later. “Report,” he ordered, his voice harsh. “What is going on?”

  “We’re under attack, sir,” the commander replied, getting up from the command chair. “We’ve been boarded. We’re showing a number of heavily armed humanoids moving along the starboard side of the ship.”

  “What? Just the starboard side? Where did they come from?” Gants demanded, sitting down and pulling up the internal sensor displays. Of the scores of camera feeds that were throughout the ship, nearly a quarter of them were showing as non-functional. It didn’t take him long to guess that the invaders were shooting the cameras as they approached.

  “Unknown, Colonel,” Paxton said, looking frustrated. “They just showed up. One minute were were cruising along, minding our own business, the next we’re under attack.”

  “Seal the bridge,” Gants ordered, and one of the Army troopers assigned to defend the bridge rushed over and pressed the controls. With a heavy “boom” the solid doors closed. There were a series of clunks as the locking bolts slid into place. He glanced over at the doors, their dull metal impassive and forboding. It was procedure, of course, and he did feel safer by having closed them, but why did he now have a feeling in his gut that he’d just sealed his own tomb?

  “Are the Army soldiers deployed to intercept the invaders?” Gants asked, checking the status feeds on his displays. They didn’t tell much.

  “Deploying now, sir.” Paxton looked embarrassed. “Sorry, sir, it’s taking a minute. We were taken completely by surprise.”

  Gants ground his teeth but didn’t say anything. He desperately wanted to call down to the Army Major, Telford, and get an update, to assist with deploying his troopers to cut off these bastards before they wrecked to took his ship, but he knew better. No doubt Telford would be in a frenzy right now, trying to repel the boarders from all direction, no idea what they were doing here. The last thing he needed would be the commanding officer getting in his face, micromanaging.

  When the klaxons started sounding, all of the guards leaped to their feet, hand weapons at the ready. “What the hell?” Calvin demanded, his customary grin and lacksidasical attitude gone from his demeanor. He had a pistol in one hand and some sort of device in the other. Tamara was sure it was some sort of explosive, but she had n
o idea what kind or what yield, and truth be told, she didn’t really want to know. The others all looked glum and serious, determined. It was a side she really hadn’t seen before from them, but it was one that she was pleased to see now. None of them were panicking, though they hadn’t actually faced any serious danger yet.

  “What’s going on?” Tamara asked, then tried to link in with the battlecruiser’s systems. The message “Unable to link with systems due to ship-wide emergency. Communications channels blocked due to ship-wide emergency. Please report to battle stations or to designated safe zones.”

  “Damn it, I’m locked out,” she said, feeling the adrenaline surging through her veins. The ship wasn’t straining, she couldn’t hear or feel the sounds of power being transferred or any indication that the ship was in battle. “What the hell is happening?”

  Viktoriya waved to Kayla, who went to the hatch and stuck her head out into the corridor. She looked back and forth and came back in. “They’re running around out there, Serzhant, but I have no idea what’s up. Something big, I’d wager.”

  “No surprise there,” Viktoriya replied. “We need to get out of here.”

  “Now wait just a minute,” Tamara spluttered. “We’re not going anywhere. If they’re at alert status, our best bet is to just stay put. We’re aboard the most powerful military vessel in the system.”

  The dark-furred lupusan turned to her principle. “Do you know who you sound like, Ma’am? You sound like that puffed up worm Greer, spewing hot air about how mighty the Seylonique Navy is. You know better.”

  Tamara flushed a deep red, lowering her gaze. Turning away from her, the wolf looked to the others. “What do we have for weapons?” the serzhant asked. She held up her own sidearm. “I’ve got this, a blade, and a carbine.” She slid the handgun back into the holster on her hip and from under her vest, she unslung a bullpup designed carbine, whose stock was folded back.