Pursue the Past: Samair in Argos: Book 1 (4 page)

              Tamara padded around the stacks, trying to keep out of sight, though at the same time she was looking to try and see these crewmembers.  She peered around a pile of crates, trying to keep as much out of sight as possible.

              She needn’t have worried.  The two crew were already past when she looked around the corner, so she couldn’t see their faces.  Still, she could see enough.  Both were wearing stained and patched blue shipsuits.  The first voice, the one named Ygris, belonged to a man, tall, with a barrel chest and thick, powerful arms.  He was balding and his pale skin was very pale, indicating that he probably didn’t leave the ship very often.  There were no balconies to sun oneself on a cargo freighter.

              The other was bipedal, but he wasn’t human.  He was a zheen, an insectoid race.  Instead of skin, he was covered with a shiny purplish exoskeleton.  His head was a flattened spheroid, with a pair of large compound eyes on the sides.  His hands were three-fingered, each with a wicked talon at the end.  Zheen could gain sustenance by eating, as humans did, by putting food in their mouths, but they could also ingest nutrients through a retractable proboscis in the palm of each hand.  It made most humans very nervous to shake a zheen’s hand.  The hissing and clicking was caused by his mouth parts moving as he spoke.  Most zheen could speak Basic, but more than a few required a translation implant to speak to their human companions.  Tamara had such an implant (as well as a few others), it was a tiny device surgically implanted in the base of her throat that allowed her to speak a variety of languages.  Completely subcutaneous and unless she was using it, most of the time she even forgot it was there.  Perhaps this zheen had one too, but he apparently wasn’t using it.

              “Wow,” the zheen said, checking the escape pod.  There was a buzzing sound which Tamara realized was the zheen equivalent of a low whistle.  “Look at this baby.  The pods we make nowadays aren’t up to this kind of quality.”  Glancing around it, he saw the open hatch.  The zheen recoiled slightly.  “Stinks in there.  Air quality is really bad.”

              “Guess they didn’t always make things better years ago,” Ygris sneered.

              “No, moron,” the zheen replied.  “It looks like this was damaged from the inside.  Looks like someone shot it up then launched it.  But this is weird.  The sensors said the pod was sealed and now it’s open.”

              “Someone in there?” Ygris asked, his head cocked slightly to the side.

              “Not that I’ve seen.”  The zheen’s antennae on top of his head were whirling crazily.  “But I can smell another human.  Was in the pod, scent’s still fresh which means she’s probably still in the cargo bay.”

              “How do you know she’s still in here?”

              “Because,” the zheen said, “we didn’t pass anyone in the corridor and the scent is still very fresh, only a few minutes old.  Whoever was in the pod is still in the bay.”  The zheen turned around.  Tamara could see him.  She had worked with zheen before, had been friends with a few.  She wasn’t particularly attracted to them, but she could tell that this one was handsome, by his standards.  His chitinous exoskeleton was glossy, had a deep purple color and very symmetrical features.  His eyes were a lovely amber color, something that would make the females of his species go crazy for him.  “Come out, come out!” he called.

              Tamara sighed.  These two seemed decent enough.  She saw Ygris turn to try and spot the person his partner had detected.  Neither were armed, though she knew that both of them could easily outmatch her in a strength contest.  But there really was nowhere to run on this ship and she would need their help.  Perhaps they could come up with an arrangement.  She stepped out from behind the crates.  “I’m here.”

              “Stowaway!” Ygris yelled, crouching down slightly into a fighting stance, his big hands clenching into fists.  He whirled toward the sound of her voice.  The zheen spun quickly, a holdout pistol aimed right at her.  Tamara blinked, she hadn’t seen any holster for it.  Maybe he kept it up his sleeve.

              “I’m not a stowaway,” she said, keeping her hands up, though one hand held her datapad.  A subroutine was booted up, ready at the push of a button to cut the lights in the bay.  Her thumb was right over the button.  “I was in the escape pod.  I want to thank you for getting me out of there.”

              “Liar,” the big man growled.

              She scowled at him.  “Really?  You’re really that dumb?  You didn’t have a stowaway before, you pick up a derelict pod and now suddenly there’s a new person on board?  Think.”  Tamara didn’t usually use that tone with people, especially when she needed their help, but after the months of tension, the fear and disorientation of the long hibernation had dropped her patience to about nothing.  She looked to the zheen.  “My name is Tamara Samair.  I was in that pod.  I’d like to speak with your Captain.  I want to try and make a deal.”

              “What do we do, Ka’Xarian?” the big man asked, his gaze shifting between Tamara and the zheen.

              The zheen chittered in annoyance.  “I’ll watch her.  You get on the line and call the Captain.  Tell him what’s going on.  And then get back down here.” 

              Ygris looked at the other male.  “You sure?”

              “Go.  I’ve got her.”  And without another word, the big man lumbered off, pulling a communicator from his pocket.  He pressed a few buttons but apparently the communicator was broken, so he trudged through the cargo stacks for the comm panel on the wall near the main entrance.

              “So, Tamara Ssahmair,” Ka’Xarian said, his voice hissing on the first syllable of her last name.  “That pod is Republic design.”

              Her lips twisted wryly.  “You know your escape pods.”

              “I know lots of things.  I’m the assistant Chief Engineer.”  There was a touch of pride in his voice.

              “A proper job,” she said, nodding.  “Though judging by the state of this cargo bay and what I saw in your computer systems, you could use some help.”

              One of Ka’Xarian’s antennae twitched, the zheen equivalent of a raised eyebrow.  “You hacked
my
computer systems?”

              Now it was Tamara’s turn to raise an eyebrow.  “
Your
computers?  I would have thought on a merchant vessel like this that it would be the
Captain
’s computers.”

              Ka’Xarian emitted a stuttered hiss, the zheen equivalent of a laugh.  “You amuse me, Ssahmair.”  He lowered the weapon.  “You say you wanted to make a deal?  What kind of deal?”

              “One question first.  The replicators you have on board, are they of Republic or Federation design?”

              He looked at her, his antennae straightening and then flattening in confusion.  “What does that matter?”

              “It matters because if they are Republic, I might be able to help get this ship in better condition.”

              “Why would that matter?” he repeated, his voice was suspicious.

              She sighed.  “I think that’s something that would be better if I discussed with the Captain.”  She didn’t want to let it get around that she had the replicator codes.  “But let’s just say that I have a way with machines.  And from what I see, this ship needs a lot of help.”

              “And what would you get in return?”

              “I’d want free passage, room and board, and to get dropped off at a planet of my choosing, though I’d be willing to pick a place on your regular route.  I assume you’re not going to planets well off the hyperspace lanes?”

              Ka’Xarian shook his head.  “A couple, but for the most part, we tend to stick to the well-traveled routes.  Keep away from the Republic or Federation patrols when we can.”

              “Running contraband?” she was amused.

              Ka’Xarian chittered.  “Profit is everywhere.  We can’t be choosy about where it comes from, not in these hard times.”

              “Hard times?” Tamara demanded.  “We’re in Republic space.  I can’t imagine that you need to be running illegal cargoes just to try and make a few extra credits.”

              Now it was the zheen’s turn to look surprised.  “Republic space?  Little girl, this hasn’t been Republic space in over two hundred years.  Since the war.  This is all independent space now.”

              She went pale.  “What about Hudora?  The shipyards?  The fleet base?” 
It can’t all be gone.

              Ka’Xarian sighed.  “The colony and the fleet base were destroyed in the opening battles.  Then, when things continued to go bad, the Federation launched asteroids down at the planet.  The cities and the bases were completely obliterated.  The dust cloud that was kicked up completely enveloped the planet.  Only about five hundred people got off the planet.  But when ships left the atmosphere, the Federation ships there just shot them all out of orbit before they could escape.  They blew apart the station, the shipyards, and all the Republic ships there.  The Republic retaliated at Holdred, Tetria and Solange, and then the Federation blew apart Uni-Sahn and Jovia.  It went on for years.  I think a total of forty or so planets were devastated on both sides.  The Federation and the Republic both still exist, but they’re only shadows of what they once were.  A lot of planets went independent after that.”

              Her legs gave out.  It was too much.  All of it… gone?  It couldn’t be gone.  And while she was never a fan of the Federation, they were never known for such extreme actions.  And the Republic too?  What had happened?  How did all of this happen? 
And I missed it all.  I could have been there, I might have been able to do something.

              And then it came to her. 
Do what?  You were twenty seconds away from getting convicted for theft and smuggling, looking at a prison sentence.  If Islington hadn’t put you in that pod, you’d have been in the penitentiary and would have been no good to anyone.

              “You all right?” Ka’Xarian asked.  It was hard to tell if he was concerned about her well-being; he wasn’t human after all.

              Tamara breathed heavily for a few moments, but nodded.  She didn’t want him touching her.  It wasn’t a species thing, she just wasn’t in the right headspace now.  As she was getting to her feet, Ygris returned with two others, a man and a woman.  Both of them were heavily muscled, both were armed with heavy duty pulsers.  And both of the weapons were pointed straight at Tamara.  “On your feet, stowaway,” Ygris growled.

              “You just don’t understand the term ‘stowaway’, do you?” Tamara whispered, as the security officers snapped a pair of handcuffs on her wrists.  After so long without them, it almost seemed a comfort to have a pair on again.  Ygris growled at her, but she ignored him. 

              Ka’Xarian watched them lead her away, a strange look on his insectoid face.

              The guards were far less cordial than the ones back on Hudora Station.  Each had a hand around her upper arm and they were frog-marching her through the corridors of the ship.  And she had been right, this ship was a mess.  Lighting panels were flickering or simply out, wires and cables hung from the ceiling, conduits were showing scorch marks from pinhole leaks or in some cases full on breaches.  The crew and the corridors were dirty, the clothes they wore were mismatched and threadbare.  The ship has replicators.  How could things have gotten this bad?

              Eventually they arrived at the Captain’s cabin.  After being let in, they dumped Tamara unceremoniously into a seat across from his desk.  The cabin was tiny, as was expected on a space ship even a freighter this large.  But, there was more square cubage here than in an Admiral’s cabin on a warship, but then, all things were relative. 

              The Captain was human, male, probably in his early fifties, judging by the gray in his hair and beard.  His skin was a dusky brown, but his eyes were what caught her attention, they were very bright and alert.  He looked like a very hard man, forced to make difficult choices to preserve his ship, crew and perhaps even his own life.  He certainly didn’t look happy to see her.

              “Well, so this is our stowaway,” he said, in his deep, gravelly voice.  It might have been pleasant to listen to under other circumstances.

              Tamara sighed.  “Why do people keep saying that?  I’m not a stowaway.  I was in the escape pod that
you
picked up.”

              He chuckled.  “Speak when spoken to, girl.”  His eyes took her all in.  “You’re pretty enough.  Trim, pale, athletic.  Hair could be a bit longer, but I like brunettes.  Though it looks like you’ve had a bad time of it with all those scars on the face.”

              She felt herself flush, as though she was being scrutinized for a modeling job.  “You could say that.  I needed a disguise, so I figured some class-220 thermal paint across my face might hide my looks.”

              The captain grimaced.  “I’d say it worked a bit too well, girl.”

              “Well, I was in a hurry, and I got interrupted before I could get to my vanity and get cleaned up.”

              “Ha!” The captain roared with laughter.  “Oh, I like you girl.  You’ve got… moxie.”