Pursue the Past: Samair in Argos: Book 1 (41 page)

              “Yes, sir.  I request permission to detach
Legacy
immediately and investigate.  I’ll find our wayward ship, Admiral.”

              “Yes, Commander.  Do that.  Report back as soon as you have something.” 

              Harth saluted.  Tandred returned it.  The commander did an about face and exited. 

              The Admiral sighed.  He liked order in his universe and this anomaly was definitely disrupting that order. 

             
Who the hell in Fleet would send a reserve vessel, a freighter no less, out into Independent space?  Why waste a ship like that?  Independent space isn’t safe for civilian traffic. 
Then he paused, seething. 
If Intelligence decided to send a team out there to look into any Federation activity out there without informing
me
, there is going to be a reckoning.

              He reread the report. 
Who is this Commander Tamara Samair?  I don’t have anyone by that name under my command. 
He did a quick search of Republic records.  Nothing came up under that name.  “Sopris?”

              “Yes, Admiral?”

              “Run a personnel search for a Commander Tamara Samair, in the Navy Archives.  Go back fifty years if you need to.”

              “Yes, sir.  I will.”

              “Thank you, Sopris.”

              Sopris was a very capable yeoman, if anyone could dig up the information he wanted, Sopris would.

              Fifteen minutes later, Sopris called.  “Admiral, I’ve done a search, and I went back as far as a century.  I have no record of a Tamara Samair even
in
the Navy, much less a Commander.  I went through Marine archives as well, nothing.  I checked on ground and aerospace forces and even the Starfighter Corps, all nothing.”

              Tandred frowned.  “Huh.”  He tapped his fingers on the desk.  “Check our intelligence files on Federation personnel.  Maybe someone was faking a security code.”

              “I will check, Admiral.  This may take a few hours to go back as far.”

              “Take your time, Sopris.  I want that information.”

              “Aye, sir.  Should I also check civilian files?”

              Tandred considered that.  “No, stick with military files for now.  If the search comes up nothing, I might have you do that then.”

              “Very good, sir.”

              “Oh, do you have that ship list?”

              “Yes, Admiral.  It’s in your inbox.”

              He looked over and saw the blinking light on his computer terminal, indicating a new item received.  “Thank you, Sopris.  Carry on.”

              “Yes, sir.”

              Tandred cut the connection and looked to the list.  Sopris had been thorough.  Of course there were no reserve vessels in this battlegroup.  There were seven in the western edge of the Republic, but none that went by the name
Grania Estelle
.  
What the hell was a bulk freighter
doing
in independent space?  Are there any corporations crazy enough to send a ship that big and important out there?  There can’t be
that
much in the way of goods needing shipment that far from civilization. 

              Continuing down the lists, he kept checking, but no ships matching either the description or the name appeared.  He thought about it some more. 
By that same token, if it
isn’t
a Reserve vessel, who could possibly be running it?  Federation?  That makes even less sense.  That area of Indie space is awfully close to the Republic.  They’d be crazy to send a freighter that close to our border. 

              This was a mystery.  And it was one he did not like.  There was enough going on out there that needed tending to, he did not need some freighter intruding on his well-ordered universe.

              Commander Harth exited the shuttle in
Legacy
’s boat bay.  He opened his communicator to call the bridge.  “Bridge, this is the Captain.  Have astrogation begin a plot to take us to Independent space.  We are leaving the battlegroup.”

              His executive officer, Lieutenant Tran, quickly replied.  “Understood, Captain.  Do we have a place in particular?”

              “Instow.  Make sure the crew is recalled from leave.  I want to be leaving orbit by 1800.”

              “Very good, sir.  Is there some reason for this rush, sir?  Should we be concerned?”

              He smiled.  “Orders, Lieutenant.  You know how it is.”

              Tran chuckled.  “Yes, sir, I do.  Will you be joining us on the bridge?”

              “Not just yet.  I’m going to Engineering to speak with the Chief, then I’ll be in my stateroom.  But I’ll be on the bridge at 1800 when we depart.”

              “Understood, sir.”

              Two hours later, the heavy cruiser
Legacy
left orbit, moving out past the other cruisers and destroyers of the
Valkyrie
battlegroup.  Its main engines lit off and the ship accelerated away from the planet, headed out toward the hyper limit.

              The trip to Hecate went fast, both in the literal sense and in the way that an anticipated journey seems to move quicker than it should.  The
Grania Estelle
was indeed much faster than it had been, so technically, the trip was much shorter than it would have been four or five months ago. 

Tamara worked with Turan to fix up the scar tissue on her hand, ear and face.  As she suspected, she needed to have the skin abraded and then a dunk in a regeneration tank.  Thankfully, Turan had kept up repairs on the sickbay equipment and Tamara had made sure to go over all the equipment before they started.  Turan was ecstatic that it was finally his turn to have an engineer make repairs to his domain.

A dunk in the regen tank was never pleasant.  Normally, when someone was put into the tank, it was because they had sustained serious, life-threatening injury.  Other times, like now, when the subject was otherwise healthy but was being stuck in the tank for repair.  The treatment would require two twelve hour sessions in the tank, with a tube in her mouth, plugs in her nose and stark naked, floating in regenerative fluid.  While none of those things sound very comfortable, those weren’t the worst parts.  The worst part was the boredom.  Floating in the goop for twelve straight hours with nothing to do could probably drive someone mad. 

Thankfully, Tamara had some advantages that others in the crew did not.  Using her implants, she was able to listen to music, play games, read books.  She tried to have conversations with Stella on her implants, but she wasn’t able to speak because of the breathing tube in her mouth.  The AI dropped in on her every so often, but usually wouldn’t do much more than make her presence known and then disappear from Tamara’s HUD.  Tamara tried to sleep as much as possible, just to be done with this ordeal as quickly as possible.

But finally, it was over and Turan was decanting her from the tank for the last time.  She had little issue with the nakedness, being in the Navy, there was little expectation of privacy, certainly in the lower ranks and especially in the Starfighter Corps.  In a world where you might be expected to strip out of your ship suit or coveralls and get into a skinsuit with all the plumbing connections (and be expected to do so in a hurry as their might be a hull breach) the squeamishness and taboo of being naked around other people evaporated quickly. 

Based on the looks the sickbay attendants (male and female) were giving her as she casually padded barefoot across the room, she guessed that perhaps society might have regressed a bit.  She had never been accused of being gorgeous, though the looks the males were giving her it would make one think that they had never seen a naked woman before.

The Captain arrived as she was pulling on her ship suit.  “Moxie, a marked improvement,” he said, looking her over with a critical eye.

“What would that be, Captain?” she teased.  “The disappearance of the scars or the lack of clothes?”

To her great surprise, he chuckled.  Was that nervousness in his voice?  “The scars.  You’re a handsome woman, Moxie.”

She nodded.  “Thank you, Captain,” she said, zipping up her ship suit.  She gingerly touched her chin and lips where the skin was once again smooth.  “You were right; I should have done this a while ago.”

“You don’t seem to be particularly possessed of a great deal of vanity,” he noted.

Tamara shrugged.  “I’m not, to be honest.  The scars weren’t hindering me.  In fact, when I first came on board, I was more concerned that I might get raped.  The scars acted as a bit of a deterrent.”

“I told you before, I’m not into scars.”

“You are hardly the only male on board, Captain,” she pointed out.

“True,” he acknowledged.  “But when we started our business relationship, I made it known among the crew that you were off limits.  No one would have touched you.”

Her eyebrows raised in surprise.  “I appreciate that, Captain.  And I have to say, I wondered why I hardly had anyone speaking to me in a social setting.  Made me wonder if I’d completely lost my sex appeal.”

“Are you now on the prowl?” he teased.

She gave him a look.  “Nothing has changed, Captain.”

“Nor for me,” he replied.  “Taja would gut me with a dull knife if I started sleeping around, Captain or no Captain.”

“And you’d deserve it,” Tamara commented.  “She’s a good woman.”

The Captain nodded, his face completely serious.  ‘Now, talk to me about these rail guns you promised.”

“You’d have to talk to the Chief, Captain.  He’s the one who’s been working on it.  But I’ve got to tell you, I think it might take a little while.  We need to plan it out.  I’ve never installed military-grade weaponry into a civilian ship before, much less a freighter that was never designed for it.  But we’ve got other projects going on as well.  Ka’Xarian has been working on a hydroponics bay in two of the compartments on deck three.”

“Yes, I know about that.  Problem is, we don’t have anyone who knows how to work with plants,” he said a bit sourly.  “He’s wasting all that time and effort on something that isn’t going to work.”

Tamara chuckled.  “That’s not a serious problem, Captain.  See if you can recruit someone when we get to Hecate.”

He nodded.  “Something to look into.  I’m just wondering if we’re going to get screwed on that load of gadolinium.”

Now it was Tamara’s turn to shrug as they started to leave sickbay.  “Thanks, Turan!” she said, waving.  The Guura raised one hand in recognition, but didn’t reply.  “Won’t be an entire loss if they don’t want it.  We’ll need it to overhaul the hyperdrive in a while.  Could also use it to build a new drive for another ship.”

The Captain laughed as they walked down the passage.  “You want to build a new ship?”

She shook her head.  “Not particularly, but what I meant was if there happened to be another ship and poor crew with a failing hyperdrive, it would be good to have the materials on hand to build another one.  And profitable,” she said with a sidelong glance.

He pursed his lips, thinking, clearly liking the idea.  “I think you might have an idea here, Moxie.”  Then he grimaced.  “Sadly, I’ve already informed the commerce authorities that we have the shipment.”

“What do they want it for?” she asked.  “Do they have their own ships?”

He nodded.  “Yeah, they’re under contract with a consortium to build a ship.”

“What kind of ship?”

“Military,” he shrugged.

She raised an eyebrow, moving to the side as a crewman walked the other way, carrying a plastic tote in his arms.  “A consortium wants a warship and you don’t see a problem with this?”

“Why should I?” he asked, unconcerned.  “There are warships everywhere, Moxie.  The Republic doesn’t care about Independent space.  Piracy is rampant, as we found out at Instow.  If a few corporations or a planet want to build a warship, why should we be bothered by this?”

“And if they decide to turn the warship’s guns on their neighbors?”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Moxie.  War is good for business.”

“You’d fly this ship, your baby, through a warzone?”  Tamara clearly didn’t believe that.

“Every time we’re in normal space for more than a few hours we are in a warzone, Moxie,” he reminded her.  “If it isn’t belligerent Republic ships demanding we heave to for inspection, its pirates shooting us up and stealing cargo and crewmates.  If a few systems have a decent warship that discourages the nastier elements to think twice, I think we might actually start having safer spacelanes out here.”

She sighed.  She couldn’t really argue with that, though it went against the grain to simply hand military technology to civilians.  Not that it was something completely unheard of.  Even back in her day, before the fighting between the Republic and Federation heated up, there were civilian contractors using military equipment.  She’d never approved of that, but she understood that the Navy couldn’t be everywhere, what with budget and manpower restrictions.  But she suspected there was a flaw in his logic.  Yes, things, might be safer with independent warships around, but what if someone decided that they might like to carve out their own little empire?  She also knew that until that flaw slapped him in the face, it was unlikely she was going to convince him of that.