Pursue the Past: Samair in Argos: Book 1 (53 page)

              “Those are not cheap, Mistress,” one of the men indicated.  “There is a great call for those.”

              She smiled at him.  “Yes, I know they are, but I think the people on Ulla-tran will very much appreciate them.  Kazyanenko hardwoods are quite beautiful and I know more than a few people on Ulla-tran will be interested.  So, as I said, we’ll take them.”

              “Very good, Mistress,” the man said, marking something on his clipboard.  He was actually using archaic pen and paper, as opposed to the electronic data pad Taja was using. 

              “What other items do you have scheduled for Yullankla?”

              “Well, there is a container of dry edibles,” he temporized.

              She brightened, making a note of her own.  “Wonderful!  Let’s go see them.”  She frowned.  “What are these cargo cans here?”  She gestured to five massive stacks of cylindrical cargo containers.

              “Oh, those?” the man asked.  He checked the labels on the containers.  “Those are for the glassworks on Ulla-tran, actually.  Fifteen cans, twelve meters in diameter each.  Looks like five of sand, five of fine clay and other five of a mix of various compounds.  Looks like lime, magnesium oxide and… yes, aluminum oxide.  One of the ships in orbit brought in the order, but they had engine trouble and besides, their ship is too small to carry even one of those cans.”

              “They came from Ulla-tran?” Taja asked, looking thoughtful.  “Which ship?”

              “The
Grey Feathers
,” he answered.  “Captain Maxwell’s ship.”  The man frowned at her.  “You didn’t know that?  Great big parking lot of ships in orbit of our humble little planet and you didn’t know that?”

              The small woman snorted.  “Well, there might be a lot of ships here, but the two smaller ships aren’t too interested in talking.  At least not to us anyway.”  She pursed her lips.  “All right, we’ll take the cans for the glassworks too.”  Taja looked at him, a hard expression on her face.  “Wait.  They aren’t on any kind of priority, are they?  Some other ship wasn’t supposed to deliver?”

              The man shook his head.  “No, Mistress.  Cosorp Glassworks placed the order and are waiting for the delivery.  They have a small office over in the plaza.”

              “Earmark those cans for us then, please,” she decided.  “I’ll stop over there once we’re done here and pick up the contract.”
              “Sounds good to me.”  The man consulted his list.  “Oh, one more thing.  Over here.  There’s a pair of containers carrying beryllium ingots.”

              “How big?”

              “The ingots?  Standard size,” he said, making a fist.  “About that big.”

              Taja chuckled.  “No, I meant the containers.”

              “Oh, sorry.  Twelve meter, same as the other.”

              “These are going to Ulla-tran too?”

              “Yes, Mistress,” he replied, flipping up a paper.  “For the shipyard there.”

              “Excellent.  We’ll take them.”

              They wandered about a bit more, Taja selecting a few more containers for transport.  None of the containers were as large as those first few, but she did find about a dozen more to be transferred to the ship.  Containers of rice, plastic pellets, three ten meter cans of coal, even four containers of feed for livestock on Yullankla.

              She signed the contracts after conferring with the Captain over her communicator.  He trusted her instincts and her business sense.  She was, after all, the cargo specialist for a reason.  They would bring in some nice shares after delivering all of these.  It had been quite a while since
Grania Estelle
had managed to snag this many cargoes.  As far as making a profit on this run, they had a few bits and bobs to sell, but what really brought in the cash were the items from the replicators.

              Kazyanenko didn’t have much in the way of industry, mostly mining and farming, with a few cottage industries set up for producing what the locals needed.  The freighter crew set them up with parts for a new hydroelectric generator for the massive dam project that was going on about fifty kilometers from the city.  The locals were looking to dam up the Gornek River and it would provide all of the power they would need and do so much more efficiently and cleanly than the coal burning furnaces.

They also built a few pre-fab shelters and a few pieces of farming equipment, combines and several plows.  The crew shares here were better than they’d seen in months, which made everyone happy.  There was talk that the Captain was working on a deal with the city mayor about building a number of engines for some of the ground vehicles the people here used.  Trucks, mostly, though there were a few family vehicles included.  Tamara and Stella had the parts replicated and ready for shipment down to the planet in less than a day, and unlike the leaders at Hecate, those here at Kazyanenko were more than willing (eager even) to do business with them. 

              As the shuttle was unloading, crates of engine parts which required hover pallets and hoists to move, they were so weighty, the mayor himself was there to watch the unloading, making it sort of an informal holiday.  People lined the edges of the landing pad to watch the freighter jockeys unload the parts, cheering as each new crate came out of the shuttle’s cargo hold.

              The crew, meanwhile, was rotating in shifts down to the planet for shore leave.  There were plenty of bars and places to eat, which gave the crew more than a few chances to blow off steam.  It also gave them a chance to interact with the crews of the other ships, the
Grey Feathers
and the
Ocarina
.  At first, in the various bars where they would meet up the interactions were very cool and standoffish.  Several rounds later, the groups had intermingled.  A few of them were even singing.  After that, the three crews would get together down on the surface and swap stories.

              This was causing problems for the officers on the two ships.  They were still trying to stay aloof from the bulk freighter, but the co-mingling of the crews was starting to erode that.  Also, the crew and officers of the
Kara
were communicating with the two other ships, which seemed to soften them up a bit more.  But they still weren’t talking.

              The Captain was in the wardroom, a mug of coffee cooling in his hands.  He’d been there over an hour now, reading the same paragraph in the latest system status report, but not really seeing it.  His mind was elsewhere, a million light years away.  They were to be breaking orbit in two hours, moving in a convoy with the
Kara
out into the void, heading toward Yullankla.  In that time, cargo had been shuttled up to the ship, the crew had tied their last collective one on, and final checks were being done on the
Kara
’s hyperdrive to ensure they would be prepared for the jump.  The engineering teams from both crews were confident the drives would hold up and were just making one last check before they left.  But he wasn’t concerned about that.  Quesh and his people, as well as the engineers under Galina Korneyev, were competent and well equipped.  The hospital ship would get underway on schedule. 

              The captains of the other ships irked him.  He could understand they might have thought he was a threat, his big ship entering the system and getting the
Kara
shipshape again.  But he was irritated that both of them were still refusing contact.  Sensor sweeps had determined that the ships were in decent repair and reports from the local, as well as the
Kara
indicated that they had been here in orbit for several weeks.  The
Kara
’s sensors weren’t as good as those on the
Grania Estelle
, especially before the reactor overhaul and to be honest, Administrator Korneyev was far less rude than he was.  She hadn’t been prying into the inner workings of the other ships. 

              His crew and their crews had gotten along down on the planet, the massive bar tabs and uncharacteristic lack of fights spoke to that.  And yet, still, both ships and both captains refused to speak with him or with anyone on the
Grania Estelle
.  It was maddening.

              Tossing down the datapad to the table, he got up and walked to the hatch.  He walked briskly down the corridor and onto the bridge.  George was there, as was Kutok and the pilot.

              “Captain,” the hak’ruk acknowledged him.  The others looked up as well.  He wasn’t expected back on the bridge until pullout.

              “Report,” he ordered, a stern expression on his face.

              “All systems normal, Captain,” George replied, double checking his display.  “Helium 3 fuel levels at sixty-one percent.  Just waiting on the guys on the
Kara
, but otherwise we’re just waiting until the timer runs down.”

              “Any word from the
Grey Feathers
or the
Ocarina
?”

              “No, Captain,” Kutok told him.  “I would have notified you immediately, per your order.”

              Eamonn nodded.  “Of course.  Thank you, Kutok.”  He turned and started to walk off the bridge.  Then he stopped and turned back.  “No.  Hail both of those ships.”

              Her pincers clicked in surprise.  “Captain?”

              “You heard me.”

              “Yes, Captain.”  She pressed a few controls.  “No response.”

              “Open a channel to both ships.  Include the
Kara
in this.”

              “Ready, Captain.”

              “This is Vincent Eamonn on the
Grania Estelle
.  I don’t understand what the story is here.  My ship has been in orbit here for a long while now and you’ve rebuffed every attempt I’ve made to contact you.  Our crews get along, and you’ve seen the work that my crew and I have done for the
Kara
as well as for the people of Kazyanenko.  We will be returning here in probably a year to see how they are progressing. 
Grania Estelle
and the
Kara
will be departing here in…” he checked the time, “One hour fifty-four minutes and our ships are headed to Yullankla.  I invite you to join us.  We can travel as a convoy.  We would be safer as a group than flying as individuals.” He sighed.  “I await your reply.”  He looked to Kutok who cut the connection.

              “Do you really think that’s going to help, Captain?” George asked, clearly unconvinced. 

              He sighed.  “I don’t know, George. 
Grey Feathers
probably won’t want to go with us, even if they do decide to talk.  Taja told me that they actually came from Ulla-tran, so it’s unlikely they’re going to want to go back that way.  Who knows about
Ocarina
though?”  He stood there, for a long moment before turning and walking off the bridge.  “George, you have the bridge,” he said as he stepped through the hatch.

              As the timer ran down to zero, there was still no answer from either of the light freighters.  With a sigh, the Captain was back on the bridge, seated in his command chair.  “All right, people.  Let’s get this show on the road.  George, talk to me.”

              “All stations still showing ready, Captain.”

              “Stella?”

              “I’m ready to go, Captain,” the AI replied, smiling from her place standing at the holo projector.  “I’m tired of parking orbit.  Let’s get going.”

              He chuckled.  “Settle down, girl.  We’ll get going soon enough.”  They all laughed, even Stella.  “Kutok, make sure the
Kara
is ready to go.”

              “They’re signaling ready, Captain,” she replied.  “I think they’re more anxious about this than we are.”

              The Captain smiled.  “Good, because I like the people on this planet, but I’m anxious to go somewhere else myself.  Helm, take us out of orbit on course for the hyper limit.”

              The pilot complied, easily getting them on their way.

              “George?  Is
Kara
following?”

              “Keeping station on our port rear, Captain.  They’re accelerating much more sluggishly than we are, though.”

              “Helm, adjust speed to match.  We are not racing to the hyper limit this time.”  He grimaced, though his tone was light.  “I know it’s a novel concept.”  More chuckles.

              Tamara sat bolt upright on her bunk, gasping like a landed fish, barely holding back a scream.  Her left hand was clutched to her chest, her right was flat against the bulkhead.  Her bedclothes were drenched in sweat. 

              The dream was fading now, but the tremors remained.  It was the same dream as before, Islington again.  She drew in a shaking breath as the pain in her chest dissipated.  Throwing the covers aside, she padded into the bathroom and turned on the faucet, splashing tepid water on her face.  Looking up into the mirror over the sink, she didn’t like what she saw.