Pursue the Past: Samair in Argos: Book 1 (27 page)

              "Well, what are you all standing around for?" Corajen barked.  "Move!"  Everyone jumped in fright at her sudden exclamation and they, very quickly, moved.

              Tamara faced her team still consisting of Mairi, Pip, Rory and now three new people, Paidric Rafferty, Igraine Lora and Victor Standing.  The four of them had brought the new, scared looking Instows over with them before getting ready to work on the hyperdrive.  Tamara wanted to make a quick evaluation before they dug in, and she knew this would have to be fast.  The clock was ticking and those ships weren’t slowing their approach any.  Only a few days before they got here. 

              “I’m Tamara Samair and Chief Trrgoth says you’re going to be working with us.  I’m in charge of this particular team, and these three have worked with me for a little while, so if you have questions, ask.  I want you to ask questions.  But, I also expect you to be able to learn and apply the information you get because we have a lot of important work to get done and not a lot of time to do it in.  So, as I said, ask your questions.  We’re going to have a bit of an awkward transitional period while you get used to things aboard ship, and I can’t help that.  We’re short on crew and everyone must pull their weight.  I would rather you bother me over what turns out to be nothing than
not
ask and have it turn out to be something.  Everyone understand?”  The three looked like deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming ground car.  “All right, everyone is going to work in pairs.  Mairi, you and Igraine, Rory, you and Paidric and Pip…”

              “That leaves me and Victor,” he said with a nod to the new guy.  Victor nodded back, trying to keep his face expressionless.  He was only partially successful.

              “Right.  Now, let’s get moving.”  She gathered up her tools, as did the others, and they moved toward the hover pallets. 

              The installation went as fast as possible, but both Tamara and Quesh chafed at the speed.  The new ones were being used mostly for fetch and carry duties, as well as helping to lift things and hold them in place while the more experienced would bolt or weld them in place.  There wasn’t much time or inclination for talk, as components were wheeled from the replicator bays down to the engineering spaces, hauled off the hover pallets and hooked up.  Then it was hours of connections, wires, cables and plugs.  Then back to the replicator for more components and the cycles would repeat.

              After eight straight hours of work, Tamara called for a break.  They tromped back down to the mess hall and all of them collapsed into chairs around one of the long tables.  Igraine and Mairi lay their heads down on the table and within a few moments, Tamara could swear that they were asleep.  The others had varying degrees of weariness, but all of them had satisfied looks on their faces.

              Cookie bustled up with a tray of coffee mugs, a smile on his face.  “I think you all could use some of this,” he said knowingly, setting the tray down on the table. 

              Tamara snatched one of the mugs and brought it up to her face, breathing in the aroma and the steam.  “Cookie, you are a god.  You know that, right?”

              The man just laughed.  “No, I just have a feeling for what my customers want.  And what I’m thinking is that you all could use some chow and a long sleep.”  Taking the now empty tray, Cookie headed back for the kitchen.

              “We could,” Pip chimed in, sipping his own mug.  “But I’m sure the boss here,” he jerked a thumb at Tamara, “will have us back in the salt mines in only a few hours.”

              “Not entirely by choice, Pip,” she said with a smile.  “Besides, the work has to get done.  We can’t stick around this system forever.”

              “Not with those ships coming this way, we can’t,” Rory said in agreement.

              “What is the story with the ships?” Victor asked.  “We have cargo ships coming through the system every few months, but you’ve mentioned an attack on the
Grania Estelle
here.  We’ve never been attacked by anybody.”

              “Never?” Rory said in surprise.  “I would think that your settlement would have had its share of visits from pirates.”

              Victor shrugged, leaning against the table, resting his head on one hand.  “Not as far as I can remember.  Though big ships never landed.  It was only the shuttles that ever came down.”

              “No landing parties?  Any serious dustups?”

              “No,” Victor repeated, and Paidric shook his head also.  “No more so than a bar fight or two.  Nothing that really raised anyone’s attentions.”

              Tamara watched them closely.  Igraine was sleeping in her seat, face down on the table.  And the others didn’t look up or cast furtive glances at one another.  Which meant that either they were the best liars in existence, the least observant bunch in existence, or no pirates had ever landed on Instow.

              She blinked in surprise as the AI spoke up, text scrolling across the bottom of her vision.  [There are two other options, Tamara.  Either the pirates never came to Agron, or when they came down, they did not engage in any suspicious or violent activity.]

              Tamara nodded slowly.  “Maybe if the pirates ever
did
land at Agron, they behaved themselves.  Or if they went to another town, like Terminus, they just came down for shore leave and legitimate trading.”  She waved her hand.  “But that’s not a critical issue right now.  The Chief has given us six hours and then we’re back on.  So if Cookie is getting us some supper then I suggest we all eat and get back to our quarters and rack out.  Then meet up back here in six.”

              A chorus of nods around the table.  Mairi grumbled, “Yes, Boss.”

              Four days of toil.  In that time, the unknown ships had grown that much closer.  The bridge crew were the only ones who were growing more nervous about this, as the rest of the ship was working to get the drives online.  The cargo division was either working to get more foodstuffs and supplies from the planet, bartering with whatever could be found, flying the shuttle up and down, ferrying trade goods for food.  The replicators were running nonstop, breaking down the junk in the cargo holds, most of which had been doing nothing but taking up space and costing the ship mass.  The junk was being used to build parts to fix the drives and the shields, as well as to make a few items for trade goods for Instow.  They built practical things like sewage reclamation pipes, air filters, algae matrix systems, even computers to control all those things.  In return, barrels of frozen fish, crates of fruits and vegetables and even a few kegs of beer were transferred to the holds of the
Grania Estelle.
  The accounting was close, as both Taja and the Captain went over the numbers.

              Using the Captain’s rough estimate, and Quesh’s new updated numbers, the astrogators had worked out that the trip out of Instow in hyperspace to the next system would take approximately one hundred fifty-six days.  They weren’t going back to Hudora and they certainly were not going to try and make an end run around the incoming ships toward Malabar, so the Captain had decided to split the difference and fly in a roughly perpendicular direction toward Folston.

              “We’ll get there about a month before the harvest,” the Captain said with a small smile.  “Excellent.”

              Taja nodded her agreement.  “We might even get our pick this time, Captain.”

              “You know we will, love,” he said to her, tapping a fist on the wardroom table with a small amount of triumph.  “There might be something good to come out of this disaster after all.”

              She frowned at his crass statement, but acknowledged his statement.   The crew shares had been down considerably lately, and even with the trading done at Instow the crew had only been paid a pittance.  Most of them were happy to receive it, happy to be alive, but there were the beginnings of grumbling throughout the ship.  Hopefully once Quesh got the ship back up and running again they’d be able to do better.  Almost certainly they would, especially if he and Tamara could patch the holes in the boat bay and in the main cargo holds.  If they could hold more goods, they could certainly trade for more on the other end.

              “Looking at all the inventories, if we don’t get all gluttonous with the foods supplies, we should be able to get to Folston with enough left over.”  Taja continued, consulting her datapad.

              He nodded.  “Hopefully the reclamation systems will get up and running so we can get the food replicator up and running.  That would help with the food problem.”

              “Do you really trust that thing?” Taja asked, wrinkling her nose.

              “What?  The food replicator?” he asked.  She nodded.  “Of course.  I didn’t at first,” he admitted.  “But then Moxie gave me one of the ration bars from it.  Actually tasted quite good.”

              Her nose wrinkled again.  “Ration bars?  Really?”

              “Hey, if it helps keep us all alive long enough to get fresh food, I’m fine with it.  After those raiders stole all that food from Cookie’s stores, we might need it.  And there is only so much fish that one can take.”

              She sighed.  “I can’t argue with that.”  Her hand was on the table and the Captain reached out and touched it.  Without looking, she reached up and clasped his hand in hers, giving it a squeeze.

              “So, are you going on the last supply run before we break orbit?”

              Taja nodded.  “I’d rather stay up here,” she said, shifting a knowing look his way, “But we need to get that last round of seawater for the fuel tanks.”

              “Moxie says that stuff is the worst stuff we could use,” the Captain pointed out.  His thumb stroked lazy circled on the back of her hand.

              “Yes, Captain, my Captain, she does say that,” Taja agreed.  “But since she wasn’t able to get the collector built and set up in time for us to be able to get the better fuel from the gas giant, we have to suffer with that.”

              “Better than nothing, I suppose.”

              “We’re going to need every drop of fuel, every molecule of hydrogen we can squeeze out of those drops.”  He sighed, releasing her hand and stood up.  “Nothing for it.  All right, go on.  Get going so you can get back.”

              She stood as well, stepping over to him.  She was not a tall woman and compared to him, she was positively tiny.  Raising up on tiptoe, she cupped one hand on the back of his neck and pulled him down for a kiss.  It was quick, they didn’t have time to really do the job properly, but it sufficed.  Releasing him, Taja flounced out of the wardroom, heading off to the shuttle.  He smiled as he watched her go.  A moment later, he headed out of the wardroom and back to the bridge.  He decided he would stand a bridge watch until the shuttle got back, then the ship would break orbit, heading for the hyper limit.

              “Oh hell,” George muttered from his station, three hours later.

              The Captain looked up from his display at his ops officer.  “What is it, George?”

              “The ships, Captain.  They’re increasing speed,” he said, a bit louder than was necessary.

              He winced.  “I’m sitting right here, George.  I know it’s a notable event, but there’s no need to shout.”

              George had the grace to look embarrassed. “Sorry, Captain.”

              “Serinda, get the crew and the shuttle back up here,” he ordered.  “We’re breaking orbit as soon as they’re back.”  The Captain turned to George.  “How much are they accelerating?”

              “They’ve kicked their speed up to point one light, Captain.  Looks like they’re holding at that speed.”

              “How much does that change their arrival time?”

              “We need to leave soonest, Captain,” George replied.  “They’ll be here in eight hours.”

              “Understood.”  He pressed the control on the arm of his chair.  “Quesh, give me good news.”

              “I have the answer to your prayers, Captain,” the Parkani said, sounding excited.  “The main engines are ready, just waiting for the word.”

              “Good.”  He turned to the helm.  “Once the shuttle is back, take us to max thrust, headed for the hyper limit.  Get with astrogation and plot us a course to Folston.”  He looked ahead again back forward, addressing the Parkani again.  “What’s the status of our hyperdrive?”

              “Still not up,” the chief replied, a bit ruefully.  “We’re still working it.  Samair is troubleshooting on her end, but we’re still working out some problems.  We’re looking at least two days of work, Captain.”

              The astrogator looked up from his console.  “Forty-nine hour transit from here to the hyper limit, Captain, best speed.”

              “You’ve got until we reach the hyper limit, Chief,” the Captain told him.  “We need to jump as soon as we get there.”

              “Then if you’ll excuse me, Captain,” Quesh replied and cut the connection.

              The Captain looked at his display, watching the two tiny icons indicated as “unknown” inching across toward the large blip labeled “Instow” and the smaller one circling it labeled “
Grania Estelle
”.  There was still no little icon for the shuttle, and he was staring at the planet, hoping that one would show up, but so far, nothing.