Pursue the Past: Samair in Argos: Book 1 (35 page)

              Vosteros nodded in complete agreement.  "Oh, believe me, I'm going to tear strips out of his hide.  He'll be lucky if I don't space him."

              "We need to have a serious discussion, Frederick," Vincent replied.  "Go and get your ship straightened out.  But after that, we're going to need to talk if you want to continue our business relationship.  My team will accompany you, but they will stay aboard the shuttle until they get the go ahead.  I'm also going to be sending along a security team.  I don't want any more of this nonsense slowing down our agreements."

              Vosteros clearly wasn't happy about the idea that an armed boarding party was going to be brought on his ship.  But he realized that he
needed
this transaction with Eamonn if his ship was ever going to fly again.  He knew he would be going into debt to fix up his ship, but Eamonn was sure that Vosteros wasn't aware of just how far into debt he was going to be.  It would end up being mutually beneficial, but Vosteros probably wouldn't see it that way, at least at first.

              The trip back over to the
Emilia Walker
was less cordial this time.  Captain Vosteros kept to himself, while Tamara and her team simply sat and waited.  They hadn't brought any replacement parts with them seeing as how they didn't know what was needed.  They knew life support would need a thorough going over, but until they got a good look at it, they didn't know what would be needed.  They did bring along a trio of cleaner bots, rented by Vosteros, after Tamara had made a comment about the smell.  The Captain had generously offered the bots and Vosteros had jumped at the opportunity.  They'd all seen his face when he had breathed the air aboard
Grania Estelle
and had seen that he knew there was a marked difference.

              Within minutes, the shuttle docked with the freighter and the hatch showed green lights, indicating a good seal.  Vosteros pulled open the hatch and stepped aboard.  Tamara and the others didn't follow, but watched from beyond the hatch.

              Coolidge was back, angry at first, but then perked up when he saw it was his captain.  "Skipper.  I chased off those bums who came on board before.  Up to no good they were."

              Vosteros came up to the man and gave him a backhanded slap across the face.  A surprising move; Tamara had expected a punch.  But it seemed the strike got his point across, like a father disciplining an unruly adult son. 

              "What is
wrong
with you?" the Captain hissed.  He grabbed a fistful of the man's ship suit, pulling his thin face close to the other man.  "I am trying to get my ship up and running again and
you
chase away the people who are willing and able to do that!"

              "But..." Coolidge sputtered, clearly stunned by events.  "But... Skipper!"

              "Don't say anything," Vosteros said harshly.  "I've a right mind to throw you out an airlock and be done with you.  I cannot afford to have crewmen on my ship who do not pull their own weight.  Now," he said, releasing him, "the engineering team from the
Grania Estelle
has returned.  You
will
show them
every
courtesy while they were here and you will allow them access to everything.  If there is something you have a question about, take out your communicator and call me.  I cannot afford to waste any more time.  Do you understand?"

              The man retained a truculent expression, as though he was pouting at being spoken to like this.  He didn't answer.

              "That's it.  As of this moment, all your rank and privileges are gone.  You are now on my shit list and you can now refer to yourself as Wiper Coolidge."  He smiled and even Tamara blinked at the menace.  "In fact, I think Wiper is going to be your new name from now on.  Because I don't think I can ever see a time where you get yourself off my shit list.  Now, these people are coming aboard and you are going to assist.  And I'm not going to ask."             

              Vosteros turned away from the completely cowed and broken crewmember.  It looked as though Wiper Coolidge was about to cry.  The Captain came back to the hatch of the shuttle.  "I'm sorry you had to witness that.  Personnel issues."

              Tamara nodded.  "Of course, Captain.  I completely understand.  Permission to come aboard?"

              He gave her a large smile, though it didn't reach his eyes, and extended his arms in a welcoming gesture.  "Of course!  Of course!  Please come aboard.  I know there is a lot of work to be done.  And do you think you could do something about the smell?  You don't notice it after a while, but when you've been gone and come back its particularly bad."

              "Certainly, Captain.  It’s a top priority.  In fact, Pip, get one of those bots cleaning.  It'll help."  The man nodded, pulling up his datapad and entering a few commands.  One of the dinner plate sized bots warbled and hummed as it floated swiftly past the group, immediately going to work on the airlock, while the other two stayed with Pip.  "All right kids," she said.  "Attempt number two.  Though I think this one is going to go more as planned."  They all chuckled and entered the ship.

              The
Emilia Walker
was a far different design than the
Grania Estelle
.  As a tramp freighter, it wasn't designed with a huge crew in mind, and space was at a premium.  Just beyond the airlock was a decent sized compartment which looked like a small cargo area.  Compared to the massive holds on the bulk freighter, this looked as though someone had stacked pallets, crates and barrels in someone's quarters.  It was about the size of two sets of quarters aboard the
Grania Estelle
, with the walls knocked out.  A narrow corridor between the crates of cargo was available to move through.

              There wasn't anything of particular interest in that room, but Tamara had Victor stop and give the room a thorough scan anyway.  They were going to do a complete survey and that meant scanning every room.  Vosteros moved through, motioning them all to follow.  "Come along," he urged.  "Wiper Coolidge here will escort you."

              The two security guards followed along with the tech team, looking stern and their eyes sweeping the area for threats.  They didn't seem to find any, no booby traps, automated defenses, or crewmembers with concealed (or openly displayed) weapons.  It didn't cause them to relax their vigilance, but a degree of tension seemed to evaporate.

              The entire team looked over the ship as they walked, running their scanners and checking things as they moved.  They all were concerned by the readings they were seeing.  Hell, just by using their eyes they could see things that were concerning.  Pipes that were leaking.  Wires and cables that were hanging from the ceiling.  Trash and other detritus littered the deck, the tables, and there was even a coffee cup wedged in between two pipes in the overhead.

              "How the hell do they do
anything
on this garbage pile?" Igraine asked in an undertone.  No one answered.  No one had any good idea.

              "All right.  Pip, Igraine, you two head to life support, bring one of the bots with you.  I'm
sure
it could use a good scrubbing.  Run the finest grained scan that you can.  I'm sure it's a mess."  Tamara nodded to them and they turned and walked off.  "Rory, you and Victor head to the engineering spaces.  See how they're progressing in with repairs there.  I saw on my flyby that the sublights are in pieces." 

              "On it, Boss," Rory replied, tugging on Victor's sleeve.  The two walked away.

              "That leaves you and me," Mairi replied.

              "Yes it does.  We're off to the bridge for the moment.  I'd like to get started on the software cleanse.  It'll only help."

              “Wait,” Mairi said.  “What about the third bot?”

              Tamara grimaced.  “Oh, that’s coming with us to the bridge.  I don’t want to be sitting in a filthy space running software cleaning and patches.  Besides, I want it to make sure all the areas in there are clear.  I don’t need any fires or shorts in the circuitry.”

              Mairi nodded.  “Makes sense.”  She tucked on curl of dark hair back over her ear.  Then she smiled wickedly.  “But what’s the real reason?”

              Tamara smirked.  “Those are the real reasons.  But a very close auxiliary reason is that I’m hoping that it will help with the smell.  The cockpit on a ship this big isn’t going to be huge.  I’d be surprised if it can hold more than four stations.  And I imagine it’s going to be
very
tight.”

              Mairi chuckled.  But then her face fell.  “Ugh.  I haven’t thought of that.  I’m not looking forward to sitting in a closet with three other people.”

              “Can’t say I am either, Mairi,” Tamara commented as they continued their walk through the ship. 

              After an hour’s work, Tamara’s virus eaters were on the attack.  Only about 12 percent of the ship’s software had been cleaned, but it was a work in progress.  In the meantime, she had repaired four logic faults, seven conflicts and had begun programming a firewall to keep any new viruses out.  Finally, she leaned back in the sensor station chair and rubbed her face with her hands.  Mairi was in the next seat, running checks on the main systems, getting a full update on what was actually working from a software perspective. 

              The bridge was, predictably, cramped.  There were four stations: helm, sensors, astrogation and engineering.  There was barely enough room to move and even with just two people there it was claustrophobic.  That brought up another issue, one that Mairi was vocal enough to point out.

              “Why are we allowed to be alone in here?” she asked, looking over at Tamara.

              The other woman smiled.  “We aren’t, actually.  You’ve been pretty absorbed, so I’m not surprised you didn’t notice the Captain poking his head in here every five minutes or so.”

              Mairi blinked, looking to the cockpit door.  “Really?”

              Tamara nodded.  “Yup.  He’s very quiet and I can tell that it’s killing him waiting.  I think I’ll put him out of his misery.”  She leaned backward.  “Captain?  Do you have a moment?”

              And instant later, the gaunt man appeared in the hatchway, a desperately hopeful look on his face.  “You have something?”

              “Finally?” another voice said from behind him, scorn clear in the tone.

              “We are approximately…” she checked her datapad, “fourteen percent complete with the full virus cleanup.  Once that’s done, we can work on speed of your systems.  I’ve corrected a few errors now, but I’m still working on it.  But just with what we’ve done so far, your systems will already be noticeably better.”

              “I don’t know what to say,” he said, flabbergasted.

              “I know what
I’d
say,” the second voice replied.

              “Shut your mouth, Zamir,” the Captain snapped.  The other man, a short, squat man with a Teyrogian accent with gray hair and about five days of beard growth, threw up his hands in disgust.  He turned away and stormed off.

              Tamara raised an eyebrow.  “Forgive me for saying, Captain, but it looks as though your crew is very unhappy to have us here.”

              He sighed.  “Let me ask you this, Miss Samair…”

              “Tamara, please.”

              “Tamara then.  If you were on a ship that was in need of serious repair, would
you
be happy to need some outsider to come in and do the job that you and your own teams could not?”

              She took in a deep breath and then let it out, instantly regretting it as she sucked in more of the rancid air.  The cleaner bot had been doing its thing, but it still had a ways to go to finish the cockpit and that did nothing about the funk wafting in from the outer compartment.  “Put like that, no I wouldn’t.  But, I’m here, my team is here.  We want to help.  Our Captain wants to work with you.”  She smiled gently.  “I don’t want to step on your toes, Captain, but in all honestly…” She trailed off. 

              “But…?” he asked, the look on his face showing he suspected where she was leading.

              “But,” she repeated, “Without our help, do you think that you could get this baby flying?”

              He sighed heavily.  “Very to the point, Tamara.”

              “I don’t believe in the comfortable lie, Captain.  And besides, this is a Navrot Yards built, Sequim-352 class light freighter.  Yeah, she’s seen a lot of wear and tear and a lot of light years, but that’s no reason to throw her away.  She’s a beautiful machine, Captain.”  Her smile caused his lips to turn up at the corners.  “I’m a big fan of restoration.  I’ve been helping out on the
Grania Estelle
, I’ve rebuilt my own starfighter and I want to help you here with the
Emilia Walker.
”

              Her grin was infectious.  “You pitch a good sale, Miss Samair.  I don’t know how many of the repairs that I can afford, but you’re right.  I want my baby to fly again.”