First Principles: Samair in Argos: Book 3 (30 page)

              “Very well done, Gunny.  Can the ship move under its own power?”

              The Marine shrugged, his armored shoulders actually bobbing up and down slightly.  “I doubt it, sir.  Especially with what my tech boys are saying.  I think it might be repairable, but as of this moment, this ship is not going anywhere.  We’re going to need a tow into the inner system.”

              “Understood, Gunny.  I’ll need your people to stay aboard the prize until we can get
Ravage
spaceworthy enough to fly in system, then we’ll be able to tow you in.  Will you be able to keep a lid on things?”

              “No problem, sir,” he replied confidently.  “My boys and girls have plenty of ammo and the remaining crew are pretty docile.  We’ve got people stationed in all critical sections of the ship, and we’ve secured people in the berthing areas.  Any troublemakers are sitting either in the ship’s small brig, or, in one case, I’ve got him standing at attention in one of the airlocks.”  The gunny smirked.  “He thinks he’s all big and bad.  Amazing how cooperative he got after we threw him in there.”

              “Gunny…” Duncan said tiredly.

              “Sorry, sir.  But to answer your question, no, there won’t be any problems.  I’ll keep things under control here.”

              He nodded.  “Very well, Gunny.  It’ll be another two or three hours to set up bucking cables for the tow.  Unfortunately, our tractoring beams took hits in the fighting, so we have to get a bit more old school.”

              Rajendra shrugged again.  “Not my department, Captain.  Either way is fine for me, but we might need a tech or two over here to help with the link ups for the bucking cables.”

              Duncan smiled.  “Gunny, don’t try and fool me.  I know you have techs of your own among your Marines.”

              “Of course,” he said.  “But my techs are a little busy working on prelim repairs over here on the ship, Captain.  I think we’d all like to keep the lights on and the air circulating.”

              “I’ll get a team over there as soon as we can, Gunny.”

              “Understood, Captain.  We’ll be waiting.”

              It took six hours to get things stabilized on board
Ravage
, which had taken serious damage.  They’d gotten the breached sections buttoned up and power restored to the engines and the survivors of the corvette’s crew set a course to the trading station.  It would be slow going, but Lieutenant Tran was determined that he and his people would make it.  The lieutenant was determined that he would not lose his ship, his first real command.  Duncan couldn’t blame him; you always remembered your first and it always held a special place in your heart.

              The tech team was over on the prize ship, making sure the systems were stabilized and the tow lines were secured when the com-tech called to the captain’s cabin.  “Sir?  We have an incoming transmission from the pirates, sir.  They’re transmitting in the clear.”

              Harth rubbed his face, sitting up in his bunk.  He groaned.  “All right.  Put it through.”  He brought up his HUD, and mentally directed the transmission to his implants.

              The display on his HUD showed the scarred carapace of the pirate lord.  The image was zoomed in on his face and Duncan had to fight his impulse to recoil at that hideous insectoid visage.  “To the Republic pigs who have dared to attack my sshipss, I am Lord Verrikoth.  You might believe that you have won, that you have beaten me.”  He actually inched closer to the vid pickup.  “You could not be more wrong.  You believe that by forcing me to withdraw, you have reclaimed this sstar ssysstem.”  He hissed with laughter.

             
What an arrogant piece of work.  He’s lost, but he still thinks he’s in control. 
Duncan had to salute his tenacity, or his ability to delude himself.

              “You have taken one of my cruiserz while I sstill have three of your vessselz.  I suppoze that might be conssidered a fair trade.  But I am not trying to be fair.  I will rule the Argoss Clusster and I will eradicate all who sstand in my way.  Sso, Republic pig, ssee here the fruitss of your victory!”  And the transmission ended.

              Duncan blinked.  “That was it?”  He thought-clicked a macro, calling the bridge.  “What happened?  Was there more to the transmission?”

              The com-tech shook his head.  “No, sir.  But there was a signal sent at the end of the transmission, but it wasn’t directed at us.”

              “What the hell?  Can we determine what he was aiming at?”

              The young man looked flustered.  “Not so far, sir.  I’ve got my team analyzing the signal, but it was so brief, just a single pulse, really.  We’re trying to track it from his ship to… whatever he was aiming at.”

              “Well if it wasn’t meant for us, the only logical targets would be either his cargo ships, which we learned from the captured cruiser’s databanks are docked at the trading station, or the trading station itself.”

              “We’ll investigate, Captain.  I’ll get back to you as soon as we have something.”

              “Very well.”  He blinked and cut the connection.

              Leader Wu watched his aft sensor pickup as the signal from
Ganges
was received.  The trading station was a structure floating in the Lagrange point in the inner system that had been there for centuries, which had received upgrades over the years, which had had countless feet or ambulatory appendages stepping over its deckplates over the years.  Once the signal came in, detonators attached to explosive devices planted throughout the station activated.  In a matter of seconds, several dozen devices activated. 

              Bursts of energy erupted from all the levels of the station, tearing the structure of the station apart at predetermined stress points intended to cause the most amount of damage.  The station seemed to expand outward like an illuminated bubble for all of five seconds, until the detonators attached to the station’s fusion reactors exploded.  An instant later, the station was nothing more than a rapidly expanding ball of dust and shrapnel.  The site where the station had hung suspended for centuries glowed for a long moment, lit up by the ignition of the He3 fuel and the oxygen atmosphere.  And then it was gone.

              Wu watched it all, keeping his eyes focused on the destruction and pure carnage of it all, unflinching.  He wanted to feel elation, excitement and by all rights he should.  His lord had just stolen an entire star system from the Republic, leaving them nothing behind that they could use.  But all he could think about were the several thousand people of various races that had just been exterminated. 

              “Continue on course,” he ordered, switching off the sensor screen.  He leaned his head back on to the headrest of his chair.

              “Captain, the analysis just came back,” Drommen reported several minutes later.  “That pulse transmission the pirates sent out, well I tracked it.  It was directed at the trade station.”

              A chill went through his veins.  Duncan swallowed hard, but managed to speak.  “Send out a communication to the station.  Now.  Query their status.”

              “It will take several minutes for the response, assuming they respond right away,” the comms watch replied. 

              “Just send it, Comms,” the captain ordered, his voice harsh.  The young man sitting at the console blanched, but immediately turned to his station and sent out the message.

              Duncan watched him send the message, but he had a terrible feeling he knew what response he would get back from the station.  There would be only reason the pirate lord would send him that kind of message with another pulse wave sent out in the direction of the trade station.  The vicious bug didn’t want the Republic to have any kind of victory from this.  He would destroy the station, murder everyone on it, just to deny Harth a win.  And now, with the station gone, the Republic had no official ties to the Argos Cluster.  A new base would need to be selected, built and a new flotilla of defense ships would need to be sent out here and with resources and attitudes the way they were back home, it would be unlikely that anyone would.  Once Duncan Harth and his grouping of ships returned home, assuming they could save the pirate cruiser and
Ravage
, they would most likely be redirected to other defense forces within the Republic.  Admiral Tandred would very likely write off the Argos Cluster and why shouldn’t he?  It was a loss. 

              “Captain?” the comms watch replied, his voice sounding puzzled.  “I’m not getting a response from the station.  It’s been long enough that they would have been able to send something back to us.”

              “I know that, Comms,” Duncan said, nodding wearily.  “And I don’t think we’re going to get a response.  Keep sending a message to the station, but I don’t think they’re going to answer.”  He turned to Kamerov.  “XO, keep on with our own repairs and keep me apprised of what’s going on over on the pirate cruiser.  I want to get over to the station as soon as possible, see if there’s anything we can do to help.”

              “Understood, sir.  We should have the cruiser locked with bucking cables ready for a town in a couple of hours.”

              “Good.  I’ll be in Engineering.”  Harth rose from his chair and walked off the bridge.  He hoped that it was just a bad feeling, that there were still survivors.  But he was kidding himself.  Verrikoth might be a pirate and a barbarian, but it didn’t appear that he was a fool.  He nodded to himself as he entered his cabin. 
If he destroys the assets at Byra-Kae, he’s betting that the Republic will dump all its interests out here and leave him alone.  And he’s probably right.

              Turan arrived in the wardroom and flopped bonelessly into a chair.  The long-necked alien was clearly exhausted, his normal gray skin taking on a dull pallor, his black eyes half-lidded.  His gills were flaring as though he needed to suck in air as fast as he could.  “Well, the last of the patients is out of surgery,” he said, resting both of his flipper hands on the table.  It was clear that he needed them there to hold himself up.

              “Stars, Turan, you look terrible,” Vincent said, with serious concern.  “What the hell are you doing up here in the wardroom?  Get down to your cabin and sleep!”

              “I wanted to make my report,” he replied.  “I want to put in all of my medical people for special commendation.  They worked tire… tirelessly.”  His shook himself a little, clearly trying to keep himself awake.

              “Stella, get a couple people up here to escort the good doctor to his quarters,” Vincent said to the air.

              Stella appeared on the monitors behind him, dismay on her face.  “Doctor, how many stim tabs have you taken?”

              He sighed, his body seeming to deflate.  “I had patients who needed me,” was his only response. 

              A moment later, two burly cargo handlers arrived in the wardroom.  “Captain?” one of them said, questioningly.  “Stella contacted us…”

              He nodded.  “Yes, thank you for coming up.  Please help the good doctor here to his quarters,” he told them, gesturing.  “I think he’s going to have some trouble staying on his feet, so please make sure he gets there safely.”

              “Course, Captain,” the other one said.  “Come on, doc.  Let’s get you to bed.  Can’t help your patients if you’re about to collapse.”

              Turan was so exhausted that he didn’t even have energy to argue.  The two men gently helped the Guura to his feet and followed closely behind as he stumbled out of the wardroom, almost not making out over the knee knocker. 

              Vincent sighed and rubbed his forehead as the trio departed.  Stella transferred herself from the monitors to the holo projector in front of him.  She looked worried.  “He’s pushing himself too hard.”

              “I know, Stella.  But there isn’t anything I can do.  He’s right, the patients need him.  At least he’s finally gearing down,” Vincent said.

              “He’s going to damage himself,” she continued.  “And I’m concerned that with so many people that are wounded, he’s going to try and push himself beyond his limits.  In fact, I’m sure he already has.”

              “Not going to argue with that.  Keep an eye on him, Stella, please.  Report to me immediately if he leaves his quarters if he hasn’t slept for more than eight hours.  Oh, and also report to me if he tries to hit himself up with more stims.  We’re not playing that game, not on my ship.”

              “Understood, Captain,” she said, nodding.  “He really scared me.”

              “Me too,” he replied.  “And he better not do it again.  I know he’s dedicated to his work and his patients, but I’m not going to let him kill himself.”

              “Perhaps we should look into hiring more medical staff,” Stella mused.

              “Can’t really use much more aboard ship.  And we’re not a roving hospital, we’re a cargo ship.”  He pursed his lips.  He groaned and scrubbed his hands over his face.  “How are the teams doing down on the surface?”

              Stella nodded.  “They’re on schedule, Captain.  It’s not a fast job, even though the parts were all ready and the teams were prepped.  Keeping the locals on task is proving easy.  They’re motivated but they’re not doing anything stupid, which apparently is impressing Quesh.”

              “That is good,” he remarked.  “Might be some recruiting opportunities here, though perhaps on a more limited basis.”

              “You know that the governor would scream to high heavens,” Stella pointed out.

              Vincent smirked.  “Well, we won’t poach
all
of his people.  Perhaps just a choice few.”

              She laughed.  “You’re incorrigible, Captain.”

              “I know.”  He went back to his console and more paperwork.

~~~~~~*~~~~~~

              Turan came to after twelve hours in his bunk, groaning and stretching.  He felt rested, but not particularly refreshed.  He got up, stumbled to the small refrigerator and poured himself a cup of juice and gulped it down.  Taking a ration bar, he made short work of it and then climbed into the shower.  He allowed himself several minutes longer to let the cool water to sluice over him. 

              Stepping out, he dried himself off and pulled on a clear ship suit.  As soon as he pulled on the suit jacket, Stella’s voice came over the PA.  “Good to see you up and about, Doctor.  How are you feeling?”

              He grunted, heading to the hatch to his stateroom.  “I feel hung over,” he complained.  “And I didn’t even have the fun of the party beforehand.”

              “No, Doctor,” she replied.  “You didn’t.  But you nearly killed yourself, Turan.  I know you feel an obligation to the patients, but you can’t push yourself that hard.  You collapsing from exhaustion is not going to help anyone.”

              He flipped his small trunk up.  “Yes, Mother Hen.”

              “Gotta make sure all my little chicks are okay, Doctor,” she scolded lightly.  “Can’t let one of my roosters get too cocky.”

              He groaned.  “That was a terrible joke.  Please stop.”

              “Very well, Doctor.  But I am relaying from the captain, no more stims.  Not for a while.”

              “If something comes up, Stella, I’m going to do whatever’s needed,” he told her as he walked down the corridor, heading for sickbay.  “And I’m sorry, but I’m not going to lose even one patient because I needed a nap.”

              “I could have someone sedate you,” Stella said.

              “I just got up from a very long sleep, Stella.  And none of my nurses or sick berth attendants would be stupid enough to try and stick me with a hypodermic full of drugs.”

              The AI laughed.  “Then I’d get Saiphirelle to blast you with a stunner.  And don’t tell me that you think she’d be too cautious to try it.”

              He chuckled.  “You are an evil little cloud of software, do you know that?”

              “I know you mean that with all the love in your amphibious body, Doctor,” she replied before signing off.

              Turan arrived in sickbay and was greeted with a lot of tired smiles.  “How are things going?”

              “I think we’re mostly on the mend, Doctor,” Mizran said.  “Only have four cases that are still critical, but no emergencies overnight.”  He flicked her ears and tail.  “But I’m glad to see that you got some rest.  I was about to call the Security Chief to stun you and drag you to your bunk.”

              “Is the whole ship going to joke about that?” he growled, pulling up a display and starting to check status on the first patients in line.

              “Who’s joking?” the Severite muttered.

              “I’m going to check on the Commodore,” Turan told the SBA.  “Holler if something changes.”

              “Right.”

              Heading over to where the woman was laying on one of the biobeds, Turan checked the readings.  The woman blinked as he walked up.  “Easy there, Commodore,” he soothed, stepping to the side of the bed.  “I’m Doctor Turan.  Do you know where you are?”

              She opened her mouth very slightly, tried to speak, but then swallowed and she tried again.  Turan grabbed the cup of water on the table next to the bed and brought the straw to her mouth.  “It’s water.  Take little sips.”  The officer complied and after three sips, Turan took the cup away.  “Just a little at a time.  You’ve been through a huge trauma but you came through all right.  Well, you’re alive.  There’s some more work on you that my team is going to have to do, your legs and right arm especially.”

              She was staring at him intently and he passed a flipper hand over the woman’s face.  “Stop scanning me, Commodore.  You’re probably not going to find me in your files.  I haven’t ever gone into the Republic and I’ve never been aboard a Republic ship or station.”

              Her voice came out as a croak.  “You-…”  She swallowed and tried again.  “You know about naval implants?”

              Turan smiled, checking the biobed sensors, and pressing a couple of controls.  “I know a lot of things,” he said, nodding in satisfaction.  “My colleagues and I are working on getting some for the crew.  We’ve already equipped the crew with level one implants, but one of the engineers and I are developing some more advanced models.  Are you in any pain?”

              “No,” she said, shaking her head.  “I’m assuming you’re the ship’s doctor?”

              He gave a watery chuckle.  “Yes, I’m sorry.  You’re aboard the freighter
Grania Estelle
.  My name is Turan.  What’s yours?”

              “Theodosia McConnell,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.

              “You’re the commander of the Republic forces in this area of space, aren’t you?  Commanded a light squadron or something, right?”

              She nodded.  “I did at one point.  Now?”  She gave a wry laugh.  “Now I command a squadron consisting of one ship.  I’m supernumerary right now.  Commander Crgann, if she’s still alive can take care of things better than I can right now.”

              Turan raised his flippers in a shrug.  “Not my department, Commodore.  But from what I hear,” he said, examining her face, checking her eyes.  “You did everything you could to get your squadron out of that system and you smashed up the pirate force but good.  And I hear that the pirate forces were much greater than you.”

              “Yeah,” Theodosia replied weakly.  “It certainly doesn’t feel like a victory, only managing to get one ship out.  I don’t know what happened to the trade station we were using as a base.  They trashed the repair slip we were using to fix up that other destroyer.  I just lost my command.”

              “Don’t be so defeatist,” the doctor chided.  “You leader people are all the same.  You still have a ship left, which means you still have crew that are depending on you.  I’m going to take very good care of you and get you back on your feet as soon as I can.”

              “How is the ship?” she asked, sounding far more concerned about that than she was about her own condition.

              “I’m not the one to ask,” Turan replied honestly.  “I’m just a doctor.  My job is with the organics, we’ve got engineers to deal with the metal bits.  But from what I understand, the ship’s pretty banged up.  We were dealing with all of your wounded first, and then we’d work on fixing up your ship.”

              “How many wounded?” she asked, struggling to try and sit up.

              “No, no, no,” the Guura stated flatly, gently pushing her back down on to the bed.  “You are in no condition to be going anywhere.  I’ve taken care of the internal injuries, but it’s going to take time for the damage to your legs and arm to be repaired.  Until then I’m sorry, ma’am, but you are not going anywhere.  As for wounded, there were quite a few.  But I’m sorry to tell you, but a little more than a third was lost in the battle and subsequent trip.  There were quite a few more that were injured and wounded, yourself among them.  That crackerjack petty officer of yours that was acting as a medic is a marvel.  I think Commander Crgann mentioned something to my Captain about making sure he gets a medal.”

              “I’ll definitely sign off on that,” Theodosia muttered.  Her eyes started to flutter.

              “Rest, Commodore,” Turan said, pressing a control and increasing her pain meds, and she drifted off to sleep.  The Guura waited until the readings indicated she was out before turning away to the next patient in the line.

              “Captain Eamonn,” Brianne Crgann said, appearing on the vid screen.

              Vincent turned to face the display.  “Captain Crgann.  How can I help you?”

              “I want to start sending small groups of my technicians over to the
Horus
to begin repairs,” Brianne said.  “It’s been almost four days and I believe that I’ve had my people sitting on their asses taking up your air for long enough.  I do very much appreciate your hospitality, but I can’t just have my people sit on their laurels forever.  Besides,” she added thoughtfully, “your ship is big and certainly impressive, but it can’t stand up to a pirate attack.”

              Vincent sighed, trying hard to keep his ire in check.  “No, my girl is designed to haul lots of cargo, not fight off pirates.  But there’s only so much that we can do in the way of repairs here at Heb.  Unless you’re just going to head back to the Republic, Commander, I think it might be best if you come with us to Seylonique.”

              She nodded.  “Yes, so you’ve said, Captain.  I believe that would be the best idea.  I don’t have any currency aboard the ship, but I’m sure we might be able to come up with some sort of repayment.”  The Secaaran sighed.  “I can’t expect you to be willing to make repairs to my ship for free.”