First Principles: Samair in Argos: Book 3 (33 page)

Vincent sighed.  “I meant being under escort because we want to be.  With a warship that is actually working with us, going to our own base of operations.”

“Won’t Tamara be surprised when we show up with a Republic warship at our side?” she said.

George grinned.  “Oh, I think she’ll be thrilled!”

Nasir hovered above the holo projector in the
Samarkand
’s engineering bay.  Two hundred and fifty technicians were diligently working various components that were going to be transferred off the ship and over to the new construction for the ship that was being assembled there.  He looked approvingly at the workers but then frowned at the two supervisors that were carrying on a loud argument on the edge of the bay.

“I cannot believe you’re doing this to me again,” Eretria Sterling said, her normally calm and slightly icy demeanor cracked. 

“Well, I thought that when we discussed it the last time with the other ship, we decided that we weren’t going to go over the same old ground again.”  Tamara Samair was being just as loud as her floor supervisor.  “When we worked up the design for the ships we agreed on the quartet design for the sublight engines.”

“No,
you
told us that’s what you wanted and I worked to accommodate you on that.  But with four sublight engines on this craft, it’s going to be overpowered and it’s going to cut down significantly on interior space,” Eretria retorted.  “Like I told you.  What we need to do is bring it down to three engines, which yes, will reduce its sublight speed but will open up the interior for more cargo.  The reduction in speed will be offset.”

“So now, without consulting me, you went ahead and changed the design on ship number two,” Tamara said. 

But Eretria stood her ground, unwilling to be bullied.  “Yes, I did.  I felt it was the best way to handle the situation.  Because I knew if I tried to consult with you on it, we’d get into an argument about it.”

“There shouldn’t be an argument,” Tamara shot back.  “I’m the boss here and I’m the one who should be getting final say on the designs.  Instead, you’ve taken it upon yourself to change things.”

“I want to build these ships,” Eretria said.

“Yes, you want to build these ships, but you didn’t want to build
these
ships,” she retorted, pointing to the components being worked on in the bay.  “You wanted to build the ships you had in your head, ones that are going to cost more in credits and time since we’re changing the internal structure of the ship.  We can’t afford to be changing things which increases the labor, which increases the amount of capital.”

“Having the extra engine is a mistake.  The customers will see that.”

“That may be,” Tamara said.  “But they didn’t ask you for that.  They asked for the original design.  You changing it without speaking with anyone about it just because you might like it better, or it might work better in your mind isn’t how you do business.”

“The original design is a flawed design!” Eretria said, throwing her head back and taking a few steps away from Tamara. 

“They wanted the extra engine power for a reason, Eretria, did that ever occur to you?  They wanted the grunt to get through the inner systems a bit quicker.  They were thinking about time, not cargo capacity.”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” the gray-haired woman spat.  “This is just a ‘I’m the boss and therefore I’m right’ argument.”

Tamara pulled her communicator out of her pocket and flipped it open.  “Do you want to get on the comms with the clients and tell them that you’ve cut out a quarter of their engine power?  Because that’s what I’m going to have to do now that you’ve changed things without telling anyone.”

“Ladies!” Nasir barked, cutting them off.  The two of them whipped around to his holographic image, snarls of pure rage on each of their faces.  The two of them had attracted a large number of gawkers, who had heard the two of them yelling and had turned to stare, which was impressive considering the ambient noise levels in the construction bay.  “When Mommy and Big Sis fight in front of the children, the children start to get scared.”  He flicked his ears, looking around at the people staring at them.

Both women turned to the crowd and in one voice, they bellowed, “Get back to work!”  The assembled crowd gave off a mix of chuckles, winces and nods, but all of them turned away from the two bosses and returned to the projects they were working on.

“Perhaps we should adjourn to the office?” Nasir asked pointedly.  He flicked his muzzle in the direction of the hatch.

The two women looked at each other, at him, then turned and stepped inside, closing the door.  Tamara went around the desk and sat down, and Eretria remained standing for a moment before she too slipped into a chair.  Nasir appeared on the office holo projector, on the side of the room, which was slightly closer to Eretria than it was Tamara.  He clasped his hands behind his back.

Suddenly and without any outside assistance, the display over Tamara’s desk sprang to life.  The modified schematics showing Eretria’s design were there, glowing with a faint light.  “Now,” the AI said, “you both need to sit in here and get your stories straight.  I understand there are pros and cons to both designs here, but honestly, Tamara, I think Eretria has the right of it here.  The extra engine power that’s being offered really wouldn’t do much to offset the loss of the cargo space.”

Tamara put her hand to her forehead and then raked it through her hair.  “All right, you traitors,” she grumbled, looking over the specs again.  She peered over to the AI.  “And I suppose you already contacted the client for ship number two to tell them about the changes in the design?”

The AI actually had the grace to look embarrassed.  “I did.  I told them about the alterations Eretria made and their CFO loved it.  So, they want to go with that.  And they’re actually speaking to a few other investors about building another ship with the same design.”

Tamara gave Eretria a dirty look but it was clear that her anger had broken.  “You should join the priesthood.  Because you give the sermon and I’m down here just eating crow.”  She shook her head.  “Damn.”  But then she glared at them both.  “All right, we’ll go with your design.  And if you haven’t already, contact the client for ship one and see if they want to change.”

“I already have, Tamara,” Nasir replied.  “I explained that we’d made a few customizations to the design, and that it would be an additional one hundred thousand credits for the change, and an additional twenty days of work.”

“And did they go for it?” Tamara asked.  She noted that Eretria wasn’t moving, she hadn’t changed her expression, nothing.  She was seated and was unemotional as stone.

He nodded.  “Yes, Tamara, they did.  But I’m concerned about how far this argument escalated.”

Tamara sighed.  “All right, I was wrong and you were right, Eretria.  Don’t do this again, either of you.  And we need to hammer out all the details of a build
before
we start the actual building, understood?”

A very slight, almost imperceptible smile appeared on the other woman’s lips.  “I understand, ma’am.”  Then she sighed.  “And I am sorry our argument carried over out onto the main floor,” she twitched her chin in the direction of the construction bay.  She dropped her gaze a fraction.  “That was extremely unprofessional.”

Tamara nodded.  “It took two to make it a screaming match.  Let’s both resolve never to do that again.”

“Agreed, ma’am.”  She hesitated.  “But I’m not sorry the argument started.  Just because you’re the COO doesn’t mean I’m not going to fight to promote things I believe in.”

“Clearly not,” Tamara replied.  “I don’t want to have another fight like that Eretria.  You’ve proven that you’re smart and capable and you’ve clearly got some marketing sense.  And I want you to promote ideas you’re passionate about.  They might prove to be lucrative, as this little venture shows.”

“But you’re the boss,” Eretria said.

Tamara nodded.  “I am.  The Captain made me the boss.  But you’ve more than proven your worth, Eretria.  I like your ideas and I like the way you keep the teams moving.  I very much want to see that continue.”

“So do I, ma’am,” she replied.

“Excellent.  Now, get out there and get those changes made,” Tamara told her.  “And any time you can shave…”

“I will, ma’am,” Eretria said, standing up and exiting the office.

Tamara rubbed her jaw and widened her eyes, stretching her face.  “All right, Nasir, you can stop glaring at me now.  I was wrong, I admitted it.”

“I just don’t like it when Mommy and Big Sis fight,” he said, giving her a big grin, his ears flicking.

She growled at him.  “Go find something to do before I restrict your processing cycles!”

“I’m going, I’m going,” he said, still grinning, and then vanished.

Tamara found her way up to the ship’s mess hall a few minutes later.  She stepped into the chow line, where three mess attendants were serving up dinner.  She got herself some lemon chicken, greens and mashed tubers and of course a requisite mug of coffee from one of the ship’s five gleaming chrome coffee urns.  She had given Galina her head as far as recruitment and the lupusan had managed to dig up an amazing chef as well as his assistants.  She gave him the ship’s galley and told him to turn it into his own restaurant with the understanding that he and his eight assistants needed to provide meals for the three hundred crewmembers and engineers aboard the ship.  They all worked hard and they all had voracious appetites.  The man quickly settled in to work and so far there had been no complaints.

As Tamara was looking for a seat in the crowded mess, she saw the man himself step out from the galley and behind the serving line, replacing an empty pan of chicken.  Specialist 1 Chef Trevor “Hot Pads” Padderson was a tall man, heavyset, but just on the slimmer side of fat, with a heavy black beard and black hair, streaked with gray.  His gut protruded a bit from his barrel chest and his arms were as thick as plasma conduits from slinging and prepping food for years.  He saw the COO of the company looking at him and he gave her a smile, miming spooning food into his mouth.  Tamara chuckled and turned away.

Finally, she found a seat toward one side of the room, where, as luck would have it, the ship’s medical officer was eating.  Konstantin Tyannikov, lupusan, retired Republic Navy Chaplain and corpsman was seated at one of the tables, a pile of chicken breasts on a plate and a bowl of thick vegetable bullion in front of him.  He was devouring the chicken with only a small degree of finesse or table manners, but since a good portion of the ship’s complement were lupusan and zheen, two races that were not known for their table decorum, no one seemed to mind that much.  She came over to his table and slipped into the seat across from him and sat; he grunted a greeting as she did so.

Her lips quirked in a smile.  Cutting a small piece of chicken, she put it into her mouth, her eyes unconsciously closing as she did, the flavor of the food enrapturing her senses.  “Damn that’s good.  And it’s also good to see that you haven’t lost your appetite.”

Another grunt.  He held the hunk of meat away from his face for a moment and looked at her.  “I’m just glad Hot Pads is able to keep the ship stocked up with lots of protein.”

“You mean you weren’t aware of the supply ships that are coming in from the planet every week?  Two ships go to the planet and load up on supplies every week, alternating so we always have someone coming in.”  She took another bite.  “I just wish we didn’t have to keep going to the planet for this.  I’m a little uncomfortable being so reliant on those sources for food.”

“You afraid that the admins are going to cut us off?”

She shrugged.  “I sure hope they don’t.  Right now we’ve got enough on hand for two weeks, but that isn’t a lot.  I think I’m really only contingency planning.  With how high profile FP is, I don’t think that the admins would risk pissing us off by doing something that drastic.”

He cocked his head at her and set the chunk of chicken down.  “Where is this coming from?”

Tamara took a few bites of salad before answering.  “I’m not sure, to be honest.  I mean things have been going so smoothly and I haven’t been getting shit from the admins, so I was starting to wonder where the shoe was.”

Konstantin’s right ear laid back.  “What shoe?”

“The one that’s going to drop.”

He nodded, picking up the chicken.  “Ah, that shoe.  Well, have they been giving off vibes that they’re going to do something like that?”

She sighed.  “No.  In fact, I’ve actually been in talks with them to lease a score A2 replicators so that work on the
Leytonstone
can begin.”

He huffed out a laugh.  “So they’re going to fix her up after you trashed her the first time?”

Tamara tipped her head to the side, a slight smile on her lips.  “That is kind of funny.  But, the money is coming in, they’re putting in a huge order for fuel and now for strategic minerals, so I won’t complain.”

“Are we not concerned that they won’t pull the same nonsense they did a few months ago once the ship is fixed up?”

“I really hope not,” Tamara said, taking a gulp of coffee and burning her tongue.  “Damn!” she said, setting the mug down.  “We got really lucky last time.  Which is why I want to get ship number three operational.”

He flicked his ears.  “Two corvettes and an escort frigate to take on a fully operational battlecruiser?”

She raised an eyebrow.  “And we have two squadrons of starfighters.”

He shrugged, going back to eating.  “You’re right.  You got really lucky last time.  I don’t think that you’ll get that lucky again.  With that amount of firepower, you’ll damage the cruiser, slow it down, but this time it’ll blow through your collective defenses and then blast us all into scrap.”

Tamara snorted.  “I see you’re bright and chipper this evening.”

“I’m eating,” he said, then threw the rest of the chicken breast into his mouth and swallowed it in barely a single gulp.  “And I’m listening to the foolishness of commanding officers, waxing poetic about Great and Mighty Things.  But, on the bright side, I’ll be able to get a closer look at the divine once they come flying in here and blast us all to bits.”

“Cheerful.”

“Gotta look for those silver linings, girlie,” he said, slurping up some of the soup.

“I’m always glad to have you around, Old Wolf.”

“You old softie.”

Nasir appeared on the display of Tamara’s desk.  “Something interesting.”

She nodded, slightly distracted.  “Lots of interesting things in this galaxy, Nasir.  You are among them.”

He smiled at her.  “Well thank you, Tamara.  But I meant something more specific.”

“You know, this whole chase the sheep game is terribly amusing…” she said, sounding tired and annoyed at the pace the conversation was

The AI sighed.  Tamara’s report on the display minimized and a new image popped up.  It was a ship.  A very familiar ship.  Once she saw it and recognized it, Tamara smiled.  “
Redcap Madness
is back.  Is this a live feed?”

Nasir nodded.  “Yes.  She’s still about a day out from the Kutok mine.”

“Prep my ship.  I’m going to go over to the mine and meet them.”

“I gotta say, Captain, that Samair chippie has really got her birds in a row,” Oberst Rann said from his helm/navigation console.  “I mean look at this place.  The mine is jumping.  There’s a second station working out at the edge of the belt.  Shuttles and tugs flying all over the place.  And look there!” he said, pointing to his display.  “There are
three
construction slips with ships being built in them.  I mean…”  He hesitated. 

“You mean what?” Frederick Vosteros asked, smiling turning from his own station in the cockpit. 
Redcap Madness
was a small cargo ship, with only a crew of ten.  Which meant that the control room of the ship was very cramped, only able to hold four people; a pilot/navigator, sensor operator, Operations officer, and communications chief.  Vosteros was sitting at Operations, monitoring ship systems.

“Is she single?” he asked, tentatively.

The others laughed.  “I think she is, Oberst,” Vosteros replied.  “I think you’re just the kind of guy she looks for, to be honest.”

“Really?” the man asked.  “You really think so?”

“I don’t know,” Vosteros said.  “You’d have to go up and talk to her to find out.  I have no idea about her tastes.”

“Didn’t you live on the same ship as her for several months, Cap?” the pilot asked.

“Yes, I did, Oberst,” he replied.  “And in that time, she was a prisoner of pirates who had taken the
Grania Estelle
.  Then, we took back the ship and we flew here to Seylonique.  She was acting captain of the vessel for the flight in, she helped me get this baby here and now she’s running the biggest company in the star system.”

“Oh, Captain,” the sensor officer, a woman named Maya, cooed.  “You sound like you have a crush.”

He chuckled.  “Not hardly.  She’s a friend and I owe her.  But hey, if you’re interested, I’ll see if I can arrange an introduction.”

“Cap,” Maya interrupted.  “As fascinating as it is to mock Oberst’s love life, there’s a ship approaching on an intercept vector.”

“They’re hailing us,” Kotor, the ship’s zheen comms specialist said, his voice lazy.

“Let’s hear it.”

“
Redcap Madness
this is Kutok mine traffic control.  Welcome back,” the female voice on the other end of the line said, in something of a monotone.

“Good to be back, TC,” Frederick responded.  “We’re in need of a top off of our fuel bunkers.”

“Understood,
Redcap Madness
,” she replied.  “Fueling tender is on an intercept vector.  Rates are standard and will be transmitted before refueling ops commences.”  A pause.  “I show an account set up with us, but there isn’t much available.”

“No, there isn’t,” Frederick agreed.  “I have a cargo that needs selling back at the orbital and then I’ll be able to make payment.”

“Then I’m going to have to cancel the fuel,
Redcap Madness
,” the female’s voice sounded empathetic.  “I’m not authorized to run on credit.”

“Cap,” Maya said softly.  He looked to her.  She pointed at her display, where she indicated a second ship was incoming.

“Hold off on the fueling tender for now, Control,” Frederick stated.  “Let me get back to you.”

“Understood,
Redcap Madness
.  Traffic Control out.”  The channel closed.

“All right, who is this new ship?”

“It looks like a big cargo shuttle, Cap,” Maya reported.  “Half again as big as the ones being used by the
Grania Estelle
.  It’s got the FP company galactic spiral painted on it, beacon gives company ID.”

“Got a name for the ship?”

              The woman frowned.  “It says
Moxie-2
.  Kind of a weird name for a ship.”

              The captain’s smile grew into a grin.  “Well, Oberst, it looks like you’re going to get your wish after all.”  He gestured.  “Open a channel to that ship.”

              Kotor pressed a control.  “This is
Redcap Madness
to
Moxie-2
, please respond.”

              “Good to hear from you,
Redcap Madness
,” Tamara Samair’s voice sounded over the cockpit speakers.  “Frederick, you in there?”

              “Yes, Tamara, I am.  I see you got yourself a new ride.”

              “Yes, I did,” she replied.  “No hyperdrives, but she’s a beaut.  Handles like a dream.”

              “You’ve been really busy, I can tell.  There’s all this new bustle going on out here.”  Frederick straightened in his seat a bit.  “I’m impressed.  We’ve only been out of the system for a little while.”  It truly was incredible what Eamonn’s company, under Tamara’s steady and expert hand, had managed to accomplish in just a short time.

              “Four months, Frederick.  Got a lot done with a dedicated workforce in four months.”

              “Yeah, well, we went through two star systems, made some trades, made some money,” he replied.  “I think we did pretty well for ourselves, but because of that, my fuel reserves are down to four percent.”

              “Damn,” she said, amusement in her voice.  “Cutting it pretty fine, aren’t we?”

              “Yeah, a little.  I dropped my fuel collector off in Bimawae and we topped off when we were there and then continued on to Castiana.”

              “And now you’re on fumes.”  It wasn’t a question.

              He sighed.  “That’s right.  Now, I have cargoes to trade, but I don’t have the credits for refueling yet.  I’ll have to go to the orbital to get them and then come back.”

              She paused.  “It sounds like there’s a question hanging in the wind here, Frederick.”

              “Yeah.  I spoke with your person over there on the mine and they told me that my account is nearly tapped out.  I have cargoes to sell,” he repeated, “and once that’s done I’ll have credits for the fuel.  But I’m afraid that I’m not going to be able to make it in system to the orbital and then all the way back here.”

              Tamara sighed.  “Frederick, I can’t start making exceptions,” she said.  “You’re not a company ship.  I can’t extend a credit line to you.”

              “What?  After all we’ve been through together?  Why can’t you?  Aren’t you the Chief of Operations?” he demanded.

              “Yes, I am,” she told him.  “But I have other customers who buy fuel.  And the company has a very strict payment policy that I’ve had to institute up front because we’ve had more than a few people who thought they’d get fuel and then leave me hanging without payment.  I’ve had to blacklist more than a couple of freeloaders.”