First Principles: Samair in Argos: Book 3 (92 page)

              “Thank you, Madam COO,” the other woman stated, beaming in pleasure. 

              Tamara waved a hand, but Tiyaana couldn’t see as she had turned back to the console.  “If we
must
be formal, call me Ms. Samair.  I know that Chief of Operations is my official title in the company, but I don’t know.  It’s just weird being called ‘Madam COO’.  I’m used to being called Ms or Commander or even Captain.  Madam COO always makes me feel so… corporate.”

              Tiyaana snickered.  “I hate to break it to you, Ms. Samair, but you
are
corporate.  If it wasn’t for you, this company would still be a single bulk freighter doing its best to eek out a living here in the Argos Cluster.  Now we have a fleet of ships, this station, a shipyard, a mining facility, and a couple thousand employees.  And we’re still expanding!”

              Tamara nodded, rubbing the back of her neck with one hand.  “Yes, I suppose you’re right.  But with all this fuel you’re bringing up here, we’re going to need some dedicated tankers.”

              “We have two already, ma’am.  The tanker
Horton Gravis
and the fuel tender
Dolcinea
.”

              “I know, but those are in system ships only.  Neither of them have a hyperdrive.”  She frowned.  “I suppose we could retrofit
Dolcinea
with one, but it would take a while to tear her guts out and get the equipment in there.  No, I’m thinking we need a pair of tanker ships that can carry at least as much fuel as
Grania Estelle
can in two of her cargo holds.”

              Tiyaana smiled.  “That’s a
lot
of fuel.  Who would buy it?”

              “Heb,” Tamara replied.  “And I think we might be able to convince Ulla-tran to take a freighter or two’s worth of fuel as well.  I can’t imagine the government there likes having to work with Mister Hana and his fuel racket he’s got going over there.”

              Now the woman frowned.  “With what happened to
First Horizon,
you want to send another freighter over there?  This one filled up with He3?”

              Tamara shrugged.  “Look, that’s what the trade summit is for.”  She sighed.  “Hopefully the council members can work something out and we can get some serious trade going.”

              “It’s only two systems, them and us.”

              “Yes, but Ulla-tran has a much greater population than Seylonique and thus more opportunities for trade.”

              Tiyaana tipped her head to the side.  “I guess that makes sense.  I just hope…”  She chuckled.  “Listen to me.  I’m hoping that a group of bureaucrats and politicians can actually look beyond their own self-interest and work out something for the mutual benefit of both systems.”

              “Well, I suppose it might be possible that they might be able to use their own self-interest to promote mutual benefit,” Tamara said.  She considered that.  “But then again, they might just defer and delay and come back with nothing.”

              “I hope not.  We’re building up a good sized stockpile of fuel.  And even if the delegation comes back bone-dry, it’s only going to reduce our reserves by only maybe twenty percent.”  Tiyaana growled, checking the figures on the display.  “We’re going to have to slow down production or perhaps even stop for a while unless you can find more markets for our supply.”

              The Chief of Operations for First Principles, Incorporated sighed heavily.  “All right.  I’ll look into it.  See if there’s anything we can do.”  She crossed her arms over her chest.  “I’m not sure where I’m going to find these markets until and unless the trade delegation gets back.”

              “Should I cut back on production?” Tiyaana asked, looking concerned.  It made sense to do so.  The government hadn’t put in an order for any new warships, not yet anyway, and the local businesses were not ordering any new cargo ships either.  Not through FP or their own manufacturing facilities.  There was still plenty of fuel being sold to the government for their warships, their cargo vessels, shuttles, the orbital as well as ground reactors.  But even with all those customers and orders, as Tiyaana had pointed out, a large stockpile was growing.  The tank farms would need to be sold off, by at least fifty percent, or the Kutok mine was going to need to slow production. 

              “Probably,” Tamara temporized.  “In fact yes.  Bring it down to ten active sectors for now and start reducing our inventory.  If it proves to not be enough, bring a couple more online.”

              She nodded.  “No problem, Ms. Samair.  I’ll take care of it.”

              Tamara squeezed the woman’s shoulder.  “Thanks, Tiyaana. 
Samarkand
is going to stop off here in about five hours to tank up and then she’s heading over to the mining station out by the belt.”

              “Putting in the expansion?” Tiyaana asked, turning away from the console. 

              “An upgrade to the refinery and another dozen or so additional mining bots.  Should increase the production there by about twelve percent or so.”

              The station master blinked.  “That’s a hefty increase.”

              Tamara chuckled.  “Well, I don’t have any formal acknowledgement from the powers that be, but I’m fairly certain that at some point in the near future FP is going to receive overtures for more warships from the government.  Or I should say one
big
warship.”

              The younger woman goggled at her.  “Another battlecruiser?”

              Tamara shrugged.  “As I said, I don’t know for sure, but that’s my guess.”  She pursed her lips, stroking her chin with two fingers.  “I suppose we could farm out some of the work to ground facilities and then have them transport those components to the yard for Eretria to integrate.”

              “That sounds very generous, if you don’t mind my saying, ma’am,” Tiyaana said, ducking her head slightly.

              “If we can speed up construction by having multiple companies work on the ship parts, and increase the local industry base by giving them some of the contracts and cash, I’m all for it.”

              “You know you’re taking some of the business away from FP when you do that.”

              Tamara frowned at her.  “Yes, Tiyaana, I’m aware of that.  But I’m trying not to make FP the only company in the system that can do things.  Yes, we’re the biggest right now, but I want people to be able to look to local businesses to be able to work on things.”  She shrugged again.  “Anything we can do to help out the smaller businesses…”

              “And you’re not concerned that they might one day challenge us?” Tiyaana asked, disbelief etched on her face.  Other technicians in the Operations center turned to look at the bosses, to see what the big boss’s answer was going to be.

              “We are currently so far out in front of the others that I don’t think it’s a worry.  And I don’t want FP to be the only game in town as far as building things and providing jobs.  And if we do, in fact, get trade in the region going again, I want lots of healthy businesses here in Seylonique for the ships to go and trade with.  I want more than just some massive company running everything in this system.  That might make people less interested in coming here.”

              There were mutterings around the room and Tamara turned to look.  Smiles had broken out among the Operations crew, a few nods.  One man gave Tamara a thumbs up and she chuckled.  “I don’t want anybody to think that I’m trying to drive this company into the ground.  I want us to thrive and expand, into other systems if we can.  But for now, we’re going to have to reduce the refinery output.”

              Tiyaana nodded.  “Yes, ma’am.  I’ll have the workers shut down sectors one through seven and have the maintenance teams get in there for a full overhaul.  Good a time as any.”

              “Very well, Ms. Moreetz.  I’m going down to the fighter bay to speak with the pilots.  I think I’m going to see if I can get a few flight hours in on my ship as well.”

              “Go ahead, ma’am,” Tiyaana said, sweeping a hand magnanimously.  “Just call up when you’re ready to go.  I’ll make sure you get clearance.”

              Tamara stepped through the hatch into the fighter bay to the familiar clatter and whirr of ships being prepped, air wrenches and spanners being used along with the chatter of voices.  All healthy sounds from Tamara’s perspective and an experience that always seemed to help center her and bring her to a good time in her life.  Her old life.  She felt further and further from that these days.  Sitting in her office, or on
Moxie-2
, or in one of the boardrooms having meetings felt about as far from her flying days as it was possible to be. 

              But this felt good, almost like coming home.  As she stepped into the bay, she started over to where her
Perdition
fighter was parked.  She walked around behind the ship, running one hand over the metal of the left wing and down the laser cannon as she moved around toward the fuselage.  A quick surface scan revealed the imperfections in the metal, but there were no problems or breaches.  Popping the seal on the canopy, she scampered up the ladder and dropped into the cockpit.  Flipping several switches, she powered up, then began running diagnostics.

              “She still purrs, Commander,” one of the techs said, walking over to the ladder.

              Tamara grinned, leaning her head back against the rest and closing her eyes, just listening.  “Yes, she does.  I’m not bringing the engines up to temp yet, but I want to check on everything first.”

              “We’ve maintained your ship for you, ma’am,” the tech said with a smile.  “She’s a beaut.  I know that some of the other pilots really want to take her out for a spin.”

              “Even more than the Visions?” Tamara asked.

              The tech shrugged, putting his hands on his hips.  “Oh, they like those ships, don’t misunderstand, ma’am.  But this baby?”  He patted the metal of the fuselage.  “This here is a classic.  A certified Republic
Perdition
class strike aerofighter from back before the war?  You can’t find these anywhere.”

              “I’m sure the Republic has some ships that would run circles around this old girl,” Tamara replied with a frown.  It hurt to put down her fighter like that, but she didn’t want to soft peddle the truth.

              “She doesn’t have shields, no, but that baby is fast and agile.  I know Commander Korqath has expressed an interest in taking her out,” the tech said.

              Tamara chuckled.  “Yeah, well, I’ve seen how Korqath does some of his landings.  He can content himself with his own fighter, thank you very much.”

              “Don’t be a snob, Boss,” the zheen said, walking over.  “That lovely ship just needs the right pilot.”

              She smiled down at him from the pilot’s couch.  “This lovely ship has already
got
the right pilot.”

              “A pilot who hardly ever takes her out anymore.  That ship has sat pretty much idle for the last six months.  If not for the techs and me insisting on keeping up with the 30/60/90 maintenance cycles, you and that lovely bird would be grounded.”

              “I thank you for your diligence, Commander Korqath,” Tamara said with a magnanimous wave.  “How is your own ship?”

              “Ready for space,” he replied, chittering slightly.  “Why do you ask, Commander?”

              “Because I could use some target practice out in the yard.  Care to bring your Aploras along?”

              He nodded.  “They could use some practice as well.  I’m sure those rocks out there could stand becoming sand.”

              She waved her hand in a shooing motion.  “Saddle up then, Korqath.  I want to shoot some stuff!”

              He buzzed a laugh, sketched a salute and trotted off.  She watched him pull out a communicator and talk into it as he left.  Tamara pulled herself out of the cockpit, and hustled to the pilot’s ready room to change into her flightsuit. 

              Eleven minutes later, twenty-one starfighters screamed out of the hangar bay and into cold space.  There had been a slight argument among Tamara’s guards, because none of them wanted her to be out flying without them.  Even Marat, who normally didn’t seem as though he cared about anything going on around him threw his oar in, saying that they couldn’t protect her while she was off gallivanting.

              She ignored them, of course.  Nothing was going to keep her out of the cockpit.  It had been far too long since she was out flying and nothing, not even her very protective guards was going to stop her.

              “Em-One, this is Aplora Leader,” came Korqath’s voice over the comms. 

              She couldn’t help but smile.  “Em-One here.”

              “Form up on my wing, Em-One.  We’re moving in on the three biggest rocks on vector two-seven-four mark three-four.”

              Tamara checked her HUD.  “I see it.  Forming up, you have the lead.”

              “Switching to squadron channel.”  There was a beep and Tamara pressed the correct key.  “All right, Aploras, push it up!”  Grinning, Tamara pressed the throttle forward and her ship sprang ahead, pushing her back into her seat with the acceleration.  The other Visions, in their five diamond formations, easily kept pace.