Hold the Star: Samair in Argos: Book 2 (24 page)

              “It
is
very cumbersome,” Stella admitted.  “But I am very happy to see you both.  Hello, Chief!”

              “Hello, Stella,” the Parkani replied, smiling slightly.  “It’s very good to see you as well.  It hasn’t been the same without you.”

              “I’m sorry I missed the fun,” the AI replied.  Her familiar image, a young human woman with dark hair, a trio of red stripes running through that hair from her forehead to the back of her scalp.  Both Tamara and Quesh shared a dark look, which Stella quickly picked up on.  “I said something wrong, didn’t I?”

              “It hasn’t been a fun time,” Quesh said, when it looked as though Tamara was having trouble controlling herself.  Giving her a moment to compose herself, Quesh went on.  “We lost a lot of good people and those that are left aren’t exactly as whole as they once were.”

              The young woman’s artificial countenance looked down, her expression no longer cheery.  “I’m sorry, Quesh.  I’ve just been in that box for so long.”

              “I know, little one,” Tamara said soothingly, shaking her head.  “But we’re all just glad you’re awake.  But I’m afraid we need your help.”

              Stella looked up and grinned mischievously.  “I only just woke up, Tamara.  Can’t I get a minute or two to get my bearings?”

              The engineers both chuckled.  “Stella, if I know you, you’re already into every system on the ship again and you’re aching to get busy.”

              Stella sniffed at Quesh’s very accurate statement.  “I don’t appreciate the insinuation,
Mister
Trrgoth.”  They all three chuckled.  “So, what is the issue?”

              “The navigational array,” Quesh told her.  The quickly explained the problem.

              “Yes, I understand,” Stella replied.  “Well, I can get into the systems, see what I can dig up.  Maybe I can pinpoint where the modified device, or devices are located so that you can replace them.”

              They nodded.  “If you could please, Stella, that would help us immensely,” Tamara replied.  “But in the meantime, we have no way of knowing how long that’s going to take, even if you
can
find it.”

              “Oh, I’ll find it,” the AI replied, quite certain.  The search had already begun.

              “What about calculating a course?” Quesh asked.

              “What about it?” Stella said.  “Without a navigation system, we’re stuck.  Even back in the old and primitive days they needed a nav array.  Can’t just jump blind or fly by dead reckoning like you can in normal space.  Otherwise you could end up anywhere, or drop out of hyper on top of a star, or inside a planet.”  The engineer shuddered at the thought, Tamara just laughed.  She’d known that there were no easy answers here, and if he was honest with himself, Quesh did too.

              “All right,” Tamara said as the Parkani bristled a little.  “Stella, keep looking.  In the meantime, Quesh, you and I need to have a serious discussion about our options.  Do we stay and fix the array or do we jump for Amethyst?”

              “What about when we get there, Samair?” Quesh demanded.  “If the nav systems are locked onto Amethyst, if we go there, we might not be able to leave without finding the issue with the array and fixing it.”

              Tamara cursed.  “That’s a very good point,” she admitted, kicking herself for not seeing it.  “It seemed like such an easy solution.  Jump to Amethyst, look around and then jump out.  But you’re right.  If we get there and can’t jump, we’re dead.  We might not even have the slight chance of survival we would have had if Jax and his thugs were alive.  Now we’re just a merchant ship to be plucked as a prize by whatever reinforcements are waiting there.”

              “Again,” Quesh said sourly.  “All right.  No sense in sitting around moping.  I’m going to have Xar’s team start work on the array.  There’s no way of knowing what else might have been switched out or sabotaged.”

              Tamara sighed.  “Right.  I’m going to get with Cookie and talk about stores.”  Then she realized what she’d said and she felt an icicle stab her in the gut. 

              Quesh took a long breath, nodding in understanding.  “When’s the memorial?”

              Tamara blinked, her eyes suddenly burning.  “1600. I figure it would give us some time to get things squared away.”  It had been decided among the survivors that there would be a short memorial service now, but the bodies of the dead would be kept in one of the cargo bays, to be held there until they reached Seylonique, where they could be launched into the star.  No one wanted to leave the dead out here, to mingle with pirates and be lost out here in the void forever.  So they would bring their dead along with them and give them their eternal rest in a friendly star system.  “I’d appreciate it if you could say a few words, Quesh.”

              He blinked in surprise, but then nodded.  “Sure.  I knew some of them a long time.  Is the Captain going to be there?”

              She nodded.  “I talked with Turan earlier.  He’ll bring the Captain down on a hover chair, but they can’t stay long.  He shouldn’t be moved too much with his injuries.  He needs to be resting, according to the doctor.”  She couldn’t quite manage to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

              Quesh wisely moved off the topic of the Captain.  “I’ll see if I can come up with something,” he mumbled again.  He rose, patted Tamara on the shoulder with one of his four hands and then moved off to resume his work.

              The entire crew turned up for the memorial, even Stella, though she was only there via a display screen in the background.  They had all gathered in the mess hall, which aside from the cargo bays was one of the only compartments on the ship that could comfortably fit everyone.  The mess attendants had passed out drinks to those who wanted them.  Everyone ended up taking something, whether it was something alcoholic or even just coffee.  There were a lot of hard faces and very few dry eyes.  Turan brought the Captain in on a hover chair, a blanket draped over his lap to hide the fact that his leg had been amputated, though no one really paid much attention.  Their thoughts were elsewhere.

              Quesh stood up from his place in the middle of the room, where he had been seated at one of the tables.  “I’ve known all of the crew since they came on board.  With the exception of the Captain and George, no one’s been aboard longer.”  He sighed, looking at the cup of beer in his hands.  “Those that lost their lives will never be forgotten.  They died here, on the ship, their home.  And none of them did alone, at least, we were all here with them.”  Everyone’s thoughts strayed to poor Kutok at that moment, who had been alone with her killer.  Serinda choked back sobs, putting her hand hard against her mouth to avoid making much noise.  George put his arm around her shoulders and she didn’t fight him.  “The ones who did this are dead now.  Their deaths avenged.  But that won’t bring them back.  I will remember them all.”  He looked up, his gaze sweeping the crew members.  “Our family is a lot smaller now, but that should only serve to bring the rest of us closer together.  Holding on to old hatreds or perceived wrongs will only drive us apart.  And none of us can survive out here in the cold of space alone.”

              People seemed to take hope from the Parkani’s words.  Tamara’s gaze darkened a bit, and she couldn’t help her eyes swiveling over to take in the Captain in his chair.  He looked like hell.  Physically, he looked pale and wan due to his injuries, but his face was just a mask of pure grief.  For one instant, Tamara’s armor slipped, her hatred and anger at him burned off at seeing him this way, concerned for his crew.  She sighed, her right hand unconsciously touching the device attached to her neck.  But that device was a constant reminder of everything and the pain came rushing back. 

              “We will give our departed a proper send off when we get to a safe system, launch them into the star so that they can pass on without fear,” Quesh went on.  On one of the displays, one of the ones Stella wasn’t showing her image, was a list of all the crewmembers that had died since the attack at Ulla-tran.  It wasn’t a short list.  Thirty-six people in total, all of them friends and colleagues.  Kutok’s name was there, as was Cookie’s, the engineering teams, Martinez and the other cargo people, the deck crew.  “But for now, I want to celebrate their lives, not their deaths.  Their pain has passed; it is only a memory now.  Tonight, let us remember those who are gone.  Tears are okay,” he said, and more than a few people gave a watery chuckle.  “I ask you all to raise your glasses.”  There was a small shuffle as people moved around to raise up cups, mugs, glasses.  Serinda didn’t pull away from George Miller, but she raised her cup to shoulder height, her sobs stifled for the moment.

              “To lost friends,” he said simply, then drank deeply.

              “To lost friends,” the crew chorused.  They all followed suit, some throwing back shots of beer and spirits, others sipping coffee or tea.  At that point, the group broke up.  The mess attendants brought out trays of food for everyone, and everyone loaded up plates.  Watch standers took their meals quickly and headed off, but everyone else stayed, reminiscing, swapping stories about their friends and comrades.  It wasn’t quite a joyous occasion, but the wracking sobs from earlier seemed to have left the party, as everyone allowed the flame of memory to burn bright.

              Tamara walked up to Quesh and put her hand on his big shoulder.  “Good eulogy,” she said, toasting him with her coffee mug.  He clinked his cup against hers and they both drank.

              “Thanks,” he said gruffly.  “I’m sorry I had to give it.  Been a bad month and a half.”

              She snorted.  “You can say that again.  I’m going to miss those kids,” she said.

              The Parkani nodded.  “Yeah.  For a bunch of dirt-grubbing farmers, those Instow people were all right.”

              “Think we’ll ever get back there?” she asked.  “To Instow, I mean.”

              Quesh considered the question.  “No reason we couldn’t.  I mean, we’d have to traipse around the Cluster, going back through Ulla-tran and Hecate wouldn’t be a smart move, but yeah.  The fish were good and they had a lot of good mining opportunities.”             

              “Yeah.  My first away mission here on the
Grania Estelle
.”

              The Parkani snorted.  “I’d forgotten about that.  Yeah, that’s right, it was.”

              She smiled at him, a genuine one.  “Getting old there, Quesh?” Tamara asked playfully.  “Memory already starting to go?”

              He swatted her playfully, growling at her and she stepped back to avoid it.  Ka’Xarian came over to them, plopping down on the bench at the table they were standing next to.  He had a plate with some greens and a small pile of roasted beetles.  “Good speech, Boss,” the zheen said, taking a mouthful of salad. 

              Quesh sat down next to him, Tamara across the table from them both.  Watching a zheen eat was not the most appetizing of experiences, but for some reason this time was different.  It was comforting watching him enjoy the food before him, knowing that Cookie would have approved of seeing his crew fed.  Tamara sighed at the thought.  Cookie wouldn’t be making any more casseroles or stews again.  No more laughter at his stories or just his warming presence.  Everyone felt safe around the man, but now he was gone.  One of his attendants would have to step up to try and fill his shoes and if they weren’t up to the task, they’d have to see about hiring someone on at Seylonique. 

              George and Serinda came over to their table.  A good portion of the remaining crew had wandered off, heading out to other compartments or to find their racks.  “Can we join you, Chief?” George asked.

              Quesh waved one of his right hands to indicate they should sit, raising his cup to his mouth with his lower left hand.  They sat, Serinda next to Tamara and George on Serinda’s other side.  Serinda stared dully at the table, and Tamara reached over and placed her hand over the other woman’s.  The young communications officer looked up at the engineer, grief still shining in her eyes.

              “How are you holding up, Serinda?” Tamara asked gently.

              She gave a very shaky sigh.  “Not well,” she admitted.  “I can’t stop thinking about that day.  I just
left
her up there.  I asked her if she was going to need me to stay, and she told me to go.  I knew what that… that… animal was going to do and I just bolted.”  She closed her eyes, tears streaming down her face. 

              No one said anything.  Tamara didn’t remove her hand and George put his arm around Serinda again and pulled her in closer to him.  They sat like that for a while, watching Ka’Xarian crush and slurp down his beetles and salad, just taking comfort from each other.

              “Don’t you have a wife, George?” Serinda asked after a few minutes.

              He nodded.  “I do.  I don’t think she’d mind.”

              Tamara barked a laugh.  “You must have married a very understanding woman.”

              “Beatrice is,” George said loftily.  “She puts up with her spacer bum of a husband.”  They all laughed.

              “Where did you leave her?” Tamara asked.  “Obviously she’s not aboard the ship.”