A View From the Other Side, page 5
part #5 of Samair in Argos Series
Typhon let out a huff of relief. He hadn’t been worried, exactly, about the transports arriving here on time and as planned. None of them had taken the beating Illuyanka had. “Comms, send them a message, give them our ETA and request a status report from all ships. And have Lieutenant Braelock deliver a preliminary report as well.” Finally, after far too long a trip, he could get a clearer idea of what was going on and what he’d have to work with.
O====[=======>>>
Typhon looked up from his display as Lieutenant Braelock stepped through the hatch into his small conference room. The shaggy old wolf straightened to attention. He still held himself proud, straight despite his age, but there was a hint of something else there. Was it doubt? Aches from the stance? Fear of Typhon’s wrath?
“Lieutenant Braelock: reporting as ordered, General,” the wolf declared, his voice confident and strong.
“At ease, Lieutenant,” Typhon ordered, gesturing for the junior officer to be seated on one of the stools at the conference table. “Well done in getting things set up for us here,” he started off. “You and your crew have done exemplary work in the past months.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Explain this report,” Typhon said, gesturing to the active display. “Further details to follow?” he quoted. Neither his voice nor demeanor showed any aggression or anger but rather curiosity.
Braelock looked uncomfortable. “Yes, sir. Well aside from my data intrusion teams gaining low-level access to the orbital and several of the lunar complexes and stations, we managed to find five different locations where the type of military industrial replicators could be obtained.”
“Yes, I saw the notation. That is good work, Lieutenant. Sigma should find that information quite useful.”
“I hope so, sir,” Braelock agreed. “My computer intrusion team booked a room at the orbital so that they could continue their work. Their comm codes are listed there.” He pointed in the direction of the display.
“I’ll make sure the teams know to be on the lookout for them,” Typhon promised.
“Two other things to report then, General.” Reaching into a pocket of his gray vest, he removed a small plastic item and placed it on the table in front of his commander. It was a small sealed square, which housed a horse pill and a tiny vial with a slightly yellow-tinged liquid. “Objective number two, sir. I regret to report only partial success on that front.”
Typhon’s eyes widened, and his ears flattened to his skull. He stared reverently at the small little packet on the tabletop. “How… how did you get this?”
“Through legitimate means, General,” he said, then flicked his ears. “Well, mostly legitimate.” He explained about getting into the inventory system and then shipping the load of meds to Etios. He sighed. “I know it was a golden opportunity to make off with the objective, but I felt we could benefit more by maintaining good relations with the locals here.”
“You decided,” Typhon said, his voice ominous. The temperature in the room seemed to drop noticeably.
Braelock’s fur prickled, but he maintained stiff, rigid posture. He did not turn aggressive nor submissive. He had made an executive decision, and now he was standing by it.
“I had no direct orders to secure those meds, General. And I had no way of contacting higher authority to have my orders altered. I deemed a Freeport where we can obtain advanced Federation technology more valuable than one load of the anti-geriatric serum. So I chose to build up trust with the locals.”
“And where did this come from?” the general asked, gesturing to the little packet.
Braelock brightened. “Oh, that is part of a load we purchased in Etios. 750 units. It’s not enough for all of us, of course, but it’s something.”
“You traded enough units of the medicines we need to cover most of our people for a Freeport?” Typhon demanded. “And you think this was the right call?” His voice was cold but strangely calm.
Braelock’s gaze locked on the bulkhead, his posture now completely upright and rigid. The shaggy old wolf looked as though he was about to spring up off the stool to attention. “Of the options I had available, yes, sir, I believe I made the best decision. I stand by that and will accept any disciplinary measures you deem fit.”
“And if I deem that due to these actions you are to be excluded from receiving any of these meds, even should more become available?”
The lieutenant didn’t even flinch. “If you so order it, General, I will accept it. But I do stand by my decision.”
Typhon eyed him for another long moment. “Well, you did the right thing under your orders, and with the other information you had at the time. Well done.” He smirked, and the ambient temperature seemed to rise in the compartment. “At ease, Lieutenant.” The other wolf returned to a slightly more relaxed posture. “Now, tell me what you have for me in the holds of that ship.”
Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Braelock did. After more than a half hour of description, recitation and answering questions from the General, the report ended.
“You managed to get all this?” Typhon breathed when he finished.
“There is more back in the yard,” Braelock corrected. “Just didn’t have room aboard the ship to carry it all. Two more of the light bombers and three cutters.” He flattened his ears in mock disgust. “Unless Volka or Jarlissa reserved more items there.”
“That is incredible, what you and your team have managed to get together.” He grimaced. “Though raiding the salvage dumps does seem a bit beneath us.”
Braelock stifled a chuckle. “Considering the antiquated equipment and outright crap that we’ve seen and had to deal with out in the Argos Cluster, picking up some Federation castoffs as well as broken in gear for bargain prices seemed like a good deal. It might be old or used, but we’re getting gear that’s light years better than the provincial stuff. Besides, you can have the other teams look for the more modern gear. I thought we could get a start on upgrades and deal with the primary objectives separately. I can get these goods back home, and we can see about getting the factory constructor bots refurbished and online. That’s a large amount of industrial capacity that we’re inheriting there.”
“You think we can get them to build some fabricators?”
Braelock tipped his head to the side. “Possibly, General. I haven’t gone over them yet or gotten any opinions from Korso or the other engineers, but I think these bots are capable of building factory modules for us, so we can start churning out replacement parts. Hell, even if all they can make are very basic components like conduits, trusses and the like, that would free up the new replicator you’re hunting for other more important tasks.” He nodded to himself. “And I know the locals had a pair of missile fabricators set up on one of the lunar facilities. Maybe the discarded bots we purchased could build one for us. I’ll find out later.”
Typhon seemed to be still taking all this in. “Good thought. Check on that, though it isn’t a top priority. The missile fabber, I mean. I will want one at some point, but you’re right about the parts fabbers. If we can get that going, it would certainly ease the minds of the wrench turners back home. Get a stockpile of necessary parts ready so that when we return, it will slow the amount of yard time needed for this old girl.”
“I am impressed, Lieutenant,” Typhon declared. He smacked a palm on the desktop. “In fact, Lieutenant, attention to orders!” he barked, getting up. The junior officer sprang to his feet. On cue, the hatch opened and the tactical officer Bek entered the compartment. He stood at parade rest, though he was smiling slightly.
“Mister Braelock,” Typhon stated formally. “In recognition of your efforts and successes in punishing and unforgiving circumstances, as well as your victories in assisting our cause in exile, I am, effective immediately promoting you to the rank of Commander, with all the rights and responsibilities thereto.” He stepped around the table and extended his hand. Braelock looked dumbstruck, but offered his hand, shaking it. Once their hands connected, Typhon sent firmware updates through his implant connection to the lieutenant, nay commander. The rank and authorization increases immediately took hold, and Braelock’s IFF changed. “Congratulations, Commander Braelock.”
He shook the General’s hand, looking up into the smiling face. “Thank you, General. I have to say; this is completely unexpected.”
“Are you questioning my orders, soldier?” Typhon demanded, pretending to be angry.
Braelock chuckled. “No, sir. But I’ve been a lieutenant for so long and watched so many juniors get promoted past me, that I’d resigned myself to staying at this rank for the rest of my life. I’d made my peace with it.”
“One of the privileges of rank, Commander Braelock,” Typhon said, releasing his hand. “I get to rain down ‘disappointment’ on my troops.”
“I’m truly grateful, General,” he said, humbled.
Typhon, in a very rare show of affection, clapped him on the shoulder, nearly buckling Braelock’s knees with the force of the blow. “I know you are, Braelock. We’ve only been surviving in the last few years. We haven’t truly had much to celebrate, but for the occasional raid or ship taken. But in six months, you’ve spearheaded the capture of more ships in one day than we’ve taken in over a century and set us up handsomely here.” Then his face turned serious again. “However, I expect great things from you in the days to come, Commander.”
He nodded. “Yes, General. I won’t fail you.”
“Good. Now, once we get back home, we can turn that freighter over to a junior officer and get you a proper warship, one commensurate with your command abilities.”
Braelock straightened and locked his gaze on the bulkhead again. “I thank you, General, but I must respectfully decline.”
Typhon blinked, surprised. “Decline? What the hell are you talking about?”
“TC2741 is a good ship with a fine crew. I couldn’t possibly have delivered you those victories without all of them.”
The general eyed him for a moment, considering. “You want to stay on that freighter? I know Korso is your close friend, but bring him along.”
Braelock shook his head, the barest but still detectable movement. “It isn’t that, sir. Korso and I are working on a few upgrades to the ship, and with the potential for new parts coming in, TC2741 will be more than simply a transport vessel. She attracts less attention than a proper warship, and we have the capacity for more varied missions. With your permission, sir, I’d like to remain aboard as her skipper.”
Typhon eyed him suspiciously. “More than simply a transport vessel…” he repeated. “What does that mean?”
Braelock relaxed from his rigid stance and smiled. “If I might use your display, General?”
Intrigued, Typhon waved a hand expansively. The new commander went over to the desk, and a second later, a set of specs appeared on the display. The blocky form of TC2741 appeared in gray-lined schematic form. Two points, one on the ventral side and the other on the dorsal glowed red. “Korso’s first upgrades to the ship, General. A pair of turret-mounted dual lasers. To supplement the military grade hyperdrive we installed two years ago.”
“You want to make a Q-ship?” the general asked.
He shrugged, feeling a bit more relaxed now. “Yes, sir. And why not? Make us more of a threat.”
“Draw more predators that way,” was the reply.
Braelock grinned savagely. “I’ll be the predator, General.” Then he flicked his ears. “Oh, and that reminds me. Forgive me, sir.” He pressed a control, and the display halved, pushing the schematic off to the left side. He pressed another couple of commands on the console and a schematic of a familiar component appeared. Familiar to Braelock, that is.
“What do you have here, Commander?” Typhon asked, allowing himself to be led along.
“This, sir, is the PK-221 Foxtrot targeting and sensor package. A significant upgrade to the D291’s that are currently in use aboard this ship, General.” Braelock wasn’t trying to conceal his smug look.
“You got some of these?” The general, meanwhile, was having a hard time concealing his longing.
“We got nineteen of them, General,” Braelock told him. “I took the liberty of installing two of them aboard TC2741, but the rest of them, sir, are yours. Korso’s been working on them in his free time; three of them are ready for installation now.”
“How soon can they be brought aboard?”
“I took the liberty of bringing them over when I came aboard. Your engineers should have them now, awaiting your go ahead,” he said a trifle smug. “I’m sure they’re scanning and going over every nanometer of each device, and they should! But I think they’ll find them to their liking.” He eyed his commander for a moment. “As I’m sure, will you.”
Typhon stared at his newly promoted officer. “I see I made the right decision in promoting you, Commander.” He pressed a comm control on his desk. “Engineering, this is the General.”
“Escayron here, sir,” one of the engineering specialists immediately replied.
“Did cargo get transferred over from TC2741 when we docked?”
“Yes, sir,” the wolf replied without hesitation. “A trio of targeting devices. The chief and Lieutenant Wiegraf are unpacking the first one now, sir. They both look really excited.”
“Understood. Have the chief send me a preliminary report in an hour. A file upload is fine. Typhon out.” And he ended the call before the specialist could reply. “It seems that you and I need to have a longer conversation, Commander. And I think I need to look into making you Divisional Quartermaster.”
Braelock looked embarrassed. “I made one shopping trip, General. It isn’t as though I scrounged these out of nowhere.”
“How much did all this cost?” Typhon suddenly asked. “And how much did you have to start?”
“With all of the treasure we turned over to the bank there in Zhongshan, about three hundred forty million in New Dublin pounds,” Braelock said, not needing to look up that figure. It was a daunting one, especially considering how much in the way of funds there were available.
Typhon nodded appreciatively. “More than I expected, but it was around what I’d hoped. They gave good prices for the goods and treasure you brought in.”
“Yes, sir,” Braelock agreed. “And we spent roughly about thirty-seven million in New Dublin pounds, roughly. Got things at scrap prices, second hand. I had my teams go bargain hunting. We got a lot of good deals.”
“The three cutters would have cost the most, I’d wager, even for scrap. The bombers next. I would imagine the owner of that salvage yard was thrilled to have you and your team show up. They made a killing.”
“I think we got the better end of the deal, General,” Braelock said defensively.
“Time will tell, Commander,” the general temporized. “But I believe you may be right.”
“Just seeing some of the newer designs and innovations have gotten my engineers’ creative and constructive juices flowing,” the other wolf said.
“Good. Now we have the primary mission to get set for.”
Chapter 3
“Bringing the flagship to within five light minutes of the Zhongshan hyper limit will keep us close enough to make for an easy rendezvous but far enough out to stay away from their patrol sensors.” Typhon looked at his assembled officers and specialists, who were attending this meeting via conferencing software on their own ships. Their lupine faces were all looking back at him over the comm displays. “Understand, however, as has been said before, Illuyanka cannot come riding to the rescue, not this time.”
“Understood, General,” Major Nezerek stated.
Typhon made sure he made eye contact with each of them before continuing. “Sigma, yours is the most critical of our objectives here. A lot will be riding on you and your team. You can requisition any equipment or personnel necessary up to but sadly not including the flagship.”
The combat engineer didn’t smile, but she nodded. “Aye, sir, and thank you, but I’d prefer to keep my team small, no more than ten wolves. Unfortunately, having all-lupusan teams wandering around the star system is going to attract attention.”
Typhon grimaced. “I don’t like hearing that, but you’re probably right. There is an overabundance of humans in this place.”
“Yes, sir. Which is why even ten lupusan moving around in groups of two on the orbital or wherever location we choose, is going to be memorable.” Sigma frowned, flattening her ears. “I’m almost tempted to wish we had a few humans or zheen working with us on this.”
Typhon growled, his tone growing chilly. “I am glad you are only tempted, Specialist. I don’t want to hear any more of that nonsense. This is something we will achieve without any… assistance… from lesser beings.” He was adamant.
“Of course, General,” Sigma replied. “My apologies.” The others all had a mix of nods, agreement or what looked like disgust at her comment.
Typhon eyed her, then nodded. “Fine. Don’t make comments like that again. Moving on.” His teeth were bared, but after a moment he relaxed, collecting himself. “Walk me through the plan.”
“Well, my team and I have done as much preplanning as we can, but I’m going to have to get with Volka and her team back on the orbital to hammer out a number of details. But I have the broad strokes for you, General.” She looked to the side, checking another display. “Using the access we’ve already received, I want to insert myself and two others into a work party on the moon of Biloxis. I think the replicators there are the most vulnerable for our purposes, as opposed to the ones that are in the orbital or the industrial facilities I’ve seen. Once we’re in, we’ll have to map out our routes of movement within the complex and an exit strategy. Getting the replicator off the production floor is only the first step. We have to load it on a ship or shuttle that we can get out with.”
“They’ll be tracking any shuttles,” Nezerek cautioned.
