"Exactly."
"Fine, in that case, I have a heck of a lot of nav data to get through and some calculations to make. New weight distributions, mass considerations, shear estimates, not to mention we're down to one operating engine," she said sweetly for Zoe's benefit. Her attention had turned back to her favourite game, where she controlled a running number three that became a six, nine, and twelve as it gobbled up other threes.
"I'll give you a hand. Just be ready for anything, I don't know when Jason will be putting the next phase of his plan into motion."
A sinking feeling started to overwhelm Ashley, and she couldn't help but ask; "D'you think they might leave us behind?"
Larry looked up from the conference table display and caught her eye. "No. There's no way they can capture the command carrier, even this relatively small one, even if they could get to engineering or the control centre. That, and Jason wouldn't leave the people in the Botanical Gallery behind. He wouldn't dishonour Oz that way."
"Dishonour Oz?"
"Something Oz told me the other night. He'd die to protect the civilians at the centre of this ship," Larry said almost mournfully.
"Oh," Ashley returned her attention to her work, trying to use the limited data at hand to create a control profile that would allow her to safely pilot the ship.
The pair worked in silence for a time, the sounds of Zoe's game providing background noise that was so cheery that it seemed inappropriate for how Ashley felt.
"There it is, that fighter the Command Centre's been trying to pin down," Larry said, bringing it up on the main holographic display. The signal was coming from the inner edge of the nebula, tracking with the path of one of the smaller meteor clusters within.
“I don’t think that’s a fighter, they would have detected and slagged it already if it was. He must have attached an inactive beacon to a meteor so he could use it as a relay,” Ashley said, looking at the rough shape of the meteor cluster.
“That makes sense. I was wondering why they didn’t destroy it. They must be waiting for it to transmit, see if they can trace it back, or decode their message, see what that pilot has to say.”
“They’re not the only ones.”
Chapter 29
It was a carefully managed disaster. Finn watched the structural monitoring systems on the bridge of the Samson and wished he could somehow reach into the small holographic image of the vessel's skeleton and straighten her main beams and other structural imperfections.
Captain Valance had moved the Samson into position at the rear of his fleet. The Clever Dream was at the vanguard. From where he stood at the back of the bridge Finn could see the tactical display and the realization of what they looked like without the Triton hit him. Battle damaged, captured slaver vessels were in the middle, a mismatched bunch bristling with the remains of turreted guns. Surrounding them were dozens of powerful fighters, state of the art and armed to the teeth.
If he was a Carthan Port Master he wouldn't trust such a fleet. He'd have them either locked down or under close supervision. The fact that the Carthans allowed them to move from the Wastes into the middle of a thickly populated area was either a sign of stupidity or over-confidence. He took another look at the status of the Samson and nodded to himself. The stress on the ship was balanced, and it was unlikely that it would change until they tried to land.
Another thought struck him. The Carthans probably had orbital defence systems pointed directly at them as they moved across the ruined landscape. It was a sobering notion, and it explained why they were able to get clearance. Someone, somewhere was at a very dangerous control panel, and they were watching.
That brought him back to a feeling of dread that he'd been suppressing ever since they escaped the Triton. They were exposed, without the generous means their ship provided them, and as much as he had faith in his Captain, he was a wanted man. Most of the Samson crew were on bounty hunting lists. The only reason why his wasn't among them was because he was the most recent addition to the crew. He signed on right before Enreega. Right before the Triton, and through it all, even through his disappointment with Ashley, he was happy to be along. They actually put him in charge of a division in Engineering.
Being back on the Samson was like moving from a mansion to an apartment. A warped, old apartment with holes in the walls, leaky pipes and peeling paint. He didn't want to see the ship come to an end either, but even when they first took the Triton, the Samson was in need of a refit, or at least some serious restorative work. She was old when Captain Valance first got her, and though he had done a fantastic job keeping it together, even made a few improvements, wear and tear was showing when Finn first arrived aboard. After surviving serious combat, barely, she was ready to be decommissioned or rebuilt from the frame up.
With the Triton gone, as he and several of the crew members he'd spoken to the night before suspected, they would have to find a way to rebuild the Samson and repair the rest of the ships. The fabrication centre on the Triton would be sorely missed. He had almost gotten used to getting the parts he needed within minutes or hours of requesting them, instead of having to make his own fittings and fixtures in a small workshop like most ship mechanics. That's what they were back to. Every bent out part would have to be straightened and tested. Damaged components would have to be sourced, purchased or made by hand. He suspected at least one of the ships they'd captured had a workshop, but didn't dare hope that they'd be worth using considering the vessels were crewed by slaves. His older brother, who was a steward in the plant Union on his home world, always said that the condition of the work place was directly related to the treatment of the employees. He couldn't imagine what kind of condition the other ships were in after being in the hands of slaves for who knew how long. He would have to brave the workshop in another vessel, however. The one on the Samson was destroyed weeks before.
There were still parts of the Samson in the green. The bridge, forward hold, and several other compartments aboard ship were still structurally sound. Three of the four main beams were twisted however, and there were several compartments that were barely space worthy. If he didn't want to end up serving on one of those slave ships, he'd have to make sure the Samson was worth saving, even after they landed.
"Hey Finn, ever see a shanty port?" Captain Valance asked as he brought up a two dimensional projection of the sprawling port ahead of them.
They had passed out of the rain, and the sun was setting. From one edge of the horizon to the other ships had landed. Roads wound between the paved slips, tricking his eye into looking at the expanse of transients as he would a city. Shipping containers, hulks, makeshift welded huts and portable structures made many of the spaces homes. The sea of ships and buildings was interrupted occasionally by docking pillars with several platforms each, multi-level hangars and several old brick or scrap built buildings. To the left, just out of sight was an ocean that went on for as far as the eye could see. It looked deep and black in the fading light. "I’ve never seen anything like this, Captain."
"Well, that'll be home for a while. It's the only place we’re cleared to land in the entire solar system."
There were hundreds of ships in the air above the port; the lights of their engines were brilliant. The looming shape of the night side of Kambis, the world Tamber orbited, loomed. The eclipse night was falling over Tamber. The interlocking illuminated rings of a city on the heavy gravity world and other distant lit features showed through the scant clouds, and he couldn't help but wonder what that world was like. He suspected there was a great deal of mining, like any heavy gravity world, but beyond that, he'd never been to a city large enough to be seen from two hundred thousand kilometres away.