Junkyard Dogs 1: The Scrapyard Incident (25 page)

Chapter 43

New Ceylon Orbital Station, Smuggler's Lair,
October 9, 2598.

Kresge's eyes
were intense as he continued to question Hanna Jordon. "You know what
their plans for the Ambassador are?
How?"

"I overheard
them talking just before I escaped from the makeshift hospital."

"Okay,"
said Kresge, though he did not look totally convinced. "Just what are they
planning?"

"They plan
to lure him into coming aboard and capture him. He'll be expecting a diplomatic
greeting."

"They'd need
the governor's cooperation to do that."

"They've got
the governor and his family. He'll cooperate because they've threatened to kill
his wife and his children if he doesn't. They've even got a Federation Navy
Commander's dress uniform to disguise one of their men in. The man cut his hair
and everything. The Ambassador will have guards, but Ezra's men will be in
battle armor!"

"I know
where they could have gotten a uniform," said Kresge, remembering the one
he'd left in his quarters, probably one of the first places the terrorists had
gone after securing the station. "Okay, this is starting to make
sense," he continued, "and after they've captured the
Ambassador?"

Hanna looked like
she might get sick to her stomach.

"They plan
to ransom him to his mortal enemy, the Sheik of Barsoom, for five million
credits and make it look like the Federation authorities here on the orbital
station were responsible for turning him over."

"Barsoom?
That lunatic?
He
swore three years ago that he'd publicly execute the Ambassador if he ever got
his hands on him. The trade deal would be the least of our worries. The entire
Islamic Alliance would be in turmoil!"

"The Governor
and his family will probably be killed when they're no longer useful,"
said Hanna. Her look became even more pained. "And their plans for the
Ambassador's wife are unspeakable. The Sheik has offered three million credits
for her and he wants her alive to be tortured and sold into slavery! I cannot
believe that we ever listened to that man. He's not only evil, he's
insane!"

"This
changes everything!" said Kresge. "We have to put a stop to this now!
Gibbons!" he called out. "Get the entire group together. We have new
information!"

"Thank you,
Hanna," said Irene. "You've done a very brave thing."

Hanna, who had
remained sitting throughout the questioning, put her head down on crossed arms
on the table and began to sob softly. Irene patted her gently on the back.

Five minutes
later, the entire group, which now numbered more than eighty souls, had been
rounded up. Gibbons stood up in front of them and waved his hands to get their
attention.

"Quiet
everybody, Commander Kresge has an announcement."

The crowd quieted
down as Kresge stood up to address them.

"I told you
all earlier that we'd have a vote on whether or not we should attempt some kind
of counteroffensive action the next time I addressed you. I have new
information that you should all be aware of before we have this vote. As most
of you know, the enemy has had to send not one, but both of his ships back out
to the Scrapyard in response to the resistance there. Maybe those people,
whoever they are, will be able to perform a second miracle. I certainly pray
that they can."

He paused here
for effect. Irene was looking at him in open admiration. He caught her eye for
a moment and gave her a little smile before he scanned the faces of the rest of
the crowd, hoping he could judge their mood.

"What we have
just learned is that the terrorists are members of the Veritian Brotherhood of
Christ Resurgent."

There were
several knowing nods, Clancy Davis-Moore's among them.

"These
people are reported to be dangerous and unpredictable. We've also just learned the
nature of their threat against the Meridian Ambassador. We thought perhaps the
plan was just to interfere with the trade agreement. That, unfortunately, is
only a small part of their insidious plot. What these misguided fools want is
to disrupt the Federation's relationship with the entire Islamic Alliance, to
throw it all into turmoil. All of the time and negotiations that it has taken
to get both sides to this point would be wasted. If they're allowed to go
through with their plans, there's a better than even chance that they'll start
another war. These people are fanatics of the worst kind! If you ask me, the
time has come to put this to a stop!

The buzz within
the crowd grew to a crescendo. Kresge shouted over the noise.

"This isn't
just about the Orbital Station anymore! This is about the future of the entire
Federation. I ask you again...who is with me?"

The crowd's
response was all but unanimous. Kresge nodded his head.

"Thank, you!
Thank you all! I'll do everything in my power to make sure you don't regret
this decision. Here's the plan." He looked at his wrist chronometer.
"They'll start changing the guards out in about ten minutes. We're going
to move on these terrorists bastards two hours from now, which will give this
new guard shift plenty of time to settle in and get comfortable. Our
counterattack is going to take determination and some very good timing; I
'll need
each of you to do your part. Gibbons, Haines,
Steuben - get the other leaders together; we need to talk! The rest of you eat,
use the restrooms, and get ready. It won't be long.
Dismissed!"

The buzz of a
dozen simultaneous conversations immediately filled the air.

A few minutes
later the leaders of the group had gathered around Kresge, who began to outline
his plan.

"Okay, all
of you, this plan will require that we all accomplish specific tasks at
specific times and within specific time periods. Dee, what have you got on
altering the atmosphere in the area that the raiders are occupying?"

"We think we
can raise the CO2 and drop the O2 content to detrimental levels within about an
hour without them noticing. That should be enough to take them down a few
notches."

"As soon as
we're done here, tell Tresham to start changing the atmosphere. All of you who
are going to be operating on the upper deck at any time will need to wear one
of these."

He held up an
emergency breathing apparatus that consisted of a small oxygen tank with a hose
that connected to an abbreviated mask with an elastic strap that went around
the head, over the ears and positioned a small tube near each nostril.

"If you're
up there for more than a few minutes without this supplemental oxygen, you'll
become impaired the same as the terrorists. We don't want that to happen to
anyone, so use these. Team leaders, make sure every one of your people has one
of these breathing units."

After outlining
his plan, which took about half an hour, he entertained questions from the
leaders before wrapping up the meeting.

"Okay,
everyone, we move on these bastards in an hour and half. You have one hour to
get into position. Let's do this, people!

Chapter 44

UTFN Reclamation Center,
onboard the wreck of
FNS Terrier
,
October 9, 2598.

Carlisle helped
Harris get back into the battle armor before putting on her own suit and,
adhering to her own advice about good tactics often starting with common sense,
clipped the captured pulse pistol to her utility belt. The prisoner was
probably secure and he might even be telling the truth about himself, but
leaving the gun on the ship with him while the rest of them were distracted by
what would almost certainly be a tough fight didn't seem right. Having fired
only a few pulses, the weapon was nearly at full charge. They went to their
respective stations, Carlisle taking the
Rover
II
out to reconnect it to her ram, while Harris went to the
Rover I,
strapped to the back of the
Terrier,
and Hawkins took up his
position inside the turret.

There was still
too much time to think while waiting. Harris had a thought.

"Vixen?"
he called to her on the suit communicator.

"What is it,
Java?"

"I've been
doing some thinking. You said you used to get scared and nervous before you had
a gymnastics competition."

"Yeah, it
was awful. I'd get stomach cramps sometimes."

"How did you
handle it?"

"I figured
out how to channel the fear into the concentration I needed to give my best
performance."

"That's kind
of what I figured."

"Why is that
important?"

"Well, why
don't you try the same trick the next time you get really
angry.
Channel it into something constructive."

There was a pause
for a few moments.

"I can't be
certain... but... I think I did something like that just before I attacked that
raider on the bridge a little while ago, Lieutenant!"

"Whatever
you did, it worked. You might have to do it again. Can you?"

"I think
so...I don't see why not. These Veritian Brotherhood sons of bitches sure as
Hell make me angry enough!"

Harris chuckled,
"Hold that thought!" Then, more soberly, he added, "We need you
at the very top of your game, Vixen. You do whatever it takes but...try to stay
safe!"

"Roger,
Java...and thanks."

They settled in.
Each waited in their own way for the next set of developments. Finally, after
about a half hour, they could make out the shape of the enemy ship.

"Here he
comes," said Carlisle, more calmly than she felt.

"Pick your
time, Vixen," replied Harris.

This time the
enemy ship came in more cautiously, well aware that danger lurked somewhere in
the immense cloud of floating wreckage. Repeated calls from the enemy to their
companion ship had remained unanswered. The ship scouted around the yard for a
full hour before finally beginning to approach the access corridor.

"I don't
know if this is going to get any better," said Carlisle. "I'm moving
now. Get ready, guys."

She applied full
acceleration and steered the
Rover II
and its makeshift ram down the access corridor towards what she intended to be
her eventual hiding spot on the other side of the central clearing. The enemy
spotted the motion almost immediately and began to respond, but getting his
ship into exactly the proper orientation to navigate the corridor took several
minutes, time enough for Carlisle to get out of the straight line of fire that
would have been possible down the access corridor if she had still been in it.
She slewed over to the vector that brought her in line with her final
destination. In his far bulkier ship, the enemy didn't attempt to negotiate the
corridor with anywhere near as much speed. Instead, he came down the corridor
slowly, seeming to feel his way. Carlisle deftly maneuvered the
Rover II
and its burden into the hold of
the derelict battlecruiser and activated the video feeds from the two boosters.

Just as the enemy
came into the central clearing, he slowed the forward progress of the ship and
did something totally unexpected. The airlock door opened and deployed two
battle armor-clad figures, figures that began to move in opposite directions
away from the ship. Harris and Hawkins watched in frustration as the ship
stopped to deploy the two raiders in a position that did not offer the
Terrier
a firing solution.

"Vixen, did
you see that?"

"Roger,
Java, I got it on the booster video."

"Can we
still go ahead on your end?"

"It
complicates things, but our first priority is to take out that ship. Go ahead
as planned, Java, I'll manage somehow."

Having disgorged
the two observers, the ship began to move towards Carlisle's position again.
Harris waited for what he judged to be the right moment and cued Carlisle to
trigger the decoy.

"Okay,
Vixen, hit the booster!"

Chapter 45

New Ceylon Orbital
Station,
spoke six stairwell area, October 9, 2598.

Kathy Haines and
her small Resistance group parked their electric cart in the main corridor and
carefully made their way over to stairwell six, their first of several
objectives. This was the same stairwell area where, earlier, she and her
companions had climbed up to the central spindle. Their task here was to take
out the guard up on the first level, one of the guards that had seemed so lax
every time they'd checked on him. In the now reduced oxygen level on deck one,
he should be even more lethargic than usual.

She really didn't
need to, but she checked her stun rod one more time.
Full
charge, safety on.
She returned it to its holster. Then she checked her
wrist chronometer. Her small force needed to get this over with as soon as they
could, preferably within the next five minutes.

Silently she
motioned to her chosen partner, CPO Marvin Jenkins, that it was time get a move
on. They slipped their breathing masks on. She unholstered her stun rod and
turned the safety off. The two of them went stealthily over to the stairwell
and began to climb upwards as quietly as they could, each of them along one of
the two outside walls. As she made her way stealthily up the stairs, Haines
realized that she had never noticed how noisy the orbital station was before.
Going on about your daily business, it seemed you were able to ignore all of
the sounds that constantly went on around you. Under these circumstances, the
noise worked to their advantage as it effectively hid their soft footfalls on
the stairs.

Negotiating the
final flight of stairs on their bellies, to maintain a low profile, they made
it up to just below the landing on the first level. As they approached the very
top, both remained crouched. Haines peeked up over the edge of the landing at
the guard, who was sleeping, as they were hoping he would be. Holding her stun
rod at the ready, she carefully crawled onto the first level deck and slowly
stood up. This placed her about seven meters away from the guard in the
dimly-lit area. She began to edge closer to the sleeping raider. Three meters
was within the effective stun range of the relatively soft weapon, but this
target was wearing full battle armor and only his head was exposed. With that
small of a target, she wanted to be as close as possible. She took a few more
careful steps, the stun rod extended in front of her with the safety off and
her thumb on the firing stud.

She was only two
meters away when the guard finally noticed something and began to groggily wake
up.

"What
the...?"

From that range,
Haines couldn't miss, and the nearly silent stun bolt caught the raider right
between the eyes. The man slumped down before he could sound any alarm. His
nose began to bleed from the impact. Jenkins grabbed the guard's pulse rifle
from where it had been resting across the man's thighs while he slept.

Haines went to
the edge of the stairwell and waved the rest of her group to come up. Remaining
as quiet as possible, they quickly and efficiently stripped the stunned raider
out of his armor before tying him up. Two Resistance fighters dragged the man
down to the fifth level where they stripped him down to his undergarments,
shoved him into an empty compartment and locked the door. The others helped
Jenkins get into the armor, making minor adjustments as he requested them.
 

With Jenkins in
the raider's battle armor and the group now armed with a pulse rifle, they went
back down to the fifth level. They made their way westward on the electric cart
over to stairwell seven to attack that guard station, their next objective.
This time they marched boldly up the steps towards the guard. Kathy Haines and
three other brave resistance fighters went in front of Jenkins. In the captured
armor he was pretty sure he could temporarily pass as one of the terrorist
guards. The four "captives" all had their hands in the air. To
provide further cover for Jenkins, they were loudly insulting him.

"You don't really
think you can get away with this do you?"

"Shut up,
you heathen scum!" mumbled Jenkins.

"The
Federation has ships on the way. They'll be here in just a few more
hours."

"I said,
shut up!"

The dim lighting
helped to further disguise Jenkins as the entourage reached the landing where
the guard was stationed. Again the lowered oxygen level worked to the group's
advantage. The guard rose clumsily up out of his
chair,
in fact, he almost fell down, only catching his balance at the last moment by
steadying himself against the chair. The group stopped a couple of meters in
front of him as he awkwardly brought his pulse rifle to the ready, but didn't
point it at anyone in particular.

"Um...What
have we got here?" the guard asked.

"Prisoners,"
said Jenkins in a gruff voice.

"Prisoners?"
It began to dawn on the guard that
something about the arrangement wasn't right, but the lack of oxygen greatly
impaired his ability to think. Jenkins centered the laser sighting dot of his
pulse rifle on the man's forehead.

"Don't
move!"

The man froze.
Kathy Haines brought her stun rod out from behind her back and stunned him
before he could do anything stupid. The group immediately confiscated his
weapon and stripped him of the armor.

Haines' small
group had captured two invaders as well as two sets of battle armor and two
pulse rifles in just
under
fifteen minutes.

"Steuben,
take that handset down to the spoke and let Kresge know that we've taken our
first two objectives," ordered Haines.

"Will
do," said Steuben. He rushed down to the fourth deck spoke entrance and
used his handprint to access the door. He flipped open the access panel and
plugged in the handset.

"Scrap Central?
This is Scrap Three. First and second
objectives accomplished. Are we clear to proceeding to the third?"

Maggie Simmonds
replied from the command post in the waste treatment facility. "Yes, all
other teams are on schedule, you are cleared to proceed to your next
objective."

Steuben unplugged
the handset and headed back up the stairs where he was now greeted by two
allies in battle armor and armed with pulse rifles. Jenkins was giving his
fellow armored defender some pointers on how to operate the cumbersome suit.

"Good
news," Steuben announced quietly. "Everything's on schedule and the
enemy still hasn't got a clue. We're clear to move on to objective three."

***

Over on station
five, the guard, Ezekiel Christchurch, was angry at himself for continuing to
nod off. Christchurch was manning one of the guard stations that
was
deemed unimportant enough that battle armor wasn't
necessary. He knew that Ezra's strict code of conduct frowned upon the use of
certain kinds of stimulants, but he also knew that falling asleep on guard duty
could get him into serious trouble. He pulled a tablet of Alertastim out of the
small stash that he carried concealed in his clothing. This drug was the
favorite of people who wanted to stay fully alert for twenty-four hours or more
at a time. Miners on their monthly extended rest periods and soldiers on leave
were some of the most frequent users. The drug would allow its user to party
all day and all night. Sometime tomorrow Christchurch would crash and burn,
unless he took another dose. He smiled at the prospect. For the moment, he was
awake and alert; no one was getting past his guard station! He allowed himself
to enjoy the mild buzz that was one of the pleasant side effects of the drug.