Junkyard Dogs 1: The Scrapyard Incident (36 page)

Chapter 71

New Ceylon Orbital Station, October 14,
2598.

The diplomatic
mission was understandably delayed for a few days while the orbital station was
returned to a semblance of normal function. Caleb Jordan, released by the
Ambassador, was joyously reunited with his wife Hanna on board the station. The
Greyhound
was returned to Helen
Murdock along with promises from the Federation authorities that she could have
whatever she needed from the Scrapyard to bring the old ship back up to snuff.

With the
Ambassador petitioning the planetary authorities for clemency, it was decreed
that the members of the smuggling ring were not to be prosecuted for any crimes
although they would have to shut down their operations. A cursory check of the
books indicated deposits and expenditures by Gordon Harmon that vastly exceeded
his income, indicating that he had probably been involved with the smugglers
but since the security chief had died in defense of the station, the connection
between him and any illegal activities was not further investigated. The
Organization was to supply the New Ceylon authorities with a reasonable
accounting of the profits they had made over the last five years and they were
to be assessed a ten percent tax, to be paid within a year. Profits from the
sale of the remainder of their inventory were to be split fifty-fifty with the
station authorities. It was a less than perfect solution, but no one was
complaining too loudly.

Oskar Kresge had
healed well enough to be taken out of the medical module and was continuing to
recuperate in the
Istanbul's
sick
bay. Irene Marshall had been spending almost all of her waking hours with him.
The Ambassador's wife had helped get her through the worst of the waiting, when
the seriousness of his wounds meant that the outcome still wasn't known. Not
surprisingly, the two women had become very good friends during the ordeal.
Kresge finally came to full consciousness to find Irene sitting next to him,
holding his hand and smiling at him. He was still groggy, but aware enough to
ask what was going on.

"Irene?"
He looked around the sickbay of the
Istanbul
and recognized nothing. "Where are we?"

"We're on
board the Meridian ambassador's ship, Oskar. Don't you remember anything?"

He tried to sit
up and winced.

"Don't try
to sit up,
Oskar,
you took a pulse bolt to the
stomach. You're darned lucky to be alive."

"The
hostages?" he asked, as he slumped back onto the bed and the memories
began to trickle back.

"The
hostages are all okay, our rescue mission was successful."

"Harris,
Carlisle, Hawkins?"

"Harris took
command, as you ordered him to."

"What about
the terrorists?"

"Harris and
Carlisle came up with a plan to get them off from the station."

"So they're
gone?"

"Yes,
Oskar," said Irene. "They only got a million credits of marked money
and, per Carlisle's
instructions,
Harris made them
take their bomb with them."

"I'll bet
there's a story behind that! So it's all over, the station is safe?"

"Yes, Oskar,
everyone else is okay. You were the last casualty."

"What a
relief," he said. Then he paled slightly as he remembered something else.

"Did I ask
you to marry me, or was that something I dreamed?"

"You did say
something about marriage," said Irene coyly, "but you
were
badly wounded and Hanna Jordan had given you some kind
of drug to keep you from going into shock."

Kresge looked at
her for a long moment.

"Omigod,
Oskar, was that a serious question?"

Kresge smiled
weakly.

"Yes...I
suppose it was." His face took on a look of mild regret. "Oh,
Irene," he said, "I had meant to bring it up, but I thought we'd talk
it over a lot more. That and...
it
was supposed to be
so much different."

"Different?
How?" she asked, but she continued smiling at him.

Well, there was
supposed to be mood lighting, soft music, candles and wine. I wanted the
setting to be perfect!"

"You're a
hopeless romantic, Oskar," she said, shaking her head. "Not that I
mind! Music and candlelight would have been nice, but you have to admit that
fighting for our lives against terrorists also has a certain charm to it. In
the end, it doesn't really matter to me. I know I'll never meet anyone as
wonderful as you, ever!"

"So your
answer is yes?"

"Yes,
Oskar." Her blue eyes were shining brightly and a single tear made its way
down her cheek. Kresge leaned over the best he could and she bent forward and
kissed him tenderly on the lips. He squeezed her hand.

"You won't
regret it," he said.

"I already
do," she said and winked at him. "By the way, if you can rest up
really well for the next day or so, the ship's doctor has promised that he'll
do his best to clear you to go to the dinner party. You have to attend in a
grav chair and they'll have special food for you, but we'll be able to attend
the final ceremonies with me."

"Nothing I'd
like better."

"Get some
rest Oskar, I'll be right here."

"Okay,"
he said. "Irene?"

"Yes, dear?"

"I love
you."

Her smile was
dazzling. "I love you too, Oskar. Now get some sleep."

***

Portions of the
posh Galaxy Hotel on the New Ceylon Orbital Station had been temporarily
assigned to the military for the duration of the Meridian diplomatic summit.
Lieutenant Ryan Harris, relieved of his temporary command by virtue of all the
higher ranking officers now present on the Orbital Station, knocked softly on
the door of one of the hotel's more upscale rooms. His own room was a deck down
and though it was nice, it wasn't nearly as luxurious as this one.

"Is that
you, Lieutenant?" Ensign Tamara Carlisle's voice came through slightly
distorted by the intercom.

"Yes, it's
me...Harris."

The door buzzed
and he entered. Her voice came from one of the other rooms of the luxury suite.

"Have seat.
I'll only be a moment."

Harris, in a
borrowed dress uniform, hat in hand, looked around briefly but remained
standing.

"Thanks for
agreeing to be my date for the festivities, Ensign," he said, loudly
enough that she could hear him in the next room.

"After all
that we've been through together, it seemed like the thing to do. In fact, if
you hadn't asked me, I might have asked you."

That surprised
him a little, although not unpleasantly so.

"Promise me
something?" she said, peeking around the doorjamb.

"Sure,"
he replied.

"You have to
tell me if I look too strange. I never wear formal clothing and this outfit
feels awkward as hell."

"I
promise,"
said
Harris, "but I'll bet you
look just fine."

She fussed for a
few more minutes.

"No
laughing!" she said as she came into the room. She nervously performed a
pirouette in front of him. He was reminded of a similar incident from a week or
so ago when she had showed off her special spacesuit the morning after they'd
met.

Harris swallowed,
stunned. In front of him was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen.
Carlisle was dressed in an elegant strapless gown of an aqua hue that perfectly
complimented her sea-green eyes. Her dark hair was done in an elegant upswept
style and she had highlighted her Clan markings with a makeup of some kind that
had subtle sparkles in it. A matching diamond necklace, earrings and bracelet
added more sparkle at her neck, ears and wrist. After a moment, Harris found
his tongue.

"Ensign...Tamara,
you look absolutely wonderful!"

She blushed.
"Thank you...Ryan. Irene helped me pick out the dress and the Lady Saladin
lent me the jewelry. I couldn't possibly have come up with something like this
myself!"

"It's
obvious they knew what they were doing! I'll be the envy of every man
there!"

She blushed
again. "No need to get carried away!" She draped a white shawl over
her shoulders and grabbed a small hand purse. "Okay, I'm ready. Let's
go."

***

The trade mission
was considered to be a major step forward by all involved. Of course, it didn't
hurt that both parties taking part in the trade agreement had recently
developed a great deal of trust in one another.

At the end of the
long day, there was a formal dinner and ball to honor the Ambassador and his
wife. The affair was attended by several hundred people and included
dignitaries from the planet, the Federation officers who had responded when
Ambassador called for help, orbital station officials, including Governor
Larkin and his wife, as well as Irene Marshall, who was accompanied by a
convalescing Oskar Kresge in a special grav chair, and anyone else who could
finagle an invitation. Right next to the table for all of the dignitaries were
several special tables for all of the brave souls who had risked their lives to
take the station back from the terrorist group. Included in this group were the
three Scrapyard defenders, two of whom were on their first date together, as
well as Perry Allen, Marvin Jenkins, Clancy Davis-Moore, Kathy Haines, Salvador
Vasquez, Daniel Gibbons, and all three of the Steubens. Angus Hawkins sat next
to Helen Murdock, his own date for the evening. Hanna and Caleb Jordan were
there in a dual capacity as members of the Resistance as well as
representatives from Heard's World.

By all accounts
the festivities associated with the consummation of the trade agreement were
also a huge success with incomparable cuisine and some truly excellent wines
provided by the now-disbanded Organization. The Ambassador's speech was
particularly stirring with remarks that outlined his vision of the trade
agreement and what it portended for the future.

"Fellow citizens of the quadrant.
It is with great pleasure
that I stand before you tonight at the beginning of a new era of cooperation
between the Federation and the members of the Meridian system. I cannot speak
for all members of the Islamic Alliance, but I can say that we represent one of
the largest and most influential groups within the Alliance. We salute the
Government of New Ceylon and, by extension, the United Terran Federation
itself."

He then hit a
more sober note.

"It is no
secret that there are many planetary systems and individual governments that do
not wish us well on this endeavor. I personally believe that moving now to
achieve better relationships and foster a better understanding among different
planets and different cultures is the way forward for Mankind. Any other path
is likely to lead to ever-increasing chaos and unrest. Let us use this
momentous occasion to launch a new era. Let us take the lead in leaving
mankind's long and difficult history behind us. As most of you know, my faith
denies me the use of alcohol, but join me in the spirit of fellowship as I
raise my glass in a toast. To the new agreement between the United Terran
Federation and the Imperial Government of Meridian, may we live in peace and
prosper! May we show the rest of Mankind the true way forward!" Then he smiled.
"And with the situation that was overcome in this system just a few days
ago as an example, may we have each other's backs!"

The cheer that
went up was loud and genuine. After the applause died down, Governor Larkin got
up to say a few words.

"Mr. Ambassador,
Lady Saladin, President and Mrs. Hillborne, and all of you gathered here for
this special occasion. I wish to take this moment to honor some very special
people without whom I probably wouldn't be standing here tonight. But first, a
little bit of history. When we trace our roots back to Old Earth, there are
many traditions that have come down to us from across the centuries. One of
these is the use of loyal and tenacious canines to guard collections of
valuable artifacts. I am proud to say that this tradition is nowhere more alive
and well than in our own little system. The references are simply too numerous
to ignore; the resurrected
Terrier
,
the
Rover I
, the
Rover II,
the
Greyhound
, the
staff from Doebermann's. History will long remember the story of how the brave
guardians of our famous Scrapyard came together with our own station security
staff and other..." He hesitated to find the right words,
"...concerned citizens... in our hour of need. In honor of all the
tenacious canines gathered here to my right, I raise my glass. Ladies and
Gentlemen: To the meanest Junkyard Dogs in the Galaxy!

The applause was
thunderous.

***

Afterwards,
Carlisle and Harris made their way back to the luxury suites of the Galaxy
Hotel. It was late, nearly one am NCZM time, as they stopped in front of the
door to Carlisle's suite.

"Thank you
for a wonderful evening, Lieutenant," she said.

"You're more
than welcome. I had a good time too."
 

Carlisle didn't
appear in any hurry to go into her room. She turned to face him, her back
against the door.

"So, you
leave for the Santana Nexus tomorrow?" asked Harris.

She nodded,
"Yes, the
Asimov
leaves at eight
in the morning and two days after I get to the Nexus I'm booked on a transport
to Old Earth. With all the new information I have, and no duty during the trip,
I should be able to finish my dissertation before I get back to the Academy.
With any luck, the next time I see you, I should be Dr. Carlisle!"

"I doubt
you'll need much luck," said Harris. He paused for a moment before
continuing. "The next time you see me... That could be a long
time..."