Junkyard Dogs 1: The Scrapyard Incident (18 page)

Chapter 30

New Ceylon Orbital Station, Smuggler's Lair,
October 7, 2598.

The group of
refuges in the lower realms of the orbital station had grown to nearly seventy
people. Kresge was mildly worried that the more people they had, the greater the
chances that someone would wander off, get caught, and reveal their existence
and their location. It was the nature of the situation; he hated to turn anyone
away, but how in space could you possibly support and keep track of everyone?
The few newcomers they had added over the last several hours had come in scared
and hungry. Haines' security companion, George Fowler, and another three
security officers, had showed up with one of the last groups
.
Fowler
was young and smart and just as appalled as Haines had been about the
smuggler's lair, but came around after the situation was explained to him.
Kresge
was glad to have him. No one had left that he was aware of. The guard posts at
points near each of the several entrances to their haven were manned around the
clock. He realized at that moment that the guards were needed as much to keep
people in as they were to keep them out.

Kresge wasn't
particularly surprised, but Irene had turned out to be a tremendous asset. He
had admired her poise and sophistication as well as her business sense before
the attack, but the current situation had emphasized to him some new and
impressive aspects of her character. Her way of organizing the diverse group of
people into some kind of coherent function was simply amazing. In spite of the
reservations she had shared with Kresge about working with
"criminals," her upbeat attitude and grace under pressure were very
much appreciated. Kresge thought again about how he had been ready to discuss
their relationship and where it should go before the attack on the station came
and derailed everyone's plans. Now that would all have to wait.

He turned to the
task at hand. One of their observers, Maggie Simmonds, had just returned with
new information. She was eating a beef Burgundy sandwich on a croissant and
having a cup of coffee. She looked tired.

"How are
things, Commander?"

"Things are
happening, Maggie; what've you got?"

"There's
guards posted at each of the eight stairwells up on deck one, but it looks like
they're spread kind of thin. They change guards once every four hours. They're
keepin' at least two guards on the stairwells on either side of the Governor's
area. Those guys seem to be stayin' sharp. It's a different story on the other
stairwells. There's usually only one guard, and it looks like they're nappin'
'bout half the time."

"The system
might be working for them, everyone on the station is supposed to be under
lockdown. Do we have any kind head count yet?"

"In addition
to the leader, name of Ezra something-or-other, there are two lieutenants and
we think somewhere around twenty-five to thirty more men and one woman who
seems to be a medic or something. I
only seen
the
woman a couple of times."

"You can't
get a better count than that?"

"Sorry,
Commander, they're usually wearin' the battle armor when we see them and it's
hard to tell 'em apart, especially when all you get is an occasional glimpse of
'em. It got a little easier after part of 'em left with the other cargo
ship."

"I didn't
mean to sound critical, Maggie, it's just important that we have the best
information we can get."

"I
understand, Commander, we're doin' our best. We have to be really careful. If
they catch any of us..." She didn't have to finish the thought.

"Anything
else you've noticed?"

"Orv and I
don't think they have battle armor for everybody."

"That's kind
of what Clancy said earlier. What clued you in?"

"I noticed
when they were changin' the guards. They send two maintenance carts out from
the governor's area. One goes east and the other one goes west. Each cart's got
a driver and several relief guards on it. They go around to each of the first
deck landings and switch out the guards as they go. Thing is, several sets of
the armor have some pretty distinctive marks on 'em. Looks like some of those
guys have to share the armor with someone else."

"Don't know
that I'd care much for that!"

"Screw 'em,
they're the enemy!"

Kresge laughed
out loud. "When you put it that way, I couldn't agree more."

"When
they've switched everybody out they turn around and drive back to the
governor's suites."

"So the
whole process takes about a half hour?"

"Yes.
There's somethin' else that might be important, Commander -- they aren't
wearin' the helmets on the armor when they're on watch. You might be able to
take them out with a whack on the head if you could sneak up on 'em. Also, as
near as we can tell, there are at least three stations where the guards ain't
wearin' any battle armor at all."

"That's good
to know! We might be able to use that."

"One more thing, Commander.
I don't know if this is
important or not, but since they've shed their helmets it's pretty easy to see.
All of 'em have strange looking hair."

"Strange hair?"

"Not their
hair so much as the way they have it cut. You'll have to see it. I'll see if I
can get some video."

"Do it. Have
you been able to overhear anything?"

"Just bits and pieces.
They're definitely after the
Ambassador. The leader keeps talkin' about surprisin' him and disruptin' his
unholy mission. It sounds like they want to capture him alive after he boards
the station."

"Any more news from the Scrapyard?"

"Not yet,
but the leader is still hoppin' mad that he had to send a dozen of his men and
one of his ships out there to take care of them. They're afraid that the
survivors out there will use the Stage I communicator to warn the Ambassador
soon as his ship comes out of hyperdrive."

"That would
disrupt their plans," said Kresge, nodding his head. "A warning would
keep the Ambassador from coming in here at all. He'd probably just turn around
and jump back out of the system, after he called the Federation Navy. I don't
like it but I see now why the terrorists needed to go back to the
Scrapyard."

"For now,
it's at least twelve raiders that we don't have to deal with," said
Simmonds.

"Well,
that's something anyway," said Kresge. "Get some rest when you finish
eating, Maggie. Good job!"

He went over to
confer with Gibbons.

"Anybody
else got a report for us?" asked Kresge.

"Not right
at the moment. I got two more people due back within the next ten or fifteen
minutes though. Might be a good time to grab a little something to eat
yourself
, Commander."

The suggestion
made him realize that he was hungry. Kresge went over to the mess area, grabbed
his own croissant and coffee and sat down by himself to eat. Irene spotted him
and came over to the table.

"Mind if I
join you?" she asked.

"Not at all!
Have a seat.
You
hungry?"

"No, I
already ate.
Any news?"

"Maggie says
there's probably somewhere around thirty raiders on the station right now, but
that there aren't nearly that many suits of armor. That and that they're spread
thin and have a predictable procedure for changing the guards."

"Is that
important?"

"Oh yeah.
I think I have the makings of a plan."

Chapter 31

New Ceylon Orbital Station, Central Spindle,
October 7, 2598.

Kathy Haines
tried not to panic as she raised her hands above her head.

"We're not
part of the invading force," she said, gambling that whoever it was behind
the bright light shining into their eyes wasn't the enemy. "I'm Kathy
Haines and this is Orville Steuben and the guy in the uniform is Perry
Allen."

"Kathy?"
asked a voice. "It is! It's Kathy! And Steuben! Get in here and shut that
door, you gave us a hell of a fright!"

The climbers were
soon surrounded by a small group of men and women. A short, brawny man with
black hair and a swarthy complexion came forward, a stun rod still in his hand.
Behind him was a large woman with short, dark hair.

"Perry
Allen, this is Salvador Vasquez, head of security up here," said Haines,
"and this is Jane Tresham, head technician."

"Pleased to
meet you both" said Allen, shaking hands with each in turn.

Vasquez smirked
at Steuben. "I might have known you'd be up to something, Steuben. What
brings you three up here?"

Haines hesitated
before replying, as she considered just what to say.

"We're
trying to get a resistance organized," she said finally. "But
there's
been some really strange developments."

"How so?"

"You know
the smuggling and black market operations that we've been trying to get a
handle on for the last couple of years?"

"Yeah,"
replied Vasquez. "You found out something?"

"You might
say that. It's no wonder we never found anything -- they have a hideout way
down on deck five in an undeveloped area of the station. We just came from
there, and I still don't know if I could find it again!"

"What've
they got to do with the resistance?"

"That's just
it,
they're the core of it! They took me and a bunch
of other people in right after the attack."

"You've got
to be kidding," said Vasquez.

"There's a
little more to it," said Allen. "Oskar Kresge, the Commander out at
the
Scrapyard,
and Irene Marshall are down there, too.
It's Kresge who's trying to organize the resistance. I'll wager it won't be
much longer before they put him totally in charge."

"He's
right," said Haines. "Kresge and Marshall are both there. I was ready
to arrest the whole lot of them, but those two talked me out of it."

"You
would've had a hard time making it stick anyway," said Steuben. "You were
outnumbered twenty to one!"

"The odds
are a little better here, Steuben!" she said threateningly.

"This is not
the time," said Allen. "Both of
you,
stay on
task!"

The two
antagonists glared at one another for a long moment before Steuben broke off.

"You're
right, Chief." Steuben looked at Haines again. "I'll back off if you
do, Kathy."

She nodded, but
her look remained threatening.

"Steuben?"
said Vasquez, incredulously. "You're part of the smuggling ring?
Who else?"

"It's a long
story, Sal," replied Steuben, "and as the Chief says, this ain't the
time."

"I don't
like it either, Sal," said Haines. "But it's probably best if we just
put the whole thing on hold while we get this other problem worked out."

"This is
almost too much to take in," said Vasquez, as the group migrated into the
ventilation and power control room.

"What's been
happening up here?" asked Allen, seeking a change of subject.

"It's been
really quiet, thank God!" said Tresham. "Somebody tried to work the
upper hatch an hour or so after the invaders boarded, but we've got it pretty
well jammed.
Hasn't been any activity since."

"Do you need
anything?" asked Haines. "You got enough food?"

"No, we're
in good shape up here," said Vasquez. "We've got our own cafeteria
with several
weeks
worth of frozen and concentrated
food. Hell, there's even a bar, but I've got that under lock and key."

"How about
weapons?" asked
Allen.

"Outside of
the stun rods that my people were carrying when we locked ourselves in here,
we've got nothing."

"Stun rods
are way better than nothing," said Haines. "We think the enemy is
spread pretty thin. They haven't ventured below deck two, at least not that we
know of."

"You say
there's a resistance group?" asked Tresham.

"Yeah, a
bunch of maintenance people, three military men, and a few tourists.

"What can we
do to help?"

"Steuben and
I'll be heading back down. Allen will stay here to work on communications. I'd
like to take a couple more security people and at least two of the technicians
along. We're trying to come up with a plan to take the station back and we'll
need all the expertise we can get."

"We'd be
glad to pitch in any way that we can," said Vasquez.

"If it's all
the same to you, Sal, I'd like to see you come down with us. Leave Marquart in
charge up here, he can handle it."

"Sounds
good, Kathy. Let's pick a couple of techs and head down."

The group
gathered around as Vasquez explained what was needed. There was no shortage of
volunteers. Tresham picked Brad Larsen and Dee Washington, two of her best
engineers, while Vasquez selected James Harper as the other security person. As
the others prepared to leave, Allen, who had enlisted the help of several of
the technicians to clear the junk out of the old communications room, was
already discussing technical details with Tresham.

"You people
ready to go?" asked Haines.

"Hang on a
second," said Tresham, "I just thought of something." She
disappeared down the ladder to the level below. After about a minute, she came
back up with an object in either hand.

"What're
those?" asked Haines.

"They're
wired handsets," replied Tresham as she handed one of the devices to
Haines.

"Okay...
what's it for?"

"It's a
communicator. Come here, I'll show you." Haines followed Tresham over to
one of the control consoles for the ventilation system. Tresham flipped open a
small panel on the console and pointed to a receptacle underneath.

"You just
plug it into one of these access ports and you can talk to anyone else who's
hooked up," she said as she unwrapped two meters of wire from around the
handset and plugged the connector on the end of the wire into the receptacle.
"The whole station is wired. They used them while the place was under
construction. There's still times when wireless doesn't work the best, like
during a solar flare or something. Or, like now, when someone disables the
wireless communications."

"How many
ports are there?"

"
There's
at least ten of them on each deck, not counting the
spoke ports. There should be one at the end of the spoke where you guys came
up. From now on, we'll leave this headset plugged in. You take that one and
call us when you get back down and find the spoke port. That way we'll be able
to communicate without someone having to climb all the way up here."

"Thanks,
Jane, this'll really help," said Haines as she examined the handset she'd
just been given. "Kresge will be thrilled!"

"Okay,
Kathy, we're ready," said Vasquez. "Lead the way!"