Junkyard Dogs 1: The Scrapyard Incident (2 page)

Chapter 3

"...a Spacer is a citizen of the United
Terran
Federation that was born in space and has
lived in space for the better part of their lives. Many of them have never even
set foot on a planet. Because of this, they don't call any planet their home
and they appear to have few loyalties outside of their extended family group
or, as they refer to them, their 'Clan.' The children are all raised communally
and I'll wager that half of them don't even know who their real parents are!
What's even worse, most of them seem to like it that way! Now I'll admit that
they show a real talent for number of things, a lifetime of living in orbit
gives them some real advantages in dealing with weightless environments and
they all seem to have a real aptitude for anything mechanical, for instance.
The Federation needs to do more to incorporate them but, for myself, I find
their ways to be a bit too odd ..."

Hartwell Wrist
Comp reference note highlighted for further review by Tamara Carlisle. Excerpt
is from "The Spacer Dilemma," a symposium held at the Santana Nexus
on the future of the Spacer people and their place in the United
Terran
Federation. The Speaker was Bishop Steven Sinclair
of the Kiwi Group.

UTFN Reclamation Center, Main Facility,
October 4, 2598.

"Alright
recruits," said Commander Oscar
Kresge
,
commanding officer of the Reclamation Center, "most of you've been here
for a week now.
Time to see what you've learned.
Might as well start with the basics.
Who wants to give me a
quick rundown on the inhabitable planet in this system?"

The Commander
looked around the briefing room at two rows of young
Naval
officer trainees sitting straight backed, perched on the front edge of their
military issue folding chairs. Seeing no response from any of the other young
officers, the newest arrival, a petite, attractive brunette on the end of the
back row, tentatively raised her hand. Though the Spacer tattoo on her left
cheek would have been more than enough to make her stand out from this crowd,
she was also the only one of the group wearing pilot's wings on her khaki
coveralls.
Kresge
gave the rest of the group another
couple of seconds before calling on her.

"Ensign
Carlisle,
isn't it?" asked
Kresge
,
with a slight nod in her direction. "Why am I not surprised? Okay, let's
hear it."

"...System
stats... history... major trade...," the young woman started out haltingly
and then, as though she had gotten over some kind of mental barrier, seemed to
hit her stride, reciting the relevant facts in a clear and confident alto,
"Sir, New Ceylon orbits the star
Naccobus
in the
Heard's
cluster of the Santana Quadrant of United
Terran
Federation space. The orbit around the primary is an
ellipse that averages just over one hundred forty million kilometers in radius
-- very similar to Old Earth. The planet's surface is about two-thirds water and
one-third land, also similar to Earth. Other similarities include a nineteen
degree axial tilt that is responsible for seasonal changes, and temperatures
over most of the planet's surface that are within the range of minus forty to
fifty above Celsius, perfect for the abundant liquid water. Where the two
planets differ dramatically is that New Ceylon has a substantially thinner
atmosphere and occupants of the planet must use supplemental breathing
equipment at any altitude above about one thousand meters or so. Major exports
include coffee and tea, which were introduced, and an array of spices that are
derived from native plant species and several others that were also introduced.
From a military standpoint, the strategic importance of the region is,"
she paused to pick the right word, "...controversial."

"That will
do, Ms. Carlisle. Not bad for having just arrived today. Now can someone else
give me a quick rundown this military post?"
Kresge
scanned the group and picked the tall, boyish-looking, blond male in the middle
of the back row. Ensign McConnell, tell me what you think you know."

The young man
looked around the room a bit nervously before clearing his throat and almost
blurting out, "We're in the middle of the biggest junkyard known to man,
Sir!"

"Junkyard?"
said
Kresge
, frowning. "Let's not waste any more
time. Lieutenant Harris, as a native of this system, can you tell these newbies
what we are and what our mission is?"

Harris, an
athletically built man of medium height who appeared to be somewhere in his
mid-twenties, spoke up from where he'd been standing, a position behind and
slightly to the right of
Kresge
.

"Listen up!
You'll need to know this information for your first exam and I'm only going to
go through it once. Our base's official title is The United
Terran
Federation Navy New Ceylon Strategic Materials Reclamation Center. We refer to
it as 'The Reclamation Center' or, more often, 'The Scrapyard.' We are located
in the L-5 point of the New Ceylon-
Naccobus
system."

A hand went up.

"What is it
Ensign Hart?"

"What's an
L-5 point, Sir?"

"That means
that we are in the same orbit as the planet only we're sixty degrees - - nearly
a hundred and sixty million kilometers -- behind it. Any of the rest of you who
don't know what an L-5 point is
,
I suggest you look up
'Lagrange point' or 'Trojan point' during your studies tonight."

Hart nodded.

Harris continued.
"The Scrapyard was established just over fifty-six years ago, four years
after the Great War of Succession. As you should know, the final
Naval
battle of that war, also the largest Naval battle in
the history of Mankind, was fought within a single astronomical unit from the
Whitney jump point of this system. When the battle -- and the War -- ended,
this system was left with an almost incomprehensible number of wrecked military
vessels and other battle debris to deal with."

He paused again
for a moment, his brown eyes intense as they roved back and forth across the
two rows of recruits, looking for signs of comprehension. The new Ensign -- Carlisle,
he reminded himself -- was staring at him intently and her lips were moving
silently. He frowned, just barely, before continuing.

"A large
speculative venture, spearheaded by an outfit called The Delphi Investment
Group, began gathering all of those ships and pieces of ships at this location
to provide the raw materials for building a very large L-5 orbital colony. The
spectral characteristics of
Naccobus
and the distance
from the star to New Ceylon's orbit made this system an ideal candidate for such
a colony. They finally wound up with over five thousand battle-damaged,
obsolete, or just plain worn out military vessels. That covers just the
material in what we call the 'Military Section.' You may have also noticed a
fair amount of ship hulls and other material out here that is definitely not of
military origin. The 'Civilian Section' came to be because, for the first
several years of the project, Delphi was buying up any kind of space junk they
could get at a low price from anywhere in the quadrant. As a result they were
transporting in material such as worn out civilian spaceships, small space
stations, and anything else that they could get their hands on. Any more
questions to this point?"

Harris scanned
the cadets again and, seeing no response, continued. "You may have also
noticed that there is no L-5 colony here. The post-war economic boom petered
out and a disaster on the L-5 colony in the Old Earth system, wherein over
three thousand people died, killed the public's interest in large L-5 colonies
almost overnight. The entire project was abandoned when the head of Delphi --
and the driving force behind the project -- Albert Dubois
Schwimmer
,
died unexpectedly. Within six months the company disintegrated into chaos as it
was split up amongst his heirs and the bills for all of these raw materials
began coming due. Now what we have, as Ensign McConnell so aptly noted, is
probably the biggest junkyard known to man!

The military got
involved because no one else had the money or the expertise to handle what
remained of the project. Even though an L-5 or Trojan Point is a relatively
stable orbital zone, the sheer size and complexity of this huge mass of
material requires constant attention -- herding we call it -- or parts of it
will go wandering off into space with the potential to cause a lot of problems.
Again, any questions?"

McConnell
actually raised his hand.

"Yes, Ensign
McConnell?"

"My father
told me that the Scrapyard makes pretty good money. Sir"

"Yes, if you
don't count the fact that the initial investment was absorbed by the Delphi
bankruptcy, the base has been able to more than break even during the fifty-
plus
 
years
that it
has been in operation. We salvage strategic materials like cobalt, titanium,
cesium, steel, aluminum, and copper. Other valuables include carbon-based
materials like neo-
kevlar
and almost any kind of
plastic. You wouldn't believe some of the other things that are here in large
quantities, like sealants, lubricants and other fluids, for instance. Nearly
every ship out here still has several tons of silicon-fluoride
nanite
reaction fluid for their ion drives onboard! Because
it's all in a great big deep freeze, most of the stuff is still quite useable.
One more added benefit is that all of this material is made even more valuable
because you don't have to boost it up out of
a gravity
well. Most material goes to the Federation for military and other applications,
but quite a lot of it is sold to private interests as well."

Another student
raised his hand, and Harris nodded towards him. "Ensign
Skillings
?"

"Sir, what
about used parts? I saw a whole row of Mark III Bombardier cargo hulls on the
way in.
Must've been a dozen of them."

Harris replied,
"Fourteen, to be exact. But you bring up a good point. The center is the
Federation's major source for used and
rebuildable
spacecraft parts, and we make decent money at it. Good quality used parts can
keep an otherwise perfectly good old ship going and do so without breaking the
bank. Just another service provided to you by the Federation Navy!"

Several members
of the group cracked a smile.

"Time to
wrap this up," said
Kresge
, coming to his feet.
"You'll have to do better, all of you. Thank you, Lieutenant Harris,"
he said, with a nod in the young officer's direction, "See me after the
recruits have left, if you would." He then addressed the group,
"Gentlemen and ladies, I advise you to make good use of your time at this
facility! Study up! You've all got several hours tonight! Don't waste them!
You'll need to know the material in the first five chapters of the manual by
the end of the week! Now let's get to the evening mess. Tomorrow's duty rosters
are posted on the board. Check them on the way out!
Dismissed!"

The recruits
filed in an orderly fashion up past the duty board. There were a few groans and
other comments regarding the next day's tasks, but they all seemed pretty
good-natured. Harris waited until the last two recruits had filed out before
speaking to the Commander. "You wanted to see me, Sir?"

"Yes,
Harris. I have to go
planetside
for a while. The
Meridian ambassador is coming to negotiate the pending trade agreement with the
New Ceylon President, and his entourage is due in a few days. Since our
military presence in this sector is so small to begin with, they need all the
uniforms they can get.
Especially the ones with lots of
bright, shiny brass on them."
He mock-brushed an imaginary fleck of
dust off from the Commander's insignia on his collar with the cuff of his
sleeve.

"I'll be
leaving Lieutenant Perkins in charge."

Harris gave him a
slightly puzzled look.

"I know
you're senior to him and the responsibility should fall to you, but I have a
special assignment for you... I need you to do some babysitting duty for a few
days."

"Babysitting
duty, Sir?"

"Ensign
Carlisle needs close-quarter pilot verification and a guide to help her inspect
some of the old military craft in our collection."

"That's a
bit unusual, Sir."

"I know, but
so is she. You will have noted that she's a hefty cut above the usual recruits
we get out here."

"Yes, Sir.
She seems pretty sharp."

"Graduated second in her class at the Academy.
You saw
the pilot's wings. She's not training for supply and transport like the rest of
our group."

"Headed for
high command?"

"Well... maybe.
She's smart -- no, make that damned smart -- but she's got some personality
quirks and...
other
issues...that could keep her out.
The Brass at the academy
aren't
quite sure what to do
with her."

"Personality quirks?"

"Yeah, she's
very impulsive and she has some odd speech habits -- the Academy psychologists
describe it as 'thinking verbally'-- and she can display a really bad temper,
especially if she's convinced that she's right. As smart as she is, that's most
of the time."

Harris nodded in
acknowledgement. "Now that you mention it, the way she began her answer to
your question was a little unorthodox. That and I noticed her lips were moving
during my lecture. I thought that was a little strange, too. So, what's a
high-powered sort like that doing out here?"