Junkyard Dogs 1: The Scrapyard Incident (20 page)

Chapter 34

UTFN Reclamation Center,
onboard the wreck of
FNS Terrier
,
October 7, 2598.

The mood on the
bridge of the old destroyer was uproariously upbeat as the three defenders rode
the emotional high of their success. After shedding their spacesuits and going
back onto the bridge of the
Terrier,
they excitedly rehashed their various parts in the battle over and over. After
what they'd just accomplished, they couldn't help indulging in a small
celebration.

"We did
it!" Carlisle sang out. "We got 'em! Hawk, Harris, you guys were
awesome!"

She embraced both
of the men in turn.

"I still
can't believe it," said Harris. "Everything worked out almost like we
planned it!"

"Except when
some daft old haggis was after usin' the wrong ammunition," said Hawkins.
All three laughed at that.

"What did
you think when that beam weapon was coming towards you?" asked Carlisle.

"
Man, that
was hairy..."

And so it went.
After a half hour or so the mood began to come down as the adrenalin gradually
worked off and the dreaded realization that they would probably need to fight
another battle began to set in. They were all beyond tired, none of them had
slept well for the equivalent of several days, yet they were still going, hyped
up and emotionally way over the edge.

"Okay,
team," said Harris. "We need to figure out what to do for the next
round. I assume we'll be facing a similar ship, but we won't be able to take
them by surprise like we did this last one. Besides, the tracking station is
gone, how do we set up a shot."

"You heard
their last communications," said Carlisle. "I don't think they know
what hit them or where it came from. If we're comfortable with that, then this
is a pretty good spot we're in right now. The question now is how do we create
a kill zone and then lure them into it?"

"You're
saying that we have to somehow get them to do exactly what we want them
to," said Harris.
"Any ideas?"

"I've been
thinking about it," said Carlisle. "We have the second sled and the
two boosters you guys took from the tracking station before they destroyed it.
We could strap a booster to some wreckage and use it as a decoy to get the
raider's attention. If we set it up right, they'll end up aligned properly.
Actually, it would probably be smart to use the other booster and the
Rover II
as backups if they don't take
the bait or manage to destroy the first decoy before we can get them. As a last
resort, we could still try to ram them."

"And how
would we go about deploying the decoys?" asked Harris.

"With you
two running the ship and the weapon, I guess that responsibility would fall to
me," replied Carlisle, straightening her shoulders. Harris frowned, but
she appeared not to notice and continued. "Let's see what we've got."
She brought up the Scrapyard inventory holo display on her wrist computer and
made a few changes to reflect the latest configuration.

"Okay,
Tamara...tracking station gone...
Terrier
here...," She deleted the tracking station to create a void in the center
clearing and moved the
Terrier
to her
current position among the cluster of ships near the access corridor. She
nodded to herself. "There, that should be good enough. Okay, let's say we
keep the
Terrier
in this cluster of
ships here."
 
She pointed to the
appropriate area in the holo. "Then we need the enemy to come down the
access corridor...here. I could take the
Rover
II
, maybe with my ram attached so they don't know for sure what they're
looking at, and wait right near the outside entrance of the corridor. When I'm
certain they can't avoid seeing me, I'll come down the corridor as fast as I
can and go across the clearing to somewhere over on the other side from you
guys...like right here." She pointed to a small cluster of ships that
appeared to include two old battlecruiser hulks and was in pretty decent
alignment for a shot from the
Terrier
.
One of the hulks had taken a pulse beam strike from the first enemy ship
earlier. Harris looked extremely doubtful.

"Okay... and
then what?"

"They come
down the corridor after me. You'll notice that the cluster I picked won't allow
them to simply fire down the corridor, they'll have to come into the
clearing."

"Alright,
they're in the clearing, what's next?"

"We'll have
a booster strapped to some similar-looking wreckage as a decoy. We set the
decoy in motion to draw their attention and their fire, and you shoot them in
the drive tubes, just like we did with the last one."

"How do you
propose to manage that?"

"I'd have to
wait till they get into a favorable position, hit the controls on the booster,
and then jump off over to the wreckage. If I use one of the cruisers as a base,
I could hook a tether onto it and use the tether to reel me over."

"You'll
what?"

"I said that
I'll just leap off from the decoy to the safety of the wreckage. After you
engage the enemy ship, I'll get back on the
Rover
II
and be ready to ram him or use the other booster as a backup decoy if I
need to." There was a silence that stretched out for a long moment.

"You propose
to do all this while they're shooting in your direction with a pulse beam
cannon?"

"Well...yeah."

"I can't let
you do that."

"Why the hell not...Sir?"
She looked surprised.

Her nonchalance
at the obvious danger upset him, maybe more than it should have.

"How about
the fact that you'll probably get yourself killed?"

"What choice
do we have, Lieutenant?" said Carlisle, with some heat, as her eyes turned
a shade darker and her voice got a little louder. "We're military! We
fight, sometimes we die! Within a few more days, we're probably all dead
anyway!"

With normal
overrides damped down due to fatigue and the relentless tension they'd been under,
the emotions of both officers began to boil over irrationally.

"The whole
scheme is just too damned risky!" said Harris, his own voice rising in
response.

"I don't
give a damn about that, I'd rather go down fighting!" said Carlisle, her
eyes flashing.

"I don't
like it. There has to be another way."

"Well, if
you think of one, you let me know!" she snapped at him, cheeks red. Her
green eyes had taken on the color of a raging, windswept sea. Her angry scowl
combined with the Clan markings on her cheek lent her a fierce, dangerous look.

"Don't take
that tone with me, Ensign! Besides, how do I know that you'll follow orders?
That stunt you just pulled with the sled was completely unauthorized!"

"There was
no time! I had to do something!"

They glared at one
another for several seconds, both breathing heavily. Carlisle opened her mouth
as if to say something more.

Hawkins
intervened before the situation escalated further.

"Ensign!
Lieutenant! Stop! We canna afford t' be
fightin' amongst ourselves. I say we all be thinkin' about this for a while and
be makin' a plan after we be calmed down a bit. Besides that, we all
be
tired. Let's be eatin' and getting' some rest. I'll be
takin' the first watch."

"That's...That's
probably a good idea," said Harris, more calmly then he felt.

The two
antagonists glared at one another for another long moment and then broke eye
contact. Each went to a different side of the bridge. Carlisle found a spot
behind a row of consoles, inside an empty locker with a missing door, a place
where she could have some private space and maybe some time to think. She
angrily tore off the seal of a food tube and began to eat. By the time she had
finished the meal, she had calmed down somewhat. She was still angry, but most
of the emotion she felt had turned to regret. She kept running the argument
over and over in her mind. What could she have done differently? She realized
suddenly that the three of them had been working together almost seamlessly as
a tightly knit team since this gut-wrenching adventure had
begun,
something that she'd always seemed to have trouble with. What's more, she
hadn't had to work that hard at it; they had come together so naturally that
she really hadn't given it much thought. Could the three of them recapture that
dynamic? At the moment, she didn't see how. Worst of all, her dirty little
secret, that she couldn't control her temper, was out. Real Naval officers
didn't lose control, especially with their superiors. Harris couldn't possibly
find anything to like about her after this!

She decided to
use the ultrasonic shower in an attempt to relax and maybe raise her spirits a
little. When she had finished with the shower, she changed into some of the
spare clothes she had packed for what was originally to have been a short stay
at the auxiliary station and dabbed on a bit of the cologne that she had
included with her personal gear. It wasn't much, just a light spritz, but the
effect on her mood was positive, albeit only mildly. She still felt angry at
the Lieutenant, even angrier at herself and depressed because she had lost
control, but she did feel a little better. She went back to her isolated spot
and began going through more of the files on her wrist computer. Within another
twenty minutes she realized just how tired she was from the relentless tension
and grueling activities of the last several days, not to mention the argument
with the Lieutenant. Like good sailors throughout history, despite her dark
mood and their desperate situation, she nodded off.

Chapter 35

New Ceylon Orbital Station, Smuggler's Lair,
October 8, 2598.

"Commander?"

Kresge woke up
immediately from his first decent sleep in what seemed like days. He was in the
dark and someone was calling softly through the closed door of the small, private
chamber where he and Irene were sleeping. He looked at his wrist chronometer,
noted that he'd slept for all of two and half hours, and sighed.

"I'll be
with you in a minute."

He gently
extricated himself from Irene's warm embrace and carefully pulled the blanket
over her still sleeping form. He bent down and kissed her on the cheek. She
stirred softly, but didn't awaken. Kresge wasn't surprised; Irene had her hands
full almost every waking moment keeping the ever-growing resistance band
organized, fed, sheltered and away from each other's throats. He used the
bathroom of the private chamber and took a moment to look in the mirror. He ran
his fingers through his short, dark hair and rubbed his chin, realizing that he
was badly in need of a shave. Maybe someone had a shaving kit or something,
he'd have to check. He slipped into his uniform coverall and took another look
at himself. Having done all he could for the moment, he took a deep breath and
went to face the day. Gibbons waited for him just outside the door. The two of
them went out into the large common room of their lair, a room they had taken
to calling the 'big hall.'

"Trouble?"
asked Kresge.

"Nothing out
of control, but
there've
been some developments.
Steuben has some news. He says it's important enough to wake you up. I thought
I'd have him tell both of us at the same time."

They arrived at
one of the tables where they found Steuben with his hands wrapped around a cup
of coffee. He looked bone tired, his normally neat red hair was matted, his
shoulders were bowed and there were dark circles under his eyes. He looked up
at Kresge when they were about ten meters apart.

"Commander!"
he said, and started to come to his feet.

"Don't get
up, Steuben," said Kresge, holding up his hand. He took a few more steps
before slipping into a seat across the table from the smaller man.

"Someone
get
me a cup of that coffee, would you please?" said
Kresge.

One of the newly
appointed runners, a teenaged girl with red hair and freckles, sprinted off to
get his beverage.

"You got
news, Steuben?"

"Yeah, this
could be a major development."

"Okay, let's
have it."

Steuben had a
smug look.

"The second
ship just left."

"The second ship?
Gone? Do you have any idea why?"

"You're
gonna love this, Commander," said Steuben, barely able to contain his
excitement.

Kresge, just
roused out of sound sleep, was tired and irritable, but the little man was so
obviously enjoying the suspense and he had been doing such a terrific job as a
spy or handyman or whatever else they needed him to do that Kresge was
reluctant to show any impatience. The news could wait a little longer. The
teenager returned from across the room with his coffee. He took a tentative sip
and got a pleasant surprise. In sharp contrast to the poor quality brew the governor
had been serving earlier, the coffee was as good as any he had ever had. It had
to be New Ceylon Arabica, one of the finest and most expensive coffees in
Federation space. He smiled inwardly at the audacity of his accidental allies.
If they got out of this mess, some things were going to change for them, and
not necessarily for the better. He savored another sip and segued back to the
business at hand.

"So what did
you hear?"

"You know
that first ship that they sent back to the Scrapyard?"

"Yes..."

"That ship
called back and said they had taken damage from some kind of makeshift weapon
that survivors in the Scrapyard cobbled together."

"Someone out
in the Scrapyard disabled the other ship?"

"I told you
you'd love it! It gets better. They sent the second ship out to help repair the
first one but they haven't been able to contact the first one since they made
their distress call. The leader, Ezra, is really, really pissed!"

"You're
right, Steuben, this is good news!"

Presuming it was
Harris,
then
Hawkins and Carlisle must have survived
as well. It would almost certainly have taken a team effort to cobble together
a weapon from stuff in the Scrapyard and then use it effectively. There was
enough talent in that group to pull off something like this, of that Kresge was
absolutely sure. What a story they'd have to tell, assuming they survived!

"Do you have
any idea how many terrorists that leaves on the station?" asked Kresge.

"I don't
think they have more than twenty left, maybe as many as two dozen."

"This could
be the break we're looking for," said Kresge. "Dan? Get everybody
together,
we have some decisions to make. And get someone to
the communications point down at the waste plant. Let the folks in the spindle
know what just happened."

The red-headed
girl eagerly ran off towards the waste plant.

Ten minutes
later, most of the group had gathered in the central area of the big room.
Kresge got them quieted down and addressed them.

"We've just
heard that the invaders are at their lowest numbers since they took over the
station. I, for one, think that the time is right for us to organize and mount
an attack on them, to regain control of the station. Who's with me?"

About half of the
people in the room tentatively raised their hands. Those in favor included all
of the security people, the two former spindle technicians, Jenkins,
Davis-Moore,
Helen
Murdock, both Steubens and a mixed
assortment of the smugglers. An unidentified voice challenged him from the
crowd.

"What makes
you think you're in charge here?"

Kresge's eyes
narrowed.

"Under the
present conditions, I could have invoked martial law and taken over down here
any time I felt it was necessary. I have chosen not to, for reasons that should
be pretty obvious. If we decide to go ahead with a counteroffensive of some
kind, I would be the natural choice to lead it. As I said, I could invoke
martial law here, but any kind of action would be almost bound to fail if your
hearts weren't in it. I will be happy to lead such an effort, but only if you
really want to make the attempt."

He looked around
the room. Reactions ran the gamut from people eagerly nodding their heads to
those who wore looks of open hostility.

"I won't try
to sugar coat this," he continued. "We're talking about a
well-organized and well-armed foe. There is a very strong possibility that some
of us will get hurt and some of us will get killed if we take these guys
on." He paused here and looked around the room one more time before
finishing his address. "Tell you
what,
we need
more information on the enemy's capabilities anyway. Several more of our
observers are due back within the next hour or so. Why don't you all think
about it, talk it over, and we'll make a decision in a couple of hours? Anyone
who wants to talk to me can find me over at the command table.
Dismissed!"