Junkyard Dogs 1: The Scrapyard Incident (29 page)

Chapter 53

New Ceylon Orbital
Station,
spoke one stairwell, October 9, 2598.

Oskar Kresge
waited for the full half hour and a little more before the expected message
from the terrorist leader came through on the captured communicator.

"This is
Ezra Hellfire Brimstone calling for Commander Kresge. Are you there,
Commander?"

Kresge kept the
man waiting for about twenty seconds.

Try to remain calm and don't lose your
temper
, he told himself.

"Kresge
here, what do you want?"

"You are to
be commended for the competency of your counterattack, Commander. Too bad it
wasn't quite good enough."

"We'll see.
I'm not done yet."

"Actually,
Commander, you
are
done. You see, not
only do I have the Governor and his family, I have another even more persuasive
reason for you to leave us in peace."

"And what
might that be?"

"I'll get to
that in a minute, Commander, first I wish to discuss my demands."

"I'll
discuss them with you, but I won't guarantee that anything will come of
it."

"You haven't
heard me out yet."

"Alright,
what do you want?"

"I wish to
speak to the Meridian Ambassador as soon as you make contact with him."

"That would
be a pretty good trick, since you and your hooligans destroyed all the
communications equipment!"

"A detail,
Commander, surely a diverse group such as yours has someone with the expertise
to restore communications?"

"I'll admit
that we're working on it."

"Good,
Commander. I'll also need a hyper-capable ship with a month's provisions."

"Why should
I listen to anything you have to say?" said Kresge, allowing a little of
his frustration to surface. "You hit the Reclamation Center with a sneak
attack and followed that up with a similarly despicable attack here. I don't
know how many of my friends and neighbors you've killed, but it's way too
many."

"Cooperate,
Commander, or I guarantee that there will be even more."

"How do you
figure that?"

Brimstone
hesitated for effect before making his next announcement.

"Because I planted a nuclear explosive device on this station.
I will detonate it if my demands aren't met."

Kresge was
silent, dumbfounded, for a very long moment.

"You're
bluffing!" he finally replied.

"Perhaps,
Commander, but do you really want to find out the hard way?"

Chapter 54

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

The three
Scrapyard survivors, still adjusting to the incalculable feeling of relief from
the knowledge that they were no longer waiting for an attack to come, went
about the business of preparing for the arrival of the Meridian Ambassador's
ship into the New Ceylon system. Hawkins checked the jury-rigged Stage I
communications console and found that it still operated properly. The console
had been powered down when the
Terrier
had been hit by the pulse beam, so it shouldn't have taken any damage, but the
crew was still greatly relieved to discover that the transmitter still worked.
The power capabilities of the
Rover II
were up to the job, but just barely. The survivors would have to temporarily
shut down life support while they powered up the console. They couldn't have
both.

Each of them made
an attempt to console their prisoner, but they didn't know him very well and,
if he was telling the truth, he had suffered a devastating loss -- at their
hands -- and would be a long time recovering. The trio continued to keep watch
through the
Terrier's
periscope in
the direction of the Whitney Hyperlink point for the arrival of the
Ambassador's ship. After a vigil that spanned several hours, Harris saw the
flash of a ship coming out of Whitney transfer. After waiting a few minutes for
the ship's personnel to recover from the shift out of hyper, he attempted
contact.

"This is
Lieutenant Ryan Harris of the Federation Navy at the United Terran Federation
Naval Reclamation Center calling the Meridian ambassador. This is an
emergency." He repeated the message several times before a reply came.

"This is
Captain Nassar of the Meridian Imperial Ship
Istanbul
. What is your emergency?"

"We have
fought off two attacks by armed cargo vessels manned by radicals from the
Veritian Brotherhood. The main and auxiliary stations here in the Reclamation
Center have been destroyed with heavy loss of life. Three of us are surviving
on two decks of an old warship that we managed to pressurize. The Federation
destroyer
Boise,
which was stationed
near the planet, was destroyed in a similar sneak attack and we have reason to
believe that the orbital station is in the hands of the Veritian
Brotherhood."

"The Veritian Brotherhood?
Those
jackals?
How do you know?"

"We captured
an attacker after we destroyed one of their vessels."

"You
destroyed one of their vessels, how?"

"Actually we
destroyed both of them, but it's a long story, and I'll be glad to give you all
the details when we have our situation stabilized. Our prisoner told us that
they were plotting to capture the Ambassador. The details are unclear beyond
that, except that a public execution was involved. We don't know for sure what
their motives are, but they certainly want to disrupt your diplomatic mission.
Maybe they even want to start a new war."

"Naturally I
will have to check your story."

"We expected
you would. In the meantime, do you have Stage II Whitney communications
capability?"

"This is a
diplomatic ship of the Imperial government of
Meridian,
of course we have Stage II communications."

"Could you
please contact the Federation authorities at the Santana Nexus and have them
send help? If I were you, I wouldn't go anywhere near the planet or the orbital
station without a cruiser squadron, at least. We may have neutralized the
threat somewhat, but we cannot know for certain whether or not these radicals
have something else planned."

"It will be
our pleasure. I also agree that caution is justified. Do you request
assistance, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, thank
you for asking. Our situation is far from stable. We're holding out in the
wreck of an old destroyer. We powered up the emergency life support module with
the power plant on one of our utility sleds. Unfortunately, our most powerful
sled was damaged in the battle with the second ship and we are making do with
the only other one we have left. To be truthful, we don't know how much longer
our makeshift repairs are going to last. If you could come and pick us up, we
would be much obliged."

"Just a moment, Lieutenant."
The moment stretched
out to a half hour before Captain Nassar came back on. "Lieutenant
Harris?"

"Harris here."

"Ah, yes...
We were unable to make contact with anyone on the orbital station. Per your
request, we contacted the Federation authorities on the Santana Nexus and they
said they will have a contingent here within thirty-six hours. In the meantime
we would be honored to assist you. How shall we find you?"

"I wouldn't
approach the Reclamation Center very closely with your ship, there are a lot of
constructs and other junk that aren't where they're supposed be after all the
activity of the last few days. You must have a cutter or something smaller on
board."

"That we
do."

"Let's just
stay in contact. When you get close enough for a rendezvous we'll come out to
meet you with our remaining sled. For the sake of safety I'd say twenty
kilometers or so outside of the scrap cloud should give us a decent margin.
There are four of us, three Federation Navy personnel and one prisoner."

"That will
work on our end, Lieutenant."

"We'll look
for your turnover signature and begin heading out when we see it."

In preparation
for the rendezvous, the survivors packed up their meager supply of items. After
an hour had passed, Harris again went to checking the periscope every ten
minutes or so. The jump point was only a few hours away, unlike the far more
distant planet, so the wait wasn't going to be all that long, fortunately.
Carlisle checked one more time to make sure she had all of the information from
the ship's log downloaded to her wrist computer. After that she made another
attempt to comfort their obviously grieving prisoner. She crossed the bridge to
the spot where they had him secured. Jordan looked up from his Bible at her
with sorrowful eyes.

"Can I get
you anything?" she asked.

"Actually,
some water would be nice, Ensign."

Carlisle got a
water tube and handed it to him. While he drank, she questioned him gently.

"So you were
in the Federation Navy?" she asked.

His look remained
one of misery, but he responded politely.

"Yes, I was
a gunnery engineer for a six-year stint."

"When was
that?"

"I got out
about fifteen years ago."

"So what do
you do now?"

"I'm...,"
he said, hesitating for a moment before continuing, "...I was...a farmer
on Heard's World. We grow grain and potatoes and grapes and I have a few
cattle. It's a good life really..." He broke off.

"I'm...I'm
sorry about your wife, Caleb."

Again he looked
at her with those sorrowful eyes.

"I don't blame
you folks," he said. "You only did what you had to. We were lied to
by a very wicked man. If there is anything I can do to help you...to make up
for our terrible mistake, in God's name, I'll do it!"

"Thanks,
Caleb,
we'll keep it in mind. Let us know if you need
anything."

"I...I thank
you for your kindness, Ensign." The look he gave her was sincere. She left
him to his reading

The drive
signature from the
Istanbul's
cutter
indicating that the little Meridian ship had reached turnover appeared two hours
after first contact. The Scrapyard defenders gently lashed their prisoner, back
in his oversized set of battle armor, to the railing of the sled. With some
regret, Hawkins disconnected the cable that had powered the faithful old
Terrier
, leaving her a dead hulk once
more. Hawkins patted the side of the old ship affectionately just before they
pulled away. Conversation was limited as they maneuvered their way out of the
scrapyard.

The prisoner
seemed to withdraw further into himself. There certainly wasn't much for him to
look forward to. His wife was probably dead and he was heading for a
face-to-face meeting with the very same Ambassador that his terrorist
companions had been attempting to kidnap. At the very least, he was looking at
a long prison sentence or a mindwipe. Of course, there was always the
possibility that the Federation would just decide to hand him over to the
Meridian authorities.

The
Reclamation Rover II
made rendezvous
with the cutter from the
Istanbul
an
hour and a half later.

Chapter 55

New Ceylon Orbital Station, Central Spindle,
October 9, 2598.

Peter Larkin
finished killing off the last of the invading mutant carnivores on the
forty-fourth level of "Mutant Carnivore Invaders" on his second time
through the game. Sitting next to him, his younger sister Martha watched the
high-resolution holographic display gleefully, her body shifting left and right
in her efforts to help him avoid the attacks of the enemies and guide his shots
to their targets. Her older brother was her unvarnished hero and the things he
could do in the video games were a never-ending source of entertainment, and
wonder, for her.

Things had
settled down a little since the hectic activities of "the move" as
Peter thought of it. Everything had happened so fast, people running
everywhere, lots of noise and excitement, gunshots, men in battle armor and
then the long climb up the stairs to the spindle where there was no simulated
gravity. Weightlessness was like second nature to the youngsters, they were
eager participants in weightless physical education classes several times a
week. Peter felt sorry for his mother, Valerie. She never had done well under
zero gravity. She was having a hard time keeping anything down and had all but
given up on eating anything for the time being. The "mutant invaders"
as Peter had taken to calling their captors, were mostly keeping the adults
separate from the children. Even though they pretty much left him and his
sister alone, the terrorists were not very nice people and the leader, Ezra,
was downright scary.

Their battle
armor sure was cool though.

From Peter's
perspective, his new game was great, but he had figured out how to battle the
bad guys pretty early on and the novelty was beginning to wear off. The wrist
computer he was using to play the game, however, was an entirely different
matter. In his mind, the computer was the real prize.
Time to
try something else.
He saved the game at the beginning of the
forty-fifth level and went on to investigate some of the other awesome things
that the super cool wrist computer could do.

Peter went to the
main menu of the computer interface and began to look over some of the features
that he hadn't tried yet. There was nothing under "Contacts" or
"Schedule" or "To Do" or any of
another
ten or fifteen different categories
on the menu. Peter knew that these
categories represented grown-up stuff that meant you had to put information
into them before you could use them. Maybe he'd do that later. He selected
another category that he hadn't tried yet, something called "HWCN."

That got results.
The computer immediately displayed a message:

"Hello, Peter Larkin. Welcome to the
Hartwell Wrist Comp Network. No other users are currently in range. Do you wish
to be informed if this status changes?"

Peter eagerly
selected "yes." He then tried a couple of other categories, but gave
up when he didn't find anything all that interesting and decided that he might
as well take a break from the computer.
At least for a while.
He carefully removed the instrument from his wrist. Martha looked at him with
expectant eyes.

"Okay, you
can play for a while," he said quietly. "Just be really careful,
okay?"

Martha eagerly
held out her left arm and he slipped the device up around her tiny forearm. The
automatic tensioning systems gently but firmly clamped the ultrasophisticated
computer in place. The computer recognized the new user immediately.

"Hello, Martha Larkin. Would you like
to resume your game of Mutant Carnivore Invaders?"

"Yes,"
she said out loud. The game booted back up in less than a second and she
resumed playing at level three, hoping she would get all the mutants this time
around and advance to level four. Her tongue curled up at the corner of her
mouth as she concentrated on attacking the big, slow moving mutants and dodging
their deliberate but deadly counterattacks.

Across the room,
James Dolittle, or "Joshua Jericho" as he was known in the
Brotherhood, watched the two children playing with and finally exchanging the video
game and wished he had something to do to counteract the boredom. Actually,
allowing the kids to keep that game had been one of Ezra's better decisions,
unlike some of the other things the Brotherhood had done in last couple of
weeks. The kids were, for the most part, very well-behaved, especially
considering the circumstances.
Ezra is
supposed to be talking to the Ambassador sometime in the few hours.
He
thought.
Things were gonna start
happening after that
.