"Possibly," replied the tech, "Much depends on what kind of condition the drive is in. This one doesn't appear to be too badly damaged but we won't know until we try to access it."
Heskim spent some time looking at the connections for the drive, "I might be able to do something. It could take some time, though. I'll have to rig some special leads to get power to it. Connections like these haven't been used for decades. I might have some adaptors in one of these drawers but more likely I'll have to fabricate something." He turned the device over in his hands yet another time. "How soon do you need this?"
"I don't know that it's terribly urgent except that I have a bit of free time over the next few days."
"Old computer gear of any kind of has always been of interest to me. I'll see what I can do right after I finish this translator module. Why don't you stop back later today?"
"That would be great," replied Carlisle, "I have some other things to do myself. Thanks, Heskim. It was nice meeting you."
"My pleasure, Dr. Carlisle, "Retrieving data from a drive this old could turn out to be a real challenge. Maybe we'll get lucky."
"I certainly hope so, Heskim," she replied, with a smile, "I'll check back with you later today."
Carlisle left the engineering section and went to check on her spacesuit.
When she got down to the compartment where the space suits were serviced she was relieved to find that her special suit had been carefully racked and appeared to be undamaged. She coerced one of the suit technicians into helping her put the suit on and perform a few routine tests to make sure that there were no leaks and that everything still worked.
The suit was a technological wonder, form-fitted and less than half as bulky as a standard Naval-issue spacesuit. It appeared to be made of a smooth, slightly textured fabric, almost like the skin of a primitive, Old Earth fish called a shark. Though the color of the suit's fabric could be altered to match any background, Carlisle usually left it on the default color setting which was a non-reflective, white matte finish. The helmet was also an advanced design and could be programed to alter its color just like the rest of the suit. While she was still experimenting with the suit to make absolutely sure that everything was in working order, she received a text message from Commander Kresge on her wrist computer."
"Command staff meeting at 0930 in the big conference room on the Istanbul," It said. "Admiral Kingston will be presiding."
Carlisle couldn't suppress a frown as she extricated herself from the suit and carefully placed it back on the rack.
Chapter 8.
"...Some things will always belong to realm of the purely theoretical. Things like time travel or truly exceeding the speed of light. Another such impossible dream that many scientists have speculated about is the theory of a so-called 'hyperdrive damper field.' The concept is simple enough: generate a field that cancels out the resident gravity wave frequencies of a Whitney macrojump zone and you would effectively close the zone to a macrojump coming in from the zone that the damper field was tuned to...
...Imagine the usefulness of such a device! In war it could be used to keep enemies from accessing your star system. For trade purposes you could amass a fortune by only allowing goods to be transported through your system when you allowed them to! Fortunately for all of us, such fields exist only in the minds of mathematicians and those who work on the fringes of hyperdrive field theory. If someone ever learns how to produce such a field, which is certainly impossible, it would be a major game changer..."
Hartwell Wrist Comp reference note highlighted for further review by Tamara Carlisle. Excerpt is from "The Whitney Revolution: Engine of a New Destiny for Mankind" by Melvin Patterson.
UTFN Reclamation Center, on board Meridian Imperial Diplomatic Ship Istanbul, January 2, 2599.
Lieutenant Harris had saved himself an unnecessary trip back to the Istanbul by calling ahead to see if he needed to bring anything or anyone over to the Greyhound. He was told to remain on the Istanbul until the meeting with Admiral Kingston was concluded.
Commander Kresge, Harris, Ambassador Saladin, Sondia Saladin, F.C. Talbot and Lieutenant Lawrence Harvick were waiting in the designated meeting room onboard the Istanbul for the arrival of Admiral Kingston and her small entourage. Ensign Carlisle, somewhat fatigued already from the mild exertions associated with her activities of the morning, came in and immediately sat down gratefully in a chair. Kingston was due in the next few minutes and the Ensign, still trying to adjust to being upright after several days in the infirmary, was taking no chances at displaying any weakness.
The Istanbul's doctor had said that her recovery would take a little time. As tired as she was from the morning's light activities and the short walk from her quarters, Carlisle was reluctantly inclined to believe him.
The Admiral had been at the Reclamation Center for several days but, so far, she had not yet met with any of the command staff of the Scrapyard. Apparently today was the day that she had chosen to meet with them. Might as well get it over with, thought Carlisle. None of the Scrapyard defenders had any idea what to expect except Carlisle, who remembered, all too well, her single run-in with the crusty old woman.
Based on that experience, she feared the worst.
Lieutenant Shirleen Nesbitt, from the FNS Asimov, a young and very professional officer whom Carlisle had interacted with briefly on her journey from the Naval Academy on Old Earth to the Santana Nexus a few weeks ago, came into the meeting room and made an announcement.
"Admiral on deck!"
Immediately all of the Federation officers came to attention. Carlisle went over to stand next to Harris thinking she might be able to lean against the Lieutenant for support if she needed to. She pulled herself up straight as Admiral Kingston came rather gingerly into the room. The Admiral was using a makeshift cane fashioned from a short length of railing and appeared to be favoring her left leg. There were two marines in front of her and another two behind. Bringing up the rear was a short, young, slender male ensign who, at first glance, appeared to be of Old Earth Japanese descent. Carlisle was surprised to see a Spacer clan tattoo emblazoned across his left cheek. But that wasn't all, the young man also looked vaguely familiar to her. She filed that away and turned her attention back to the Admiral. Carlisle, having only seen Kingston while the older woman was seated behind her impressive desk back on the Santana Nexus Station, was surprised to see that the Admiral was actually a rather smallish woman, not a lot taller than Carlisle herself. The Admiral smartly returned the salute from the row of officers and said, "At ease."
Immediately the Federation officers went to parade rest.
"Lieutenant Harvick," the Admiral began, "as the Federation Naval liaison to the Meridian Ambassador, would you please perform some introductions?"
Harvick was a federation officer who was trained as a professional diplomat and had been Admiral Kingston's personal choice to be the Federation liaison to the Ambassador's mission. From the experience that the Junkyard Dogs had with him so far, he was a bit odd, but very good at his job. Slender and just a few centimeters shy of two meters tall, he appeared to be of Old Earth African descent, with ebony skin; a broad, flat nose and short, kinky hair. With his deep melodious voice and his precise and cultivated speech patterns, he would have made an excellent video announcer.
"Admiral Harriet Kingston, may I present the Meridian Ambassador to the Federation, His Excellency Mohammad Saad Saladin and his wife the Lady Sondia."
The Ambassador was tall, athletic and, as was his habit, immaculately dressed. He was also immaculately groomed with short, neatly-combed black hair and a stylish pencil-thin mustache. His wife, standing next to him, was a woman of exotic and exceptional beauty. Her sleek shoulder-length black hair was classically styled, with the ends curved slightly inward and bangs straight-cut across her forehead. Her hair framed the perfect, light-olive skin of her oval face. The Ambassador and his wife both appeared to be of Old Earth Middle East origin.
The digni
taries performed the necessary rituals, including the slight bow required by Meridian custom.
"I would also like to present Commander Oskar Kresge, Dr. F.C. Talbot and Lieutenant Ryan Harris." Harvick paused for a second when he got to Carlisle. "I believe that Dr. Ensign Tamara Carlisle and you have already met." The Admiral gave Carlisle a dismissive nod and Harvick continued with the introductions. "Accompanying Admiral Kingston are Lieutenant Shirleen Nesbitt, acting Captain of the Asimov and her acting tactical officer, Ensign Massa Sukamoto."
Carlisle remembered meeting Lieutenant Nesbitt on her trip out from Earth to the Santana Nexus and, upon hearing the name of the young ensign, she suddenly remembered him as well. She had seen him in Admiral Loftgren's office back at the Academy while she was waiting for her new orders just over two months ago. He had been one of the fresh Academy graduates -- one of the honor students -- that Admiral Loftgren had requested an exit interview with. Carlisle had been forced to wait while Sukamoto and several others among the top students of the graduating class were being processed out of the Academy before going on to their first assignments. She hadn't seen his Clan tattoo because she had only seen him briefly and then had only seen the right side of his face. "Acting Tactical Officer?" she thought, "This soon after graduating from the Academy? There must be a hell of a story there!"
The Admiral nodded to the Federation personnel and gave Carlisle another perfunctory glance. She looked around the room and said: "Somebody get me a chair."
One of the Marines scooped up the same chair that Carlisle had collapsed into a few minutes earlier and brought it across the room before helping the obviously injured Admiral sit down in it.
"I was wounded in the altercation at the Nexus," explained the Admiral, "It's not too serious, they tell me, but it sure as hell is inconvenient!" She stirred slightly in the chair, to get a little more comfortable and then scanned the faces of the assembled personnel. "I have some information that I received just this morning that I must share with all of you but first I think we'd better bring each other up to date on the current situation." She turned her attention to the Ambassador. "What's been happening out here in the Reclamation Center, Mr. Ambassador?" she asked.
The Ambassador pondered for a moment before speaking. "We have survived some very earnest attempts to kill or capture us by some very determined people, Admiral Kingston. Things are complicated considerably by the fact that I currently have almost three dozen dignitaries from the governments of twelve Santana Quadrant planets on board my ship. As you probably already know, we had to leave the Nexus station in a rather...unconventional manner, and several of them continue to insist that they have been kidnapped. The last several weeks have been...difficult."
"We copied your 'unconventional' exit from the station," said the Admiral, "That tactic saved us from certain capture or destruction. Whose idea was that anyway? It was brilliant!"
Lieutenant Harvick looked at Carlisle.
"It was Ensign Carlisle who came up with the idea," said Harvick.
The Admiral gave Carlisle a disbelieving glare.
"I see..." was all the Admiral could say.
Behind the Admiral, where the old woman couldn't see him, young Ensign Sukamoto nodded his head slightly as though he were not surprised by the revelation.
"If I may be so bold, how has your group fared and what was the cause of your injuries, Admiral?" asked the Ambassador.
"I got banged up when the cutter we were escaping from the Nexus on jinked to avoid a pulse beam strike. That violent maneuver at over five gees was just too much for this old knee too handle. We managed to get onboard the Asimov just as we saw the Istanbul microjump out of danger. As luck would have it, the crews of the Asimov and the Xerxes had performed several joint maneuvers during the last six months and a number of them had become good friends. Out of concern for them, Captain Nesbitt offered our assistance. We managed to keep a couple of enemy destroyers at bay while we programed the microjump and instructed the Xerxes do the same. After that we covered for them again at the hyperlink zone while they macrojumped out of the system. We had a brief standoff with the destroyer that the enemy left guarding the jump point but she was no match for the Asimov. By mutual agreement, we jumped both ships to the Dalmation system. That one macrojump was all the Xerxes could manage with all the damage she'd suffered. It took us almost two weeks to cobble her back together enough so she could jump again. Meanwhile we heard about the stronghold out here in New Ceylon and we came here as soon as we could. The Xerxes won't be jumping again without some major attention. We were lucky to get her and her crew out of the Santana system at all."
"Well, we are certainly happy to see you, Admiral," said the Ambassador, emphasizing that he too was a professional diplomat.
"Thank you, Excellency." Kingston turned to Kresge. "What sort of assets do we have here in the Reclamation Center?" she asked.
"I suppose it could be worse," said Kresge, "As far as military spacecraft we have the two ships that you came with and we have the Perseus, which was damaged in the battle with the Sheik's forces. There is also this ship, the Istanbul, but she's kind of a special case. For civilian craft we have two mining ships, the Donegal and the Glendaloch, and three freighters, the City of Darwin, the Dingo and the Greyhound."
"Can we fight?"
"Not without some significant repair work," replied Kresge. "The Perseus has lost her forward battery, the Istanbul is a heavy cruiser converted to a diplomatic ship and has no weapons. Neither do the City of Darwin or the Dingo. The mining ships have their excavation lasers but you have to be right up close to your target for them to be effective. The Greyhound has been outfitted with a Bofors rapid-fire turret and her power plant and drive systems have also been upgraded with components from a Succession War destroyer. She's a stout old ship, and she's done well in combat but..." He took a moment to look back and forth at his Scrapyard comrades, "... I'd be a fool if I didn't add that we've been lucky, so far."
"You fought off an attack by three enemy destroyers and several support ships with THAT?!"
"Not quite, Admiral. Don't forget we have the entire inventory of this gigantic scrapyard to work with. We used the Istanbul to charge up the some of the main battery weapons on six of the wrecked cruisers. Took the enemy by surprise. The Perseus was actually one of the enemy ships, we took out her front turret with a coordinated attack and that precipitated a...change of leadership on board."
"A mutiny?"
"If that's what you call it when the crew takes back their ship after the command staff has defected to an illegitimate government. Well over half of the crew hadn't approved of the defection in the first place. When they got a chance they acted."
"Remarkable," was all the Admiral could say.
"Yeah, I don't know how things would have turned out if that ship hadn't surrendered. The rest of the attackers began retreating soon afterwards. Just to finish up, we also have several cutters and two utility sleds." Kresge paused for a moment before redirecting the discussion. "What about your forces, Admiral?"
"The Asimov has some minor damage where we nicked the shuttle bay door with the cutter during our escape from the Nexus," said Kingston, "but, as you can see, some of the higher ranking officers assigned to her were not able to get back onboard ship before we were forced to get out of there. As a result, the Asimov's command staff is somewhat...," she stopped to search for a word that wasn't too derogatory and came up with, "...inexperienced." She took a deep breath and sighed before continuing, "I don't think the Xerxes is going to do much more fighting, Commander. It might be best if we just parked her right here in your Scrapyard, it's kind of where she belongs."
"She's the same class of ship as the Perseus," said Kresge, "and it appears that her front battery is intact. Perhaps we could use parts from the Xerxes to repair the Perseus, bring her back to fully functional?"
"That would be up to the Meridian authorities," said Kingston. "What do you think, Mr. Ambassador?"
> "I say proceed with the repairs! We need all of the warships we can get right now!"
"We'll get to work on it right away," said Kresge.
"Thank you all for the updates," said Kingston. She paused a moment for effect. "Now I have to tell you about some other recent developments. As some of you know, the Asimov is outfitted with a Stage II communicator. We spoke to Federation Central Command back on Earth just before we came over for this conference."
"When can we expect reinforcements from Earth?" asked the Ambassador.
Kingston took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "There will be no reinforcements from Earth," she said. "At least not anytime soon."
"Have they given you any reason?"
"Yes, they have and it is a very serious development," said the Admiral. Again she paused for a moment and looked around the room. "Some might say that what is happening is impossible."
"How so?" asked the Ambassador.
"Central Command reports that they are currently unable to macrojump between the Sol-Terra and the Santana Nexus hyperlink point."
There was a silence as the people in the room digested the news and the implications.
"You say they can't use the hyperlink zone?" asked F.C.Talbot, who was both intrigued and appalled by the announcement.
F.C. Talbot had been a Federation Navy engineer a long, long time ago, all the way back during the Succession War, in fact. After the war, he had gone on to forge a long and lucrative career as consulting engineer and along the way had become a philosopher of some note who was known to be particularly critical of organized religion. He had been invited by Ambassador Saladin to participate in the Ambassador's diplomatic summit meeting, which was to have been held at the Santana Nexus a few weeks ago, in the hope that the old engineer cum philosopher could provide a fresh viewpoint and perhaps help the diplomats find a way to ease the political tensions that were permeating through and poisoning the entire Quadrant.
The Santana Nexus (Junkyard Dogs Book 3) Page 5
