Junkyard Dogs series Omnibus

by Phillip Nolte

  "Is it possible that this ship might have projectiles left?"

  "Could we be gettin' power to the railgun capacitor banks?"

  "Do the capacitors still work?"

  "Get your suits on, let's take a look!"

  Within minutes Hawkins and Carlisle had their suits on again and had cycled through the airlock. Because there was no hull damage aft, they went to check the aft guns first. They reentered the ship through the damaged area of the hull and made their way towards the stern.

  "These mass drivers used a capacitor discharge system, a lot like the pulse beams, only they didn't need nearly so much power." said Harris to Carlisle, over the suit radio.

  "I read about that while researching the destroyer attack for my dissertation," said Carlisle. "Let's just hope that they still work."

  Chapter 24

  New Ceylon Orbital Station, Smuggler's Lair, October 6, 2598.

  Oskar Kresge looked over the slowly growing ranks of fellow refugees that were gathering deep in the bowels of the orbital station and wondered perversely, just for a moment, if he wouldn't have been better off turning himself in. He shook the thought off and concentrated on the task at hand. The group, "The Resistance" as he was beginning to think of them, needed more information on their enemy, more weapons, more competent people. Maybe there were other groups like this one elsewhere on the station.

  Kresge had never considered the sheer size of the orbital station before. At more than six kilometers in circumference and five decks deep, each deck consisting of up to three sublevels in some areas, there was a hell of a lot of space on board this orbital platform. Of course, he had to admit, in the past he had only come to enjoy some of the finer regions of the station and spend time with one of its more attractive residents.

  Gibbons, the two Steubens, and Maggie Simmonds had been the leaders of the group before the attack on the station, but they had been running a smuggling ring and black market operation. They had called themselves simply the Organization. They hadn't had much experience in the day-to-day operations of what was rapidly becoming a small community and all of the associated logistical problems of such an enterprise. The women had quickly come to realize that Irene was the most experienced of any of them in such matters and they found themselves relying more and more on her expertise as the group's numbers continued to grow. Irene still had reservations about the people she was working with, but she pitched in wholeheartedly when they asked for her help.

  The Organization had pulled together a bewildering array of hard goods, clothing, electronics, and other valuables. Kresge was just as impressed with the large cache of food that the group had also amassed. The sanctuary itself had a number of unexpected attributes. Many of the Organization members were maintenance staff and they knew how to make things work. They had set up several sleeping rooms, some with private bath facilities. These were used infrequently for smuggling people traveling illegally, one of the more lucrative of the group's activities. Near the common area, they had rigged separate male and female sanitary facilities that they had even managed to rig up with showers.

  Kresge himself hadn't actually seen that much of the station yet, but the ringleaders had assured him that there were many ways for a knowledgeable person to get around without being detected. The Organization had, in fact, sent several of the most agile and trusted of their number to use these pathways to do some eavesdropping. The first of their observers was due back within the next half hour. Meanwhile, Irene had used her natural organizational skills and her considerable personal charm to get the women working together more effectively. She came up to Kresge, wearing a makeshift apron with an assortment of stains on it, holding a large spatula.

  "It looks like I get to make dinner for you after all, Oskar," she said, smiling at him. Kresge smiled back but couldn't help but notice how exhausted she looked. He took her in his arms and they held each other for a long moment before they both went over and sat down across from one another at a nearby table.

  "So, what are we having?"

  "We're having chicken cordon bleu with an assortment of baby vegetables and a baked potato with your choice of trimmings."

  "What?" asked Kresge, incredulously. "That sounds like the menu at the Spaceview Restaurant! I thought we'd be roughing it here!"

  "These people are pretty resourceful," said Irene, with grudging respect. "The meals were actually intended for the Spaceview, but there was a mix up and a double order got shipped. Our hosts generously took the extra half of the order off the restaurant's hands before they even knew about it."

  "Well, I'll be...," said Kresge.

  Our biggest problem was figuring out how to heat the food up. There's a technician, Helen, I think her name is, who commandeered the spare ultramicrowave oven that the restaurant was storing down here on the fifth level. She had it hooked up and working within a half hour or so. It doesn't look like we're going to go hungry, anyway."

  "Actually, it looks we'll be eating pretty well!"

  "We have food enough for weeks unless the group gets a lot bigger. They have a good assortment of other entrées from the restaurant, and they've squirreled away a lot of other food and stuff over the last several years. Anytime there's something extra, slightly out of date, or available for the taking, they somehow wind up with it."

  "Yeah, they seem to have the run of the place. The Governor will probably run out of stuff before we do!"

  There was a minor commotion over near the entrance to the hideout. Kresge reached across the table for Irene's hand and gave it gentle squeeze before getting up to check on the disturbance.

  "Save me one of those entrées. I'll be back as soon as I can." He headed across the room. Gibbons and Allison Steuben were talking; Allison gestured towards the direction of one of the main entries to the hideout.

  "What's up, Dan?" asked Kresge as he came within earshot.

  "Allison and Orville took a maintenance cart over to the other side of the station to see if there were any more people that we needed to bring in here. Apparently they found a small group. Allison is a little ways ahead, but the rest of them should be along in just a few more minutes.

  "Commander Kresge," said Allison Steuben, "nice to finally meet you." She was a pleasant-faced woman, quick with a smile, who had short, light brown hair and pale blue eyes.

  "Likewise," replied the Commander. "What have you got for us?"

  "We found some more people," she said. "I think you'll be pleasantly surprised."

  "That would be a nice change," said Kresge.

  She grinned.

  A few minutes later, Orville Steuben came in with what looked like about ten newcomers. Kresge noticed immediately that there were two Federation Navy uniforms among them.

  "Jenkins, Allen!" Kresge called out.

  The two men looked in his direction as soon as they heard his voice. Kresge hurried over to them.

  "Commander Kresge?" said Jenkins. "Commander, Sir! Man, are we ever glad to see you!"

  "We were heading over to the Junkyard Lounge for lunch when all hell broke loose," said Allen. "We were just at the entrance when the shooting started." He looked around. "What happened to Kathy? You need to meet Kathy Haines, Commander; she was in the group we came in with. She's one of the higher-ups with station security."

  "Is that her over there?" Kresge pointed to a tall, athletic-looking brunette in a security uniform who was talking heatedly with Gibbons.

  "Yeah, that's her."

  "Gibbons will make sure that we meet, don't worry."

  "What do you know about these people, Commander?" said Allen, looking around the room again.

  "Most of them have regular jobs as maintenance and supply crew here at the station. In their spare time they're the ringleaders of the smuggling and black market operations in this part of the quadrant. Station upper management heard rumors about this place, but they didn't have a clue how to find it. As you can see, there's an awful lot of unused real estate on this station. Espe
cially here on the outer levels."

  "Given the current situation, it looks like a damned good set up to me," said Jenkins.

  "It gets better," answered Kresge. "These folks know all of the shortcuts and back ways to get around on the station without drawing attention. Right now we're just gathering information. We've got spies out all over the place to see if we can find out who's behind the attack and what it is that they want."

  "Who's in charge?" asked Allen.

  Kresge smiled slightly. "Good question. Gibbons does most of the talking. I'm the military advisor, whatever that means. Irene has been helping the women get the place organized."

  "Is Irene Marshall here, too?" asked Jenkins.

  "Yes, we were having lunch at the Spaceview Restaurant when the attack came. We had some of the best seats in the house for the destruction of the Boise. We ran to my quarters, grabbed some of my stuff, and started heading outward. Orville Steuben and Maggie Simmonds found us just a few minutes later and brought us down here, just like the Steubens did with your group." He paused and looked back and forth at the two men. "I can't tell you how good it is to see both of you."

  "Amen, Commander," said Allen. "We saw the Governor on the viewscreen asking you and Ms. Marshall to turn yourselves in. I bet Jenkins a hundred credits that you wouldn't do it."

  "So, how'd that turn out?"

  "How do you think? He wouldn't take the bet!"

  "You're a wise man, Jenkins."

  "Thanks, Commander. I'd say the smartest move these people could make would be to put you in charge."

  "We'll see. Under the circumstances I could invoke martial law and take over anytime I wanted to, but that just doesn't feel right. Not yet, anyway. I don't suppose either of you has any kind of weapon?"

  They both shook their heads.

  "No, Sir," said Jenkins. "I didn't think we'd be able to bring anything with us, on account of the big diplomatic shindig. With these recent developments, I kind of wish that I had packed my pulse pistol or something."

  "I didn't bring anything either," said Allen.

  "I suppose it was too much to hope for. I don't know how much of a fight we could put up even with some decent weapons -- these invaders look to have somewhere around fifteen to twenty sets of battle armor. All we have so far is my pulse pistol, a few stun rods, and an obsolete hunting rifle. Damned thing shoots projectiles! That's gonna make it tough. If you get any bright ideas, let me know immediately."

  "Will do, Commander," said Jenkins.

  "That reminds me, Commander," said Allen. "I got a pretty good look at one of the raider guards while we were making our way over here. The battle armor these guys are using looks like it's about two generations out of date."

  "You sure?" asked Kresge.

  "Yeah, the stuff looks ancient."

  "Maybe we can use that. Go get yourselves something to eat, guys. We can talk more later." Kresge grinned wryly. "Enjoy the meal -- we're serving chicken cordon bleu today."

  The two men gave him a perplexed look, but mumbled their thanks as they headed over to the chow line. A short, wiry, grey-haired woman in threadbare coveralls who had been waiting patiently nearby for the three men to finish their conversation, cleared her throat. Kresge had seen her several times since coming to the hideout, but hadn't had the opportunity to talk to her before.

  "Yes, what is it?"

  "Name's Helen Murdock, Commander," said the woman as the two of them shook hands. "They told me you were the military advisor. I don't want to take up a lot of your time, but I just wanted to let you know that I'm at your disposal."

  "Thanks, Ms. Murdock. I take it you're the one who helped get the kitchen organized?"

  "That's right, Commander,"

  "Mind if I call you, Helen?"

  "No problem, Commander."

  "Well, Helen, what else do you bring to the table?"

  "I'm a pretty fair technician, if I do say so myself. I was an electrician's mate in the Federation Navy, but that was over thirty years ago. After that I worked here on the orbital station as a power tech for the next twenty years or so. My dad passed on five years ago and left me his cargo ship. I've been operating and maintaining it myself since then."

  "What kind of ship is it?"

  "She's a Bombardier Mark I Cargomaster, Commander, the Greyhound," said Murdock, proudly.

  "If you'll pardon my saying so, Helen, you must be a pretty good tech if you can keep that old girl running."

  "Yeah, she takes a bit of doing."

  "Glad to have you with us, Helen. I've no doubt that we'll make ample use of your talents. Where can I find you?"

  "If it's okay with you, Commander, I'll just hang out with the kitchen crew for now. They're pretty busy over there. Nice meeting you."

  "My pleasure," said Kresge.

  The technician cum ship owner turned and made her way back over to the chow line. Kresge headed over to where Gibbons was still talking heatedly with the tall woman from security. A knot of men was beginning to gather nearby and they did not look happy. Gibbons turned to Kresge as soon as the commander came within range.

  "Commander Kresge," he said, his exasperation evident. "This is Kathy Haines, Deputy Director of Security. She says we're all under arrest! See if you can talk some sense into her!"

  "Commander," said the tall woman. Her voice was a husky alto.

  "Mind if I call you Kathy?" asked Kresge.

  She nodded tersely, her attention still on Gibbons. Kresge continued. "I think you should reconsider your attempt to arrest anyone."

  "But, Commander...?"

  "No buts, Kathy. Think about it. We have far bigger problems right now. The station has been attacked by unknown forces. I can all but guarantee that the people down here are not allied with the attackers; they lost at least five of their own in the initial attack. In case you haven't noticed, they're providing us with a refuge to regroup and try to figure out what to do. Stand down. Better yet, join us! Lord knows we could use someone with your knowledge of the station!"

  Irene had crossed the room to join them when she saw who Kresge was talking to. She didn't know Haines well, but they had met on several occasions in the past.

  "He's right, Deputy Haines," said Irene. "I had some of the same issues when we first got here. Forget about arresting anyone, we can sort that out later, right now we need to put aside our differences and come together against this common enemy."

  "I... I don't know...," said Haines. She looked around and realized that she was not only badly outnumbered, but that two people who probably outranked her were telling her to back off. She finally relented. "Alright...fine! Now what?"

  "Now we work together and figure out just what the hell is going on!" replied Kresge. "To tell you the truth, I'm damned glad to see somebody from station security. Tell me more about how the station is organized. How many security people are there?"

  She looked at Gibbons and Steuben before answering somewhat reluctantly, "There are about sixty of us," she said finally, "but only about a third are on duty at any one time."

  "So roughly twenty of you were on duty when the attack came?"

  "Yes, that's about right."

  "Have you seen anyone else from security since the attack?"

  "No, Gordon Harmon, the security chief, took at least six people over to the governor's area to protect the dignitaries." Her look became serious. "I heard Gordon didn't make it."

  "Yeah, sorry," said Kresge.

  "Wrong place, wrong time. It's a pity, he was a good man. In any case, he sent me down to the opposite side of the station to maintain order there. I had another security officer with me, George Fowler, when I came down. I sent him to the next stairwell over. You haven't seen him have you?"

  "No, but people keep straggling in," said Gibbons, "maybe he'll show up before too long."

  Haines continued, "Security hadn't really had time to formulate any kind of real plan. I sent a whole lot of people to their quarters, it's the best place for most
of them, but a small group of us, including your two men, Commander, had collected at the stairwell and were just trying to decide what to do next when Allison Steuben found us.

  "I see you have a stun rod," said Kresge, looking at a device that was holstered on her uniform utility belt. "Tell me about it."

  "It'll incapacitate a man for half an hour or so."

  "What's the range?"

  "You need to be within three or four meters."

  "That's a bit close but I suppose..."

  The conversation was cut short as one of the Organization's observers came through the entrance and reported immediately to Gibbons and Kresge. Haines remained with the leaders.

  "This is Harvey Rothwell, Commander," said Gibbons. "He's maintenance foreman on the first deck. He knows that area like the back of his hand."

  "Good to meet you, Harvey," said Kresge, "Do you know Kathy Haines?" Rothwell nodded warily. "Hi, Kathy..."

  "Are you part of this too, Harvey?" asked Haines.

  "Maintenance jobs don't pay shit, Kathy. Man's got to make a living!"

  Kresge intervened, "It's okay, Harvey. What have you got for us?"

  "Sorry, Commander, I wasn't able to get a look at any of them. I still don't know who they are or what they look like. My spot ain't that good for seein', but it's pretty good for hearin'."

  "So, what did you hear?"

  "The leader was real mad that they had to send that ship back out to the Scrapyard."

  "They went to attack the Scrapyard?"

  "Sorry, Commander, that's not quite right. It's more like they already had attacked it and they had to go back. They hit the main facility in the Scrapyard to take out the communications and then headed in here to get the Boise and take over the orbital station."

  Kresge looked like he had been punched in the stomach.

  "They destroyed the main facility of the Scrapyard? Were there any survivors?"

  "Probably not many, it was a surprise attack, just like they did here, but there must have been some somebody."

  "How so?"

  "Well, somebody from the Scrapyard called to warn us here at the station. Too bad they were too late."