"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!"
Chapter 36
UTFN Reclamation Center, onboard the wreck of FNS Terrier, October 8, 2598.
Tamara Carlisle was awakened by the sound and vibration of the Terrier's airlock operating. Harris, speaking softly but urgently, called out to her.
"Ensign, someone's coming in through the airlock! It's not one of us, Hawkins just woke me up. There must have been some survivors from that ship. Stay hidden!"
Her small stature worked very much to her advantage in this instance. She did her best to make herself even smaller as she huddled in shadow inside the empty locker, waiting to see what would happen next. The mystery invader was already on board, so there was no time for any kind of defensive strategy. Hawkins grabbed a couple of large wrenches out of the toolbox they had brought in and pitched one over to Harris, keeping the other for himself. There were four hatches between the airlock and the bridge, three on the deck below the bridge and an additional one between decks above a short ladder. These minor obstacles wouldn't hold an invader for long. Since Hawkins was closer than Harris to the opening that led up from below into the bridge area, he took a station above the deck hatch, hoping to have an attack on the head of whoever came through. Harris waited in full view with the wrench hidden behind him. The wheel on the hatch began to turn.
"Here he comes!" said Harris, just above a whisper. "Don't come out unless I tell you to, Ensign!"
To their dismay, the figure that squeezed through the hatch was dressed in full battle armor, and even worse, he was carrying a pulse pistol. A second figure was likewise clothed, but didn't seem to be armed. Harris could see immediately that attempting to put up a fight was very likely to be fatal; they had no choice but to surrender. He put his hands above his head, with the wrench in plain sight.
"Don't shoot, we're unarmed, we surrender! Hawk, come away from the hatch."
As Hawkins moved to do so, the first figure spotted him, grabbed him and pitched him roughly towards Harris. As he sailed across the bridge, Hawkins' shoulder made heavy contact with a control console, but he managed to catch himself before suffering any further injury. The first raider held the pulse pistol on the two would-be defenders while the other began working the fastenings on his helmet. Helmet off, the second man, in armor that was obviously way too large for him, then tucked the heavy, armored helmet under one arm and held the gun clumsily in his other hand while his larger companion removed his own helmet. The big man wore the distinctive mohawk hairstyle favored by the Veritian Brotherhood of Christ Resurgent. The smaller man didn't have the Mohawk, but he wore his light brown hair long, tied up into a pony tail. The smaller man almost eagerly returned the gun.
"Keep your hands where I can see them!" said the big man. "Caleb, tie their hands."
His shorter companion found a spot to stow the two helmets and selected some zip ties from Hawkins' tool box. The smaller man's movements in the bulky, oversized battle armor were painfully slow and clumsy. He proceeded to question the bigger man.
&nbs
p; "Are these the pirates, Jessie?" he asked as he secured the hands of the two Navy men. "They don't look like pirates to me, those are Federation Navy uniforms. What would pirates be doin' in the Scrapyard? Why would we be attacking the Scrapyard? Why would pirates be wearin' Federation uniforms?"
"Shut up, Caleb!" said the larger man, gruffly. "It's all part of Ezra's plan. Now check the rest of this area."
The smaller man took a few minutes to go around the bridge. He looked right at the locker where Carlisle was hiding, but failed to see her cuddled form in the dim light.
"You heathen scum!" the big man scowled in anger while he raged at them. "My brother and two of my cousins were on that ship! You killed them! Give me one good reason why I shouldn't just space both of you?"
Harris thought quickly, forcing himself not to panic.
"Um...Because we had to jury rig some systems to get the atmosphere and heating units operating on this old ship," he said, reasonably. "We have to check them every hour or so to...um see if they need adjustments."
"Silence! You live. For now. I don't much like your attitude, though. It won't be hard for me to change my mind."
The smaller man appeared to be very agitated.
"Ezra's plan or not, you're gonna tell me just what's going on here, Jessie." The smaller man began fumbling with the clasps on the battle armor he was wearing. "After I get out of this suit! I never wore armor before and I never had time to get anything hooked up right when I put it on. I got to get to a bathroom!"
"Alright, damn it, go ahead, but give me a minute to get out of mine."
The two men took turns covering their captives again while each removed his suit. The man called Caleb made a beeline for the bathroom, closing the door behind him. The other invader looked his two captives over with narrowed eyes. Just then, the ventilation system kicked on, causing a gentle movement of the air on the bridge of the old ship. The raider sniffed and wrinkled his forehead.
"What's that smell?" he asked, turning his head from side to side and sniffing some more. "Perfume? Have you boys got women on board? Maybe this wait won't be so bad after all!"
"No, I swear, there aren't any women here," said Harris.
"Yeah? Then what am I smelling?"
"I can't be sure, but it might be the air freshener we used, it smelled pretty bad in here when we got the systems back on. Isn't that right Hawk?"
"Aye, that would be it, Lieutenant. Jasmine, wasn't it?"
"You're lying, both of you!" The big man braced himself on one of the control consoles and backhanded Hawkins roughly, snapping the technician's head back. A small trickle of blood appeared at the corner of the old man's mouth. "Tell me the truth! Now! Or this man dies!"
He pointed the business end of his pulse beam pistol at Hawk's head.
"I'm not foolin'. You have five seconds... Five...Four..."
Both defenders remained stubbornly silent. "...Three...Two..."
A small feminine voice came from across the room.
"Don't shoot him, I'm coming out. Please... please, just don't' shoot anybody!"
Carlisle came out of her hiding place, green eyes wide, looking very small and very frightened. She was wearing only the full-body skintight undersuit garment that she had been sleeping in. The garments were designed to be worn inside a space suit to prevent chafing and aid in handling perspiration in addition to providing some function as a pressure suit. Harris noticed that she had either undone or had not sealed off the very upper portion of the garment. Carlisle was not a large-bosomed woman but, in this instance, what she did possess had a dramatic effect. The slight swell of her small, well-shaped breasts and about a centimeter of bra were visible in the open "V" in the top front of the undergarment. That subtle come on, intentional or not, combined with the perfection of the rest of her athlete's body in the skintight suit, created an overall effect that was beyond provocative. From the angle she was approaching the men on the bridge, Harris noted that none of them could see her Spacer markings. He wondered briefly if that weren't intentional.
"My, my, aren't you a beauty! Come on over here, we're gonna have a real good time! Caleb, hurry up in there! I need you out here!"
A muffled voice came through the door of the bathroom.
"Hang on, Jessie, I ain't feelin' too good! I gotta have a few more minutes!"
"Damn it! Oh alright, no sense in rushing a good thing." He beckoned to Carlisle. "Didn't you hear me, honey? I said come on over here. Now!"
Carlisle, looking like a deer caught in the running lights of an onrushing ground car, began to move slowly towards the men. Their antagonist held the gun on her two companions, but couldn't keep his eyes off from the stunningly alluring woman approaching him.
"I be thinkin' you'll nay want to mess with her," said Hawkins. "She'll be havin' an awful temper." That brought him a second backhand slap. With the raider occupied for a vital second or two as he roughed up Hawkins again, Carlisle silently mouthed "Distract him!" to Harris. Then, seemingly spooked by the violence, she withdrew slightly and hunched up high against the bulkhead wall, almost touching the ceiling, before turning towards their antagonist, again without revealing her Spacer markings. Harris noticed that she had coiled her legs under her and her lips were moving like they did when she was intent on something, only this time she wasn't making any sound.
Carlisle looked calculatingly at her two companions and then back at the big raider, refusing to let fear take over. As she looked at the scowling face of their adversary, what she felt was...not fear...no, it was anger! It hadn't been that far below the surface and as she felt it welling up within her, she reached out to embrace the righteous, invincible power that it promised to bring with it. She had a lot to be angry about! The undeserved and generally negative reactions she sensed from most Federation citizens regarding Spacers for one, cruel and malicious behavior on the part of some of her fellow students at the Academy for another, and now this latest provocation. Carlisle fed the anger associated with each of these offenses eagerly into her consciousness, like fuel to a fire. She looked intently at the big man with the strange hair. So, this racist, fundamentalist son of a bitch thought he was going to rape her and kill her companions... her people... her team! Over her dead body! With an effort she managed to sound scared...and harmless.
"Please. I'll cooperate," she pleaded. "Just don't hurt them."
"Don't do it, Ensign!" said Harris. "You keep your hands off from her, you big oaf!" He stretched out full length and lashed out with his right foot at the raider's gun hand, striking the man sharply in the wrist. The pulse pistol spun slowly upwards in the air between them.
"Now that was really stupid!" the big man bellowed. "You'll pay for that!" The gun continued to float upward as the man braced himself and drew back to really give Harris a wallop.
That was all the distraction Carlisle needed.
Involuntarily releasing a sound halfway between a scream and a snarl, she lashed out, as swift and as deadly as a cornered cat. She exploded off the bulkhead directly at the big man. The hapless raider turned his head back in response to her primal scream and her blazingly fast, totally unexpected movements, Harris and the floating gun momentarily forgotten. With her lips drawn back, her teeth barred and her Spacer markings now in full view, the raider was shocked to see that the pliant, helpless woman he had been eager to exploit had been transformed into some kind of savage and ferocious beast! He froze in confusion for a vital instant. With her body fully extended, like a vicious white leopardess in full attack mode, she grabbed the top of the control console between her and the raider with her outstretched arms and added a full strength pull from both arms to her already considerable forward momentum. This maneuver also provided the leverage for her to draw up into a ball, pulling her legs in front of her body so she ended up hurtling towards the man feet first.
With timing that would have been the envy of any martial arts master, Carlisle snapped both legs straight, and landed a vicious double-legged kick
that caught the big raider full in the face with the heels of both feet. There was a sickening snap as the man's nose broke and his head recoiled sharply. With nearly all of her momentum absorbed by the violent contact with the raider, she found herself all but motionless about two meters off the deck. With a short stretch, she snatched the pulse pistol out of the air and twisted around to face the wounded raider. The big man was stunned and in pain, but was already beginning to recover and still very dangerous. He fumbled a bit with the sheath on his belt before sweeping out a big utility knife, a murderous snarl adding even more menace to his ruined face. With no time to think, Carlisle simply reacted. Wearing a look worthy of the feral beast she had temporarily become, she brought the pistol up and, instinctively using the red tracking laser of the weapon, snapped off a three-pulse volley into a two centimeter circle directly in the center of the big man's chest. The raider spasmed violently before going totally limp. The entire incident was over in less than ten seconds.
"Jessie? Is everything okay out there?"
Moving quickly, Carlisle swiveled around to shove down from the ceiling and across the room, where she grabbed a sidecutter from Hawkins' tool box and cut Harris free. Leaving him to free Hawkins, her next motion carried her across the bridge to the restroom door. She put a pulse bolt through the latch on the restroom and violently wrenched the door open. The other invader had managed to pull his pants up, but he was in no condition to defend himself, let alone be a threat. Carlisle pointed the targeting laser unwaveringly at the center of the man's bare chest. Over her shoulder, he could see the floating body of his now-dead companion. His eyes grew wide.
"Give me any reason to shoot, you God-damned Veritian pig! Maybe I don't even need one! Come out of there! Now! Move!"
The man came out fearfully, certain that this avenging female tigress from Hell was going to waste him at any second.
"Don't kill me, please! I'm just an engineer!" With fumbling fingers, he managed to get his clothing back into some semblance of order.
Junkyard Dogs series Omnibus Page 20
