Junkyard Dogs series Omnibus

by Phillip Nolte

"Would you get this ready too, Hawk? I think I'd better wear it."

  "Aye, Lieutenant, shouldn't be too much trouble."

  Carlisle watched Harris from the command console as he returned to the bridge and crossed the compartment to check the periscope again for signs of enemy turnover. She looked down at her hands, struggled with her thoughts for a moment and came to a decision.

  "Lieutenant?" she asked quietly.

  "What is it, Ensign?"

  "Permission to speak freely, Sir?"

  "Um... sure. Go ahead."

  "I...I want to thank you for helping me through a...rough spot after I tangled with that raider. I really needed that. It...It won't happen again."

  "That's okay, Ensign," he said, with a nonchalance he didn't really feel. He thought quickly. "You'd been through... something pretty extraordinary. Some kind of backlash was probably inevitable."

  He continued to look through the periscope, slowly scanning space in the direction of the planet. Outwardly he appeared calm, but his heart was beating a lot faster than it had been just a few moments earlier.

  Realizing the importance of the situation, Carlisle chose her words carefully and spoke from her heart, something she hadn't done for a very long time. "Look... I'm sorry I yelled at you...before," she said haltingly. "That was unprofessional and insubordinate. It's my temper, sometimes I just can't seem to control it. It's gotten me in trouble before. I'll...I'll do my very best not to let that ever happen again. Please...except my apology. And...please don't be angry with me."

  Harris peeked out from behind the periscope with one eye at a drawn face and pleading green eyes. Just for a moment he saw that same small and distraught warrior that he had comforted a few hours earlier. The irrational longing feeling came back. His chest ached. He discovered that the argument hadn't been important for quite some time. He tipped his head sideways slightly, his body still behind the periscope, but the small adjustment allowed her to see his entire face.

  "I'm...not angry with you, at least not anymore...Maybe I never was."

  She came away from the command console and pushed over to the periscope station, stopping close enough to reach out and touch him. He looked into concerned green eyes for a moment, frowned slightly and then averted his gaze, focusing instead on a point somewhere over her left shoulder. He sighed before speaking softly and sincerely.

  "Look...I think it's my own lack of experience and this feeling that I don't know what I'm doing that made me question your plan. It's a good plan, really. Probably the best we can do in a bad situation."

  Carlisle suddenly realized that one of the most disturbing things about the argument between her and the Lieutenant was that she had not only come to like and respect this young officer a great deal but that she desperately wanted him to like and respect her in return. In fact, she admitted, maybe 'like' wasn't a strong enough description for what she was beginning to feel towards him. Those feelings, she also realized, were at least partially due to the fact that she trusted him completely, something else she hadn't felt towards another person for a long time. As she had done earlier when the two of them had been alone on the bridge, she made an earnest attempt to help him focus his thoughts on what was bothering him.

  "Well... It's not like there's a blueprint for this kind of thing," she said, finally. She frowned in thought for a moment. "They hammer on this stuff pretty hard at the Academy. I've learned that being a good commander doesn't mean that you automatically know what to do. Quite the contrary, in fact -- especially in combat. You do the best you can with the information you have and, while any decisions you make are ultimately your responsibility, you make the best use of your subordinates." She reached over, put her hand on top of his where it still gripped the pommel of the periscope and gave a gentle squeeze. "We've done pretty damned well out here under your command so far, Lieutenant."

  His eyes flicked into focus on the delicate features of her beautiful face, the full lips of her perfectly-shaped mouth, the slightly upturned nose, the exotic Clan markings and... those incredible eyes! In that instant, his entire universe consisted of nothing but that pair of remarkable sea-green eyes, eyes that seemed as depthless as space itself. The strange sensation in his chest intensified and the longing feeling threatened to overwhelm him. The episode of just a few hours earlier, when he had comforted her and helped her get through the intense bout of emotional overload, flashed through his mind; he barely resisted an almost overpowering urge to reach over and stroke her hair again.

  "But...I could be condemning you to death. I've never had to order anyone around in a life or death situation before."

  "You didn't order me," she reminded him softly, "I volunteered."

  "That almost makes it worse."

  "Why?" Carlisle found her own heart was beating a little faster.

  He couldn't seem to stop himself from going further into uncharted space.

  "Because it...because it's you." His look became more serious, almost pained.

  "Me?"

  "Yes... I've never met anyone like you."

  She smiled but looked a little doubtful. "I trust you mean that in a good way?"

  He hesitated, suddenly unsure of just how to proceed, a jumble of thoughts cascading through his mind. How did he feel about her? Could he tell her? Should he? The military had strict regulations regarding personal relationships with subordinates and he was, like it or not, her commanding officer. Best to alter the thread of this conversation immediately. Maybe if they got out of this mess...

  "We could all still die out here sometime in the next few hours, Ensign," he replied finally. "I need to tell you... a few things, just in case something happens to me..."

  Her look was serious, expectant. Where was he going with this? How should she respond? She suddenly found herself fighting an irrational urge to kiss him.

  He continued, groping for the right words. "I...I think you have a lot of potential... No, that's probably an understatement... Hell, you're the smartest person I've ever met and yet you're so... I don't know, easy to work with, so...able to explain things..." He stopped, frustratingly unsure of how to continue. This wasn't working; these weren't the things he really wanted to tell her... Maybe if he just started over...

  "I could say the same about you, Lieutenant," she said, mistaking his silence as a cue for her input. "You have a clear grasp of engineering, especially all this historical material, and you're a good sounding board. I think we make a good team. I've never had much luck being part being part of a team before. This last little while, when we weren't getting along... was really hard." She looked down. "As you've no doubt come to realize, I'm...different from most people."

  "That's not an altogether bad thing."

  She looked back at him, still less than an arm's length away. The conversation halted as they gazed into one another's eyes. Harris couldn't be sure, but it looked like she wanted him to kiss her. Sense of duty warred agonizingly with desire. He was still wondering whether not to act upon the feeling when he heard Hawkins clear his throat. Both officers turned their heads to look at him and the moment was lost.

  "Be I interrupting somethin'?" asked Hawkins, grinning.

  Harris and Carlisle looked back at one another and quickly drew apart, their embarrassment obvious.

  "No," said Harris. "We were just talking."

  "Okay," said Hawkins, obviously unconvinced

  Still somewhat flustered, Harris checked the periscope again as Carlisle headed back across the bridge towards her station. They were saved from any further explanation by the arrival of the enemy.

  "We have turnover," Harris announced.

  Immediately the sense of tension returned to the bridge of the old ship.

  "Give the prisoner a couple of food tubes and some water. Then we have to get to our battle stations."

  "Let's go get these bastards," said Carlisle.

  Chapter 43

  New Ceylon Orbital Station, Smuggler's Lair, October 9, 2598.

&nb
sp; Kresge's eyes were intense as he continued to question Hanna Jordon. "You know what their plans for the Ambassador are? How?"

  "I overheard them talking just before I escaped from the makeshift hospital."

  "Okay," said Kresge, though he did not look totally convinced. "Just what are they planning?"

  "They plan to lure him into coming aboard and capture him. He'll be expecting a diplomatic greeting."

  "They'd need the governor's cooperation to do that."

  "They've got the governor and his family. He'll cooperate because they've threatened to kill his wife and his children if he doesn't. They've even got a Federation Navy Commander's dress uniform to disguise one of their men in. The man cut his hair and everything. The Ambassador will have guards, but Ezra's men will be in battle armor!"

  "I know where they could have gotten a uniform," said Kresge, remembering the one he'd left in his quarters, probably one of the first places the terrorists had gone after securing the station. "Okay, this is starting to make sense," he continued, "and after they've captured the Ambassador?"

  Hanna looked like she might get sick to her stomach.

  "They plan to ransom him to his mortal enemy, the Sheik of Barsoom, for five million credits and make it look like the Federation authorities here on the orbital station were responsible for turning him over."

  "Barsoom? That lunatic? He swore three years ago that he'd publicly execute the Ambassador if he ever got his hands on him. The trade deal would be the least of our worries. The entire Islamic Alliance would be in turmoil!"

  "The Governor and his family will probably be killed when they're no longer useful," said Hanna. Her look became even more pained. "And their plans for the Ambassador's wife are unspeakable. The Sheik has offered three million credits for her and he wants her alive to be tortured and sold into slavery! I cannot believe that we ever listened to that man. He's not only evil, he's insane!"

  "This changes everything!" said Kresge. "We have to put a stop to this now! Gibbons!" he called out. "Get the entire group together. We have new information!"

  "Thank you, Hanna," said Irene. "You've done a very brave thing."

  Hanna, who had remained sitting throughout the questioning, put her head down on crossed arms on the table and began to sob softly. Irene patted her gently on the back.

  Five minutes later, the entire group, which now numbered more than eighty souls, had been rounded up. Gibbons stood up in front of them and waved his hands to get their attention.

  "Quiet everybody, Commander Kresge has an announcement."

  The crowd quieted down as Kresge stood up to address them.

  "I told you all earlier that we'd have a vote on whether or not we should attempt some kind of counteroffensive action the next time I addressed you. I have new information that you should all be aware of before we have this vote. As most of you know, the enemy has had to send not one, but both of his ships back out to the Scrapyard in response to the resistance there. Maybe those people, whoever they are, will be able to perform a second miracle. I certainly pray that they can."

  He paused here for effect. Irene was looking at him in open admiration. He caught her eye for a moment and gave her a little smile before he scanned the faces of the rest of the crowd, hoping he could judge their mood.

  "What we have just learned is that the terrorists are members of the Veritian Brotherhood of Christ Resurgent."

  There were several knowing nods, Clancy Davis-Moore's among them.

  "These people are reported to be dangerous and unpredictable. We've also just learned the nature of their threat against the Meridian Ambassador. We thought perhaps the plan was just to interfere with the trade agreement. That, unfortunately, is only a small part of their insidious plot. What these misguided fools want is to disrupt the Federation's relationship with the entire Islamic Alliance, to throw it all into turmoil. All of the time and negotiations that it has taken to get both sides to this point would be wasted. If they're allowed to go through with their plans, there's a better than even chance that they'll start another war. These people are fanatics of the worst kind! If you ask me, the time has come to put this to a stop!

  The buzz within the crowd grew to a crescendo. Kresge shouted over the noise.

  "This isn't just about the Orbital Station anymore! This is about the future of the entire Federation. I ask you again...who is with me?"

  The crowd's response was all but unanimous. Kresge nodded his head.

  "Thank, you! Thank you all! I'll do everything in my power to make sure you don't regret this decision. Here's the plan." He looked at his wrist chronometer. "They'll start changing the guards out in about ten minutes. We're going to move on these terrorists bastards two hours from now, which will give this new guard shift plenty of time to settle in and get comfortable. Our counterattack is going to take determination and some very good timing; I'll need each of you to do your part. Gibbons, Haines, Steuben - get the other leaders together; we need to talk! The rest of you eat, use the restrooms, and get ready. It won't be long. Dismissed!"

  The buzz of a dozen simultaneous conversations immediately filled the air.

  A few minutes later the leaders of the group had gathered around Kresge, who began to outline his plan.

  "Okay, all of you, this plan will require that we all accomplish specific tasks at specific times and within specific time periods. Dee, what have you got on altering the atmosphere in the area that the raiders are occupying?"

  "We think we can raise the CO2 and drop the O2 content to detrimental levels within about an hour without them noticing. That should be enough to take them down a few notches."

  "As soon as we're done here, tell Tresham to start changing the atmosphere. All of you who are going to be operating on the upper deck at any time will need to wear one of these."

  He held up an emergency breathing apparatus that consisted of a small oxygen tank with a hose that connected to an abbreviated mask with an elastic strap that went around the head, over the ears and positioned a small tube near each nostril.

  "If you're up there for more than a few minutes without this supplemental oxygen, you'll become impaired the same as the terrorists. We don't want that to happen to anyone, so use these. Team leaders, make sure every one of your people has one of these breathing units."

  After outlining his plan, which took about half an hour, he entertained questions from the leaders before wrapping up the meeting.

  "Okay, everyone, we move on these bastards in an hour and half. You have one hour to get into position. Let's do this, people!

  Chapter 44

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

  Carlisle helped Harris get back into the battle armor before putting on her own suit and, adhering to her own advice about good tactics often starting with common sense, clipped the captured pulse pistol to her utility belt. The prisoner was probably secure and he might even be telling the truth about himself, but leaving the gun on the ship with him while the rest of them were distracted by what would almost certainly be a tough fight didn't seem right. Having fired only a few pulses, the weapon was nearly at full charge. They went to their respective stations, Carlisle taking the Rover II out to reconnect it to her ram, while Harris went to the Rover I, strapped to the back of the Terrier, and Hawkins took up his position inside the turret.

  There was still too much time to think while waiting. Harris had a thought.

  "Vixen?" he called to her on the suit communicator.

  "What is it, Java?"

  "I've been doing some thinking. You said you used to get scared and nervous before you had a gymnastics competition."

  "Yeah, it was awful. I'd get stomach cramps sometimes."

  "How did you handle it?"

  "I figured out how to channel the fear into the concentration I needed to give my best performance."

  "That's kind of what I figured."

  "Why is that important?"

  "Well, w
hy don't you try the same trick the next time you get really angry. Channel it into something constructive."

  There was a pause for a few moments.

  "I can't be certain... but... I think I did something like that just before I attacked that raider on the bridge a little while ago, Lieutenant!"

  "Whatever you did, it worked. You might have to do it again. Can you?"

  "I think so...I don't see why not. These Veritian Brotherhood sons of bitches sure as Hell make me angry enough!"

  Harris chuckled, "Hold that thought!" Then, more soberly, he added, "We need you at the very top of your game, Vixen. You do whatever it takes but...try to stay safe!"

  "Roger, Java...and thanks."

  They settled in. Each waited in their own way for the next set of developments. Finally, after about a half hour, they could make out the shape of the enemy ship.

  "Here he comes," said Carlisle, more calmly than she felt.

  "Pick your time, Vixen," replied Harris.

  This time the enemy ship came in more cautiously, well aware that danger lurked somewhere in the immense cloud of floating wreckage. Repeated calls from the enemy to their companion ship had remained unanswered. The ship scouted around the yard for a full hour before finally beginning to approach the access corridor.

  "I don't know if this is going to get any better," said Carlisle. "I'm moving now. Get ready, guys."

  She applied full acceleration and steered the Rover II and its makeshift ram down the access corridor towards what she intended to be her eventual hiding spot on the other side of the central clearing. The enemy spotted the motion almost immediately and began to respond, but getting his ship into exactly the proper orientation to navigate the corridor took several minutes, time enough for Carlisle to get out of the straight line of fire that would have been possible down the access corridor if she had still been in it. She slewed over to the vector that brought her in line with her final destination. In his far bulkier ship, the enemy didn't attempt to negotiate the corridor with anywhere near as much speed. Instead, he came down the corridor slowly, seeming to feel his way. Carlisle deftly maneuvered the Rover II and its burden into the hold of the derelict battlecruiser and activated the video feeds from the two boosters.