Just as the enemy came into the central clearing, he slowed the forward progress of the ship and did something totally unexpected. The airlock door opened and deployed two battle armor-clad figures, figures that began to move in opposite directions away from the ship. Harris and Hawkins watched in frustration as the ship stopped to deploy the two raiders in a position that did not offer the Terrier a firing solution.
"Vixen, did you see that?"
"Roger, Java, I got it on the booster video."
"Can we still go ahead on your end?"
"It complicates things, but our first priority is to take out that ship. Go ahead as planned, Java, I'll manage somehow."
Having disgorged the two observers, the ship began to move towards Carlisle's position again. Harris waited for what he judged to be the right moment and cued Carlisle to trigger the decoy.
"Okay, Vixen, hit the booster!"
Chapter 45
New Ceylon Orbital Station, spoke six stairwell area, October 9, 2598.
Kathy Haines and her small Resistance group parked their electric cart in the main corridor and carefully made their way over to stairwell six, their first of several objectives. This was the same stairwell area where, earlier, she and her companions had climbed up to the central spindle. Their task here was to take out the guard up on the first level, one of the guards that had seemed so lax every time they'd checked on him. In the now reduced oxygen level on deck one, he should be even more lethargic than usual.
She really didn't need to, but she checked her stun rod one more time. Full charge, safety on. She returned it to its holster. Then she checked her wrist chronometer. Her small force needed to get this over with as soon as they could, preferably within the next five minutes.
Silently she motioned to her chosen partner, CPO Marvin Jenkins, that it was time get a move on. They slipped their breathing masks on. She unholstered her stun rod and turned the safety off. The two of them went stealthily over to the stairwell and began to climb upwards as quietly as they could, each of them along one of the two outside walls. As she made her way stealthily up the stairs, Haines realized that she had never noticed how noisy the orbital station was before. Going on about your daily business, it seemed you were able to ignore all of the sounds that constantly went on around you. Under these circumstances, the noise worked to their advantage as it effectively hid their soft footfalls on the stairs.
Negotiating the final flight of stairs on their bellies, to maintain a low profile, they made it up to just below the landing on the first level. As they approached the very top, both remained crouched. Haines peeked up over the edge of the landing at the guard, who was sleeping, as they were hoping he would be. Holding her stun rod at the ready, she carefully crawled onto the first level deck and slowly stood up. This placed her about seven meters away from the guard in the dimly-lit area. She began to edge closer to the sleeping raider. Three meters was within the effective stun range of the relatively soft weapon, but this target was wearing full battle armor and only his head was exposed. With that small of a target, she wanted to be as close as possible. She took a few more careful steps, the stun rod extended in front of her with the safety off and her thumb on the firing stud.
She was only two meters away when the guard finally noticed something and began to groggily wake up.
"What the...?"
From that range, Haines couldn't miss, and the nearly silent stun bolt caught the raider right between the eyes. The man slumped down before he could sound any alarm. His nose began to bleed from the impact. Jenkins grabbed the guard's pulse rifle from where it had been resting across the man's thighs while he slept.
Haines went to the edge of the stairwell and waved the rest of her group to come up. Remaining as quiet as possible, they quickly and efficiently stripped the stunned raider out of his armor before tying him up. Two Resistance fighters dragged the man down to the fifth level where they stripped him down to his undergarments, shoved him into an empty compartment and locked the door. The others helped Jenkins get into the armor, making minor adjustments as he requested them.
With Jenkins in the raider's battle armor and the group now armed with a pulse rifle, they went back down to the fifth level. They made their way westward on the electric cart over to stairwell seven to attack that guard station, their next objective. This time they marched boldly up the steps towards the guard. Kathy Haines and three other brave resistance fighters went in front of Jenkins. In the captured armor he was pretty sure he could temporarily pass as one of the terrorist guards. The four "captives" all had their hands in the air. To provide further cover for Jenkins, they were loudly insulting him.
"You don't really think you can get away with this do you?"
"Shut up, you heathen scum!" mumbled Jenkins.
"The Federation has ships on the way. They'll be here in just a few more hours."
"I said, shut up!"
The dim lighting helped to further disguise Jenkins as the entourage reached the landing where the guard was stationed. Again the lowered oxygen level worked to the group's advantage. The guard rose clumsily up out of his chair, in fact, he almost fell down, only catching his balance at the last moment by steadying himself against the chair. The group stopped a couple of meters in front of him as he awkwardly brought his pulse rifle to the ready, but didn't point it at anyone in particular.
"Um...What have we got here?" the guard asked.
"Prisoners," said Jenkins in a gruff voice.
"Prisoners?" It began to dawn on the guard that something about the arrangement wasn't right, but the lack of oxygen greatly impaired his ability to think. Jenkins centered the laser sighting dot of his pulse rifle on the man's forehead.
"Don't move!"
The man froze. Kathy Haines brought her stun rod out from behind her back and stunned him before he could do anything stupid. The group immediately confiscated his weapon and stripped him of the armor.
Haines' small group had captured two invaders as well as two sets of battle armor and two pulse rifles in just under fifteen minutes.
"Steuben, take that handset down to the spoke and let Kresge know that we've taken our first two objectives," ordered Haines.
"Will do," said Steuben. He rushed down to the fourth deck spoke entrance and used his handprint to access the door. He flipped open the access panel and plugged in the handset.
"Scrap Central? This is Scrap Three. First and second objectives accomplished. Are we clear to proceeding to the third?"
Maggie Simmonds replied from the command post in the waste treatment facility. "Yes, all other teams are on schedule, you are cleared to proceed to your next objective."
Steuben unplugged the handset and headed back up the stairs where he was now greeted by two allies in battle armor and armed with pulse rifles. Jenkins was giving his fellow armored defender some pointers on how to operate the cumbersome suit.
"Good news," Steuben announced quietly. "Everything's on schedule and the enemy still hasn't got a clue. We're clear to move on to objective three."
Over on station five, the guard, Ezekiel Christchurch, was angry at himself for continuing to nod off. Christchurch was manning one of the guard stations that was deemed unimportant enough that battle armor wasn't necessary. He knew that Ezra's strict code of conduct frowned upon the use of certain kinds of stimulants, but he also knew that falling asleep on guard duty could get him into serious trouble. He pulled a tablet of Alertastim out of the small stash that he carried concealed in his clothing. This drug was the favorite of people who wanted to stay fully alert for twenty-four hours or more at a time. Miners on their monthly extended rest periods and soldiers on leave were some of the most frequent users. The drug would allow its user to party all day and all night. Sometime tomorrow Christchurch would crash and burn, unless he took another dose. He smiled at the prospect. For the moment, he was awake and alert; no one was getting past his guard station! He allowed himself to enjoy the mild buzz that was one of the pleas
ant side effects of the drug.
Chapter 46
UTFN Reclamation Center, somewhere in the wreckage, October 9, 2598.
Working from the control console on the Rover II inside the cargo hold of the derelict cruiser, Carlisle activated the booster and directed it across the empty area that the defenders had chosen. The enemy responded immediately, aligning the bow of his ship towards her decoy. The two observers reacted similarly, using battle armor thrusters to head towards the spot. Harris began to move the bow of the Terrier slightly up and to port, to roughly align the shot for Hawkins.
"Take your shot when you get it," said Carlisle.
The enemy ship fired his pulse cannon at the combination booster and its camouflage disguise a few moments later. The powerful pulse bolt sliced through the metal of scrap and booster, blasting a fan of material outward on the bolt vector and igniting the booster's fuel load. The resulting explosion momentarily lit up the entire area. Seconds later, Hawkins and Harris had a firing solution.
"Have you got him, Hawk? Careful, he's starting to move!"
"Aye, Lieutenant, I be shootin'...Now!"
The Terrier pulsed with the now-familiar recoil and Harris worked the sled controls to compensate. The enemy had begun to reposition his ship with thrusters as soon as he had destroyed the decoy target. This meant that his ship had been pivoting to port and caused Hawkins to be just a little off on his aim. Having never practiced hitting a moving target, he had failed to adjust for the motion of the ship. As a result, the projectile penetrated the port drive tube at a slight angle. It exited the ship just forward of the drive tube without exploding, dealing a fair amount of damage but far from a killing blow.
"Damn!" Hawkins exclaimed. "Sorry Lieutenant, it were the damned motion, I should have been adjustin' for it!"
"It's okay, Hawk, at least we hit him. Get another shell loaded!" Hawkins immediately began the process of loading a new projectile and waiting for the capacitor bank to recharge.
Just as the first enemy ship had been tumbling after the initial impact, so was the second. As the bow of the enemy came into rough alignment with the Terrier, the raiders fired their pulse cannon. Their aim was also just a bit off and the shot missed, hitting one of the hulks next to the defenders instead. A cone of debris erupted from the impact point, peppering anything nearby with bits of hull material and other, larger, high velocity splinters. Fortunately, the Terrier wasn't directly in line with the cone of deadly debris, but Harris felt several sharp impacts on the armored suit, one of which was heavy enough to slam him away from the control console. He was only saved from being thrown out of contact with the Rover I completely by virtue of the tether he had preached about so often. As he reeled himself back to the sled, he saw several new holes in the makeshift canopy above his head.
"Lieutenant? You'll be okay?"
"Yeah, I think so, I just got knocked out of the control seat," said Harris, excitement and exertion making him more than a little breathless. "Battle armor saved me. Can you see? I think we took out his drive, but not his power plant."
"Aye, Lieutenant, you're probably right. I dinna think there was time before we hit him for the beam weapon t' be fully chargin'. That means he were able to finish chargin' it after we be hittin' him. He'll still be able to shoot!"
Harris felt a bolt of near panic as he saw the unmistakable winking of the blue jets of the enemy ship's yaw thrusters. The ship was still tumbling but the pilot would almost certainly be able to stabilize the motion and realign the bow well enough to hit the Terrier.
"Do you see that? He's still got thrusters, Hawk! Brace yourself, we might be taking a hit!"
Chapter 47
...The numbering system for the spokes of the New Ceylon Orbital Station is easy to understand, once you learn a few simple guidelines. The spokes are really identical, for all intents and purposes, but the designers of the Orbital Station decided to designate spoke number one as the spoke that is nearest to the station's administrative offices. When facing "north" or towards the end of the station equipped with the big airlock that you entered through, the spokes are numbered in ascending order in a clockwise direction. This arrangement actually places the administrative offices between spoke number one and spoke number eight. More detail on station orientation can be found in the section of this guidebook labeled: "Station Facilities: Finding your way around..."
Hartwell Wrist Comp reference note highlighted for further review by Tamara Carlisle. Excerpt is from an orientation video available for download and as a hardcopy pamphlet prepared by the New Ceylon Orbital Station authorities for distribution to tourists and other visitors to the station. No author is listed.
New Ceylon Orbital Station, spoke five stairwell area, October 9, 2598.
The team assigned to take out the guard station on stairwell five was designated as Scrap Four. It was a team of four, headed by Haines' security colleague George Fowler. As one of the stations farthest away from the Governor's suite, theirs was one of several stations where the invaders had not been equipping the single guard with battle armor. The team's objective was straightforward and should have been relatively easy. All they had to do was sneak up on the lone, unarmored guard and subdue him or kill him, either would suffice. They had already captured the unarmed guard on stairwell four without incident.
Fowler had gotten into an argument with one of his team members on the way over to their second objective over who was going to go up the stairs with him. As leader of the group, Fowler had declared that he would lead and that fellow security guard Nathan Starkweather would be his companion just as he had been on stairwell four. Gerald Rigby, a big, brash but minor player among the smugglers wanted that honor for himself. Rigby had been openly antagonistic towards the security officers during the entire mission and was angry and still pouting as the group began to stage their attack.
Fowler and Starkweather eased up the stairs on hands and knees. They had gotten up to the bottom of the last flight of stairs, the one that culminated at the deck one landing, when Fowler heard a loud thunk from the bottom of the stairs. Damn it! He thought, someone had dropped their emergency breathing apparatus, probably that fool Rigby! Fowler immediately dropped down and made himself as small as possible. Starkweather, his companion, was not nearly as quick.
"Who goes there?"
Something was wrong. This was not the voice of a half-asleep guard! Starkweather had frozen in a half crouch and was easily visible. The guard, Ezekiel Christchurch, a little shaky from the stimulant he'd taken, placed the sighting laser of his pulse rifle directly in the middle of Starkweather's chest. The red laser dot wavered around wildly but if the guard fired the weapon, the results were likely to be fatal.
"Put your hands in the air and come on up here, real slow."
Starkweather began to slowly comply. Fowler's mind raced over his options. He was about three times the effective range of his stun rod away from the raider. From that distance, the stun bolt wouldn't incapacitate the target, but it sure as hell would sting. The man also looked like he was impaired in some way. Drugged or something. Maybe they could still make this plan work. Amazingly it was Rigby who saved the situation. He came out into the open and shouted at the guard.
"Hey, Stupid! Down here!"
Christchurch, not really thinking clearly, took his aim off from Starkweather and attempted to sight on Rigby, four flights of stairs down.
"Nate, get down, now!" ordered Fowler.
Starkweather dropped and rolled. The guard belatedly swung his weapon back and fired a pulse, but the bolt streaked through the space where Starkweather had been, blasting out a chunk of the handrail. Fowler aimed his stun rod as best he could and hit the firing stud. The bolt, although weakened and dispersed by the greater than optimal distance of the shot, caught the guard in the midsection. Christchurch stiffened and quivered for a couple of seconds before involuntarily released his pulse rifle. The two resistance fighters looked at one another for a split second before ch
arging up the stairs towards the guard.
Christchurch, in considerable pain from the stun bolt, groggy from the lack of oxygen and stoned from the stimulant he had taken, did the only thing he could think of. He ran, heading down the corridor towards station six. As he did so, he unclipped a small communication device from the belt on his coverall.
"Ezra, this is Ezekiel, sound the alarm! My guard post is under attack! Alert the others, the station personnel are on the move."
Fowler and Starkweather raced up to the deck one landing. Fowler scooped up the abandoned pulse rifle and dropped to one knee to steady his aim. Before he could center the targeting laser on the fleeing guard, Christchurch tripped over his own feet, fell heavily and lay still. His transmitter skittered a few meters down the corridor in front of him. The stimulant had allowed him to function at a hyperactive level for a short burst of activity, but the stress of the stun bolt and the lack of oxygen finally caught up with him. By the time the two resistance fighters got to him, Christchurch had died of shock. They retrieved the transmitter, but the damage had already been done.
The enemy had been alerted that something was afoot.
Chapter 48
UTFN Reclamation Center, somewhere in the wreckage, October 9, 2598.
On the video feed from the remaining booster, Carlisle could see the Terrier locked in a life or death struggle with the wounded terrorist ship and would have liked nothing better than to join the fight but...she had troubles of her own. The two armor-clad raiders were moving steadily in her direction, one below and closer, the other above and somewhat further away. As she watched them on the video feed, she began to mentally prepare herself. Following the Lieutenant's advice, she concentrated on redirecting her fear, using the same mental processes she had used the day before. There hadn't been time to do much more than react to the events on the bridge of the Terrier. This time she could afford to be more deliberate. She felt the process working. The fear simmering under the surface and threatening to contaminate her every thought began to cool and congeal into something else...cold, hard anger! She then began to feed off from the anger. So these miserable, arrogant bastards were out here to kill her and the other two members of her team? What gave them the right to come into this quiet, remote system and kill all these innocent people, to disrupt the affairs of an entire planet, an entire quadrant, maybe even threaten the Federation itself with a religious war? Come to think of it, what right did these bigoted Veritian Brotherhood bastards have to live at all?
Junkyard Dogs series Omnibus Page 25
