Junkyard Dogs series Omnibus

by Phillip Nolte

  The raiders had probably spotted, or their sensor system had reported, a space-suited figure on the sled as it had sped down the access corridor. That would not have revealed much about the size or the gender of the person operating the sled, however. The raider thought Carlisle was a man.

  She used a vocal command to switch over to the raider's communications frequency.

  "Good thing I'm not a man," she replied, grimly.

  "A woman? This'll be even easier than I thought!"

  She did not reply. Instead, she waited until the raider was fully inside the cargo bay and facing in her direction. He was at the other end of the bay and near the bottom, on the far side of the first set of reinforcement beams, at a distance of about thirty meters away when she launched her attack. She centered the red dot of the pulse pistol's targeting laser between the battle armor's two suit lights, about where the man's chin was inside the suit, and squeezed the firing stud. She calmly walked a five bolt burst up across the helmet of the battle armor, scoring several hits directly on the face plate. Her attacker, driven backwards slightly, was blinded and momentarily stunned by the attack. She immediately kicked diagonally downward and to the right from her post in the far upper corner of the bay, coming to rest at the base of the nearest reinforcement beam, out of sight of the raider.

  The man recovered from her attack within a few seconds and, after struggling to stabilize his suit movements, sprayed the corner that Carlisle had just vacated with a five- pulse burst from his far more powerful pulse rifle. The pulse impacts left scorch marks and clouded the corner with bits of wall material and chips of charred paint.

  "Oho! So the lady has a bite! Or is it more of a nip? Go ahead, shoot at me again, so I can see where you've gone."

  He kept the gun aimed roughly towards the corner where she had been in as he inexpertly used his suit thrusters to move towards her last position. He passed the reinforcement beam at his end of the bay. In the nearly complete darkness of the cargo bay, Carlisle peeked carefully out from behind her own reinforcement beam, monitoring his movements. Awkward in the heavy battle armor, the raider turned his head to scan the area. When his helmet was facing her again, she expertly took aim, walked another burst across his face from chin to forehead and immediately kicked upward from her hiding spot, the one meter width of the reinforcement beam hiding her movement. The attack staggered her attacker again and she was long gone before he recovered his equilibrium and peppered the area where she had been with another burst from the rifle.

  "You're starting to annoy me," said her adversary. "Surrender now or it will not go easy for you!"

  She kicked across the top of the bay, behind the top cross beam, stopping at the center. Her attacker used his suit thrusters again to move closer yet, to effectively cut down on the volume of the bay that she could hide in. He passed under the beam, placing both of them on the same side of it. Meanwhile, Carlisle calmly clipped a tether to the beam, coiled her legs against the seam between ceiling and beam and waited for him to turn around and look her way. He haltingly used his suit thrusters to center himself near the far wall of the bay, where he could look back and see that entire side of the reinforcement beam. She waited until he had turned fully around, but hadn't yet brought his weapon to the ready and launched her attack.

  She kicked down powerfully from the top beam section, directly at her adversary, firing the pulse pistol with deadly aim at the helmet and the vulnerable face plate. As she streaked across the distance between them, she fired repeated bursts from the pistol, each burst scoring multiple hits to the helmet of the battle armor. Inside the bulky and clumsy armor, the inexperienced raider was stunned, possibly even injured, his pulse rifle splayed out to one side. She had fully intended to hammer the faceplate with the pulse pistol until it failed but the gun abruptly stopped firing, either the mechanism had overheated or the charge had been depleted. She threw the now useless pistol at the faceplate of her adversary and used the tether to flip around, catching the temporarily helpless raider full in the chest with both feet.

  The combination of repeated blasts of the pulse pistol and the direct impact of Carlisle on his chest, drove the raider back into a bone-jarring contact with the wall, effectively pinning him there for a few seconds. In desperation, she grabbed the pulse rifle with both hands and shoved herself away from him with both legs. The rifle tore from his grasp, but as she floated away from him, the raider made a desperate lunge and managed to grab her around the right ankle with his left hand. She kicked at the armored gauntlet of the suit in an attempt to break free but the man's grip was too strong. Meanwhile the raider had recovered enough to pull his own pulse pistol out of its holster. With her life on the line, Carlisle reacted the only way she could. She swung the powerful pulse rifle around to bring the laser sight to bear on the center of her adversary's face plate. For a split second, she thought she saw a pair of wide, panic-stricken eyes staring out at her. Unmoved, she pressed the firing stud. The five pulse burst blasted through the face plate and out the back of the helmet.

  "No, I don't think I want to surrender!" she said tersely.

  She grabbed the raider's pulse pistol, shoved it into her belt and made her way back to the Rover II as quickly as she could. She snapped a tether onto the railing of the utility sled, strapped into the pilot's chair and maneuvered the sled out of the battlecruiser hold. Time to join the fight out in the Scrapyard!

  ***

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

  Harris and Hawkins had the enemy ship lined up in their sights but were forced to hang on in lip-gnawing frustration while their makeshift weapon continued to charge up. Meanwhile, the pilot of the enemy ship employed his still operating yaw thrusters to alter the alignment of his ship. The two defenders had watched, unable to interfere but daring to hope, as Carlisle's well-aimed booster-ram construct bore down on a direct course for the raider ship. The enemy, desperately using every last bit of his limited maneuverability and a surprising amount of skill, attempted to swing his ship clear of the path of the onrushing ram. With less than a second to spare, the stern of the raider ship arced slowly out of the way and the booster grazed past, so close that the exhaust wash rudely slammed the cargo ship into a new round of erratic tumbling. By pure chance the vector that Carlisle had placed the booster on sent it down the open access corridor and out into open space without contacting any other wreckage. For the crew of the Terrier, the disappointment was heart-wrenching. Forcing the enemy ship to avoid the ram and restabilize had bought precious extra time for Harris and Hawkins but the renewed winking of the thrusters on the armed cargo ship meant that the enemy would soon be in position to attempt another shot!

  The wait was agonizing.

  "Just about been havin' a full charge, Lieutenant. Here it be ... now!"

  At that the same moment, the enemy ship's bow came into alignment with the Terrier. Hawkins fired, the projectile clearing the launch tube a nanosecond before the enemy triggered his pulse beam weapon. The enemy pulse bolt, moving at nearly the speed of light, passed the projectile between the two ships as though it were motionless. The entire bow section of the Terrier lit up with a sickly yellow fluorescent glow and a crazed spider web of coruscating, jagged ropes of energy pulsed through the layer of hastily applied SFN reaction fluid as the bolt slammed home and the makeshift protectant coating performed the unlikely job of absorbing, then dissipating, the energy of the pulse beam.

  Harris saw the initial flash and then...nothing as the energy of the beam washed over the Terrier and the Rover I and spent itself in the gooey shield. A split second later, while the Terrier was just passing maximum glow from the overexcited fluid, the projectile hit the raider ship. In his haste, Hawkins had, once again, inadvertently loaded an armor piercing shell. This time, however, it turned out to be the perfect choice. The projectile arrowed through the open doors of the front cargo bay, past the makeshift pulse beam mount, and punched through two bulkheads
, leaving neat, round holes, before detonating against the midship's bulkhead in almost the exact center of the converted freighter. The entire ship disappeared in an expanding sphere of glowing plasma and debris.

  Hawkins, at the controls of the now dead projectile launcher, and a horrified Carlisle, onboard the Rover II rushing towards the scene were the only witnesses.

  Chapter 51

  New Ceylon Orbital Station, spoke one stairwell area, October 9, 2598.

  Kresge continued to grill the runner who had breathlessly brought him the latest information on the progress of the Resistance effort to liberate the orbital station.

  "What else can you tell me?" Kresge asked, eyes intense. He was keyed up, still pumped from the action of just a few minutes ago.

  "So far, so good," said the runner, the same young girl who had been assigned to him before. She looked to be about sixteen and had bright red hair and freckles. "Maggie says we have only minor casualties and we've either killed or captured somewhere around fourteen raiders. The enemy can't have many men left."

  "Good news!" said Kresge. "Seems as though everything is going according to plan."

  Over on stairwell eight, the group headed up by Kathy Haines and CPO Jenkins, who had used their captured pulse rifles to take out the two armored guards almost without incident as soon as they heard the commotion from Kresge's attack on stairwell one, were preparing for the assault on the Governor's suite. Haines heard the soft whine of a maintenance cart coming down the corridor towards them.

  "Everyone, take cover! Someone's coming down the corridor. Probably the enemy. None of our people are supposed to be in that area yet!"

  The cart stopped about twenty meters from the stairwell landing and a voice called out to the Resistance fighters.

  "Lower your weapons," the voice called out. "We are going up the spoke to the spindle area. I advise you not to try and stop us. We have Governor Larkin and all three members of his family. Any attempt to interfere will result in some of them dying. I suggest you let us pass."

  Ezra Brimstone, in battle armor, came out to where the defenders could see him. He had a little girl in front of him and was holding a pulse pistol to her head.

  "You'd better make up your mind!" said Brimstone, his look grim.

  Haines ran through her limited list of options and drew the only possible conclusion.

  "Stand down everyone. Let them go..."

  "That was most wise," said Brimstone, reasonably.

  He and his small group of escapees, Haines counted only five additional raiders, made their way quickly into the spoke area. With the elevators still disabled, they began to climb the zig zag sets of stairs that led to the central spoke area. Haines and her fellow Resistance fighters fumed in silence as the terrorist group disappeared from sight.

  "Jenkins? You're in charge here till I get back," said Haines. "Cummings, you're with me, we have to get this information to Commander Kresge, immediately. Come on, we'll take the enemy's maintenance cart."

  Within a few minutes, they reconnoitered with Kresge over in stairwell one. Haines explained what had happened.

  "I'm sorry, Commander, it all happened so fast."

  Kresge shook his head in resignation. "I don't know that I could have done any better, Kathy. At least the Governor and his family are still alive, for the moment, and the enemy is down to only a half a dozen men."

  Kresge called to the men in the stairwell one area.

  "Everyone, the enemy has fled into the spindle area and there are less than ten of them remaining at large. That's the good news. The bad news is that they still have four hostages, Governor Larkin, his wife, and two children." He looked the group over. "This changes everything. I want our men in battle armor at stations one and eight and at least ten others at the top of the other stairwells guarding any access to the wheel from the spindle. With the security and maintenance people in the southern end of the spindle, the enemy is confined to the airlock and receiving area. His options are severely limited, but he still has hostages. Vasquez?"

  "Yes, Commander?"

  "Take whoever you need and get those guard stations up as soon as possible."

  "I'm on it, Commander."

  Vasquez rounded up eight men and disappeared down the corridor.

  "On the plus side," said Haines, "we should now have access to the station communications suite. Including the Stage I transmitter."

  "Good point," said Kresge. "Where's my runner?" The slender young girl spoke up from behind him.

  "Here, Commander," she said, her voice only shaking a little.

  "What's your name, young lady?"

  "Amanda, Sir, Amanda Steuben."

  "You Orville Steuben's kid?"

  "Yes, Commander."

  "That explains a lot. I need you to get down to the wired communications point downstairs and have Central Command tell the people in the spindle and the rest of the station what just happened. Then I want you to tell the people in the spindle to restore normal oxygen and CO2 levels on the first level. Can you do that Amanda?"

  "Absolutely, Commander!"

  She ran eagerly down the steps.

  "Kathy, Clancy, come with me, we're heading for the communications suite."

  They took several more of the Resistance fighters and headed down the corridor towards the Governor's suite and the communications area.

  What they found when they arrived was beyond disheartening. The communications room was a complete shambles.

  "My God!" said Davis-Moore. "Did they leave anything intact?"

  "It doesn't look like it," said Haines.

  The invaders had smashed or shot up everything in the room just before they had departed. The damage was extensive. Repairs were going to require replacement parts and a great deal of time. Any hope they had of restoring communications, station wide or otherwise, was going to require that they get the old communications suite at the southern end of the spindle up and operating.

  "I'll strangle that bastard with my bare hands if I get half a chance," said Kresge, disgustedly.

  "Not if I get to him first," said Haines.

  They headed back down to the stairwell one landing area where a large group of Resistance fighters had gathered. Amanda Steuben came running up the stairs and stopped breathlessly in front of Kresge.

  "Commander, come quick! They need you down at the communications point. Maggie says it's really important."

  Kresge followed the teenager down the stairs and into the area where the wired handset operator was waiting. He took the handset from the operator and pushed the talk button.

  "Kresge here."

  "Commander? This is Fowler over on stairwell five. We've had some problems over here. I'll get to that in a minute. Most important thing first. We picked up one of the invader communicators after its owner went down. The leader was still on line when I picked it up... He gave me a message."

  "You talked to the leader of the terrorist group?"

  "Yes, Commander. He told me he wants to talk to you. He says he'll call you in half an hour and you'd better answer or some of the hostages are gonna get hurt."

  "What happened?" asked Kresge, tersely.

  "We screwed up big time over here, Commander. One of my men dropped his breathin' tank just as we were gettin' set to take the guard out. The flippin' guard was drugged or somethin' 'cause he was wide awake even before the noise. I got him with my stun rod, but he was too far away and he didn't go down. I hurt him, though. He dropped his pulse rifle and then he turned tail and ran. We went after him quick as we could, but he pulled a communicator off his belt and called the leader. I grabbed the pulse rifle but I didn't have time to shoot him; he dropped like a sack of soggy coffee beans about fifty meters down the corridor. Looked like he tripped over his own feet. Dead as a New Ceylon weekend by the time we got to him. I think it was low oxygen and some kind of drug overdose that took him out... They told me the leader high-tailed it into the spindle. Sorry, Commander, it's my fault. Should
've kept a closer eye on my guys."

  "What's done is done," said Kresge "The hostages might not be alive if we'd trapped them in the Governor's suite. Who knows? Are all of your men okay?"

  "Yep,'least we didn't have no injuries."

  "Good, that means that we didn't lose anybody, there's just a couple people with minor wounds and only one with serious injuries. Hanna Jordon is working on him as we speak. I'd call that a successful counterattack. Thanks for reminding me about the damned communicators, I knew I was forgetting something. I've got six prisoners and at least as many dead terrorists. At least one of the dead ones was carrying a communicator; he was using it when we nailed him. I imagine there are more of them?"

  "I'd think so, Commander, but you don't know 'til you check."

  "Oh, I'll check! Like I said, I'm glad you called. I can't have prisoners giving away information about us! We'll get right on it. How long ago did Ezra say that I had a half hour?"

  "It was 'bout five minutes ago," said Fowler. "Commander?"

  "What is it Fowler?"

  "I...I take full responsibility for the screw up."

  "As I said earlier, what's done is done. Don't lose any sleep over it."

  Kresge came back up to the first floor landing and galvanized his men into action.

  "All of you, listen up!" shouted Kresge. "Some of the prisoners may still have communicators. Search them and search all of the dead ones too. If you find anything, bring it to me immediately! Go! Now!"

  The men scattered as they went to do his bidding. Within a minute, the Resistance fighters brought Kresge communications devices from several dead terrorists. Kresge checked his wrist chronometer.

  Twenty minutes until the call from Brimstone was due.

  Chapter 52

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