Junkyard Dogs series Omnibus

by Phillip Nolte

  Two hours later, Carlisle was sitting in one of the ornate overstuffed chairs in the opulent private quarters that had been provided for her by the Ambassador. She was intently examining several data files simultaneously and had three of them displayed in holographic form in the air in front of her. The soft chime announcing that someone was at the door sounded.

  "Who is it?" she called out, not taking her eyes off from the displays.

  "It's me, Harris."

  "Just a minute, Lieutenant." She tore her gaze off from the display, stood up and stretched. She left her wrist comp on the ornate table next to her chair, with the displays still running. She stopped in front of the room's elaborately-gilded mirror for a quick scan of her appearance. She brushed a strand of hair out from in front of her eyes and, satisfied that things weren't too much amiss beyond that, went over to open the door. Harris stepped into the room and she closed the door behind him.

  "What can I do for you, Lieutenant?"

  "I came to give you a heads up. The Ambassador's wife wants to see you in her quarters right after our next scheduled call with Kresge. She said she wanted to discuss some things with you."

  Carlisle, suddenly nervous, shifted involuntarily into stammer mode.

  "Ambassdor's wife... diplomatic protocol... formal clothing..." She looked towards the empty wardrobe on the other side of the room. "I haven't anything to wear! Omigod! What do I say? What do I do?"

  "Easy, Ensign," said Harris, anticipating her reaction but unable to suppress a smile anyway. "You'll do just fine. They asked me for some more detail about you so I gave her and her husband a short run down on your dissertation project. They both got really interested. Especially when I mentioned F.C. Talbot."

  "They know about Talbot?"

  "Seems so...," said Harris, with a shrug. "I wouldn't make a big deal out of it. Just be yourself, everything will be fine."

  "I'm not so sure..."

  "I mean it. Relax. She might even have information you can use for your project."

  "If you say so..."

  She nodded but still looked a little nervous. Harris changed the subject.

  "How are you coming on your other project, tactics for handling the terrorist situation on the orbital station?"

  She sighed and led him over to the area she was working on her wrist comp. They stood side by side as she pointed out highlights on the displays. Once again Harris was acutely aware of being near her. She didn't really have to stand that close, did she? With some effort, he returned his concentration to the displays.

  For her part, Carlisle was glad to see him. In spite of her instincts to the contrary, due to her misadventures at the Academy, her trust for this young officer continued to grow stronger the more they worked together. Also, she was beginning to admit, she felt herself increasingly more attracted to him as well. It felt good to be near him again.

  "Well, I've been going over a ton of reports on hostage situations from the last hundred and fifty years or so and..." She stopped and gave him an exasperated look.

  "...and?" Harris prompted.

  "Well... there just doesn't seem to be much to go on. No discernable pattern. About a third of the cases I've been looking at end in total disaster, with hostages and terrorists both dead. Another third end with the terrorists getting away with the ransom and then they kill the hostages or the hostages were dead long before the money was paid. Another third...well, you get the picture."

  "Sounds pretty grim."

  "Yeah. On the bright side, only one other case involved a nuclear device and that was resolved when the perpetrators gave themselves up. The device was never detonated."

  "I have a suggestion..."

  "At this point, I'm open to almost anything, what is it?"

  "Forget about all of this research. Use your gut. What would you do if you were in charge of the situation on the orbital station? Forget about the stakes and all the emotional baggage for a moment. Condense it down to a simple tactical problem. We'll worry about messy details later. What's the best way to go?"

  She thought that over for a good long moment.

  "When you put it that way...I think I'd handle the situation as two separate problems."

  "Okay, good. What two problems?"

  "They have hostages and they have a nuclear device."

  "Explain?"

  "Okay... They have four important hostages that they can threaten to harm any time they want some kind of immediate action. Without the hostages, the only thing they have is the nuclear device. The bomb is far from a trivial matter, but the only way they can use that device is to commit suicide. I think we'd have more leeway if they were down to a suicide device as their only option. We could manipulate them a bit more easily. It's even possible that the device doesn't work or that they don't have the codes to activate it."

  "So you're suggesting that Kresge should attempt to rescue the hostages first and then deal with the nuclear threat?"

  "Well... Yes. I guess I am. Trouble is this plan assumes that the terrorist leader isn't completely insane."

  "Well, as Caleb suggested, maybe we'd better talk to Hanna Jordan if we can and see if she has some kind of insight into that man's soul."

  "Damned religious nutcases!" said Carlisle, shaking her head. "What drives these people, anyway?"

  "Can't say I know for sure," said Harris. "Seems like they're all very rigid in their beliefs and utterly convinced that their cause is just. Many of them claim that they talk to God."

  "What utter nonsense!"

  "I take it you aren't particularly religious?"

  "A lot of Spacers are, Lieutenant, but I'm not one of them. Not since I was a little girl anyway. You?"

  Harris looked thoughtful.

  "I believe that there's some kind of higher power," he said, finally. "I don't know that I believe in organized religion."

  "A lot of bad things have been done in the name of religion," said Carlisle.

  "A lot of good things have happened too."

  "Talbot says that religion has served its purpose and it's time we outgrew the whole concept and moved on to something better."

  "That sounds like an uphill battle!"

  "I'm not saying I agree with him, but if a change is to come, the movement has to start somewhere."

  "I suppose so. These arguments have been raging for centuries, Ensign. I'm not sure that the two of us are going to solve this problem in the next few minutes!"

  She smiled at him.

  "You're right, Lieutenant. But you do make a good sounding board. Like I told you back on the Terrier, we make a good team. I need more of that."

  Harris, remembering the moment and how he'd been on the verge of kissing her, felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach. With an effort, he fought the feeling down.

  "Anytime, Ensign. Are you at a holding spot? We need to get up to the bridge for Kresge's call."

  She closed down the displays and slipped her wrist comp back into place before the two of them left her quarters and headed for the bridge.

  Chapter 61

  New Ceylon Orbital Station, Central Spindle, October 10, 2598

  Oscar Kresge and as many of the members of his diverse command group that would fit had crowded into the old communications room of the Orbital Station spindle for the call to the Ambassador's ship. He looked around the room.

  "Okay, everyone, quiet!" All chatter ceased. Kresge pressed the call button on the Stage I Whitney communications console.

  "This is Commander Oskar Kresge at the New Ceylon Orbital Station calling Meridian Imperial Ship Istanbul."

  The reply was almost immediate.

  "Istanbul here, Captain Nassar speaking. I have the Ambassador and your three Naval personnel here, Commander."

  "Very good," replied Kresge. "And I have some of the other members of my command here with me." He pointed to each as he introduced them. "This is Kathy Haines, Salvador Vasquez, Orville Steuben, and Clancy Davis-Moore. You already know Jane Tresham."


  With formalities taken care of, they immediately got down to business.

  "Pardon the urgency, but the leader of the terrorists has asked to speak with the Ambassador as soon as possible. I've been putting him off by telling him that we've had difficulties getting the communications back up, which really is pretty close to the truth, but I think the excuse is starting to wear a little thin. We can patch through to him almost anytime we want to now. Carlisle, have you come up with anything yet?"

  "I...I think so, Commander."

  "Okay, let's hear it."

  "Well... I suggest that we handle the situation as two separate problems. We have the immediate problem of the hostages and the more long term one of the nuclear device. Solve them one at a time and you simplify the situation tremendously."

  "That's an interesting proposition, Ensign."

  "Are the hostages located where you might be able to affect a rescue?" asked Carlisle.

  "There's only a barricaded hatch between us on the southern end of the spindle and the terrorists up in the northern end," said Haines. She thought a moment longer. "The handiest place for them to put the hostages would be in the office of the Chief of Security. The barricaded hatch opens into the end that corridor. Maybe if we could distract them..."

  "Where is the most advantageous place for us to patch the call to, to lure them as far away as possible from where the hostages are likely to be?" asked Kresge.

  "That would be the cargo receiving area, right next to the airlock entrance," said Haines. She looked thoughtful. "There's a short corridor leading from the receiving area to the security office. We could set up a defense there while we get the hostages through the hatch and down into the spindle. We'd have to be quick though, the corridor has no door and it'll be hard to hold for more than a few minutes, especially against someone in battle armor."

  "Can we make this work?" asked Kresge.

  "We need to get the specs on the layout up there," said Haines.

  "Do it," said Kresge. "We need to know whether or not a rescue attempt is feasible as soon as possible. In the meantime, we have to let Ezra talk to the Ambassador before he kills someone. How far out are you and the Istanbul, Excellency?"

  "We will be at our hundred kilometer holding spot in just under two hours."

  "I'll tell him that we'll patch the call through in two hours."

  "That will work on our end," said the Ambassador. "How do you suggest I interact with him?"

  "Stall him and stroke him," said Kresge. "The more time we have the more likely we'll be to come up with some kind of plan on how to handle the nuclear device." Kresge paused as another thought crossed his mind.

  "I just thought of something else that might work to our advantage. When those idiots destroyed all of the communications equipment on deck one, they also destroyed the links to the video surveillance equipment. If you approach the Orbital station from due south, they'll have no way to know that you're coming. The only viewports they have face north."

  "By due south, you mean the end opposite the main airlock?" asked Harris.

  "Yeah, there's an auxiliary airlock right near the pointed end of the spindle. Just a few meters from the Whitney communications dishes. You can board the station there."

  "We can board?" asked Harris. "Do you want us to come over there, Sir?"

  "Sorry, Harris. I really hate doing this, with you three having just been through so much, but I think I'm going to need you and Carlisle here. The hostages are in the central spindle area where there's no gravity and Carlisle is the only one of us that's had any recent weightless combat training. I'll need her to help with any kind of hostage rescue attempt. I need you, Harris, just because there's so damned much to do here that I can't handle it all!"

  Kresge's brow furrowed in thought again..

  "What am I forgetting? Oh, yes... The leader asked for a ship. Where in the hell am I going to get a damned ship?" he asked, shaking his head.

  "There's one out in the docking area," said Vasquez.

  "What?" exclaimed Kresge. "The docking area was supposed to be empty of ships for security purposes!"

  "I know, but at the last minute we decided it would be okay to leave one out there. It's Helen Murdock's ship, the Greyhound. She needs her Whitney drive realigned. If there'd been time to get her worked on, Murdock would have been out of the system like everyone else. The guys on the Boise checked the ship out and declared that there was no threat. They said her ship could stay in the docking area, but she had to be on the station."

  Kresge remembered why he hadn't seen the ship earlier. The docking area had been directly behind him and therefore not visible from where he was in the restaurant when the initial attack had occurred.

  "Hawkins? Sorry, man, but you'd better come, too. You're the only tech I have access to that can realign a Whitney Overdrive that old. We'd better get to work on the ship as soon as you get here. Might buy more time if those bastards know we're getting a ship ready."

  "I assume we can use your cutter, Excellency?" asked Harris.

  "Anything we have is at your disposal," said the Ambassador.

  "We'll be waiting for you," said Kresge, "all you have to do is knock! Okay everyone, let's get busy. New Ceylon Orbital Station, Out!"

  Chapter 62

  "...Communication and tolerance are the keys to a peaceful future. Another of mankind's greatest inventions, which is not employed nearly enough these days, is the art of compromise. The concept is really quite simple, the opposing sides agree to meet somewhere in the middle -- I'll give a little if you give a little. This great art was perfected by the United States of America, one of the founding governments of the United Terran Federation, but by the end of the twentieth century, even they had forgotten how to use it...

  ...The Great Jihad, which took place on Old Earth in the early part of the twenty-first century, was largely the result of rigid, uncompromising idealities on both sides of the conflict. The leaders couldn't find or didn't try to find any sort of middle ground. I hope you'll pardon my extreme cynicism, but I'm afraid that I'm seeing the same patterns dominating the relationship between the Federation and much of the Islamic Alliance right now. Lately it's been getting worse. Much worse. Something must be done or another conflict of some kind is all but inevitable ..."

  Hartwell Wrist Comp reference note highlighted for further review by Tamara Carlisle. Excerpts are from an interview of F.C. Talbot, CEO of The Talbot Institute conducted by reporter Rebecca Tyndall of The Intergalactic Digital Press.

  Onboard the Meridian Imperial Diplomatic Ship Istanbul, October 10, 2598.

  With Kresge having signed off, the group on the bridge of the Istanbul began to file out. Carlisle waited behind.

  "Ensign Carlisle?" said the Ambassasor, "Sondia would like word with you."

  "Of course, Excellency. Lieutenant Harris informed me."

  "She is waiting in her chambers. Shawndra will take you there.

  "Thank you, Excellency."

  The old attendant did not speak to Carlisle as she led her through the ship to the Lady Saladin's quarters. Shawndra nodded to the two guards outside the door; one of them placed his palm on the reader to allow them entry. The ambassador's wife was waiting for Carlisle in an elaborate and beautifully decorated sitting room. A tea service sat on a small table. The Lady Saladin's face broke into a smile.

  "Thank you for coming, Ms. Carlisle, please have a seat."

  "I...I apologize in advance, Ma'am; I haven't a clue how to properly speak to an ambassador's wife!"

  "I'll make it easy for you. Just call me Sondia. Have no fear, my dear, I was educated on Old Earth and am quite familiar with your customs. Though my station and my religion demand that I conform to certain rules when in public, I'm sure I behave much as you do in less formal settings. This is not an official diplomatic visit in any case. Please relax. Would you like some tea?"

  "Thank you, Ma'am, tea sounds wonderful."

  The older woman herself poured them
each a cup and added a couple of lumps of sugar to her own.

  "One of my little indulgences. Would you like some?"

  Carlisle accepted two lumps herself. She looked intently at her cup while she sipped her tea, wondering what she was doing in the presence of this beautiful, exotic and very powerful woman.

  "I'm sorry if this situation makes you nervous, my dear, but we think it is extremely important that I discuss some very difficult matters with you."

  "...Succession War...destroyer battle... Is this about my research?"

  "How very interesting," said The Lady Sondia, more to herself than to Carlisle. "Lieutenant Harris warned us about your...speech irregularities. Was that an example?"

  Carlisle's face turned beet red.

  "I'm afraid so, Ma'am."

  "Be at ease my dear. You are what you are. Your Lieutenant Harris was quite complimentary about your mental abilities. Relax, just be yourself."

  "That...That's exactly what the Lieutenant told me."

  "He is a very wise young man. Let us resume where we left off."

  "Okay...you wish to discuss my research?"

  The Lady Sondia graciously picked up the thread of the conversation as though there had been no interruption.

  "In part, but our interest goes beyond that. Your research project on the warships and the tactics of the final battle of the War are, of course, very interesting and will greatly add to our understanding of a very confused time in recent history, but we are more interested in the theories of a Mr. F.C. Talbot."

  "Talbot?"

  "Yes, his writings on the subject of the Islamic Alliance and the future of the Federation are most alarming. Do you think that he may be correct?"

  Carlisle thought for a moment before replying, "...I don't know...Sondia," she said, finally. "I must admit that I haven't read too much of his material beyond what applies to my research. I stumbled across his some of his political and philosophical writings while looking for more information on my research project."

  "So you haven't delved too deeply into his teachings? You are not one of his...disciples?"