Junkyard Dogs series Omnibus

by Phillip Nolte

"Yes? What now?"

  "There's some guy on the com. He says he's the new commander and he wants to talk to you."

  "I'll be right there."

  Brimstone headed for the communications area, still fuming.

  Harris greeted him.

  "This is Lieutenant Ryan Harris, acting Commander of the New Ceylon Orbital Station."

  "You! You're the meddler from the scrapyard!"

  "Yes, I am."

  "Seems I'm cursed to have you haunt me wherever I turn! What happened to Commander Kresge?"

  "He's...indisposed for the time being. He left me in charge."

  Brimstone's face contorted into an angry scowl. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't just detonate this device right now?"

  "Because you don't really want to die?" replied Harris. "Surely you can understand that we needed to take a stab at rescuing the Governor? You would have done the same thing."

  "I want three million credits and that ship within two hours, or I set off my device."

  "The ship is standing by and can be ready for you to board any time. Right now we only have one million credits. The Governor is trying to come up with more, but he's having some difficulty."

  "What about the Ambassador?"

  "He has only Meridian currency with him." Harris didn't have a clue if it was true, but the answer sounded plausible.

  "Enough! Stop wasting my time. You have your instructions. Three million credits and that ship within two hours! Or we all die!"

  "As I said, we're working on it."

  "While you're working on getting the money, I would like some food and some medical supplies sent up. Since you seem to have control of the elevators, I suggest you send these materials up as soon as possible. Use elevator number one. No funny stuff!"

  "We'll have something for you in half an hour. Harris out."

  Harris stared at the blank screen for a moment, frowning.

  Carlisle caught his eye.

  "There's something you need to know," she said. "You remember when I had that conference with the Ambassador's wife?" Harris nodded. "She gave me a Truthseer net generator and I planted it on the guard I knocked out during the rescue. She can access it through my wrist computer and get Truthseer readings on the terrorists. It should help with our negotiations."

  "Good work, Ensign. We need any advantage we can get!"

  Harris then contacted Hawkins and Murdock.

  "Orbital station calling independent cargo vessel Greyhound. Orbital station calling Greyhound."

  After a moment he got an answer.

  "Greyhound here, Helen Murdock speaking."

  "This is acting Commander Harris calling. Start moving your ship into position to transfer personnel out of the main airlock."

  "Lieutenant Harris? Beggin' your pardon, Sir, but where's Oskar Kresge?"

  "Bad news, I'm afraid. We were able to rescue the hostages but Oskar was wounded during the operation. He's been transferred to the Istanbul for medical care. We hope to get an update on his condition within the next hour or so."

  "So he's going to be alright?"

  "I'm sorry, but we still don't know. We're praying for him. Meantime can you move your ship over close to the main airlock? You should be able to tether over to the station and make your way down the outside of the spindle to the auxiliary airlock. The terrorists can board through the main airlock when we give the word."

  "Will do, Commander," she replied. "We're moving her now."

  "You heard him, Angus," said Murdock, "let's get a move on!"

  ***

  The Resistance had taken over Jane Tresham's tiny office, which was on the level just north of the communications room, as a command center. Harris made his way there while Carlisle used her wrist comp to contact the Ambassador's wife.

  "This is Tamara Carlisle," she sent, text only. "I have planted the device on one of the terrorist guards; the leaders should be in range."

  The Lady Saladin replied, "Attempting to access device now. Will keep you informed."

  "Will do," replied Carlisle. She waited for about a minute.

  "Contact established. Obtaining baseline psychological parameters."

  "How much time do you need?"

  "Sounds like they are having a discussion right now. With that input, I should be able to get a basic readout within five minutes. Maintain the link, but do not attempt to contact me. I must concentrate completely on this task. Will contact you when I have something."

  Carlisle went to join Harris in the temporary command center and waited outside while he finished a briefing from Tresham and Vasquez. He looked up and smiled thinly as she came in and closed the door behind her. Outside the small office, with all of the other Resistance leaders looking on, Harris had maintained an aura of confidence and authority. Here, alone again with Carlisle, he allowed some fatigue and worry to show through.

  "Did everything go okay?" he asked.

  "Yeah, Sondia got the device linked up. She's trying to get a psych reading on Brimstone as we speak. If she does, she should be able to help us out."

  "Good work, Ensign."

  Harris looked over at Carlisle, took a deep breath and let out a long sigh.

  "Well, Ensign, the operation didn't go perfectly, but we've managed to eliminate a major liability. Now, they can't threaten to kill hostages any time they think they need something."

  "That should greatly simplify things," she said. Her look turned to concern. "Too bad about the Commander; I hope he'll be okay."

  "He keeps himself in great condition and he's getting the best care available. It could be worse... I just can't allow myself to worry about him right now. We still have to find a way to deal with our other 'little problem.' Any suggestions?"

  "I've been analyzing and reanalyzing almost nonstop for the last twenty-four hours. Sorry, I don't have a solution yet, but there several things to consider."

  "Such as?"

  "Well... and this is pretty big... Ezra can't make demands on us anymore without threatening himself. That and you know all of them have got to be getting really tired. This was never meant to be a long-term affair. It looks to me as though their plan was to get in and out quickly. I suspect that all he really wants to do right now is get out of here!"

  "We've got a million credits," said Harris. "I'll bet that would be enough. Trouble is, what's to stop him from setting off the bomb as soon as he gets out of blast range?"

  Carlisle thought out loud for a moment, eyes glazed, as usual, while she concentrated.

  "Million credits...cargo ship...nuclear self destruct?" She came back to the present. "Do you remember what the Ambassador said to Commander Kresge about the bomb before we went in to rescue the hostages?"

  "Something about it being a final solution wasn't it?" replied Harris.

  "Sort of. His exact words were, 'The weapon is almost certainly a last resort, Commander. I believe that if we convince him that he still has options, he will be reluctant to use it.'"

  "Yeah, I remember that."

  "Well, it may be that we just need to convince him that he does have some options. In fact, I think I might have an idea..."

  She outlined her plan to Harris.

  "That's crazy!" he said when she had finished, shaking his head. He thought about it for a while longer, and shrugged, "Then again, it's just crazy enough that it might work. I guess it really comes down to one simple question: How badly does Ezra Brimstone want to continue living?"

  Carlisle's wrist comp indicated a contact. It was from the Ambassador's wife.

  "Psychological profile on terrorist leader completed. I should be able read him with some level of certainty. Provide video if possible."

  Chapter 70

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

  Harris, Carlisle, Haines and Davis-Moore crowded once again into the communications room of the station's spindle. The rest of the members of the motley group in command of the orbital station looked in from the adjoining
corridor. Hawkins and Murdock, having just come in through the auxiliary airlock after parking the Greyhound outside the main airlock, had hastily shed their spacesuits and joined them.

  "Okay, does everyone know what we're doing?" asked Harris.

  "Not much to worry about," said Haines, "this either works or we're all dead."

  Carlisle sent text to the Lady Saladin.

  "Preparing to place call, are you ready?"

  "Yes," came the reply.

  "Go ahead, Lieutenant," said Carlisle.

  Harris keyed the transmitter.

  "Acting Commander Harris calling Ezra Brimstone."

  Brimstone's face came onto the viewscreen a few moments later. Carlisle enabled video and audio links from her wrist comp to the Lady Saladin.

  "Greetings, Lieutenant. I see that you have kept your word and brought me a ship. Have you got my money?"

  Harris hesitated for a few moments before replying.

  "No...we don't, actually. Not all of it. We haven't been able to get more than the million credits that Governor Larkin got from the Orbital Station Bank. I'm afraid that will have to do."

  "It will not do! I told you three million or we set off this bomb."

  Harris hesitated again before replying.

  "Are you really sure you want to do that?"

  "If my demands aren't met within an hour," Brimstone raged at him, "I will set off this device! You are running out of time, Lieutenant!"

  Carlisle got a wrist comp communication a few seconds later.

  "Analysis indicates only a three percent chance that his last threat is true."

  Carlisle replied: "He won't detonate the device?"

  "It does not appear that he really wants to, but proceed with utmost caution..."

  Out of viewscreen range, Carlisle shook her head and mouthed, "He won't do it," to Harris.

  Harris gave the terrorist leader a stern look.

  "It's you who're running out of time, Ezra. The Ambassador informed us that the Federation was sending a fleet of ships that should be coming through the Whitney hyperlink point in...," he checked his wrist chronometer for effect, "...twenty-six hours and forty-three minutes. If you take the cash we currently have and get onboard that ship, you can just make it through the hyperlink point before they arrive. After they get here, I will certainly be relieved of command and you will no longer be dealing with someone as reasonable as I am. I can guarantee you that you will not leave this system alive after that fleet gets here. Your choice, Ezra."

  The terrorist leader's face turned even redder.

  "You do not make demands on me!"

  "I'm not making demands, Ezra," said Harris, reasonably. "I'm simply stating facts. If you're still here or even in transit to the hyperlink point when the Federation authorities arrive, you'll either be dead or you'll be a mind-wiped janitor in some giant Federation building complex. It's up to you, Ezra."

  Brimstone began to look doubtful.

  "You are taking a very serious risk, Lieutenant!"

  "Think about it Ezra, there is no need for anyone else to die. A million credits is still a heck of a lot of money."

  Brimstone scowled but remained silent.

  "I do have one demand, Ezra, and this one is not negotiable."

  "And what is that?"

  "When you get the money, you take your bomb with you. I will not take a chance that you'll set it off for spite as soon as you reach a safe distance."

  "What's to keep the Ambassador from pursuing us and attacking?"

  "You'll still have your bomb for one thing. We figure it has a kill radius of probably twenty-five to thirty kilometers. That should deter anyone without some pretty hefty shielding. Besides, an attack on your Christian group by the Islamic Ambassador from Meridian is out of the question. They're on a diplomatic mission. Don't be thinking you can approach his ship and take him out with your bomb either. The Istanbul is on standby, ready for immediate departure. You'll never be able to catch them."

  The moment of truth had arrived.

  The entire command group of the Resistance watched, unable to breathe, as the signs of warring emotions made their way across Ezra Hellfire Brimstone's face. At long last, his shoulders seemed to slump in resignation.

  "I'd want all of my men who are being held prisoner returned to me," he said.

  "That can be arranged," replied Harris.

  Brimstone took a deep breath.

  "Send the money up with my disciples," he said, "use elevator one, just like you did last time." He turned to his men and said, "Get the device ready for transport and prepare to board that ship. We're leaving!"

  He looked back at Harris and the rest of the command group.

  "You have not heard the last of me! If you try anything cute while we're evacuating, I will set this device off!"

  "That last is a true statement," texted Lady Saladin.

  ***

  The evacuation by what remained of the Veritian Brotherhood terrorist group took surprisingly little time. A case containing the ransom money and the ten prisoners that had been taken by the Resistance, without their weapons or armor, were sent up the number one spoke elevator. Within fifteen minutes, the Greyhound was loaded with the surviving terrorists and their deadly cargo. Since Murdock and Hawkins had left everything ready for an immediate launch when they had parked the ship, the terrorists were able to leave for the hyperlink point immediately. Harris, and the rest of the command group, breathed a collective sigh of relief after the Greyhound completed its first microjump. The sigh of relief was followed shortly by wild cheering.

  "Do you wish for us to pursue them, Lieutenant?" asked the Ambassador, over the comlink.

  "No, thank you, Excellency; I have given my word that we won't. Besides, if Meridian forces were to destroy that ship, Ezra might still accomplish part of what he set out to do. I think it would be best to let them go...this time."

  "I must concur, Lieutenant, though it seems a shame to let them go while in possession of a nuclear device."

  "I have no doubt that the Federation authorities will be in hot pursuit as soon as they get here. There are only about three or four hyperlink destinations that make any sense for the terrorists to head for. Those will all be covered immediately."

  "Of course you are correct, Lieutenant. Let me be the first to congratulate you on your expert handling of an extraordinarily difficult situation."

  "To be truthful, Excellency, the credit should go to Ensign Carlisle, Commander Kresge, Angus Hawkins, and all of the other brave people on board the orbital station. We mustn't forget your wife's contribution either. This truly was a team effort. By the way, any word on Commander Kresge?"

  "He is still in the medical module, Lieutenant, but the current prognosis is that he will make a full recovery."

  "Thank God for that!"

  "Allah is great," replied the Ambassador.

  ***

  The Greyhound, with the terrorists on board, arrived at the Whitney hyperlink point and translated out. Just over an hour later, the United Terran Federation Navy arrived in force with a fleet of six ships, including two heavy cruisers and four destroyers. After another two hours of discussion while the authorities were briefed about what had happened, the destroyers retranslated out to the four most likely destinations that the terrorists might have gone to.

  Ezra Brimstone must have had an escape plan of some kind formulated beforehand because the Federation destroyer Asimov found an empty and abandoned Greyhound about five thousand clicks from the hyperlink point in the Heard's World system.

  There was no sign of the terrorists or their nuclear device.

  Several experienced crew members from the FNS Asimov brought the Greyhound back to the New Ceylon system with them.

  Chapter 71

  New Ceylon Orbital Station, October 14, 2598.

  The diplomatic mission was understandably delayed for a few days while the orbital station was returned to a semblance of normal function. Caleb Jordan, rel
eased by the Ambassador, was joyously reunited with his wife Hanna on board the station. The Greyhound was returned to Helen Murdock along with promises from the Federation authorities that she could have whatever she needed from the Scrapyard to bring the old ship back up to snuff.

  With the Ambassador petitioning the planetary authorities for clemency, it was decreed that the members of the smuggling ring were not to be prosecuted for any crimes although they would have to shut down their operations. A cursory check of the books indicated deposits and expenditures by Gordon Harmon that vastly exceeded his income, indicating that he had probably been involved with the smugglers but since the security chief had died in defense of the station, the connection between him and any illegal activities was not further investigated. The Organization was to supply the New Ceylon authorities with a reasonable accounting of the profits they had made over the last five years and they were to be assessed a ten percent tax, to be paid within a year. Profits from the sale of the remainder of their inventory were to be split fifty-fifty with the station authorities. It was a less than perfect solution, but no one was complaining too loudly.

  Oskar Kresge had healed well enough to be taken out of the medical module and was continuing to recuperate in the Istanbul's sick bay. Irene Marshall had been spending almost all of her waking hours with him. The Ambassador's wife had helped get her through the worst of the waiting, when the seriousness of his wounds meant that the outcome still wasn't known. Not surprisingly, the two women had become very good friends during the ordeal. Kresge finally came to full consciousness to find Irene sitting next to him, holding his hand and smiling at him. He was still groggy, but aware enough to ask what was going on.

  "Irene?" He looked around the sickbay of the Istanbul and recognized nothing. "Where are we?"

  "We're on board the Meridian ambassador's ship, Oskar. Don't you remember anything?"

  He tried to sit up and winced.

  "Don't try to sit up, Oskar, you took a pulse bolt to the stomach. You're darned lucky to be alive."

  "The hostages?" he asked, as he slumped back onto the bed and the memories began to trickle back.