Junkyard Dogs series Omnibus

by Phillip Nolte

  "Aye, Lieutenant, it should nay be a problem."

  Harris contacted Kresge as he left the utility sled.

  "On my way, Commander. I should be there in five minutes or so."

  Harris headed for the main airlock of the Greyhound and cycled through. Assuming he would be returning to work immediately after the meeting, he left his spacesuit on, removing only the helmet, and proceeded as quickly as possible to the bridge area of the cargo ship. Kresge, Helen Murdock and Sergeant Kelly were already in conference. Ambassador Saladin had joined them remotely and was displayed on the Greyhound's main viewscreen.

  All of them looked worried.

  "Harris reporting as requested, Sir."

  "Thank you, Lieutenant," said Kresge. The commander ran his hand through his hair and took a deep breath before plunging in. "We just got a distress call from the Governor of Nazareth on Heard's World. Take a look at this recording, and tell me what you think of it."

  Kresge played back a recording of the communication while Harris watched. The message was not directly from the Governor himself, it was from the communications platform in orbit around the planet. A Federation gift to the system, identical to several dozen others scattered throughout the Quadrant, the platform carried both stage I and stage II Whitney consoles. The man in the video, a communications tech from the orbital platform, was obviously very agitated and couldn't keep his voice from shaking as he recited the message.

  "Mayday! Mayday! Priority One! I am relaying a message from Governor Bradford of Nazareth on Heard's World. Terrorists came to his village yesterday and kidnapped Caleb and Hanna Jordan. He is convinced that the terrorists took Caleb because they needed him to help remove more weapons from the Succession War cruiser on the moon out here. The Governor requests any assistance you might be able to give. We can confirm that the terrorists have two ships and that they went to the village in a standard shuttlecraft. The Governor warns that these invaders are armed and dangerous. The terrorists claim that they are part of an Islamic revolution being led by someone called the Sheik of Barsoom. Since there are no defenses of any kind in our system, standard procedures dictate that the six of us here on the communications platform must evacuate back down to the planet. Repeat, we are boarding the escape shuttle and abandoning this communications platform."

  The message ended. Kresge turned to back to Harris.

  "We have not been able to establish any further communications. We don't know if the communications platform was attacked or simply abandoned. Here's my thought: it's only a single jump from Catskill-Saroyan to Heard's World. What do you want to bet that the rumors we've been hearing are true and those people want to restore the main batteries of that stolen Tunisian Destroyer, Lieutenant?" asked Kresge. ""

  "That seems like a pretty high probability," replied Harris.

  "What do you think we should do?"

  "More armed terrorists loose in the quadrant? This time with a real warship? It can't be good, Sir."

  "I agree, Lieutenant," said Kresge. He thought for a moment. "I don't know whether this situation constitutes a 'Priority One' emergency or not but that's the designation they gave it. We are obligated to respond if we can. We have also been ordered by Admiral Kingston to gather information on this Sheik of Barsoom person. How soon can we have the Greyhound ready to depart for the jump point? Heard's World is also only a single macrojump from New Ceylon. I don't know if we can do much of anything but at the very least, we need to know what's going on in that system."

  Harris did some quick mental arithmetic and replied cautiously, "I think we could have everything properly sealed up and the compartments repressurized in an hour and half, two hours at the most. The guns will not be operational though."

  "You'll have to work on them while you're in transit," said Kresge. "In the meantime, we aren't totally without any offensive capability. Sergeant Kelly, tell Harris what you've got."

  Kelly cleared his throat. "We've got six sets of the latest battle armor and a couple of portable assault pulse cannons. We've also got another five sets of the older battle armor that your forces captured during the terrorist occupation of the Orbital Station. We can put one of the assault cannons in the front cargo bay, if we need to. I'll leave half of my men here with the other cannon, just so the people here aren't totally without protection. It ain't the best situation but it'll put us in decent shape unless we come up against some pretty serious hardware. If you can get that new gun emplacement to work..."

  "Then we'd be a match for anything short of a real military vessel," finished Harris. He turned to Kresge. "If you are asking for an opinion, Sir, then I think we'd better do anything we can to stop these people from getting their hands on really effective weapons. We have enough problems out here in the remote corners of the quadrant as it is."

  "I agree fully, Lieutenant," said Kresge. He paused for a moment, not exactly sure how to proceed with the next phase of the plan. His look became grave. "As Commander of this Federation outpost, Lieutenant, my duty is clear. I have to stay here. Captain Murdock will remain in command of the Greyhound, but you're going to have to assume overall command of this mission." Harris looked at him and slowly nodded his head. Kresge continued, "I don't know if the Jordans are still alive or not. I suspect that they'll be needed and therefore alive at least until those weapons are restored. That means we probably don't have much time. We also know next to nothing about this Sheik of Barsoom." Kresge paused, "No heroics, Lieutenant. Do not engage any enemy ships unless you absolutely have to."

  "Duly noted sir," said Harris. "I'll go tell the crew to finish with the hull sealing and the bulkhead bracing for the turret. After that, we should be ready to go."

  "Make it so, Lieutenant," said Kresge. "All personnel not essential to this mission will be transferring over to the Dingo immediately." He added, "I know you can handle this, Ryan. Besides, I don't see where we have much choice."

  "Thank you, Sir. I'll do my best."

  "I've every faith in you, Lieutenant."

  Harris, looking somewhat shell shocked, departed to put his helmet back on and supervise the remaining work. Kelly left to organize his marines. Kresge looked at Murdock and the Ambassador and shook his head. The Ambassador nodded gravely back at him from the viewscreen.

  "I suppose this means you'll be taking my historian again, doesn't it?" said the Ambassador.

  "With your permission, Excellency," replied Kresge. "Oh, and Frank Talbot would be welcome to go along as well if he agrees to it. His expertise with these old engineering systems could be invaluable. I don't much like the thought of sending him into what could prove to be a dangerous situation, though."

  "The success of this mission is of vital importance," observed the Ambassador." And, I'm not sure anywhere is particularly safe at the moment."

  "I'm afraid you're absolutely right about that, Excellency. As I said, I'm not overly excited about it but I'll permit him to go along."

  "That may actually be for the best, Commander, he is a man hated and misunderstood by many people of many religions. He may, indeed, be safer on this mission than he would be remaining here on the Istanbul."

  Chapter 35.

  UTFN Reclamation Center, on board Imperial Diplomatic Ship Istanbul, December 10, 2598.

  The two youngest members of the Scrapyard community, Amanda and Faiza, had not been left totally on their own. Since both of them were still of school age, they were placed on a strict schedule of course work to continue their schooling. Both of them had announced their intentions to pursue a career in the military and Amanda was spending much of her time trying to get up to speed to pass the entrance exams for the Federation Naval Academy. To fulfill the mandatory military enlistment that was an obligation for all Meridians, Faiza would attempt to follow in her father's footsteps as a Naval officer in the Meridian Navy and was hoping to qualify for her government's equivalent institution, the Meridian Imperial Naval Academy. Because both of the young women were very intelligent to b
egin with and each was also imbued with a strong work ethic, they could be found in their quarters, hard at work, for a good eight hours or more in any given day.

  While preparations for the departure of the Greyhound on the mission to Heard's World were proceeding at a fever pace, the two young women were surprised to receive a summons from Commander Kresge. They left their studies to get suited up for the short utility sled ride from the Istanbul to the Greyhound.

  When they reported to the bridge of the Greyhound, they were surprised to find not only Commander Kresge waiting for them, but also Lieutenant Harris and Dr. Carlisle.

  "Faiza, Amanda," said Kresge, with a nod. "Thank you for coming. You both know Dr. Carlisle but I don't think Faiza has met Lieutenant Harris yet."

  The two shook hands.

  “It’s good to finally meet you, Lieutenant,” said the Ambassador's daughter. "I've heard a lot about you."

  "I wonder who you've been talking to?" said Harris, glancing at Carlisle, who blushed slightly.

  "I've called all of you here, this moment, for a reason," said Kresge. "By now it's no secret that Lieutenant Harris and Dr. Carlisle are going to Heard's World because we think that the Jordans have been kidnapped and someone, who probably doesn't particularly like us, is trying to arm another ship using parts from the wrecked Veritian Brotherhood cruiser that was stashed in the system."

  Kresge glanced back and forth at the two young women before continuing. "One of the downsides to this plan is that Dr. Carlisle will be taking her wrist computer and all of the information it contains with her. I don't have a particular problem with that; I expect that the crew of the Greyhound will have plenty of need for the information. However, I do have a backup plan for all that information and it includes the two of you."

  The two young women, both a little perplexed to begin with, looked at one another before returning their attention to Kresge. He continued, "Since both of you have wrist computers and you know how to use them, I want Dr. Carlisle to download all of the Scrapyard inventory and engineering files on her unit to the two wrist computers that will be remaining behind after she leaves. Faiza, Amanda, put your computers in receive mode."

  The two young women did as they were commanded.

  "Receive mode enabled," came the muted audible signal from the units carried by each of the young women.

  Kresge continued. "Dr. Carlisle, initiate download of all Military and inventory files on your computer to these two computers. While you're at it, you might as well include the diplomatic information as well." Carlisle started the download. The entire process took less than a minute.

  "Download complete," announced Carlisle's computer.

  "Thank you, Doctor," said Kresge. Then he turned back to the two young women. "I don't know if I can properly relay to you two how important the information you've just received is to our mission here. Consider this the beginning of your training for Naval Command. Naturally I want the two of you to continue with your regular studies but I want each of you to spend at least two hours a day, for the foreseeable future, going over and becoming familiar with the files you've just received. We are going to need personnel who know what's in those files and how to get at the information. Work together and work alone, compare notes. Do whatever it takes to become as proficient with those tools and that information as Dr. Carlisle is. By the way, from now on, you will both address me as 'Sir' when you are on duty. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, Sir!" said the two young women in unison.

  "Any questions?" asked Kresge.

  "What about our parents...ah...Sir?" asked Faiza.

  "I checked with both sets of parents an hour or so ago and everyone approved," said Kresge. "In fact, they thought it was good idea."

  The two young women, both somewhat in shock over the suddenness and the enormity of the responsibility they had just been handed, had no further questions.

  "Alright, go and get started on this project. Right now. Work on getting to know the Istanbul and the Dingo first." He stopped and looked at them sternly. "I will be quizzing you tomorrow."

  The girls said goodbye to Harris and Carlisle before leaving the bridge and returning to the Istanbul. Back in their quarters, they followed Kresge's orders and set to work immediately studying files pertaining to the two operational ship types that would be remaining in the Scrapyard, the converted heavy cruiser that was the Istanbul and the Bombardier Mark V Cargomaster that was the Dingo.

  Chapter 36.

  On board UTFN Auxiliary Ship Greyhound, near the Whitney macrojump zone of the Naccobus Star System, December 10, 2598.

  After departing the Scrapyard, the Greyhound performed two short-duration microjumps to bring her into proximity of the Naccobus System's Whitney Hyperlink zone. Harris, Carlisle, Hawkins, Talbot and the other members of the crew stayed busy carefully monitoring the new drive systems and making occasional refinements to the settings. Work also continued on the transplanted gun emplacement in an effort to get it properly integrated into the old ship's systems.

  All were understandably concerned as the crew programmed the Greyhound's first macrojump since she had been outfitted with her new drive systems.

  "Check those numbers again," said Murdock, "we don't want to mess this up."

  Everyone went through the pre-jump routine yet another time. With all systems go, Murdock nervously gave the order to execute the jump.

  "Okay, Helm, jumping in three...two...one...activate!"

  There was a brief moment of disorientation as the Greyhound phased into hyperspace. The jump lasted just over twenty minutes and the drive, to everyone's relief, operated flawlessly the entire time.

  The Greyhound flashed into the Whitney jump zone of the Heard's World system a half day of realtime after they had departed from the Scrapyard. The command group on the Greyhound's bridge immediately set to work scanning the system as best they could with the equipment on hand. Fortunately, the Greyhound had been outfitted with the Terrier's military grade sensing equipment, replacing the ancient commercial units that the Greyhound had been equipped with. Unfortunately, even this equipment was several generations out of date.

  "I've got three contacts, Lieutenant," said Perry Allen, from the sensor console. "One of them is the orbital platform near the planet where the distress communication came from. The other two appear to be parked right near a small moon that orbits the fifth planet." Allen tapped rapidly at the keyboard on the sensor unit, frowning at the display. "Okay...there is a high probability that one of them is military and the other is…," he frowned again at his display, "…not. I can't quite make out what it is. It doesn't appear to be a merchant either. Whoever they are, they aren't trying to hide themselves." He shook his head. "I'll keep analyzing."

  "Caleb Jordan said that the pulse beams for those two pirate ships came from a badly damaged cruiser that had landed on a small moon," said Harris. "He didn't tell me where the moon was but I'd be willing to bet it's the one with those ships next to it. See if you can get a better idea whether or not either of those ships is armed, would you Chief?"

  "I'll keep trying but I don't think the resolution of this equipment is good enough to do much better unless we get closer, Lieutenant," said Allen, as he continued to fiddle with the sensor displays.

  "How long would it take for us to rendezvous with that moon?" asked Harris.

  Murdock, who was also the ship's navigator, performed some quick calculations on the command computer. "It'll take a couple of microjumps and some maneuvering," she replied, "but I think we could get there in about an hour and a half, maybe two hours if we cut it close with the last microjump."

  "I don't know that we have enough experience with this new drive system to be cutting things too close, Captain," said Harris.

  "I can't disagree with you, Lieutenant," replied Murdock.

  "Why don't we take a single jump towards that moon and see if we can get some better information?" asked Carlisle. "That way we can jump back and get out of the sy
stem quickly if we need to."

  "You okay with that, Captain?" asked Harris.

  "I guess so. It's sort of why we came here isn't it?" said Murdock. She turned to Chief Allen. "Prepare to execute a jump protocol towards that moon if you please, Helm," said Murdock. "I'll give you the parameters."

  Allen worked the controls on the navigation console while Murdock provided the numbers she had just generated on the command computer."

  "Jump programmed, Captain," he said."

  "Execute microjump when ready, Captain Murdock," said Harris.

  Helen Murdock made an announcement over the ship's intercom to inform the crew that the ship would shortly be making another microjump. Two minutes later she performed a countdown and the refurbished Greyhound executed another perfect transfer. After a short interval while everyone recovered from the effects of the jump, Allen performed another scan of the ship contacts.

  "I have a report, Lieutenant," he said. "It's still hard to make out much."

  "Tell me what you can, Chief?"

  "The one could be a small freighter, or large pleasure craft. The other..."

  "Is what, Chief?"

  "It's a destroyer, Sir. It looks like an old one but..."

  "But it's still a destroyer," said Harris.

  The mounting spot for the transplanted gun emplacement had placed the control chamber for the pulse beams in the compartment just behind the bridge. Harris crossed the bridge to the rear bulkhead and called through the hatch to Hawkins. "Hawk? How are things going with that gun emplacement?" There was a short pause as Hawkins extricated himself from the workings in the lower part of the turret and poked his head up through the hatch in the floor.

  "We still be working on it, Lieutenant. But I think we be ready to start chargin' the capacitors on the starboard gun anytime Helen...er ...Captain Murdock be thinkin' it's okay."

  Harris looked at Murdock.

  "Don't let me stand in the way," said Murdock. "By all means, Lieutenant, give it a try."