Junkyard Dogs series Omnibus

by Phillip Nolte

  "Do your mining ships have any fighting capabilities?" asked Kresge. "Any weapons?"

  "Yes...No...well, not exactly," replied O'Connell, "Each ship has a 10,000 gigajoule mining laser mounted in the nose. They weren't designed to be used as weapons, the focus is for very close up work, but if we get within a kilometer or so of a target I wouldn't want to have one of these lasers pointed at me! The ships are also pretty well armored, Commander, we encounter a lot of good sized rocks and other debris while we're in the business of mining. The ships can take some punishment. We'll help out any way that we can."

  "Welcome aboard," said Kresge. "Though I'll warn you that you could very easily get involved. If you look around you, you'll see that any fighting in this system is likely to take place at very close quarters. Either of you have any military experience?"

  "Federation Marines, served during in the Delpina Conflict back in seventy five," replied Captain Patrick.

  "I did as well," added O'Connell.

  At that moment, Harris and Carlisle came into the room. "Ah, my second in Command and my tactical officer. Captain O'Connell, Captain Patrick, this is Lieutenant Ryan Harris and this is Dr..."

  Kresge was interrupted by the Captain of the Donegal. "...Tamara Carlisle? Well, I'll be damned! Hello Tam..."

  "You already know each other?" asked Kresge.

  "Hello, Father," said Carlisle.

  Kresge and Harris both looked dumbfounded. Carlisle wore a look that was hard to decipher.

  Carlisle and O'Connell looked warily at one another from about two meters apart before Carlisle took two quick steps and embraced the older man. Once their relationship had been revealed, it was easy to see the resemblance. O'Connell was a little taller and his dark hair was shot with grey but his eyes were the same sea green color. It was easy to see where the Ensign had gotten her stature and coloring. Even their spacer tattoos were the same.

  "Father...I'm sorry..." began Carlisle.

  He interrupted her. "Hush, little one. None of that matters anymore. You did what you had to do."

  Chapter 52.

  "...When we trace our roots back to Old Earth, there are many traditions that have come down to us from across the centuries. One of these is the use of loyal and tenacious canines to guard collections of valuable artifacts. I am proud to say that this tradition is nowhere more alive and well than in our own little system. The references are simply too numerous to ignore; the resurrected Terrier, the Rover I, the Rover II, the Greyhound, the staff from Doebermann's. History will long remember the story of how the brave guardians of our famous Scrapyard came together with our own station security staff and other...concerned citizens... in our hour of need. In honor of all the tenacious canines gathered here to my right, I raise my glass. Ladies and Gentlemen: To the meanest Junkyard Dogs in the Galaxy!"

  Hartwell Wristcomp reference note highlighted for further review by Amanda Steuben. Excerpt is from a speech delivered by New Ceylon Orbital Station Governor Charles "Chip" Larkin during the festivities associated with the signing of the Meridian-New Ceylon trade agreement.

  UTFN Reclamation Center, onboard Federation Auxiliary Vessel, Greyhound, December 15, 2598.

  Kresge, having finished a meeting on tactics with Helen Murdock and Tamara Carlisle just a few minutes earlier, looked up from his computer display on the bridge of the Greyhound and was surprised to see Faiza Saladin and Amanda Steuben waiting to talk to him.

  "What can I do for you two?" he asked.

  "We want to help with the defense of the Scrapyard, Sir," said Faiza. Next to her, Amanda nodded in assent.

  "What exactly do you think you can do?"

  "We can act as observers for Ensign Carlisle," said Amanda.

  "Knowing you two, I suppose you have a plan?" Kresge looked at them expectantly.

  "We've done some pretty extensive research, Commander," said Amanda. "We propose using the remote video camera network of the Scrapyard."

  "That system was disabled when the facilities out here were destroyed," replied Kresge.

  "We know, Commander," said Faiza, "But the camera network is mostly still in place and includes cameras placed in strategic locations throughout the Scrapyard. All of the camera emplacements are solar powered, and most of them appear to still be working."

  "How do you know that," asked the Commander.

  "We talked Chief Allen into pinging several of them and they responded immediately," said Amanda. "We think it's safe to assume that most of the camera emplacements are still operating, they just haven't received any requests to send the feed anywhere."

  "You two don't miss much, do you?" said Kresge. "Okay, what did you have in mind?"

  "We suggest reactivating the camera system and sending the feeds to one of the video suites of the Istanbul," said Faiza. "There won't be much use for the diplomatic translation facilities in the small lecture room during a battle, so we thought maybe we could use it."

  "And you would be doing...?"

  "We could monitor the camera network from there and relay information on enemy movements to Dr. Carlisle, wherever she might be, using the cranial nets and the wrist computer network," said Amanda. "We could even use standard communications to provide information for anyone else who might need it."

  "You do know that the Istanbul may not be safe for you, don't you?"

  "Nowhere in this entire facility will be totally safe, Sir," replied Faiza. "In fact, you could argue that by stationing us on the Istanbul and not leaving us to wait on board one or another of the other obvious targets, we would actually be safer, because the plan will be to disconnect the Istanbul from the gun emplacements and run if things get too bad. The Istanbul also has the heaviest shielding of any ship in our fleet."

  Kresge had to smile. His two apprentice cadets had made some good points.

  "Do any of your parents know about your intentions?" he asked.

  "No, Sir..." said Amanda, "...not specifically. But we did tell them that we wanted to help."

  "I will most likely regret this," said Kresge, "but the mission I have planned for Carlisle and Harris in the coming conflict might go a lot better if they had the services of observers who could not be seen and whose communications could not be intercepted." He looked the two teenagers over carefully. "I can't guarantee anything right now, obviously, but I will talk with your parents."

  "So will we," said Amanda. "There is one more thing, Commander..."

  "I'm listening," replied Kresge.

  "We need a name for our group of defenders, Sir," Amanda continued.

  "I agree. Such things help build morale and unity. Did you have something in mind?"

  "Yes, I think so, Sir. Do you remember the banquet we all went to on the orbital station after the trade agreement was signed?"

  "Yes, of course," said Kresge.

  "Well," replied Amanda, "Governor Larkin gave us the perfect name at the very end of his presentation. He called us 'the meanest Junkyard Dogs in the galaxy.' That's who we should be, Commander, the Junkyard Dogs!"

  "Junkyard Dogs?" said Kresge tentatively. "It sure as hell fits! I like it! In fact it's brilliant! From this time forward we'll be known as the Junkyard Dogs!"

  ***

  Kresge looked around the expanse of the front cargo hold of the Greyhound. There were somewhere around sixty people looking back at him. All of the chairs were full and the walls were lined with people standing up. The noise level was surprisingly subdued for such a large group. The mood was somber, as though they all knew that something bad was coming. It came to him suddenly that many of them, especially those that had come out from the New Ceylon Orbital Station, had started out as business contacts but had become colleagues, fellow combatants and friends during the short time that they had known each other. These thoughts didn't make his next task any easier but waiting any longer to get the coming unpleasantness over with wouldn't help much either.

  "Order, please!" His request, not shouted but only spoken loudly, was enough to
quiet the room. "I'm here to brief you all on what our latest intelligence is telling us. There will be time for questions later." He paused and, seeing only expectant looks and a few affirmative nods, he continued. "As far as we know, we are now the only appreciable Federation presence in this entire portion of the Quadrant. We also know that there is some pretty formidable opposition, an opposition led by a man calling himself the Sheik of Barsoom, and that his group has an unknown number of real warships at his disposal. Granted, one of them is an old Tunisian destroyer that they managed to hijack, but several of the others are totally modern units, all of which defected from one or another of the Navies in the Islamic Alliance. We believe that two or more of their destroyers and several support vessels, possibly armed but certainly carrying armed soldiers, are on their way to eliminate the Scrapyard as a threat. We expect them to arrive in the system within the next twelve to twenty-four hours and to attack us within five or six hours after they arrive in system. I'm sorry, but we don't have any better estimates than these."

  He paused and looked the crowd over again before continuing. "To combat this threat, we have a very old freighter that has been armed with a moderately powerful weapon, a Meridian Imperial Navy heavy cruiser that was converted to a diplomatic ship that we are using to power up two pulse beam turrets on the wreck of a cruiser, and two mining vessels equipped with excavation lasers. Interspersed here and there out in the Scrapyard are another four twin-mount pulse beam turrets that are charged but cannot be recharged. This means we will only be able to fire a single pulse from each of those projectors.

  We also have a Federation Marine unit with two portable pulse beam units and about a dozen sets of battle armor. Ambassador Saladin has a contingent of Meridian Imperial Marines, his personal guard force, who are equipped with battle armor and a full array of hand weapons as well as another portable assault beam unit and a smaller utility sled.

  This may not sound like much but remember we also have the entire Reclamation Center to utilize as we see fit for hiding out or for fighting but only on our own terms. We have dispersed a number of significant heat and light sources in various wrecks throughout the Scrapyard in an effort to distract the enemy from the real targets. These can be switched on or off remotely and we believe that they'll help to keep the enemy confused." Here the Commander stopped again and took a moment to scan the room.

  "But our most important asset," he continued, "is the incomparable group of people who are in this room." He glanced at Amanda Steuben before continuing. "A group that was described by Governor Larkin as 'the meanest Junkyard Dogs in the Galaxy.' I suggest that we embrace both the name and the attitude. We shall heretofore be known as 'The Junkyard Dogs!'"

  "Hear, Hear!" someone shouted and the entire room broke out into applause.

  Kresge looked the group over and saw only approval mirrored back at him.

  "We have prevailed against long odds before, and I am confident that we can do it again! I will be giving out assignments as soon as this briefing is over. Are there any questions?"

  There were surprisingly few questions although most of the personnel in this group had either been consulted directly or briefed fairly thoroughly about their responsibilities before they had come to the meeting. Kresge began handing out final assignments, answering a few questions along the way. After about an hour, the meeting was adjourned.

  There were, however, two key personnel remaining who had not yet received their assignments. As the others were filing out, Kresge said, "Carlisle, Harris? I need to talk to both of you before you leave."

  The Commander felt a sense of dread as he contemplated the orders he would be giving next. The two younger officers took seats in the front row. Kresge pulled a chair out of the row and set it down about a meter in front of them. He faced them, sitting backwards in the chair, his legs straddling the seat and his elbows braced across the top of the chair back. He looked his two officers over, collecting his thoughts, before he began their private briefing.

  "Lieutenant Harris, Ensign Carlisle. For you two I have a special assignment. It's no secret that this could be a really tough fight and...," he looked them over again, "...you two are the best people I have for what could be the toughest job that needs doing. It's no secret that you will be in grave danger but I don't know that I have any choice. Are both of you okay with that?"

  The two younger officers looked at one another and back at Kresge before nodding in unison.

  "This was pretty much your idea, Ensign. I think you should tell Lieutenant Harris what we've come up with."

  "You've decided to go ahead with my plan, Commander?" asked Carlisle.

  "With some minor modifications, yes."

  "Okay, I suggested that we map out a series of routes through several clusters of wrecks that we can negotiate rapidly with the Greyhound. We do our best to get the Greyhound matched up with that old Tunisian destroyer and then lead them on a chase through the scrapyard that will take them into the line of fire of our charged weapons emplacements. Because of their previous history with the Greyhound, I'm thinking the Captain and crew of that destroyer will feel like they have a score to settle and will take the bait. Then we ambush them as they come past the charged weapons. That's the gist of it; have you changed anything, Commander?"

  Kresge shook his head and said, matter-of-factly, "No, I haven't. We don't know if it will work or not, but that's our plan."

  He looked directly at Carlisle.

  "I'm sure you've all but figured out what it is that I need, Ensign, since it was basically your idea. I need someone to man those two gun emplacements on the old Lexington and then be ready to provide backup for the gun crews on the two other wrecks that we charged the weapons on in that area of the Scrapyard, if needed. With your natural abilities, weightless combat training and that special suit, Ensign, you're about the only person I have that will be able to get from the bow to the stern of the ship quickly enough to man those guns if you should start to draw fire, which I'm afraid is almost certain.

  I don't have to remind you that there will be no shielding on any of those beam emplacements. As soon as you fire a single pulse beam, you will become a target. All of the enemy destroyers are packing plenty of punch with their 2000 gigajoule beams and with no shielding, a direct hit will probably destroy or severely damage any emplacement that takes a hit. Especially from the short distances any action is likely to involve. My suggestion is to aim the guns at the most opportune target, fire as quickly and as accurately as you can to inflict the most damage and then get the hell out of there. Especially with the second gun in the emplacement."

  "And me, Sir?" asked Harris.

  "You'll be on a two-man utility sled, in battle armor, and will be ready to evacuate Carlisle from the Lexington and then move her to another charged weapons emplacement on the Dallas or the Santiago if one of the other teams is compromised.

  I plan to station Amanda and Faiza on the Istanbul where they'll be monitoring what's left of the Scrapyard video surveillance system to help you both keep track of enemy activity. All three of you equipped with wrist computers will be wearing the cranial nets and the two of them will be in constant contact with you. They will also have schematics at hand for the various ships you may be on and, if you need help, they'll be able to help you negotiate the wrecks. Onboard the Istanbul they should be relatively safe and with access to all those video cameras they'll probably have the better view of the Scrapyard than anyone. Any questions?"

  "What about the mining ships?" asked Carlisle, her concern evident.

  "They are going to lay low and make like they're part of the Scrapyard. I've told them to run for it if things look like they're going too badly. I don't know if those big mining lasers will be effective in a fight or not."

  "How are you planning to use the Marines, Sir?" asked Harris.

  "I have split the marine contingent into two teams and they'll be operating the two assault cannons, one from each of the Rovers. I've got Chief Alle
n piloting the Rover I and Chief Jenkins on the Rover II. With all of his big game experience, Clancy Davis-Moore showed the Marines that he's a better shot with those rigs than any of them, and they've made him the gunner on team one. Their instructions are to remain hidden in the Scrapyard and to fire no more than two pulses per cannon before moving to another location. With any luck, they'll be able to stay ahead of the enemy. Those cannons obviously can't do much damage to the destroyers, but they should be very effective against the yacht and any armed merchantmen or, more importantly, any boarders, even those in battle armor." Here Kresge stopped again and contemplated his two young officers.

  "I can't tell you how important your job is and just how desperate our situation is. Those big guns on the wrecked cruisers are our best hope for any kind of offense. The Istanbul has the best shields and the four beam projectors that she's powering up are going to be capable of dealing some real damage. Unfortunately, the emplacements themselves are vulnerable and even with the Istanbul's shields extended to cover them, more than one good hit on either turret will probably take the emplacement out. If they aren't able to destroy or disable the enemy ships, or if the enemy takes out the Istanbul's weapons, it will be up to you two to do what you can. Your main task, however, is to work with Greyhound and the ambush plan. You're only going to have a limited number of shots and as soon as you shoot any of those guns you'll almost certainly be drawing fire, so make 'em count."

  "When do we take our position, Sir?" asked Harris.

  "When the enemy microjumps towards the Scrapyard, that will be your signal."

  Chapter 53.

  On board the yacht Carpathia somewhere in the Heard's World Star System, December 15, 2598.

  The Sheik of Barsoom looked out through the front viewport of his yacht at the small but formidable fleet of warships and support vessels that he had managed to scrape together over the last couple of years or so and nodded his head in satisfaction. He and the rest of his forces had been waiting for the arrival of the Perseus, one of the Meridian destroyers that had defected from the current government almost two weeks ago and, shortly after defecting, led the attack on Federation forces at the Santana Nexus, the action that had kicked off this entire campaign. The Sheik had seen the unmistakable flash of a ship coming in through the Whitney hyperlink point just a few minutes earlier and had received a communication from her Captain. He knew that the Perseus was waiting for the rest of them at the rendezvous point near the hyperlink gateway.