Junkyard Dogs series Omnibus

by Phillip Nolte

Several seconds later, a pulse lanced out from the front turret of the enemy destroyer and struck one of the 'wrecks' in the line of cruisers. The personnel on the bridge of the Perseus momentarily saw the deep purple glow of a military-grade energy shield on their displays.

  They had found the Istanbul. The pulse beam strike had impacted her shields and highlighted the entire ship from stem to stern!

  "Skorpios?" called Hassad on the radio. "I believe we have located the Ambassador's ship. Come over and take a position on the opposite side. With our combined fire we should be able to wear down his shields fairly quickly. Get those boarding parties into position as well."

  "What of the armed cargo ship?" came the reply.

  "We'll just have to keep an eye out for it."

  The two enemy destroyers began to maneuver into position.

  ***

  UTFN Auxiliary Ship Greyhound.

  "Damn it, they've found the Istanbul already!" exclaimed Kresge, clenching his fist. "Hold your fire, everyone! We want them all in a position where they can only maneuver slowly before we open fire. We must make every shot count. I want this business over as quickly as possible!"

  The enemy support vessels now began to enter the scrap cloud and headed ominously towards the newly revealed Istanbul.

  A few moments later, Kresge gave the order to fire.

  "It isn't going to get any better than this," he said. "Open fire, now!"

  One of the two emplacements connected to the Istanbul opened fire. The Perseus took a direct hit. At almost the same moment, the Greyhound opened fire on the Skorpios, which was still in the process of maneuvering into position for the coordinated attack on the diplomatic ship, scoring a hit near the bridge area. Down in the lower portion of the Greyhound's transplanted turret, the gun crew worked feverishly to bring a fresh capacitor online.

  Chapter 56.

  UTFN Reclamation Center, December 16, 2598.

  On board renegade destroyer Perseus.

  On the bridge of the Perseus, a shocked Captain Hassad called out to his crew, several of whom were picking themselves up off the deck.

  "What in the name of Heaven was that?"

  "It was a pulse beam from a wrecked cruiser in that cluster of ships around the diplomatic ship, Sir!"

  "Status?"

  "No damage as yet, Sir, but that was a pulse from the main battery of a cruiser! Our shields are down to fifty percent! We won't be able to take too many more of those!"

  "How have they managed to power those weapons?"

  "I can't be sure, Sir, but I detect only partial shielding on that emplacement. A single pulse from us might take those guns out of action."

  "What are we waiting for? Target that emplacement! Use both of the forward guns!"

  Within twenty seconds, twin beams lashed out from the front turret of the Perseus, striking the target in question. The partial shielding flared weakly before it failed.

  The turret was half gone after the impact.

  "Skorpios here. The armed cargo ship has fired on us and revealed her position. Permission to pursue and engage?"

  "By all means, Captain Noori, I believe we can manage here without you for a time. Besides, you have a score to settle! Good hunting!"

  The Skorpios began to maneuver towards the position where the pulse beam from the Greyhound had originated.

  In the rear turret of the Perseus, Kalil Mohammad Khan and the rest of his gun crew were making ready. As they had remained loyal to the Ambassador and to the legitimate government of Meridian, they had been firing pulse beams from the rear turret, but were deliberately missing their targets. Over the course of the last several weeks, while the ship was under the command of the group of defected officers, Khan and his men had been carefully and discretely putting out feelers. They discovered that most of the crew had remained loyal to the current government but had been unwilling to come forward or to oppose their leaders as they were fearful not only for themselves but for their families. The coup that had shifted the ship to the side of the opposition had been led and was being sustained by only a portion of her crew, most of them belonging to a small group of her highest-ranking officers. As their ship was in the process of doing battle to capture the very man that many of them considered to be the next leader of the legitimate planetary government, most of the crew was prepared to take the ship back. They were only waiting for the right moment to do so.

  ***

  On board mining ship Donegal.

  Captain Seamus O'Connell, in the Donegal, parked a short distance away from the cluster of ships that was partially shielding the Istanbul, watched with growing concern as the enemy destroyer managed to take out one of the diplomatic ship's powered weapons with only a single salvo from their forward turret. The other powered turret was closer to the Ambassador's ship and was therefore somewhat better protected but would it, too, soon be destroyed, leaving the Istanbul with only her shields for protection? O'Connell waited as patiently as he could, awaiting any chance to lend a hand without recklessly exposing his own ship and endangering his crew.

  ***

  UTFN Auxiliary Ship Greyhound.

  Having succeeded in their goal of luring the Skorpios into a one on one encounter, the crew of the Greyhound was doing their best to play a game of cat and mouse with the hijacked destroyer. They were helped considerably by the number and the density of the wrecked ships which not only provided cover for the old vessel but also limited the mobility of the enemy ship. Murdock and Kresge, with Carlisle's help, had previously mapped out several routes through the scrap cloud that they could not only negotiate with reasonable speed but which also had the advantage of mostly keeping some kind of a wreck between them and any enemy who might be pursuing. They had even repositioned several ships earlier to provide them with unobstructed pathways.

  The enemy destroyer followed as quickly as she could but the entire encounter played out as a sort of slow-motion ballet. The Skorpios continued to fire at the Greyhound whenever they thought they had a clear shot but such opportunities had been few and intermittent. They had scored hits to several wrecks near the where the cargo ship had been but had yet to hit her. At such close range this lack of success was frustrating. Kresge led the old destroyer ever closer to the charged weapons on the Lexington. Finally, the Greyhound had to negotiate an unavoidable gap in the wreckage and the Skorpios was able to draw a bead and score a hit on her. The shields of the old cargo ship lit up, outlining her in a brilliant burst of violet.

  Chapter 57.

  UTFN Reclamation Center, December 16, 2598.

  UTFN Lexington, somewhere in the scrap cloud.

  Onboard the wreck of the Lexington, Carlisle waited for her opportunity. Shields blazing ominously, the Greyhound had passed Carlisle's position just moments earlier. She watched as the blunt snout of the former Tunisian destroyer came into view from behind the hulk of the old Federation cruiser right next door. She sat nervously, strapped into the gunner's chair in the "A" turret of the Lexington, both eyes at the objective lenses of the battle periscope set to aim the portside gun of the centerline turret.

  She kept a careful eye on the crosshairs while she used both hands, one on each of the manual cranks, to keep the beam projector aligned with her target. Heart pounding, she rapidly spun the horizontal crank that actuated the port/starboard movement of the turret with her right hand. The mechanical magnification required to move the mass of the turret meant that many turns of the crank were required to swing the turret only a few degrees. At the same time, she slowly turned the vertical hand crank with her left hand to make minor adjustments in the elevation of the portside pulse projector. She intended to draw a bead on the bridge area of the target ship. The bridge, while perhaps not the most vulnerable structure on the destroyer, was certainly the target likely to be the most disruptive to enemy effectiveness.

  Tactical mind operating at full potential, she went through a mental series of events that she would cause to take place within the next few mo
ments. She would do her utmost to severely damage the enemy ship with her first shot. If either of the turrets on the enemy ship began to turn in the direction of the turret she was in, she was going to have to quickly aim the starboard projector, and what would be her only remaining shot from this turret, and hope that the impact destroyed, disabled or disoriented the enemy. In any case, as soon as the second shot was fired, she was going to have to get the hell out of the turret and do her best to head aft, to crew the remaining charged turret. She found herself holding her breath as the enemy ship seemed to crawl out from behind the protection of the battleship wreck.

  Carlisle waited, made another minor adjustment to the elevation of the pulse projector and smoothly continued to work the horizontal crank. She flipped up the protective red cover over the firing stud and poised herself for the shot.

  Steady...steady, she thought, "...steady and now! The enemy ship was aligned as well as it was ever going to be, she gently triggered the firing stud. An incredible blaze of incandescent fury pulsed out from the beam projector. By instinct or by pure luck Carlisle had closed her eyes and was thus able to see the results of the shot. She was somewhat disappointed that there was no obvious damage but the lozenge-shaped shield of the destroyer was glowing in the bright violet hue that indicated a near-overload situation. She only had a second or two to enjoy the elation from the successful shot before she felt a bolt of pure panic as she saw the forward turret on the ship began to swing in her direction. The shields of the Skorpios may have been temporarily stressed but there was absolutely nothing wrong with her pulse beams!

  "Easy, Tamara," she told herself, "just line up the other projector, take the best shot you've got and get the hell out of here!"

  ***

  On board renegade destroyer Skorpios.

  "In the name of the Prophet what was that?" said Captain Noori of the Skorpios, after his ship had lurched violently and her shields had gone into an overload situation.

  "It was a pulse beam from the front turret of the cruiser wreck we just passed," said the engineer

  "Target that emplacement immediately!" shouted the Captain.

  "I think I know how they are able to utilize those weapons, Sir," said the engineer, Jubayr. "They must have developed a method to charge the capacitors sometime earlier. If I am correct, they will only be able to fire a single pulse from any of the weapons they have charged. As there is no power to the emplacements, they must also be aimed and fired manually. I am reading limited life signs on some of the wrecks. I surmise that there are Federation personnel onboard them to man the charged guns. We must do something to neutralize this threat, those weapons are extremely dangerous!"

  "Perseus?" said Captain Noori, on ship to ship radio.

  "Perseus here," came the reply.

  "We believe that the defenders managed to charge up some of the weapons on these old wrecks sometime earlier. They have only managed to charge up a few of them and they will only be able to fire a single pulse from each projector. Also, someone must be onboard to manually aim and fire the weapons. We are reading only a single life sign from several of the wrecks."

  "Thank you, Skorpios. See that you take appropriate action. We shall continue to wear down the shields on the Istanbul. Boarders will be deployed very soon. Perseus out.

  "Fahada?" said the Captain of the Skorpios. There is an enemy gunner onboard the wreck of that cruiser between us and that armed cargo ship. Sensors, how close can you pinpoint the life sign?"

  "I should be able to tell her where they are located within a distance of about twenty meters, Sir."

  "You know what to do, Fahada."

  "As you wish, Sir," replied the deadly operative.

  ***

  Onboard the wreck of the UTFN Lexington, somewhere in the scrap cloud.

  Carlisle continued to concentrate on the task at hand.

  The beam projectors in the front turret of the old cruiser were still roughly lined up on the vector that the enemy destroyer was on. All Carlisle had to do was continue to work the horizontal crank with her right hand to align the starboard beam projector with the destroyer and take the shot. She spun the crank as rapidly as she could but, as before, the mechanical magnification required to swivel the large mass of the turret meant that the movement was agonizingly slow. In the meantime, the enemy would have his guns aligned within a few more seconds.

  "No time, Tamara," she said to herself, "take the shot!" She flipped up the protective trigger cover for the starboard projector and, without wasting time on further analysis, triggered the beam weapon. Again a beam of destruction flashed out from the old projector.

  Carlisle hadn't waited around to see whether the shot had been effective or not, she was out of the turret, down through the capacitor room and out into the main corridor of the old cruiser within five seconds. She was another twenty meters down the corridor and was just dogging a hatch behind her when she felt the impact of the enemy's weapon on the turret she had just vacated. She felt a momentary wash of relief over the realization that she had gotten out in time but wasted no time on reflection. The preplanned course that the Greyhound was following was deliberately designed to lead the enemy ship around the stern of the Lexington. She had to get to the aft turret!

  Unobserved by Carlisle was a small figure, in a light reconnaissance suit, that left the destroyer and headed towards the wreck Carlisle was on.

  As they had done previously during the earlier battle for the Scrapyard, and in keeping with ages old Naval tradition, Harris and Carlisle had each chosen call signs to use for communications during the battle. As before, Carlisle was to be known as "Vixen" and Harris as "Java." The two young women on the Istanbul had chosen the very apt label of "Pointer."

  "Someone just got off from that ship and is headed your way, Vixen" sent Faiza, over their special wristcomp cranial network. "Whoever it is, they're wearing some kind of special suit."

  "Thanks, Pointer," Carlisle sent back

  The figure in the reconnaissance suit steered towards the wreck of the cruiser that Carlisle was heading through. The reconnaissance suit was outfitted with a compact thruster belt and it looked like the individual using the suit was well versed in operating it.

  Harris, intent on keeping the hulk of the old cruiser between himself and the approaching destroyer, maneuvered the agile two-man sled down along the starboard side of the wreck. A cloud of debris and splinters had blasted overhead when the bolt from the destroyer's front beam projector had impacted the unshielded turret. He felt a sinking feeling, not knowing if Carlisle had escaped the deadly beam or not. Embroiled in his own effort to stay alive, he did his best to suppress the thought, instinctively aware that it was death to be distracted by something he had no control over. If Carlisle had survived and needed him and the sled, she would call him on the battle frequency and tell him where she would be. All Harris had to do was cruise by within fifty meters of Carlisle's location and she would vault over to him, using a tether and her considerable weightless gymnastics skills to rendezvous with the sled and safety.

  "Safety" being a very relative term.

  ***

  UTFN Auxiliary Ship Greyhound.

  In the rush to get the shot off before the turret was destroyed, Carlisle's second pulse bolt had unfortunately been a near miss. Kresge chose an interval while the Greyhound was exposed during the crossing of an unavoidable gap in the scrap cloud to take another shot at the enemy ship with his own weapon. It took a moment for Caleb Jordan, the unanimous choice for Greyhound's new gunner, to draw a bead but the pulse from the portside projector was a clean hit. The pulse was not powerful enough to damage the old destroyer, but her shields, still not recovered from the much more powerful blast dealt by the old cruiser pulse beam, had now become dangerously overloaded. Unfortunately, the Greyhound's crew was not able to maneuver quickly enough to get their ship behind the cover of the next wreck on their preplanned route before the Skorpios fired a beam from her aft turret, scoring a hit. The
Greyhound's shields again flashed bright violet.

  On board the Greyhound, all was chaos.

  "Commander!" shouted Hawkins, over the intercom. "You've got t'get us under some kind of cover right away. The shields be past maxed out! We can't be takin' another hit 'till they recover some. The power plant be so badly overloaded that I be feared she'll shut down if someone so much as turns another light on!

  "I hear you, Chief Hawkins. Helm, take us behind that battleship to port. We need some time to recover!"

  The Greyhound went into hiding in the hulking shadow of a huge battleship wreck, hoping for a chance to catch her breath.

  Chapter 58.

  UTFN Reclamation Center, December 16, 2598.

  Onboard the wreck of the UTFN Lexington, somewhere in the scrap cloud.

  Fahada, the operative in the agile reconnaissance suit, made rendezvous with the old cruiser. Whoever the Federation personnel were, Fahada was determined that they would not leave the old wreck alive. There were many ways to kill a person in a space suit, beam weapons were naturally very effective, if somewhat quick, but simply stabbing a sharp object through the suit envelope would be more than sufficient to do the job.

  She smiled wickedly. This was going to be fun!

  ***

  Within the relative, albeit mostly pitch black, safety of the interior of the wrecked cruiser, Carlisle had been relying on her suit lights to navigate the narrow corridors that led to the aft turret. The news that an enemy was also on the ship with her changed all that. Not wanting to take any wrong turns, and unwilling to risk giving away her position by the light from a holo display, she contacted Faiza and Amanda for guidance using the cranial net several times along the way. Each time, one of the two younger women had projected the requested holo display directly to Carlisle. All the Ensign had to do was close her eyes and she could see the projection.