From the other side of the bridge came an even more ominous announcement.
"Captain Shalhoub, Sir?"
"What is it?'
"It's the Cheetah, Sir, she's...she's gone, Sir!"
"Gone? What do you mean by that?"
"I mean she was in formation right next to us and after that energy spike she has been replaced by a cloud of plasma!"
"Impossible! Continue to investigate! Communications? Open a channel to all ships."
"Channel open, Sir."
"All ships, maintain formation and continue your attack, the Cheetah has had a...a weapons malfunction. Continue acquiring targets and fire at will!"
***
UTFN Reclamation Center, onboard the wreck of the FWS Gibraltar, January 4, 2599.
Back in the belly turret of the Gibraltar, the turret rotation machinery kicked in for about a second and a half before reaching the requested coordinates and kicking back off again. Carlisle rocked her left foot back to elevate the port projector and bring it into alignment with her next selected target, another of the lead enemy destroyers. While in the process of elevating the gun, she could hear the sound of the capacitor reaching full charge. Steuben called out, "Port capacitor is charged and ready, Ensign!"
Once again, she made a couple of fine rotational adjustments using gentle taps of her right foot and then used her left foot to adjust the projector's elevation. As the projector elevated, the crosshairs swung into perfect alignment with her selected target, and she once again squeezed the firing stud. Again the monster pulse beam projector roared its fury! This time Carlisle kept her eyes focused through the periscope and watched as the pulse engulfed the target. There was a searing flash as the woefully inadequate shields on the target ship flared far beyond overload and the gargantuan pulse bolt converted a second enemy destroyer into another cloud of plasma that glowed fiercely for a second or two before beginning to dim almost immediately thereafter.
***
Deep Space, near the UTFN Reclamation Center, on board the destroyer MIS Sultan, January 4, 2599.
"What in the name of...?" shouted Shalhoub. "Sensors? What in all the nine hells is happening?"
The sensor operator was working hard to keep the panic out of his voice.
"This cannot be...!"
"What is it, sensors?"
"It...it appears to be a...a battleship projector pulse beam, Sir. The readouts are...impossible! They indicate a pulse strength of nearly 50,000 gigajoules! We are helpless against such weapons?"
"Communications? A channel to all ships, quickly!"
"Channel open, Sir!"
"Strike Force ships, break off your attack immediately, this enemy has some sort of secret weapon and has destroyed two of our ships! I repeat, began retreating immediately!"
The ships of the once proud Revolutionary Strike Force made a series of ragged turns that headed them away from the Scrapyard and back in the direction of the system hyperlink point.
***
UTFN Reclamation Center, onboard the wreck of the FWS Gibraltar, January 4, 2599.
The Scrapyard defenders were overjoyed to see that the enemy formation had ceased to advance. Even better, the enemy was retreating and was obviously in total confusion.
Carlisle wasn't done though. She called up to the fire control console. "Once more, Steuben, bring the rotation to zero point four one starboard. I'll do the elevation from here."
Carlisle waited until her chosen target was in rough alignment before fine tuning the rotation with the foot control. Again she brought the big projector into alignment with another one of the enemy ships.
"Capacitor is fully charged, Ensign!" shouted Steuben.
Targeting was somewhat more difficult this time around. Before, Carlisle had been able to aim at clearly visible, nearby targets that weren't moving. With the ships retreating, she was now firing at them from the rear and all she could see of any of the enemy ships was the bright glow from their reaction drives. She did her best to center the aim of the gun on the drive signature of one of the ships but she discovered that getting the gun properly aimed was a lot harder. She took her best guess and fired the projector. This time the aim of the pulse was just slightly off and the huge pulse bolt passed between two of the enemy ships. Both of them were caught in the outer fringes of the incomprehensibly powerful bolt and their shields flared to violet incandescence before both of them failed. Neither of the ships was destroyed, but a number of vital systems went down on each and had to be replaced by emergency backups.
The enemy, who still wasn't quite sure what had hit them, had obviously had enough of it. One by one the enemy ships began to raggedly microjump back towards the hyperlink point as quickly as they could, the two damaged ships limping along in the rear.
"Capacitor is charged, Ensign!" called out Steuben.
Carlisle was drawing a bead on one of the two stragglers when she got a call from Kresge.
"Cease fire, Ensign! The enemy is in full retreat. We've won! We don't know how many pulses that old gun has left in it and we might just need it again!"
With her blood running hot from the heat of the battle, Carlisle found herself preparing to argue with the Commander but caught herself in time. Reluctantly, she released her death grip on the fire control.
"Aye, aye, Sir, Gibraltar standing down," she said.
Against all odds, the Scrapyard had once again successfully fought off an enemy attack and the little Federation stronghold was again safe!
At least for the time being.
Chapter 22.
UTFN Reclamation Center, onboard Federation Auxiliary ship Greyhound, January 4, 2599.
The entire Reclamation Center command staff met again several hours after the second battle for the Scrapyard was over. All of the enemy ships had translated out of the system. Kresge had been a little surprised but had voiced no objections when the Ambassador had requested that the meeting take place on the Greyhound instead of the Istanbul.
Kresge asked for quiet before he started the discussion.
"First off, I'd like to recognize the crew that worked the weapons on the Gibraltar. Lieutenant Harris, Commander Raghib, Chief Hawkins and Frank Talbot in engineering and Caleb Jordan, Orville Steuben and Ensign Carlisle down in the belly turret. Good shooting Ensign!"
The room broke out into well-deserved applause.
"As for the rest of us...Excellent job everyone, we had everything ready to go in time to defend the Scrapyard. I'm not one bit ashamed to say thank God most of our preparations weren't needed!"
More applause.
"In the final tally, we managed to destroy two enemy ships and badly damage two more of them." His manner became a little more subdued. "Our own losses were four killed and five wounded. While we really can't afford to lose anybody, I'd call that a success by any measure!"
"I am in full agreement with the Commander," added Kingston, "Well done, everyone! The enemy will definitely think twice before attacking the Reclamation Center again anytime soon. Along those lines, might I suggest that we get at least one more of those old battleships powered up? We could turn the Reclamation Center into 'Fortress Scrapyard' and no one in the Quadrant would dare to attack us."
"Lieutenant Harris?" said Kresge. "You were just out there inspecting those battleships. Is this plan feasible?"
"I believe so, Commander. There are at least two more of the battleships that look intact enough that we could take a stab at powering them up," replied Harris. "Now that we've actually proved the concept, it shouldn't be that hard to do."
"Could we also power up and man some of the secondary weapons on those ships?" asked Kresge. "It wouldn't hurt to have a little extra insurance."
"We can look into it, Commander" said Raghib, "With the ships just sitting stationary and no propulsion necessary, there shouldn't be any shortage of power."
Kresge's eyes swept the room and came to rest on Ensign Carlisle who was frowning as she worked a problem over in her mind.
He realized that with the cranial net that connected her to her wrist computer, she could be contemplating almost anything. Based on past experience, he decided that it was probably a good idea to find out what was going on inside her head.
"Carlisle?" said the Commander. "You're looking thoughtful and that usually means something off the wall is coming. What are you contemplating now?"
"...Enemy stronghold...Santana Nexus...I have another idea, Commander," said Carlisle.
"I thought as much," responded Kresge, "Okay, Ensign, let's hear it?"
"Well...," she began tentatively, "...I don't have anything all that concrete as yet but...how about we look for a way to take the fight to them? The size of the Sheik's forces actually on the Santana Nexus Station can't be much more than a thousand men or so. There will certainly be more of them as they gather from all over the quadrant, but right now and for the near future, their forces will be relatively small. More than that, they'll be disorganized."
"Where do you expect to get enough personnel to overcome a thousand of the Sheik's men?" asked Kingston.
"We have allies scattered all over the Quadrant, Admiral. There are the miners on the Piedmont Station in the Catskill-Soroyan system and hundreds of other potential fighters in Patagonia plus the Santana Nexus itself has over 50,000 people on it. I can't believe that any more than a small portion of them are happy with the current arrangement. I'll bet we could easily recruit several thousand of them who would be really happy to see things return to the way they were. All they need is someone to show the way; some leadership."
"Let make sure I've got this straight," said Kingston, "You're suggesting that we leave the safety of the Scrapyard and attack the enemy at the Santana Nexus?"
"Well...Yes!"
"How do you propose getting anywhere near there without getting blown out of Space?" sniffed Kingston, "They still have at least twice as many destroyers as we do and oh, don't forget, that they also have that heavy cruiser."
"We have the Nasr, Sir," said Carlisle.
"The Nasr is only a single destroyer," Kingston snapped back, "how is that going to help?"
"The enemy forces don't know that the Nasr hasn't defected to the Sheik. In fact, she was part of a force that was known to have gone over to his side. With the other ships in that fleet destroyed and no one to tell them differently, the Sheik's men will think the Nasr is one of his. We could use that.
"Risky, Ensign," said Kingston, shaking her head, "Very risky."
"Nothing in war is without risk, Admiral," replied Carlisle. "Right now, we're cut off from the rest of the Federation. Whatever the enemy is doing to block Whitney transfers into this Quadrant is almost certainly happening in the Sol-Terra jump zone right in the Santana Nexus System. If we are to survive out here, we need to be able to go on the offensive. As I see it, we have to find a way to take this fight to the Santana Nexus! The Nexus system is the key to the entire Quadrant!"
"I have my doubts," said Kresge, "but I'm willing to hear her out."
After a long pause, the Admiral spoke up. "Since we're just entertaining possibilities, so am I. If nothing else, she is thinking well outside the box."
"Please continue, Ensign Carlilse," said Kresge.
Carlisle took a deep breath before complying, "With all due respect to the Captain and crew of the Nasr, one destroyer probably isn't going to make much difference to the defense of the Scrapyard. We would be better off having the Nasr go to the Nexus posing as another defected ship, just as they think she is. There's no reason she couldn't be escorting a freighter that she had encountered along the way. We load both ships up with some of our best fighters and use those ships to get some of our personnel into the system and onto the Nexus Station. Of course it will be dangerous but it could be the start of us taking the offensive against this confounded Revolution for a change instead of just reacting to whatever plan they come up with next."
"Are you up for that, Bishara?" asked the Ambassador.
"I am at your command, Excellency."
"I have some contacts on the Nexus Station who I know we can trust," said Clancy Davis-Moore, "one of them is a former Special Forces officer."
"Excellent," said Kresge.
"Meantime," said Carlisle, "we begin rounding up able-bodied fighters from our part of the quadrant. How many men could you safely carry on the Donegal, Captain O'Connell?"
Captain O'Connell gave his daughter a look that combined astonishment with equal parts of respect and pride. "Between the Donegal and the Glendaloch, we could probably squeeze in hundred and fifty men or so but it had better not be for a very long time. Recruiting them for a fight is not a bad idea, I personally know that there are a bunch of ex marines among the miners at Piedmont. After gettin' forced to hole up inside that asteroid, they'd be more than willing to fight against this Sheik of Barsoom. Knock a few heads together, if you get my drift."
"Who is our contact in Patagonia?" asked Kresge.
"Juan Carlos Montoya," said O'Connell. "He's the leader of the group inside the hollow asteroid. Mayor or Governor or something like that."
"I wonder if we couldn't combine several operations?" asked Kresge, of no one in particular. "We need to get provisions for the Scrapyard and we need to recruit fighters to liberate the Santana Nexus. With all of the Stage Two communicators down or destroyed, we also need to find out how things are going in the other remote parts of this Quadrant."
"We'd be happy to go to Piedmont and contact the miners," said O'Connell. "The current head of security out there is a former Federation Marine. We'd definitely want him on our team! After that, we could go to Patagonia and talk to Juan Carlos. They got some pretty bad treatment from these revolutionists and I don't think we'd have any trouble getting some recruits from there."
"What about Heard's World," asked Kresge.
"You might recruit a few of the young people who want to do something besides farming, Commander," said Caleb Jordan, who came from Heard's World. "They'll be hard workers but they won't have had much training for war. I suppose it depends on what we need them to do."
"We might be best served if we use Heard's World as our breadbasket," mused Kresge. "If we don't eat, we won't be doing much fighting."
"What else have we got for ships that we could use for these missions?" asked Kresge.
Admiral Kingston watched the interplay between the various players with great interest and more than a little chagrin. These people, who were calling themselves the "Junkyard Dogs," were a mixed force of military and civilian personnel from several distinct cultures that had been thrown together out of sheer necessity. She shook her head. Against all logic, the diverse group seemed to be working together pretty damned well! She could see part of the reason why; it was the special set of circumstances and the unique personalities of the people. The civilians didn't distrust the Military personnel and the Military personnel didn't disrespect the civilians.
That and...perhaps some of her initial impressions had been wrong. This upstart Spacer ensign was nothing short of...brilliant! There was simply no other way to describe her. It was easy to see that the people at this meeting both adored and respected her. Kingston was beginning to understand why. She was a wild card... a lucky charm... a game changer! People like that could help win battles just by their effect on others. Nor was she without substance! It had been her at the controls of the weapon that had just turned back an attack by a major force of enemy ships!
Kingston had no illusions about her own ability to lead these people into a fight, she was a career bureaucrat and she knew it, combat had never been any part of her peacetime tenure in the navy and was emphatically not her specialty. But she was a good enough leader that she could recognize a rallying point from which to galvanize these people into action. This unconventional, beautiful, tough little Ensign was one of those rallying points. Even if they didn't go through with her outrageous plan to attack the Santana Nexus, getting the rest of the Quadrant organized and ready for a fight
was a damned good idea! Kingston decided to go with the flow, at least for the time being. She waited for a lull in the brainstorming session and used it to get back into the discussion.
"I see that this line of thinking may be worth pursuing," said Kingston. "The enemy almost certainly won't be expecting any kind of counterattack. I say we proceed with the preliminary stages of this plan and see what happens. We need supplies and we need to make contact with the other people in the Quadrant and see if they have any interest in getting involved. I don't think the enemy will be coming back to attack this Scrapyard for a while. The Asimov is at your disposal, Commander."
Carlisle looked at the Admiral and thought she could detect a ghost of a smile. The old woman gave her a short and almost imperceptible nod.
With the Admiral throwing her support behind the project, the planning began in earnest.
"Thank you, Admiral Kingston," said Kresge, "We'll send the Asimov to Heard's World and we'll send one of our freighters with her. I'm thinking the Dingo. At the same time, we send the two mining ships on a loop through to Catskill-Soroyan and Patagonia."
The meeting broke up about a half hour later. As the personnel were filing out, Kresge was approached by the Ambassador.
"May I speak with you in private, Commander?"
"Of course," replied Kresge.
The two of them went into Kresge's "office." The Ambassador closed the door behind himself.
"I imagine you're wondering why I suggested we have this meeting on the Greyhound," said the diplomat."
"It had crossed my mind," replied Kresge.
"We have a serious problem, Commander."
"I know," replied Kresge. "I heard about the attack on Sondia, is her attendant okay?"
"Yes, thanks be to Allah, she will be fine. We also caught her attacker."
"Have you been able to find out anything?"
"Not a lot so far, Commander. We have been so distracted by the pace of events since the attack on the Nexus that we have had no time to stop and think about this problem in a proper fashion. That changes now."
Junkyard Dogs series Omnibus Page 86
