"Aye, aye, Sir," came the reply from the Dingo. "I'll leave two of my men here to make sure nobody tries any funny business. Are you detecting any more life signs on or near the wreck?"
"We're checking now. Sensors?"
"We have life signs in both locations, Captain," said the sensor operator, "I make it at least five people on the wreck and the original three outside of it. I presume the ones outside are standing guard as they appear to be armed with pulse rifles. I can't tell if any of the personnel inside the ship are armed or not. I certainly wouldn't bet against it!"
"Where are they located on the ship?"
The sensor operator checked his readouts again. "Captain, none of these life signs are anywhere near the drive systems, it looks like they're clustered in one of the main battery turrets."
"Just as we thought," said the Captain, "they're salvaging weapons."
She informed the Marines.
"Sergeant Kelly? We are detecting at least five lifesigns onboard the wreck. Three more of them are outside the ship. The five onboard the ship appear to be clustered near the aft main battery. Can you and some of your men in their battle armor perhaps go down there and have a little talk with them?"
"Aye, Cap'n Nesbitt," replied Kelly, "We've been itchin' to have a conversation with someone."
"Be as persuasive as you need to be, Sergeant."
"Aye, aye, Captain."
The Asimov's already deployed cutter transported a small prize crew over to the captured freighter and dropped them off. The cutter then picked up Kelly and four more marines, all of them outfitted with the Federation's most up to date battle armor and each of them carrying a combination pulse rifle/grenade launcher. The marines elected to leave their five point five gigajoule assault cannon behind on the Dingo, reasoning that with the Asimov directly overhead providing cover with a dozen similarly powerful projectors and the four far more powerful weapons of her main battery, the portable gun was probably unnecessarily redundant for this particular duty.
The shuttle touched down a hundred meters in front of the Veritian wreck and Kelly's men immediately deployed, two of them heading to port and three of them, counting Kelly, heading to starboard.
Captain Nesbitt made an attempt to contact the unknown forces on the moon. She reasoned that everyone on or near the wreck had to be wearing a space suit and therefore had to be equipped with short range radio communications.
"Attention workers on the Veritian wreck. This is the FNS Asimov. Put down your weapons and come out into the open with your hands up. You will not be harmed if you comply. We have armored marines advancing on the wreck and this destroyer will be covering the entire area. Anyone who elects to remain inside the ship be advised that we will open fire with our main battery if you aren't out here in the next five minutes. Since the wreck is unshielded, I think you know what that means. If you don't, we'll be more than happy to provide a demonstration!"
Two of three figures outside immediately scattered for the wreck. The other held his hands over his head and began walking slowly towards the Marines. He had not discarded his weapon, however.
"One of them looks like he wants to surrender, the others have gone into the wreck," radioed Kelly.
At that moment, the man who was approaching them dropped to one knee and began spraying the three marines approaching him with pulse rifle bolts. The man to Kelly's left staggered for a moment and stepped backward as a pulse bolt caught his battle armor in the center of the chest. The pulse bolt was no match for the armor, however, and the man inside remained unharmed. The attacker was immediately cut down by multiple pulse rifle bolts from Kelly and his other companion.
"The one who stayed outside just fired on us," radioed Kelly. "We had to take him down. Damned suicide soldiers!"
"I have an idea, Kelly," said Nesbitt, "You and your men back away from the ship. Let's give them the demonstration we promised. Weapons? I want two main battery pulse bolts targeted near the area where those life signs are clustered. Try not to hit them directly. Let's see how much fight they have left in them when they see that we mean business!"
"Aye, Sir! Targeting the compartment just aft of the area where the life signs are coming from." After a moment to train the projectors, the weapons tech contacted the Captain. "Ready to fire on your order, Sir!"
"Fire!" said Nesbitt.
Two bolts of pure destruction slammed into the aft region of the old wreck. With no shielding to deflect or reduce the impact of the pulses, the bolts penetrated deeply into the wreck, causing it to shudder violently.
Captain Nesbitt briefly reflected that the poor old wreck had already suffered so much damage that the additional pulse strikes from the Asimov were adding insult to injury, but she had deemed the tactic necessary. She was taking no chances with any of her precious personnel.
The Marines and the crew of the Asimov received a radio message five seconds later.
"Stop! No more! We're coming out!"
"I want to see your weapons before you place them on the ground," said Kelly. "Come out one at a time and lay down your weapons. Anyone who doesn't comply will be shot. This will be your only warning! Are we clear?"
"Yes, yes, we understand," came the response.
Within a minute, the first man came out of the wreck with his pulse rifle held high above his head. He came slowly out into the open and carefully placed his rifle on the surface of the moon. His sidearm followed shortly after. The process was repeated until there were seven men in spacesuits lined up on the surface of the moon next to the wreck. Off to one side off them was a loose, haphazard stack of weapons.
"As soon as we get these men secured I'm sending three of my men to the auxiliary control room in the center of the ship" radioed Kelly, "Commander Kresge requested that we collect all of the computers or drives and whatever else looks important from that control room and bring them back to the Scrapyard."
"I hear and understand," replied Nesbitt.
As soon as the prisoners were secured, three of Kelly's men went into the wreck in search of the control room. They were led by Corporal Donahue, the same Donahue that had accompanied Carlisle on her foray up to the bridge on a recent trip to this very wreck. Using schematics programmed into his battle armor computer, provided by Carlisle, Donahue and his fellow marines were able to go directly to the auxiliary control room.
What they found upon opening the sealed hatch was totally unexpected and quite remarkable. They entered a compartment that was completely and gloriously intact! The auxiliary bridge was almost an exact duplicate of the regular bridge though it was only about three quarters the size. While one of the men stood guard, on the off chance that there somehow happened to be undetected enemy remaining onboard, Donahue and the other marine went to work retrieving computers and computer drive components from the auxiliary bridge. After an intense forty-five minutes, they had managed to remove two complete computers and had pulled the drives on three more.
"I think we got everything, Captain," said Donahue.
"Good work, Corporal. Now let's get out of here so we can get on with the rest of our mission."
The three marines made their way out of the ship where they joined up with the others and boarded the cutter with their treasures and their prisoners.
Before the Asimov departed, Captain Nesbitt had one more task to perform.
"Weapons? I want you to target the two remaining intact weapons of the main battery on that wreck. No one is going to salvage any more of those big weapons off from her if I can help it!"
"Aye, Captain. Targeting intact weapons. Ready to fire on your order."
"Fire!"
The main batteries on the Asimov opened fire again, this time on the two remaining intact weapons turrets remaining on the old Veritian wreck. To make certain the weapons were utterly destroyed, the Asimov fired four pulses into each of the targets.
"That should do it," said Nesbitt. "There will be no more salvaging of main battery weapons from this wreck!"
/>
"This is Pride of Persia, under new management, Captain Nesbitt. Everything checks out. We can't find any damage outside of a couple of non-regulation openings up here on the bridge. Norbert is gluing on a couple of more permanent patches to replace the temporaries that the former crew put on. He should be finishing up in few more minutes. What are your orders when the repairs are completed?"
"I want you to take the ship directly back to the Reclamation Center," said Nesbitt. "They need those supplies! Meantime, we'll get over to the planet and get our own supply list filled."
"Aye, aye, Captain. Pride of Persia out."
"An unexpected bonus, Captain," said Sukamoto, "a freighter packed with a whole load of goods that we needed. Not a bad day all in all, I'd say."
"Yeah," replied the Captain. "Some days you just get lucky!"
***
The Pride of Persia made her way to the hyperlink point and headed for New Ceylon. The Asimov and the Dingo finally made their way over to Heard's World to load up more badly needed food and other supplies.
While the supplies were being rounded up and loaded, there was a reunion between the Jordans and their two children on the planet. Hanna and Caleb got updated on what had been going on with their farm and assured their son and their daughter that they would return home for good as soon as this frightful revolution business was over. Afterwards, the Jordans went back up to the Dingo with the last load of foodstuffs and made ready to return to the Scrapyard. Both of them knew that their services were far too valuable to the Federation forces for them to sit the rest of this conflict out.
Two Federation ships, one of them a fully loaded freighter and the other now a battle-tested warship, made their way towards the hyperlink point.
Chapter 35.
Santana Nexus Station, ring three, level one, January 9, 2599.
Salaam Alwadhi had just sat down in the back of his shop and was preparing to savor his mid-morning coffee when two of the Sheik of Barsoom's soldiers came sauntering into his store. Salaam eyed them warily. This particular work day had started out with some promise. He had actually had some paying customers first thing that morning and had made a couple of modest but decent sales. He looked longingly at the cup of New Ceylon Arabica he had just brewed so carefully before savoring a single long, slow sip. He let the aromatic brew caress his palate for a few seconds before he swallowed. He set the cup down and got up to deal with the unwanted interruption. As he headed towards the front of the store, he did his best to force his features into a neutral expression, though doing so required some effort. An intrusion by two of the Sheik's henchmen could only mean trouble.
One of the soldiers made a show of examining a merchandise display in the front of the store while the other came deeper into the shop to confront Salaam.
"A good day to you, Merchant Alwadhi," said the soldier, with mock heartiness, "How goes your business this fine day?" He was a large, muscular and imposing man with what looked like a permanent scowl on his face.
"As well as can be expected," said Salaam, tentatively.
"What is that supposed to mean?" the man shot back, his demeanor immediately changing from hearty to threatening, "Do you take issue with the Sheik of Barsoom's policies?"
"Not at all..." Salaam took in the man's rank and read his name on the front of his uniform, "...Sergeant Hajjar, I am but a businessman and any kind of disruption in normal routines is usually bad for business."
"You would do well not to share your negative opinions too freely, my friend," said Hajjar. "The Sheik does not take kindly to those who oppose him."
"I shall keep that in mind, Sergeant," replied Salaam, he favored the man with a short bow. "Please accept my sincere apologies."
"That's better," came the reply, "It appears you are a quick learner. Perhaps you can help us? My companion is in need of a gift for his wife. Have you found something you like, Malaka?"
"Yes, Hajjar, this carving will do nicely." The man was holding up one of the fine carvings that had been delivered by the Dingo. Salaam had just put a few items from Davis-Moore's shipment on display earlier that morning.
"Ah yes," said Salaam, "a new shipment came in just in a week or so ago. Imported from Beta Zealand, they are. Those are very fine, but for you I can cut a deal. Please, allow me to wrap that up so it doesn't get damaged. It will only take a moment, Sir."
Salaam carried the item over to the checkout console in the front of the store where he bent down behind the counter and retrieved a small gift box. He then took the exquisite little carving and carefully wrapped it in tissue paper before placing it gingerly in the box and putting on the cover. He pushed the box across the counter towards the soldier who had picked it out.
"And how will you be paying for it, Kind Sir?" Salaam asked politely.
The sergeant grinned wickedly. "Send the bill to the Sheik of Barsoom!" he said as he picked up the box and handed it to his accomplice.
The two men walked out of the store laughing. Salaam struggled to control his anger; he knew that any show of defiance on his part would no doubt be met with swift punishment. The stolen item had been worth three times the profit he had made on his meager sales earlier in the day. It galled him to be robbed so blatantly and he despised the feeling of being so powerless.
Salaam forced himself to calm down. The carving was an expensive item but certainly not worth a beating or jail...or worse. Upon further reflection, the two thugs hadn't damaged any other merchandise nor had they physically harmed him. He supposed that he should count himself fortunate.
The shop next door, "Fahima's Fine Fashions," was operated by a man named Gamal Kattan and his wife Fahima. Salaam's neighbors were not to be so lucky, however. Salaam had retrieved his cup of coffee and was enjoying it while he reorganized the display that the Sheik's goon had left in disarray while choosing his "gift" when he heard a commotion from outside in the corridor.
Carefully peeking around the opening of the front door of his shop, he saw the same two thugs who had menaced and robbed him just a few minutes earlier dragging Kattan out into the main corridor. Fahima had followed them outside and was in the process of exhorting the two goons not to harm her husband; trying, and failing, to convince them that there had been an unfortunate mistake. Sergeant Hajjar backhanded the man viciously, knocking him to the floor of the corridor.
"Get up!" said Hajjar.
Kattan managed to make to his knees but not quickly enough to suit the sergeant.
"I said get up!" Hajjar drew his pulse pistol and placed the projector end against the side of the storeowner's head. "You will learn to obey when the Sheik's men give an order!"
The man's wife began to wail uncontrollably. The storeowner kept his eyes on the floor, shivering in fear and apologizing slavishly the entire time. With a look of pure malice, the sergeant fired his pulse pistol but not before, thank the Prophet, he had intentionally altered his aim to miss the poor man's head and strike the floor of the corridor instead.
"You live, for now! Do not second guess the Sheik's soldiers ever again!"
Using his foot to shove the man sideways, the sergeant toppled his victim over, leaving the poor man sprawled on the corridor floor, bruised, terrified and totally humiliated.
"Perhaps we need for this man to set an example," said Sergeant Hajjar. "You!" he said, looking directly at Salaam. "You will help us take this man to Rahman Halabi. His loyalty is in doubt and he is to be questioned. Follow us, now!"
The two soldiers turned their backs on the shopowner they had just brutalized and began to head down the corridor. The poor, beaten man remained on the floor, shaking uncontrollably. Salaam shook his head, at least his neighbor was alive. From the rumors that Salaam had been hearing, others had not been so lucky.
"By the Prophet, Salaam," said the man's wife, nearly hysterical with fear. "I told him not to defy those men but this time the leader made unwanted advances on me. How else was he supposed to respond? What are we to do?"
"I wis
h I knew, Fahima," replied Salaam, "I suppose I should consider myself fortunate, they merely robbed me, but I know men like these. Such men will always find an excuse to brutalize someone helpless. I will do what I can to make sure the Sheik's interrogator hears the truth. Pray for us." Salaam helped his neighbor get unsteadily back up on his feet and supported him as the two of them followed the Sheik's two thugs to the office of the dreaded interrogator.
The shopkeeper's wife nodded her head numbly and helplessly watched them go, wringing her hands and sobbing.
Salaam called out to her, "Put the 'closed' sign in my window if you would, Fahima, and close my door. I hope we are back before nightfall. You...you should do your best be absent during the times when these men return. "
The neighbor's wife went to close up Salaam's little shop.
Sergeant Hajjar used a small communicator to call someone as the two guards and the prisoner with his supporter headed for the nearest spoke elevator. When they arrived, the two thugs handed the shopkeeper and Salaam off to a young corporal who met them at the elevator. The older men gave the younger one some instructions and then continued on their rounds.
The young soldier accompanied them as they got on the elevator and headed inward to the central spindle of the Station. There they took one of the spindle elevators all the way down to the central hub of the tenth ring. Another spoke elevator ride took them out to the tenth ring itself. After a short walk down the corridor, the two of them were ushered into the civilian detention area where Kattan was locked up in a small holding cell. Salaam fidgeted for more than two hours in a crowded waiting area filled with frightened people as various prisoners were taken out of the abundant holding cells and escorted out to be interrogated.
None of them ever came back. Salaam couldn't decide if that was a good sign or not.
Finally a soldier came for Salaam's neighbor. As the poor man stumbled out of the cell, the guard motioned to Salaam. "You? Help this man to the interrogation room."
Junkyard Dogs series Omnibus Page 96
