"That is good news, Heskim," said the Ambassador. "In fact, maybe we can use this. Is it possible for us to replace these messages with ones of our own? That could prove to be a very useful tool."
"Of course, Excellency, it should be no problem. Just tell me what you would like me to send," replied Heskim.
"I'll contact Commander Kresge," said the diplomat.
With Kresge's help, the three of them carefully replaced the informant's messages with information of their own. They painted a bleak picture of the situation at the Reclamation Center, of an outpost that was demoralized, fragmented and running out of both food and medical supplies. They went even further, reporting that Federation ships had been destroyed in the Heard's World System and in Catskill-Soroyan, just within the last couple of days. They added that the Pride of Persia should be arriving at the Santana Nexus shortly with a load of supplies and with two powerful weapons that she had salvaged from the Veritian wreck. They then reported that the miners at Catskill-Soroyan had surrendered and that the Aladdin would also be arriving to attend the big meeting before returning to the mining station.
"That should do the trick," said Kresge when they had finished replacing the clandestine communications with messages of their own.
"We'll send out a Stage II communication right away," said the Ambassador, "Whoever receives these messages should have this information within the next hour or so. The enemy will not be expecting us to attack the Nexus. Quite the opposite, in fact!"
"Just the way I like it," replied Kresge.
Chapter 49.
Santana Nexus System, Whitney hyperlink zone, January 13, 2599.
The Nasr phased through the hyperlink point for the Santana Nexus system. In addition to the crew of the Meridian destroyer, there were over seventy infiltrators onboard including Clancy Davis-Moore, who was to be their contact with the resistance; Ensign Carlisle, who was their best zero and low gravity fighter; Orville Steuben, who was an expert on orbital station systems, especially with electronics; Kelly and all six of his marines and another sixty-some personnel, hand-picked for their fighting abilities or their expertise with space station systems. Many of them were Meridians, loyal to the Ambassador, who could easily infiltrate the ranks of the Sheik's Islamic revolution.
Within less than a minute, Nasr was challenged by acting commander of the Hercules, who was still maintaining a somewhat lackadaisical station near the jump zone.
"By order of the Sheik of Barsoom, you will identify yourself and state your business," came the somewhat bored challenge.
On the bridge of the Nasr, Captain Bishara, making sure that none of his Federation allies was visible in the video feed he was replying on, had his response ready. He did his best not to appear too nervous.
"This is Captain Bishara of the Meridian Imperial Ship Nasr," he replied. "Long live the Sheik's Glorious Revolution! Our patrol group was attacked by a force of Federation jackals out in the Oneida system. They took us by surprise and were able to overwhelm three of our destroyers. Lieutenant Commander Salib of the Asad was killed. We have wounded that will need further medical assistance. As you can see, we also have some damage from the battle."
"Yes, we can see that. A moment, Nasr, we must check our records."
"Understood," replied Bishara. He toggled the audio off as he waited for the response.
"Federation jackals?" asked Clancy Davis-Moore.
Bishara shrugged. "It is the type of language they expect. Nothing personal, you understand."
Davis-Moore shrugged in return but couldn't entirely suppress a look of amusement.
The acting Captain of the Hercules came back onto the video.
"Our records indicate that you are part of a force of four destroyers under the Command of Lieutenant Commander Salib. He has not checked back in with us. You say you have news?"
"Yes, three of our ships were...badly damaged in the cowardly Federation attack. The communications platform was also damaged. I am here to drop off our wounded and pick up some supplies before I head back."
"What of the other three destroyers?"
"The other three ships are still holding the system and are attempting field repairs. One of the ships is damaged badly enough that proper repairs will require replacement parts as well. I am to rendezvous with a freighter out here at the hyperlink point sometime later today. He's supposed to be bringing the assemblies that I need."
"There is also a modest inventory of repair parts that were left behind when the Federation Jackals fled from the station after our glorious attack, Captain Bishara," came the reply, "You may be able to find some other materials you can use to repair those ships, you'll just have to check with the supply people after you get your wounded squared away. You are cleared to approach the North Airlock, a medical team with a shuttle will meet you there. Welcome to the Santana Nexus and the Sheik of Barsoom's Glorious Revolution!"
"Long live the Revolution," said Bishara as he signed off. Clancy Davis-Moore shook his head in mock disgust.
***
Having satisfied the challenge posed by the Hercules, the Nasr microjumped towards the Nexus Station. A half hour later, she arrived at the docking area. The Nasr was cleared to temporarily dock near the large commercial airlock on the north end of the giant, ten-ringed construct that was the Santana Nexus station. Bishara carefully maneuvered his ship to the docking area near the huge air curtain airlock and waited for the medical shuttle to come out to his ship.
It was surprising to him how easily a perceived medical emergency could override normal precautions. Then again, there had probably not been any hostile ships coming to the Nexus since the takeover by the Sheik and the Nasr was actually listed as part of a force that was considered to be in the Sheik's camp.
As soon as the medical shuttle docked with the Nasr, a doctor and his team, intending to perform triage and get the most seriously wounded personnel back to the Nexus Station and into the medical facilities first, asked to be escorted to the wounded. Because the medical personnel anticipated needing all the space they could spare on the shuttle, they had come with only a few staff members. The doctor and his team were met by Sergeant Kelly and his fellow Marines and detained. Several of the Nasr's complement entered the shuttle, escorting personnel who appeared to be patients who were wounded but able to move under their own power. The pilot and co-pilot of the shuttle came in to render assistance and, they too, were immediately subdued and captured.
The Junkyard Dogs now had control of a medical shuttle along with an open invitation to board the Nexus Station!
With several of the Junkyard infiltration team dressed up in medical gear and another two dozen operatives posing as wounded men or their attendants, the shuttle departed on the short, two-minute trip to the north airlock of the Nexus. Once inside, they went through a desultory inspection before being allowed to disembark from the shuttle and board the spoke elevator for transport out to the first level of ring one where the infirmary was located. As the invaders rode the spoke elevator outward towards the ring one, the "patients" among them began to shed their bandages and other medical paraphernalia. Upon reaching the first level of ring one, the now normal-appearing personnel left the elevator area and faded immediately into the busy background hustle and bustle of the Nexus Station.
The medical shuttle, still under the command of the Junkyard Dogs, made two more runs to the Nasr before all of the infiltration forces had been shuttled onto the Station. After three tense trips of the shuttle, the Junkyard Dogs had managed to get over seventy men onto the station. The enemy was not yet aware that anything was amiss but the invading forces only had about a day, maybe a little more, before someone would sense that all was not as it should be and begin investigating, maybe even sounding some kind of alarm.
Over the course of the next three hours, the Pride of Persia and the Aladdin, both of them stuffed with fighters and their gear, also bluffed their way past the bored security people on the Hercules. These two ships pa
rked in the Station docking area and began disembarking more infiltrators in groups of two or three people at a time.
Chapter 50.
Santana Nexus Station, ring three, level two, January 13, 2599.
As soon as they were safely on the station, Carlisle, Steuben and Kelly went with Clancy Davis-Moore to find Salaam Alwadhi who was to be their contact with the Nexus Resistance. In another effort to maintain some semblance of normalcy, the Sheik of Barsoom had allowed the population of the Nexus Station to continue communicating with the rest of the Quadrant using some forms of correspondence. One of the outlets approved for Station residents was email messages to members of their immediate families. Salaam, who had no children, had been periodically sending emails to a "daughter" named "Imani," who was actually Clancy Davis-Moore. The emails with their carefully coded messages were routed through several different Stage II communicators before being finally delivered to the Scrapyard. Though they were delivered only sporadically, these messages had kept the Junkyard Dogs and the station resistance at least somewhat up to date on each other's activities.
Salaam occupied one of shop/residence units on the third ring of the Santana Nexus Station that actually spanned two levels. His curio shop was on the first level of the ring, where most of the businesses were located, while his residence was accessible from his store by negotiating a spiral staircase located discreetly in one of the back corners of the shop. Salaam had taken great pains to disguise that staircase from the Sheiks goons. The result was that the "guards" who had robbed Salaam had no idea that his shop was a two level affair. They had looked right at the disguised entrance to the staircase on several occasions and all they had ever seen was a wall, right where it appeared as though a wall should be.
The information on which of the shop units spanned more than one deck was not really all that hard to obtain, but none of the invaders, in their arrogance and their ignorance, had thought to ask for such information. The station bureaucrats, many of whom had been allowed to maintain their regular jobs, were actually performing a service for a change by making information as hard to get as they could reasonably manage without risking their lives or livelihoods.
It was after hours and Salaam's shop up on the first level was closed and locked with the lights turned off. Clancy Davis Moore knocked on the door to Salaam's home, which was located directly below the shop out on the second level of the third ring.
"Clancy!" said Salaam quietly, but he was obviously pleased to see his old friend. "Come in, quickly!"
Davis-Moore, Carlisle and Sergeant Kelly went into Salaam's apartment. Salaam, after glancing up and down the corridor, closed the door behind them.
"Good, it looks like you haven't aroused any suspicions," he said.
"Salaam, my old friend," said Davis-Moore as he embraced Alwadhi, "How are you?"
"As well as can be expected, Clancy," was the reply. "I will feel much better when this business is over."
"As will I, Salaam. Allow me to introduce my companions. This is Ensign Tamara Carlisle, our tactician; Orville Steuben is an electronics tech from the New Ceylon station and this is Sergeant Kelly of the Federation Marines. They'll be helping us out with the liberation."
"A pleasure, Ms. Carlisle."
"Tamara will be fine, Salaam."
"Tamara, it is. And greetings to you Sergeant Kelly."
The marine nodded in reply.
"And to you Mr. Steuben."
"Nice to meet you, Salaam. Everybody just calls me, Steuben."
"Steuben it is then. I thank you all for risking your lives and coming here to help us."
"We have every bit as much to lose as you do, my friend," said Davis-Moore.
"That is unfortunately true."
"Have you been able to come up with any kind of a plan, Salaam?" asked Davis-Moore.
"Yes, we have been making some rather elaborate preparations," said Salaam, "Now that you are here we can begin to set things in motion. Don't bother to get comfortable, we are leaving immediately. There is someone you must meet."
"Who?"
"It is best that I let him tell you who he is. When you find out, you'll know why he has gone into hiding since the takeover of the station. Come, it is but a short walk." He looked at Carlisle, and frowned, "Your clothes are fine but your outfit needs one more thing."
The Ensign was wearing a modest, Islamic Alliance-approved pants skirt that she had been given by the Ambassador's wife. Sondia reasoned that the split-legged skirt would allow Carlisle all of the freedom of motion she might need while, at the same time, not calling too much attention to her while she and her companions were in the Islamic sections of the Nexus Station. Salaam pulled a scarf from the closet near the outside door of the room.
"Ah, this is perfect," he said, "Tamara, if you cover your face with this scarf, we should be able to pass you off as my daughter. Clancy, you and the Sergeant can walk a few paces behind, as though you are guarding us. It is not far, we should be walking for less than ten minutes."
Carlisle used a mirror to arrange the scarf, making sure that it hid her Spacer Clan tattoo. A moment later, the conspirators slipped out into the main corridor of the second level. Salaam closed and locked the door behind them.
It was 'evening' on the station and the lights in the corridor had been dimmed accordingly. There were clusters of people in small groups, many of them obviously families, strolling up and down the corridor. Among them, the small knot of infiltrators went unnoticed. Even Kelly, with the obvious Spacer clan tattoo on the left side of his face, didn't draw any extra attention as the station population included a fair number of Spacers, many of whom were employed as bodyguards by some of the wealthier residents.
After a short walk, Salaam instructed his companions to wait in the bustling open expanse that marked the area where one of the spokes connected the first ring of the station to the spindle. Here, in this busy intersection, there were elevators and stairways that led upwards to the first level and downward to the third, fourth and fifth levels of the station. Salaam went across the spoke elevator area and disappeared into the corridor on the other side.
The three remaining conspirators conversed quietly about mundane topics while keeping a careful watch out for anything out of the ordinary. The spoke junction area was busy, which helped to hide them in plain sight. After less than five minutes, Salaam returned.
"We will be entering a restaurant. Follow me, we will go through the establishment as though we are to be seated in the back but just stay behind me and keep following."
The four of them retraced Salaam's earlier path and were ushered into a restaurant that specialized in Old Earth mid-eastern cuisine. The heavily spiced dishes and the freshly baked flatbreads produced by the establishment smelled delicious. As Salaam had promised, they filed through the crowded establishment and into what appeared to be a private dining room in the back. They did not stop, however, but exited the room through the service entrance in the back where they were escorted to yet another of the spiral staircases that spanned two decks of the station's ring.
They took the staircase downward and outward to a compartment on the third level of the ring. Salaam went to an undistinguished wall panel and, after fiddling with it, removed it, revealing an opening into a hidden corridor. The panel was only about half of the height of the hidden corridor beyond and all of them had to stoop to negotiate the opening. Davis-Moore and Carlisle were both reminded immediately of the hideout on the New Ceylon station that they had been able to use to successfully defend that orbital station just a few short weeks ago.
"Go ahead, it isn't far now," said Salaam. He pulled a hand torch out of a pocket as his companions entered the secret corridor.
Salaam followed them in and a co-conspirator from the restaurant replaced the panel behind them.
The group followed Salaam and his light down the dark corridor through several right angle turns and the removal and replacement of several more panels before coming out into a v
estibule. On one wall of the compartment was a stout, featureless metal door that was being guarded by two very well-armed and businesslike sentries. Multiple security monitors lined one entire wall of the vestibule. Having watched the progress of Salaam's group on the security monitors, the guards had been anticipating the arrival of the small entourage. The sentries greeted Salaam like he was an old friend before one of them went over to the metal door, punched a code into a number pad mounted on the wall next to it and pushed the door open for them.
Through the now unlocked door, the infiltrators were ushered into an opulently furnished room that was some ten meters square. Again, one of the walls was covered floor to ceiling with security monitors. There were half a dozen chairs lined up in a semicircle facing a desk where their Resistance contact was currently working.
If any of the infiltrators had been expecting some kind of formidable champion, they were to be sadly disappointed. An elderly, scrawny, white-haired little man sat at the desk with notes scattered here and there in front of him. He had one anachronistic affectation that was immediately visible: he was wearing a pair of wire-rimmed eyeglasses that sat about halfway down his nose. The spectacles added to the studious nature of the odd little fellow. A computer terminal was on his right and he could place himself in front of it easily by simply swiveling the office chair he was sitting in.
"Clancy Davis-Moore, Tamara Carlisle, Orville Steuben, Sergeant Kelly," said Salaam, "I'd like you all to meet Harley Earl."
Carlisle was the first to speak.
"Nexus...architect...builder...are you The Harley Earl," asked Carlisle, "the architect of this station?"
"I am indeed, young lady," said the little man, "I'm impressed, not many people know much of anything about me."
Junkyard Dogs series Omnibus Page 104
