Junkyard Dogs series Omnibus

by Phillip Nolte

  "I'll tell our forces that he is clear to make the attempt," replied Kresge.

  "I'll call the Carpathia. I hope they get here quickly, the force curtain on the big airlock is still working but I don't know for how much longer."

  As Kresge signed off he remembered Carlisle and Harris. He called the Lieutenant's suit radio.

  "Harris?"

  "What is it, Commander?"

  "How far are you from that tenth ring?"

  "It's hard to tell, Commander. Probably no more than five kilometers. That ring already had quite of bit of separation velocity, I had to chase pretty hard to catch Carlisle."

  "Something has come up. Keep heading this way as fast as you can and we'll come and pick you up."

  "Aye, aye, Commander. Anything I should know?"

  "Nothing you can do anything about. I'll tell you about it when I have you both onboard."

  Kresge turned to Jennifer Helmsford. "Captain? A couple of my best officers and dearest friends are in grave danger. Can we go and pick them up?"

  "Absolutely, Commander!"

  Ten minutes later, as the Beastie rendezvoused with Harris and Carlisle on the two-man sled, they were passed by the Carpathia heading towards the tenth ring. As soon as the Ensign and the Lieutenant were safely on board, the Beastie accelerated back towards the larger part of the station at the full thrust of her reaction engines.

  ***

  In space near the uncoupled tenth ring of the Santana Nexus Station, January 13, 2599.

  Within the allotted time, the Carpathia managed to maneuver close enough to get a docking tube extended to the drifting tenth ring of the station. Brimstone himself supervised the evacuation of some twenty-five women and children and about a dozen wounded, several of them unconscious. He and a small group of fighters even held off a lackluster attempt to interfere with the operation. At the last minute, Brimstone refused to board the Yacht himself. Instead, he chose to remain on the tenth ring in spite of his own knowledge of its eminent destruction.

  The Carpathia pulled away from the tenth ring and before even taking the time to secure her docking tube, she microjumped. Because of the imminent danger posed by Al Majnun's hyperdrive doomsday device, the maneuver was considered a necessary precaution.

  Brimstone called Kresge one last time.

  "Thank you, Commander, I can die knowing I did at least something to atone for my many sins."

  "As you pointed out, it was a reasonable request," replied the Commander.

  "I am sending you the information to access my bank account," said Brimstone.

  "What am I supposed to do with that?"

  "Consider half of it to be a donation to the Veritian Way. Caleb and Hanna Jordan can handle that. The rest is for the families of the Federation people who died in your Scrapyard. I would hope that you could handle those arrangements."

  "I'll see that it is done."

  "Thank you, Commander."

  "You do have one consolation, Brimstone," said Kresge.

  "And what might that be?"

  "With all of the sons of bitches there are in this Universe...at least you won't be lonesome in Hell!"

  There was a short silence.

  "I richly deserve whatever fate awaits me," Brimstone replied, finally. "Farewell, Commander...and for what it's worth, I am truly sorry."

  The screen went blank.

  Seconds later, the tenth ring was engulfed in a searing white flash. For anyone who had ever witnessed a ship performing a macrojump, the sight was familiar enough, though no man had ever seen a field anywhere near the size of this one. The lozenge-shaped field glowed with an intense white light that persisted for perhaps five seconds before seeming to collapse into itself. Within another five seconds, it was gone.

  Nothing remained in the space where the tenth ring had been.

  The Sheik's forces on the Southern end of the spindle surrendered shortly after. A calm settled over the remaining nine rings of the Santana Nexus Station.

  Chapter 65.

  Santana Nexus System, on board private ship Carpathia, January 13, 2599.

  Among the wounded who had been evacuated by the Carpathia was an unconscious woman. Unknown to Brimstone's people supervising the evacuation, but well recognized by the Sheik's former crewmembers was Fahada. She was still out from the whack to the side of the head that had been delivered by Carlisle in the arena. She had suffered a relatively severe concussion and it was only after the Carpathia had pulled away from the tenth ring and had microjumped towards the hyperlink zone that the Sheik's former assassin began to regain consciousness.

  The yacht arrived at the hyperlink zone and discovered that there were no Federation ships standing guard, all of them had been needed in the fight to liberate the Nexus Station. The devastated Hercules was the only ship near the hyperlink point and no one among her surviving crew was in any shape to challenge the fugitive ship if, indeed, they were even aware of her presence.

  Carpathia translated out to an unknown destination.

  Fahada and her new husband had managed to escape from the Federation authorities and from the sizeable faction of the Revolutionary forces who would have given much to have them in custody.

  Such are the fortunes of war!

  ***

  Santana Nexus System, Whitney hyperlink zone, January 13, 2599.

  An hour later, a force of twelve Federation warships, three heavy cruisers and nine destroyers, flashed in through the Santana Quadrant hyperlink zone.

  One of the cruisers stayed near the hyperlink zone to guard it and at the same time render assistance to the crew of the devastated Hercules. The remaining ships microjumped towards the Nexus Station.

  ***

  UTFN Reclamation Center, on board Meridian Imperial Diplomatic Ship Istanbul, January 14, 2599.

  On the Istanbul, another meeting of the diplomats was going about as well as could be expected. The same old arguments were being voiced and the gripes about all of them being held against their will were being repeated.

  Ambassador Saladin received a hand-written note. He and Sondia and Talbot discussed the contents of the note for a few moments before the Ambassador called for everyone's attention.

  "Ladies and Gentlemen, I have news."

  The room became silent in expectation.

  "The Sheik of Barsoom claimed earlier today that he was the long lost Prince Merrikh of Jasmine."

  After a shocked silence, the room broke out into a storm of conflicting exclamations and arguments.

  "I wondered about that?"

  "The Prince of Jasmine was alive?"

  The Ambassador let the bedlam go on for several minutes before calling for order.

  "There is more. Less than an hour later he was dead, assassinated by one of his own allies."

  More loud discussion ensued. Again the Ambassador allowed it to run its course for several minutes before calling for order.

  "I am very sorry but I do not have any details beyond these. However I do have some more news. Some very good news. The Scrapyard Strike force has managed to defeat the Sheik's forces and has regained control of the Nexus Station. There is still some mopping up to do but...the Istanbul will be heading back to the Santana Nexus within the hour. We can all go home!"

  This announcement was greeted by loud and boisterous cheering that lasted for a good five minutes.

  "Some problems remain," said the Ambassador, after calm had been restored, "There is still a revolution going on out in many parts of the Quadrant and there are enemy forces scattered everywhere. The Federation and the Islamic Alliance will be making a sweep through the Quadrant to locate and eliminate these pockets of resistance."

  "We would still advise you all to be extremely careful," said Sondia, "There were defectors from all of your governments and you may not know who you can trust. Do I need to remind you that there was an attempt on my life right here on this very ship? Many of the late Sheik's people are fanatics and they will not go down without a fight."
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  "I'll take my chances," said one of the diplomats.

  "Yes, we have been kept here for way to long!" commented another

  "We could not guarantee your safety," said the Ambassador, "We must continue to be very careful as this ship is still considered to be target."

  In the midst of this discussion, Dr. Frank C. Talbot stood up.

  "Gentlemen and Ladies," said Talbot. "If I could have a moment of your time."

  Talbot hadn't spoken very much at any of the previous meetings and the group, surprisingly, quieted down so they could hear the old engineer and philosopher speak.

  "Most of you know who I am," he began, several in the audience nodded their heads in affirmation, others looked at him with narrowed eyes, "Some of you have come to know me through the discussions we've had." He paused for a few seconds to make sure that everyone was listening. "I wish to make a plea. I want to beg all of you to consider our actions over the next day or two. The situation in our Quadrant has taken an unexpected turn. As you have just learned, the man who had been calling himself 'The Sheik of Barsoom' actually was the long lost Prince Merrikh, heir to the old throne of Jasmine."

  That announcement was greeted by a more few comments.

  Talbot let the voices die down before he continued, "What the Sheik or the Prince has begun out here in this corner of Human space is nothing less than an attempt to reboot the Succession War! Is there a soul in this room that believes this is the best way forward for our Quadrant? All of our governments have been operating with several basic principles. One of these is the Freedom of religion. All are free to choose how they will worship. Another principle is that of representational government. All citizens have a vote in how they shall be governed. These people want to overturn all of that! They wish to restore the Monarchy and all of the oppression and corruption and inequality that inevitably results. Religions will be tolerated but only if they do their part to perpetuate the Monarchy."

  He looked over his audience. All were listening, some appeared as though they were coming to a realization, others still looked doubtful.

  "So I ask you; is this what you want for yourself and the people you represent? We, those of us in this assembly, have an opportunity to make a statement. A unified voice from this group of distinguished leaders will go a long way towards calming fears and restoring order in our Quadrant. But we must do something that we have not been able to do so far. We must create a unified front. Yes, this enforced and unwelcome isolation has been a burden. The alternative was that all of you would have been prisoners of the Sheik of Barsoom who we now know was the long-lost Prince Merrikh of Jasmine. Who among you can really say that you would have preferred his 'hospitality' to that of Ambassador Saladin?" Talbot allowed a moment for that to sink in before continuing.

  "Look around you. You have now spent more time with these other delegates than you ever dreamed you would. What have you learned? Ayatollah Barzai? Do you still think that Bishop Sinclair is a man you cannot trust? Or does he, like you, only want the best for his people, his flock?"

  The two men whom Talbot mentioned looked at each other. Their eyes met for a short moment before both of them nodded. They had not become close friends but... they were no longer enemies either. With these two strong leaders indicating that they agreed with Talbot, the rest of the meeting took a different direction.

  "Ladies and Gentlemen, I beg you. Roll up your sleeves and do what this Assembly was called upon to do in the first place. Forge a new level of understanding with your neighbors and rivals, establish lines of communication so that misunderstandings are less likely to occur."

  Talbot, experienced speaker that he was, knew just when he had said enough and the time was right for him to wrap up his presentation. So he sat down.

  The next to make an announcement was the Ayatollah Barzai. He cleared his throat before beginning to speak.

  "Thank you, Dr. Talbot. I for one have grown to trust and respect our...accidental hosts. I have even begun to understand the distinguished Dr. Talbot and I agree with him, finally, on one thing: We have been given an opportunity. Who among you, like me, can see the hand of Allah, of God, on our enforced isolation? Ladies and Gentlemen, we got to together in the first place because we have a job to do. I say we sit down and get it done!"

  There was long and loud applause when the Ayatollah finished his speech. The group went about the business of selecting a chair. At long last, the meeting was finally heading in the right direction!

  The crew of the Istanbul maneuvered their ship carefully out of the Scrapyard and headed out to the New Ceylon hyperlink point before translating out to the Santana Nexus.

  Chapter 66.

  Santana Nexus Station, January 15, 2599.

  At the summit meeting that followed in the aftermath of the Sheik's death and the defeat of his forces, the consortium of governments gathered at the Santana Nexus Station voted that the Santana Nexus be declared an interplanetary neutral zone. Federation and Islamic Alliance forces would maintain a presence but only to keep order. This meant that the United Terran Federation would no longer be using the Nexus Station as their base of operations for the Quadrant. Alternative arrangements were going to be necessary.

  Kresge, Harris, Hawkins, Kelly, Hartmann and Juan Carlos Montoya met with Admiral Kingston and with several other high-ranking officers that had come out with the Federation reinforcements. Carlisle, who was back in the hospital for observation, was absent.

  "Thank you all for coming," said Kingston. "As you all know by now, because of the decisions made at Ambassador Saladin's Summit meeting, we will not be rebuilding the Federation facilities here at the Nexus. We have been looking into some other options instead." She turned to Kresge. "What would it take to convert the Gibraltar, that battleship we powered up, into a permanent base station for the Reclamation center?'

  Kresge thought for a moment before replying. "That's actually not such a bad idea, Admiral. The ship is plenty stout and we all have first-hand knowledge as to how well-armed she is. As big as she is, we could continue to expand the living space as needed to accommodate as many personnel as we needed."

  "There is more, Commander."

  "Yes?"

  "We want to move the Federation headquarters for the entire quadrant to your Reclamation Center. The newly created task group would have a permanent presence in New Ceylon and all over the Quadrant."

  Kresge didn't know what to say.

  "Furthermore, we wish to man the facility with personnel from this Quadrant. That means we'd want people from New Ceylon, Catskill-Soroyan, Heard's World and...Patagonia."

  Juan Carlos grasped the meaning immediately. "That means..."

  "Yes, Juan Carlos, we are offering Patagonia full colonial status in the Federation!"

  "On the behalf of the people of Patagonia, I accept!"

  "Who's going to be in charge of this 'new' facility?" asked Kresge.

  "That would be you, Oskar, with Harris as your second in command. We would also be assigning Carlisle, Kelly and the three CPO's that you currently have, Hawkins, Allen and Jenkins. What do you say, Commander?"

  "How can I refuse?" said Kresge. "I think I even have a name for the unit."

  "Yes, of course," replied Kingston, "The Task Group would be known as 'The Junkyard Dogs!'"

  ***

  Santana Nexus Station, January 18, 2599.

  As things began to return to a semblance of order on the Nexus Station, Ensign Tamara Carlisle was examined thoroughly before being released by the Station doctors. She was ordered to take at least two weeks off to get some rest. The multiple brushes with death that she'd experienced over the last several days and the wounds that had been inflicted on her as a consequence, along with the injuries she had suffered during the earlier Scrapyard battles had left her battered and exhausted.

  Orders or not, Kresge didn't believe that she could sit still for that long so he assigned someone to help enforce the rest regime. That someone was Lieutenant
Ryan Harris, another person who, in the Commander's judgment, could benefit from some badly needed rest and recreation. The two officers, one actually convalescing and the other merely worn out, were provided rooms in a small and unique facility called "Santana's Finest Zero G Luxury Suites" located in the hub area of the second ring of the station. That close to the center of rotation, the hotel was -- as the name implied -- in an essentially weightless location. The lack of gravity was deemed to be the perfect environment for the recovering Ensign.

  For the first several days, the Lieutenant's duty was easy as the Ensign essentially slept most of the time. After about the third day, he noticed that she was beginning to perk up and Harris decided the time was right for some low-stress socializing.

  He spoke to her about it while they shared breakfast in the hotel restaurant.

  "What would you say if I told you we had been invited out to a really nice place for dinner tonight," he said.

  She played coy, a sure sign that she was starting to feel better. "Are you asking me out on a date, Lieutenant?"

  "Well...um...yes, I guess I am."

  "I'd love to go..." replied Carlisle, "except that I don't have anything to wear. Everything I own is back in the Scrapyard. Hell, I don't even have my dress uniform. It's packed away in my quarters back on the Greyhound."

  "I think we may have that covered," replied Harris.

  "How so?"

  "Salaam's neighbor runs a woman's clothing store. He says you can come in and pick out anything you want. No charge. The neighbor wants to do something nice for 'all those wonderful people' who liberated the station."

  "Really? That actually sounds like it might be fun but..."

  "But what?"

  "You have to come along and help me pick something out. You know me and civilian clothes. I have absolutely no sense of fashion whatsoever!"