The Santana Nexus (Junkyard Dogs Book 3)

by Nolte, Phillip

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 worke
rs 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."

  "How much do you know, Excellency?"

  "These people are professionals, Commander. We kept the man sedated so he wouldn't kill himself before we could interrogate him but as soon as we began to arouse him for questioning he poisoned himself and died within a few minutes."

  "How did he manage to kill himself in spite of all your precautions?"

  "As I said, Commander, these men are professionals. An autopsy revealed that he had an implant that he could trigger somehow. The man must have been extremely disciplined, he was able to trigger that implant in spite of still being heavily drugged."

  "What do you wish to do?" asked Kresge.

  "For the time being, we would like to move Faiza and Amanda over to the Greyhound. The fanaticism of these people knows no boundaries and we fear for the safety of the two young women. With the two of them on the Greyhound, there will be at least one less distraction for us. Naturally, we will transfer Dr. Carlisle over as well."

  "You are releasing her from her diplomatic duties, then?"

  The Ambassador smiled, "She hasn't been operating in that capacity since the attack on the Istanbul back at the Nexus, Commander. Lieutenant Harvick is an excellent liaison and really all we need. We need the Ensign's undivided attention on these new plans, now more than ever. It would be nice if she could still spend a little of her time interacting with the two girls though. She is an excellent role model and the three of them seem to work well together. Their unique wrist computer communication capabilities have proven to be particularly valuable on more than one occasion."

  "I'll see that it is arranged," replied Kresge. "What about your infiltration problem?"

  "With the two girls safely off from the Istanbul, we can get to work in earnest. I will keep you apprised of our progress."

  ***

  As the meeting broke up, Seamus O'Connell went over to talk to Carlisle.

  "Tamara? Could I have a word?"

  "I guess so," replied Carlisle, her expression noncommittal. The two of them went to the very front part of the now nearly empty hold. Kresge had left to have a private discussion with the Ambassador and Harris was talking about crew arrangements with Murdock and Hawkins but the rest of the personnel had filed out and were on their way to get started on their various assignments. The two Spacers, father and daughter, faced each other.

  "Before we part ways and I go out on this expedition, I have a proposition for you, Tamara," said O'Connell, quietly enough so that only she could hear him. His daughter eyed him warily.

  "Okay, I'll listen but I'll tell you right now that I don't think you'll be able to change my mind."

  "Hear me out."

  "Fine. Go ahead."

  "I want to ask you to come back out to the Donegal when you finish your stint in the Navy. I'm not getting any younger and I won't be able to keep this up for very many more years. The Donegal is paid for and you could just step into my shoes and make a decent and honest living."

  "I don’t' know, Father..."

  "You're the best pilot I've ever trained, Tamara. Way better than I am and I'm a damned sight better than most!"

  "What about Collin? I can't believe that he isn't interested."

  "Collin? Your brother is too young and I don't know if he'll ever have the patience."

  "But he does want to do it?"

  "I haven't asked him."

  "Why not?"

  O'Connell looked embarrassed. "We had a pretty bad fight about a year ago and we haven't spoken much since then."

  "I see, something like the row you and I had before I left for the Naval Academy? I think I'm sensing a pattern here."

  "I don't think it’s the same at all," said O'Connell. "He's reckless and irresponsible, you were never like that. At your worst you may have been a little too eager, but you've always been able to calculate the odds and take the right action."

  "Where is he now?"

  "He's w
orking at the Piedmont Station. Last I heard he wasn't doing too bad. He's the foreman of his shift."

  "Well there you have it, Father. Collin is your man. Give him some more time to grow up a bit more, away from your...influence and I'll bet he'll surprise you."

  "You always have been a stubborn one, Tamara."

  "I wonder where I got that from?"

  "I can see that this is going nowhere. I need to get going. Think about it, Tamara. I'll be talking to you again."

  "Okay. Father...?" she paused for a moment before continuing, "...be careful out there."

  O'Connell gave her a lopsided smile and they embraced briefly before he left her alone in the front of the compartment. Carlisle watched him as he strode through the hold and through the hatch into the main corridor and shook her head. She headed for the exit herself.

  "Ensign Carlisle?" said Kresge, "Frank Talbot wanted to talk to you if you have a little time."

  "Certainly, Commander. Where is he?"

  "He said he'd be in the starboard stateroom."

  Chapter 23.

  UTFN Reclamation Center, onboard Federation Auxiliary ship Greyhound, January 4, 2599.

  Tamara Carlisle rapped softly on the door to one of the staterooms that Helen Murdock's cargo ship, Greyhound, was outfitted with.

  "Ah, Ensign Carlisle," said Talbot as he opened the door.

  "You wanted to see me, Sir?" said Carlisle.

  "Yes, yes of course." He motioned her inside. "Do come in. Please, have a seat."

  She came in and accepted the pro-offered chair, one of two that faced each other across a small, round table. The chairs and the table were all permanently welded to the deck.

  "Would you like some coffee? I just grabbed one of the carafes from the briefing room. It's absolutely fresh."

  "Thank you, Sir. Some coffee would be nice," replied Carlisle.

  Talbot poured the beverage into two chipped, ivory-colored mugs, each of which had a blue line-drawing depicting a stylized Greyhound in full stride adorning the side. The Ensign accepted a mug with a mumbled thanks and Talbot, the other mug in hand, sat down across from her in the other chair. He blew gently across the top of the hot coffee before taking an experimental sip.