The Santana Nexus (Junkyard Dogs Book 3)

by Nolte, Phillip

  As a compromise, she lay down on her bunk and stretched out before bringing up the wrist computer display in her mind's eye. After accessing the area in the data set that had yielded the last entries she had looked at, she set the software to work and waited while it deciphered another block of information. After a short wait, Captain Dobbins of the Veritian cruiser again appeared on the video.

  "Captain's Journal, June 15, 2542, Captain Josiah Dobbins reporting. The Instrument of God is guarding two Allied cruisers that have taken heavy damage in the fighting. The battle went well for us for the first few hours but the Federation forces managed to hold their positions and then contacted their ships in the Patagonian system.

  The latest word is that Federation reinforcements are on the way.

  We had more ships initially but even with that advantage, we faced some pretty tough going. Ship for ship, the Federation warships are more powerful and better protected than ours. With these new forces joining the fight they will have a decided advantage. I just received the following message from one of the ships we have been protecting."

  The video switched to Dobbins' viewscreen where he showed the playback of a communication that he had just received a few minutes earlier. A very harried looking commander in a Jasmine Navy officer's uniform was speaking urgently from the screen.

  "Captain Dobbins? Come in please," came the message.

  "Captain Dobbins of the Instrument of God here," replied the Veritian commander from offscreen.

  "This is Captain Imran of the Alexandria."

  Carlisle sat up in her bunk, stopped the playback at that point and ran the last fifteen seconds over again. She could scarcely believe what she was hearing. Dobbins had received a call from the JRS Alexandria, one of the most talked about Opposition ships of the entire campaign. The ship had reportedly been carrying the son of the Jasmine Emperor as well as the boy's uncle who was the Emperor's brother-in-law. This ship was known to have been destroyed in the battle and the remains of the Uncle had been found and identified among the wreckage. The Prince's body had not been found but he was presumed dead because the ship had suffered such a catastrophic explosion that many bodies had not been recoverable.

  What had she stumbled upon?

  Carlisle resumed the playback.

  "What can I do for you, Captain Imran?"

  "We are sending a shuttle to your ship. Please make ready to receive it."

  "For what reason?"

  "The shuttle will have a very important person onboard."

  "What am I to do about that?"

  "Once he is on board, take him with you and go to the best protected area of your ship."

  "I don't understand," Dobbins replied.

  "I cannot explain fully but know that this person must be protected at all costs. We have come up with a plan but it is admittedly a desperate one. We must hurry, there is a Federation force that will be upon us in less than thirty minutes."

  "And your plan is...?"

  "As soon as the shuttle has docked in your bay, concentrate all of your crew in places of safety in the ship. You yourself should abandon the bridge and get to the emergency control room down in engineering."

  "Just what is it that you are proposing?"

  "We will open fire on your ship but will not target engines or drives or other vital parts of the vessel. Fire a few shots back at us. We'll leave your main batteries alone until the enemy gets closer."

  "But...this is suicide for you and your crew!"

  "It is for the greater good of our cause, Captain. We must do our duty. I have no illusions regarding the future. The destruction of my ship is inevitable, my crew, myself and my ship are doomed. All will believe that your new passenger has been killed when my ship is destroyed. With us firing at you and you back at us, the Federation forces will see you as an ally. With your ship badly damaged, they will help you escape. Go to the jump point and get out of this system. Your passenger must get to safety, the future of our common cause is at stake! Can you do that, Captain Dobbins? It is of the utmost importance!"

  "Yes, we'll do it," came the reluctant answer, "Standing by to receive your shuttle."

  Carlisle nodded her head in understanding. Captain Dobbins was being handed a tremendous opportunity. She had seen the timestamp from this interchange and she knew from the research she had done for her dissertation that the charge by Tobias Arthur's overmatched destroyer force had just stopped the Opposition battleship squadron in its tracks, and that Jansson's Federation battlecruiser forces were in the process of launching a devastating flank attack on the Opposition battleships.

  The tide of the battle was about to turn dramatically. Dobbins could see that he and his ship would also be destroyed or forced to surrender. The bold and risky plan was actually a pretty good one, especially on such short notice. Dobbins' desire to transport out of the system in a badly damaged ship would have been seen as quite reasonable, even necessary. In the heat and confusion of battle, the Federation ships guarding the jump point would not have been doing much double-checking. It was obvious to Carlisle that Dobbins hadn't liked the arrangement but he hadn't been able to come up with anything better either. He had little choice but to follow the hastily fabricated plan.

  Dobbins left his post, presumably to transfer to the auxiliary control room but he had left his computer on which meant that the audio and video feeds continued for a few more minutes. Carlisle watched in fascination as the lights on the bridge began to flicker crazily and the view danced around as the cruiser began to take pulse beam hits from its own allied ships. Finally an impact occurred that resulted in the obvious penetration of a pulse beam bolt into the bridge area. Debris from the damage dealt by the pulse impact and anything on the bridge that had not been secured became part of a maelstrom as all of the debris and any other loose material was sucked into the vortex created by the hull breach and blown out into the vacuum of space. The video and audio feeds from the Captain's console stopped some five seconds later as power to the bridge was interrupted as well.

  It was the last entry on the Quantum drive.

  Carlisle lay back on the bed for a good five minutes running the events she had just witnessed through her analytical mind. There was a very strong possibility that she had just received new information on one of the greatest mysteries of the Succession War: the fate of Prince Merrikh, who would have been heir to the throne of Jasmine if his father had not decided to abdicate. The abdication was the crux of the entire Succession War and the Prince had been the rallying point for the Succession forces! All that Carlisle was missing was definitive proof that the transferred VIP had indeed been Prince Merrikh.

  The journal kept by Josiah Dobbins had ended when he had abandoned the bridge. Was it possible that there was more information on one of the computers down in the auxiliary control room near the engineering section on that old wreck? Had Dobbins continued to make entries in his personal journal? This video log answered a number of questions but also posed an equal number of new and tantalizing ones. Carlisle had visited the abandoned Veritian derelict herself just a few short weeks ago. She remembered speculating with Lieutenant Harris on how improbable it was that the ship had been able to execute both micro and macro hyperjumps in her severely battle-damaged condition.

  This new information would appear to have answered that particular question. The ship had been deliberately shot up but the vital power plant, reaction engines and jump modules had been carefully and deliberately spared. The Instrument had been a hastily contrived escape vehicle for someone important. That someone almost had to be Prince Merrikh!

  "Now if you can only prove it, Tamara," she said to herself out loud.

  Sometime in the next few hours, there were two ships leaving for the Heard's World system to procure food and supplies for the Scrapyard. The loading of a cargo ship would take at least a couple of days, probably more considering the backwards level of development on the planet. This Merrikh business was important enough that she might
be able to talk Kresge into having someone go back to the Veritian ship while the cargo was being loaded and check to see if any of the computers or storage drives in the auxiliary control room had survived. If Captain Dobbins had continued his journal on the command computer down there, she might be able to get more information.

  It was somewhat of a long shot but she surely had nothing to lose by asking!

  ***

  Carlisle found Kresge sitting at one of the computer terminals on the Greyhound's bridge, scowling as he ran down the long list of supplies that they needed while attempting to prioritize them into things that were "badly needed" and things that were only "kind of badly needed." Irene Marshall and Allison Steuben were looking over his shoulder, helping him fill out and refine the shopping list.

  "Hello, Irene, Allison," said Carlisle.

  "Hello, Ensign, Um...I mean Doctor," said Allison.

  "Tamara!" replied Irene, "You're looking good! I take it your recovery is going well?"

  "It's not going as fast as I'd like it to, but I think I'm making progress."

  "I take it you need to see the Commander?"

  "I'm sorry to interrupt, Ma'am, but I do have something important I need to talk to him about."

  "What is it Ensign?" asked Kresge, not looking up from the monitor in front of him.

  "I have come across some new information that I think you should see," said Carlisle, "I really need your opinion on it."

  The Commander tapped a string of commands on the keyboard in front of him and hit return. He then sat up straight in the chair and arched his back while massaging his face with his hands for a moment. Only then did he stand up and acknowledge the Ensign.

  "Right now is probably as good a time as any," he said, "I could really use a break from...this. Can you and Allison take over for a while, Irene? The two of you know this stuff way better than I do anyway."

  "No problem, Oskar," said Irene as she slid smoothly up to the station that Kresge had just vacated. Allison grabbed a chair and sat down right next to her. The two of them went immediately back to work on the long shopping list.

  "Okay, Ensign, what have you got?" asked Kresge.

  "It's some information I got from the quantum drive we took off from the Veritian derelict, Sir," said Carlisle. She looked around the bridge of the Greyhound. "It's...It's somewhat sensitive, Sir..."

  "Very well, come on in to my ready room."

  The two of them left the bridge and went down a short corridor to Kresge's "ready room" which was really a small office that had been part of the First Mate's quarters. Kresge had commandeered the Mate's suite when he had drafted the Greyhound into becoming the main living facility for the Federation personnel stationed at the Scrapyard after the original facility had been destroyed by the terrorist attack that had kicked off this entire conflagration in the first place.

  Once they were inside the ready room, Kresge closed the door and both of them took a seat, Kresge behind the small desk and Carlisle in front of it. Carlisle used her wrist computer display to show the Commander the very same files that she been viewing down in her quarters. Kresge watched intently as she played through Josiah Dobbin's monologues in a projected hologram. The Commander said nothing for several long moments after the narrative ended, running the implications through his mind and trying to decipher what they might lead to. Finally he said, "You think that this was all referring to Prince Merrikh?"

  "A VIP from the Alexandria? Transferred out near the height of the battle? I can't think of anyone else it could be. This could be really important, Commander, especially if it's partial proof that the Prince did survive the Succession War."

  "And if he survived the War... what then?"

  "He would have only been about sixteen years old when the War ended," replied Carlisle."

  "Then there's a good chance that...," Kresge began the thought, but paused as his mind churned through some of the ramifications.

  "...Yes, Commander, there is a good chance that he might still be alive!" Carlisle finished for him.

  "I see what you mean, Ensign." He chewed his lip as he thought it over for a little longer and finally said, "I agree. This is definitely important enough to follow up on."

  "I...I think I'm well enough to make a trip out with the Asimov, Sir."

  Kresge smiled at her, "I appreciate your offer, Tamara, but I think you'd better stay here. You do need some more rest and we're going to need to do a lot of planning over the next few days. I'm afraid I'm really going to need your tactical expertise right here."

  Carlisle couldn't quite hide her disappointment but bowed to the wisdom of Kresge's decision. Kresge got up, signaling that the interview was over.

  "I agree with your assessment that this is 'somewhat sensitive' information, Ensign. I think we should keep this under wraps for the time being," he said as he opened the door for her.

  "Maybe the Asimov could go back to the derelict under the guise of finishing up the destruction of the surviving big guns?" suggested Carlisle, as she got up to exit the compartment.

  "...and while they're out there, someone could check out the computers in auxiliary control room," said Kresge, "That's an excellent suggestion, Ensign. Now do you see why I need you here?"

  Chapter 26.

  Santana Nexus Station, somewhere on the first level of the fourth ring. January 5, 2599.

  Lester Dobbins had a problem. It wasn’t money, for a change. He currently had more money in his bank account then he had ever dreamed of having. No, his problem was that he was stuck on the Santana Nexus Station because of the Sheik of Barsoom's damnable revolution. Dobbins was also known by another name: Ezra Hellfire Brimstone. He was a member of a radical offshoot of the Veritian Way, a religious sect from the same root as the one that Hanna and Caleb Jordan belonged to, only his offshoot was called the Veritian Brotherhood of Christ Resurgent. Brimstone had, in fact, been the leader of the group. Where Caleb and Hanna Jordan were pacifists who would only fight if they had to, members of the Brotherhood were a great deal more proactive and quite willing to resort to violence. With financial backing from the Sheik of Barsoom, Brimstone and his band of misfits had salvaged weapons from the wreck of the Veritian derelict in the Heard's World system, used the weapons to arm two stolen freighters and made an unsuccessful attempt to kidnap the Meridian Ambassador with the intent to ransom him back to the Sheik in exchange for a very large sum of money.

  During the course of Brimstone's kidnapping attempt, he and his gang had destroyed the living quarters at the New Ceylon Reclamation Center, killing all aboard and stranding Harris, Hawkins and Carlisle in the Scrapyard. Brimstone had then continued on to New Ceylon where he and his group managed to take over the Orbital Station with the intent of luring the Ambassador on board and capturing him. Brimstone's plans were thwarted by the three Federation personnel left alive in the Scrapyard, as well as Kresge and a ragtag group of resistance fighters that the Commander had managed to cobble together on the orbital station.

  One unfortunate sideshow to all of this was that, in addition to the two formidable pulse cannons, Brimstone and his men had also been able to remove the nuclear self-destruct module from the wrecked cruiser. Not knowing what to do with such a thing and, as usual, being somewhat short of cash, Brimstone had just recently sold the device to someone unknown after an enormous sum of money had been deposited in his private bank account. In the meantime, the Sheik had gone public with his Revolution and, so far anyway, looked to be enjoying a great deal of success. Dobbins and thousands of other people were currently confined to the Nexus Station by the Sheik's forces. That's why Brimstone had more money than he would ever need and nowhere to spend any of it.

  It was well after midnight on the Nexus Station. Along with Brimstone in his hotel room at the nondescript Nexus Nook Hotel were two of his most trusted followers. The three of them mostly kept to their three adjoining rooms with only occasional forays out for food or other necessities. At the moment, all three of them
were arrayed in front of the video set. Brimstone was stretched out and almost asleep on the couch and his two companions were asleep in their chairs when the door to Brimstone's room was kicked in and five well-armed men stormed through. One of Brimstone's guards went for his weapon and was cut down by at least three pulse bolts. The other raised his hands in surrender but was also cut down by a couple of pulse bolts. Dobbins, shocked and bewildered by the sudden violence, got up from the couch with his hands raised.

  "You are Lester Dobbins? Also known as Ezra Hellfire Brimstone?"

  Trapped and helpless, Brimstone realized that he had no option but to surrender and hope for the best.

  "I think you know who I am," said Brimstone. "I also assume that you want me alive or I would be dead already. You...you might have spared my men, they were only trying to protect me."

  "You needed to know that we mean business, Mr. Brimstone. You have two minutes to gather up a few of your belongings. Choose carefully, you will not be coming back. Abdul, Samsun, accompany him to his bedroom chamber. If he makes any suspicious moves, shoot him in the leg."

  "You'll get no trouble from me," said Brimstone, obviously shaken to the core.

  He went to the dresser in his private sleeping portion of the room and, under the watchful eyes of his two "escorts," gathered a few of his belongings including couple of changes of clothing and a shaving kit. He also took his Veritian Bible. He and his guards went back to join the others in the sitting area of the room complex.

  "Very good, Mr. Brimstone. Now, come with us."

  ***

  UTFN Reclamation Center, onboard Federation Auxiliary ship Greyhound, January 5, 2599.

  Early the next morning, Kresge found himself having to coordinate a veritable flurry of activity. There were several repair projects for him to coordinate in the Scrapyard itself, including the replacement of the front turret of the Perseus with the undamaged one from the Xerxes. The finicky nature of the Greyhound's Bofors weapon interface was another. Admiral Kingston wasn't going to be able to provide much help, she had just had surgery on her damaged leg and would be convalescing for at least another week, probably more, considering her age. That left the running of the Reclamation center as well as the coordinating and final organization of the provisioning and recruiting trips to Heard's World and Catskill-Soroyan entirely up to Kresge. He did what any self-respecting leader worth his salt would do when faced with a series of daunting tasks: he called a meeting.