Junkyard Dogs 1: The Scrapyard Incident

by Phillip Nolte

  Harris concentrated on staying awake, poking around on the command console, periodically going back over to check the periscope and frowning with concern -- and maybe something more -- as his eyes occasionally strayed over to look at the sleeping woman across the bridge and the old engineer curled up a couple of meters away.

  Hawkins relieved him several hours later and the Lieutenant managed to get some badly needed sleep. Carlisle relieved Hawkins after four more hours had passed.

  Two and a half hours into Carlisle's watch the enemy came.

  "Wake up guys, I have a drive signature!" She announced. She paused for a few more moments and then said, "Thank God, it's only one of them!"

  Chapter 29

  New Ceylon Orbital Station, Deck Five, October 7, 2598.

  Out on the fifth level of the Orbital Station, Orville Steuben carefully drove an electrically-powered maintenance cart towards the sixth spoke stairwell area. With him were Kathy Haines and CPO Perry Allen. Kresge and Gibbons followed in a separate cart. When they were near enough that only a short walk remained, the group stopped and went the rest of the way on foot. They met up with the observer who was stationed by the stairwell. The entire group, including the observer, huddled together to ensure that their interactions made as little noise as possible.

  "Anything goin' on Kyle?" asked Gibbons, his voice barely above a whisper.

  "Nope, it's been pretty quiet," came the equally quiet response.

  "You think we could get to the spoke access door on deck four?"

  "It shouldn't be a problem. This far away from the governor's side of the station, the guards are pretty lax. This one sleeps most of the time."

  "Anybody besides Steuben ever been in the southern level of the spokes?" asked Kresge.

  "I have," said Haines. "I went along when a technical crew had to check one of the ventilation shafts a month or so ago."

  "How long does it take to get to the spindle?" asked Kresge.

  "All we got is that ladder along the flat wall, Commander," said Steuben, "and it's about a kilometer to the spindle. Of course, the climb gets easier as you get towards the middle 'cause the simulated gravity gets lower."

  "You said that already. How long?"

  "I bet it'll take at least an hour, maybe more."

  "Who all is going?"

  "I think you should stay here, Commander," said Haines. "They know me and Steuben up there, and we need Allen to look at the communications equipment. If we make contact, we'll come back as soon as we can."

  "I agree," said Kresge. "I'd better stay here. Just be careful. No heroics."

  "I hear you, Commander," said Haines. "Lead the way, Steuben."

  Kresge and Gibbons went back to their cart to return to the hideout.

  The stairwell was empty as Kathy Haines and the two men made their way up to the landing between the fourth and fifth decks. Steuben put his index finger to his lips and pointed to the door that would allow access to the southern level of the spoke. Fortunately, the door was in a position that could not be seen from the guard post up on deck one. The three intruders would only be visible for a brief interval along a short stretch of wall before they would again be out of sight. Haines nodded her head in assent and she and Allen followed Steuben's lead as he hugged the outside wall until they came to the door. To their right was the stairway that led upwards to the third deck. Steuben carefully placed his right hand on the palm reader next to the door. A green LED lit up softly. He opened the door and motioned his companions inside the dimly-lit compartment. After following them through, he carefully closed the door behind himself. A ladder ran up the wall to an airtight hatch in the ceiling one level up. The hatch was operated with the standard wheel-type tightening system used on just about everything that might need to be airtight. Steuben worked the wheel, opened the hatch, and, after going through, motioned to his companions to follow him. They found themselves inside the southern level on the wheel end of one of the eight spokes of the station. Steuben closed the hatch and spun the wheel to seal it.

  The area they were in was lit by soft, greenish, emergency lighting. The maintenance partition of the spoke required only about the bottom fourth of the large-diameter tube that made up the spoke. The outer, southernmost wall of the compartment was gently but noticeably curved while the inner or northern wall, the one that divided the spoke into two long, narrow compartments, was flat. Along the flat wall, a three meter diameter ventilation tube tapered away upwards, towards the central spindle area of the station. Next to this ducting were a number of smaller tubes, some that presumably were filled with electrical and communications cables along with some that transported water and sewage. Sure enough, a caged ladder also ran up the flat wall, right next to the ventilation ducting. The whirr of ventilation fans was surprisingly loud.

  "Don't worry," said Steuben in a voice just loud enough to be heard, "it gets a lot easier after we get closer to the spindle."

  "I should hope so," said Allen, just as softly. "What's on the other end?"

  "There's another airtight hatch and, after that, another door with a security module on it. I think my palm print will work but if it don't, we'll still have Kathy's keycard"

  "Let's go," said Haines.

  They began climbing the ladder. The cage of the ladder had an opening to a small work platform every fifty meters or so. The trio took a break after they had passed two platforms, all three of them breathing a little heavily.

  "How many of these platforms are there?" asked Allen.

  "Each platform is fifty meters closer to the spindle," said Steuben. "It's about a kilometer from the wheel to the spindle, so there's another eighteen or so before we get there."

  "You say it gets easier?"

  "You'll really notice it after we do another four or five platforms."

  "Is that a promise?"

  Steuben chuckled. "Wait and see."

  They resumed climbing. Steuben's estimate had been correct; Haines and Allen noticed a definite reduction in climbing effort after their next rest stop, which had taken them up another four platforms. They were able to make the remainder of the distance with only one additional rest stop, the effort required to climb the ladder becoming less and less as they shed angular momentum on their approach to the central spindle area. Finally they came to the airtight hatch with the wheel on it that Steuben had said would be at the end of the spoke. Again Steuben worked the wheel and motioned the others through the opening.

  They found themselves in a space similar to the one on the entrance to the other end of the spoke, with the ductwork and the electrical piping disappearing into the ceiling. A door with a palm pad and a card slot next to it was to the right of the ducting. Steuben put his palm on the pad. A red LED lit up on the panel. He tried again and got the same result.

  "Better try your security card, Kathy," he said. "I hope we didn't come all the way up here for nothing!"

  Haines ran her card through the slot and was rewarded with a green light. They pushed the door open slowly.

  "Stop right where you are!" The voice came from behind the light from a hand torch that was bright enough that none of the three could tell how many people were confronting them or who they were. After a short hesitation, all three raised their hands in surrender.

  Chapter 30

  New Ceylon Orbital Station, Smuggler's Lair, October 7, 2598.

  The group of refuges in the lower realms of the orbital station had grown to nearly seventy people. Kresge was mildly worried that the more people they had, the greater the chances that someone would wander off, get caught, and reveal their existence and their location. It was the nature of the situation; he hated to turn anyone away, but how in space could you possibly support and keep track of everyone? The few newcomers they had added over the last several hours had come in scared and hungry. Haines' security companion, George Fowler, and another three security officers, had showed up with one of the last groups. Fowler was young and smart and just as appalled as
Haines had been about the smuggler's lair, but came around after the situation was explained to him. Kresge was glad to have him. No one had left that he was aware of. The guard posts at points near each of the several entrances to their haven were manned around the clock. He realized at that moment that the guards were needed as much to keep people in as they were to keep them out.

  Kresge wasn't particularly surprised, but Irene had turned out to be a tremendous asset. He had admired her poise and sophistication as well as her business sense before the attack, but the current situation had emphasized to him some new and impressive aspects of her character. Her way of organizing the diverse group of people into some kind of coherent function was simply amazing. In spite of the reservations she had shared with Kresge about working with "criminals," her upbeat attitude and grace under pressure were very much appreciated. Kresge thought again about how he had been ready to discuss their relationship and where it should go before the attack on the station came and derailed everyone's plans. Now that would all have to wait.

  He turned to the task at hand. One of their observers, Maggie Simmonds, had just returned with new information. She was eating a beef Burgundy sandwich on a croissant and having a cup of coffee. She looked tired.

  "How are things, Commander?"

  "Things are happening, Maggie; what've you got?"

  "There's guards posted at each of the eight stairwells up on deck one, but it looks like they're spread kind of thin. They change guards once every four hours. They're keepin' at least two guards on the stairwells on either side of the Governor's area. Those guys seem to be stayin' sharp. It's a different story on the other stairwells. There's usually only one guard, and it looks like they're nappin' 'bout half the time."

  "The system might be working for them, everyone on the station is supposed to be under lockdown. Do we have any kind head count yet?"

  "In addition to the leader, name of Ezra something-or-other, there are two lieutenants and we think somewhere around twenty-five to thirty more men and one woman who seems to be a medic or something. I only seen the woman a couple of times."

  "You can't get a better count than that?"

  "Sorry, Commander, they're usually wearin' the battle armor when we see them and it's hard to tell 'em apart, especially when all you get is an occasional glimpse of 'em. It got a little easier after part of 'em left with the other cargo ship."

  "I didn't mean to sound critical, Maggie, it's just important that we have the best information we can get."

  "I understand, Commander, we're doin' our best. We have to be really careful. If they catch any of us..." She didn't have to finish the thought.

  "Anything else you've noticed?"

  "Orv and I don't think they have battle armor for everybody."

  "That's kind of what Clancy said earlier. What clued you in?"

  "I noticed when they were changin' the guards. They send two maintenance carts out from the governor's area. One goes east and the other one goes west. Each cart's got a driver and several relief guards on it. They go around to each of the first deck landings and switch out the guards as they go. Thing is, several sets of the armor have some pretty distinctive marks on 'em. Looks like some of those guys have to share the armor with someone else."

  "Don't know that I'd care much for that!"

  "Screw 'em, they're the enemy!"

  Kresge laughed out loud. "When you put it that way, I couldn't agree more."

  "When they've switched everybody out they turn around and drive back to the governor's suites."

  "So the whole process takes about a half hour?"

  "Yes. There's somethin' else that might be important, Commander -- they aren't wearin' the helmets on the armor when they're on watch. You might be able to take them out with a whack on the head if you could sneak up on 'em. Also, as near as we can tell, there are at least three stations where the guards ain't wearin' any battle armor at all."

  "That's good to know! We might be able to use that."

  "One more thing, Commander. I don't know if this is important or not, but since they've shed their helmets it's pretty easy to see. All of 'em have strange looking hair."

  "Strange hair?"

  "Not their hair so much as the way they have it cut. You'll have to see it. I'll see if I can get some video."

  "Do it. Have you been able to overhear anything?"

  "Just bits and pieces. They're definitely after the Ambassador. The leader keeps talkin' about surprisin' him and disruptin' his unholy mission. It sounds like they want to capture him alive after he boards the station."

  "Any more news from the Scrapyard?"

  "Not yet, but the leader is still hoppin' mad that he had to send a dozen of his men and one of his ships out there to take care of them. They're afraid that the survivors out there will use the Stage I communicator to warn the Ambassador soon as his ship comes out of hyperdrive."

  "That would disrupt their plans," said Kresge, nodding his head. "A warning would keep the Ambassador from coming in here at all. He'd probably just turn around and jump back out of the system, after he called the Federation Navy. I don't like it but I see now why the terrorists needed to go back to the Scrapyard."

  "For now, it's at least twelve raiders that we don't have to deal with," said Simmonds.

  "Well, that's something anyway," said Kresge. "Get some rest when you finish eating, Maggie. Good job!"

  He went over to confer with Gibbons.

  "Anybody else got a report for us?" asked Kresge.

  "Not right at the moment. I got two more people due back within the next ten or fifteen minutes though. Might be a good time to grab a little something to eat yourself, Commander."

  The suggestion made him realize that he was hungry. Kresge went over to the mess area, grabbed his own croissant and coffee and sat down by himself to eat. Irene spotted him and came over to the table.

  "Mind if I join you?" she asked.

  "Not at all! Have a seat. You hungry?"

  "No, I already ate. Any news?"

  "Maggie says there's probably somewhere around thirty raiders on the station right now, but that there aren't nearly that many suits of armor. That and that they're spread thin and have a predictable procedure for changing the guards."

  "Is that important?"

  "Oh yeah. I think I have the makings of a plan."

  Chapter 31

  New Ceylon Orbital Station, Central Spindle, October 7, 2598.

  Kathy Haines tried not to panic as she raised her hands above her head.

  "We're not part of the invading force," she said, gambling that whoever it was behind the bright light shining into their eyes wasn't the enemy. "I'm Kathy Haines and this is Orville Steuben and the guy in the uniform is Perry Allen."

  "Kathy?" asked a voice. "It is! It's Kathy! And Steuben! Get in here and shut that door, you gave us a hell of a fright!"

  The climbers were soon surrounded by a small group of men and women. A short, brawny man with black hair and a swarthy complexion came forward, a stun rod still in his hand. Behind him was a large woman with short, dark hair.

  "Perry Allen, this is Salvador Vasquez, head of security up here," said Haines, "and this is Jane Tresham, head technician."

  "Pleased to meet you both" said Allen, shaking hands with each in turn.

  Vasquez smirked at Steuben. "I might have known you'd be up to something, Steuben. What brings you three up here?"

  Haines hesitated before replying, as she considered just what to say.

  "We're trying to get a resistance organized," she said finally. "But there's been some really strange developments."

  "How so?"

  "You know the smuggling and black market operations that we've been trying to get a handle on for the last couple of years?"

  "Yeah," replied Vasquez. "You found out something?"

  "You might say that. It's no wonder we never found anything -- they have a hideout way down on deck five in an undeveloped area of the station. We just came
from there, and I still don't know if I could find it again!"

  "What've they got to do with the resistance?"

  "That's just it, they're the core of it! They took me and a bunch of other people in right after the attack."

  "You've got to be kidding," said Vasquez.

  "There's a little more to it," said Allen. "Oskar Kresge, the Commander out at the Scrapyard, and Irene Marshall are down there, too. It's Kresge who's trying to organize the resistance. I'll wager it won't be much longer before they put him totally in charge."

  "He's right," said Haines. "Kresge and Marshall are both there. I was ready to arrest the whole lot of them, but those two talked me out of it."

  "You would've had a hard time making it stick anyway," said Steuben. "You were outnumbered twenty to one!"

  "The odds are a little better here, Steuben!" she said threateningly.

  "This is not the time," said Allen. "Both of you, stay on task!"

  The two antagonists glared at one another for a long moment before Steuben broke off.

  "You're right, Chief." Steuben looked at Haines again. "I'll back off if you do, Kathy."

  She nodded, but her look remained threatening.

  "Steuben?" said Vasquez, incredulously. "You're part of the smuggling ring? Who else?"

  "It's a long story, Sal," replied Steuben, "and as the Chief says, this ain't the time."

  "I don't like it either, Sal," said Haines. "But it's probably best if we just put the whole thing on hold while we get this other problem worked out."

  "This is almost too much to take in," said Vasquez, as the group migrated into the ventilation and power control room.

  "What's been happening up here?" asked Allen, seeking a change of subject.

  "It's been really quiet, thank God!" said Tresham. "Somebody tried to work the upper hatch an hour or so after the invaders boarded, but we've got it pretty well jammed. Hasn't been any activity since."

  "Do you need anything?" asked Haines. "You got enough food?"

  "No, we're in good shape up here," said Vasquez. "We've got our own cafeteria with several weeks worth of frozen and concentrated food. Hell, there's even a bar, but I've got that under lock and key."