Junkyard Dogs 1: The Scrapyard Incident

by Phillip Nolte

  "That's it! Objective accomplished. Break it off and get out of here!"

  Kresge watched with growing concern as the two battle armor-clad figures worked their way ever nearer. Several pulse bolts had already been too close for comfort. Positioning herself up near the ceiling of the corridor, Carlisle peeked around the corner, took aim and snapped off a series of pulses from her pistol, scoring multiple hits to the faceplate and helmet area of the closest armor-clad attacker. She then repeated the performance, splashing multiple pulses across the faceplate of the other armored terrorist. The attackers slowed somewhat, confused by the newly intensified and highly accurate fire. Suddenly, to both the left and the right of the room, the elevator doors opened. Each contained one of Kresge's men encased in a set of captured battle armor. The newcomers opened fire, giving the terrorists no choice but to turn and engage them, their previous quarry temporarily forgotten. Carlisle fired another series of accurately aimed pulses and broke off, heading down the corridor and deftly negotiating the hatch. Kresge and Haines followed, making their own way as quickly as possible to the hatchway. With Carlisle and the hostages already safely below, Haines wasted no time and dove in headfirst. Kresge turned to follow her, got his head and shoulders through the hatch and was about to shout in jubilation when he felt a sharp pain in his abdomen, followed immediately by the harsh bark of a pulse rifle.

  Then he heard and felt no more.

  Chapter 67

  New Ceylon Orbital Station, Central Spindle, October 10, 2598.

  As he headed towards the communications console near the airlock of the orbital station, Ezra Brimstone was wondering what tactic the Ambassador and the Commander would be taking to stall him this time around. Maybe he was going to have to kill one of the hostages. For all of his posturing, he didn't like it, but maybe there was no other way. If he were honest with himself, he and his remaining men probably didn't have much time. The Ambassador had almost certainly called the Federation authorities upon being contacted by those meddlers out in the Scrapyard and some kind of significant Federation forces were undoubtedly on their way. That would complicate matters considerably. Best to get this business over with before the Federation reinforcements got there.

  "Greetings, Mr. Brimstone," said the image of the Ambassador.

  "How gratifying to hear from you again, Mr. Ambassador. Have you secured my funds yet?"

  "Just another couple of hours or so, and we will have the full..."

  The Ambassador's words were cut off by a sudden barrage of extremely loud noises coming from the direction of the room where the terrorists had stashed the hostages. Brimstone heard the sound of a bellowing monster and what sounded like multiple discharges of a pulse rifle followed by one of his men shouting.

  "The hostages!" he bellowed. "Back to that room, now! These fools must be trying a rescue attempt."

  A pulse bolt flashed out of the corridor where they were all heading, and one of Brimstone's men grunted and went limp.

  "Take cover!" shouted Brimstone. "Moses! Adam! Take those people out!"

  After a short delay, two battle armor clad figures came floating out of the airlock area and began advancing on the corridor, using their suit thrusters. Having learned their lesson earlier, they had taken a moment to equip and batten down their helmets. Brimstone noted, grudgingly, that the defenders in the corridor seemed to be well-disciplined and were pretty fair marksmen to boot. They were firing at the face plates of the old battle armor. They were scoring a few hits, but his men continued to advance. It was only a matter of time before... Suddenly the doors to two of the elevators, which had been inoperative for the entire time that Brimstone had been on the station, opened up and two men in battle armor began to engage Brimstone's armored counterparts from opposite sides of the room. Brimstone put his head down and cursed. The defenders in the corridor must have abandoned their post because, after a final fulsade of pulse bolts, the fire coming from that direction had ceased.

  "Forget them, get to the corridor!" Brimstone called out angrily. In response, one of his armor clad men turned away from the enemy and, with a surprisingly deft use of his suit thrusters, managed to make it across the room before disappearing into the corridor. Brimstone heard him fire a short burst from his pulse rifle.

  "I got one of 'em," the man called out.

  The elevator doors closed, presumably to whisk the elevator occupants down to the wheel.

  The shooting ceased.

  As suddenly as it had begun, the brief skirmish was over.

  A quick check of the hostage room revealed that the hostages were gone. The guard was still unconscious and his pulse rifle was missing.

  The Ambassador was no longer on the video, the screen had gone blank. Ezra almost screamed out loud in frustration. These arrogant fools would pay for their insolence!

  Chapter 68

  New Ceylon Orbital Station, Central Spindle, October 10, 2598.

  Carlisle and Haines pulled the limp form of Oskar Kresge down into the control room while Hal Norbert immediately went back to work replacing the makeshift but effective dead bolt system on to the hatch. The Governor and his family had been whisked away to somewhere deeper in the spindle. Kresge was unconscious and breathing shallowly. Like most pulse weapon wounds, which were self-cauterizing, there was little blood. From what Carlisle could see, Kresge had suffered a serious wound to the abdomen and would need immediate and expert attention. Even with that, he still might not make it if the bolt had hit something vital. A small, dynamic woman came storming into the room and took charge of the situation.

  "Out of the way!" she ordered. "Give me room!"

  The woman looked Kresge over, examining the wound, checking his heart rate and observing his breathing. She looked up at the other rescuers and shook her head.

  "This is way beyond anything I can do. We have to get some real medical help."

  Carlisle thought frantically.

  "Medical... Istanbul... Ambassador...The Ambassador has some of the most up to date facilities in this entire system on the Istanbul. Have Vasquez call them and explain the situation."

  "I'm on it!" said Steuben. He disappeared down the corridor.

  "Who is she?" Carlisle asked Haines.

  "That's Hanna Jordan. She's our medic. She defected from the raiders about a day and half ago. She's already saved the lives of several of our men."

  Word came back a few tense minutes later that anything the defenders needed from the Ambassador or his ship was at their disposal. The cutter would be at the south end of the spindle in half an hour with a medical module to transport Kresge to the cutter and as soon as possible after that, to the Istanbul.

  "Can you stabilize him, Hanna?" asked Haines.

  "I...I don't know. Maybe. I don't have the right kind of medications. I think he has a chance, though. At least he won't bleed to death. I'll give him some of this," she held up a small vial. "It'll ease the pain. Dear Lord! Someone better tell Irene Marshall."

  "I'll get word to her," said Haines as she headed for the communications room.

  Soon after Hanna administered the drug, Kresge groggily regained consciousness.

  "Ahhh...," he groaned weakly. "Feels like I got hit by a groundtruck!"

  A spasm of pain contorted his body.

  "Don't try to talk, Commander," said Hanna, as she checked his pulse. "You'll only make things worse."

  "Hanna? Hanna Jordan?"

  "Yes, Commander, it's me."

  "...was supposed to tell you something...Caleb..." Kresge swooned and passed out briefly. A moment later he groggily came back to partial consciousness. "Where's Carlisle? Harris? Haines?"

  "I'm here, Commander," said Carlisle. "Harris is down in the communications room and Haines is somewhere between. We're going to transfer you to the Ambassador's ship. They can give you better care than you can get here."

  Kathy Haines came back into the room.

  "Irene?" Kresge gasped.

  "Irene is on her way right
now," said Haines. "She should be here any second."

  "Get... Harris!"

  Kresge seemed to be getting weaker and weaker as he faded in and out of consciousness.

  "He's coming," said Haines. "He had to get someone suited up to work the airlock and be ready to transfer the medical module. Ah, here he is now."

  Harris, Vasquez, Steuben, and Gibbons all croweded into the room.

  "Commander!" said Harris, pushing over to the wounded man. "How bad is it?"

  "I don't know," said Kresge, almost whispering now. Another spasm of pain went through him. He stiffened for a few moments and then relaxed. "It sure as hell hurts, though." He swallowed and closed his eyes from the pain that caused him. Over the course of the next thirty seconds or so, the drug that Hanna Jordan had given him started to take effect. Showing renewed strength, he reached out and grabbed Harris by the wrist.

  "You have to take command of this group, Lieutenant!"

  "But Commander..."

  "No buts, Harris! These are good, brave people but they need a leader. You commanded the group that took out both of the enemy gunships. They need someone with that kind of track record. Besides...," he stopped and smiled weakly, "you have the best tactician in the entire quadrant as your second in command. What do you think, Dan, Kathy, Sal?"

  The leaders of the Resistance looked at one another and nodded almost without hesitation.

  "We're with you, Oskar," said Haines. "We can get it done, but we need the military leadership. These two succeeded against impossible odds out in the Scrapyard and I've seen this woman fight! They've got my vote!"

  "You heard them, you're in charge, Harris. That's an order!" As though this final exchange had used up all of his remaining reserves, Kresge slipped back into oblivion.

  "As the Commander says, Lieutenant," said Haines. "You're in charge now. What's next?"

  Harris stared at the unconscious Kresge for a few a long moments before tearing his gaze away with an effort. He looked straight at Carlisle. She could see the pain in his eyes over concern for his friend and mentor. Whether or not there was any of the self doubt that he had admitted to her on two previous occasions, she couldn't tell for sure. She came to a stark realization. These people, this young Lieutenant in particular, had not just tolerated her with all of her peculiar traits and her unconventional background, they had embraced her. Not since she had left her distant home nearly four years ago had she felt as though she really belonged anywhere. She suddenly realized that she would do anything for these people...and, she finally admitted to herself, for this fine young officer whom she had fought side by side with against almost insurmountable odds for virtually the entire time she had known him.

  "Lieutenant?" she said, gazing directly into his eyes. "I'll follow you anywhere. But we need to get a move on!"

  Harris saw the sincerity and concern and...the hint of something more in those beautiful sea-green eyes and, he too, came to a realization: with this incredibly capable woman at his side he felt -- no, he knew -- that he could accomplish anything!

  "Ah...Let's get the Commander down to the airlock. Where's the Governor? I'll need to talk to him. Oh, and prepare to get that maniac on the com in five minutes, we don't want him setting off that damned nuclear device!"

  In the near weightless environment of the orbital station spindle, Hanna Jordan, Carlisle and Haines easily handled the unconscious Commander. Harris thought of something else that needed tending to.

  "I want at least three armed personnel watching that hatch. We don't know what these bastards will do now!"

  The small group and their new commander headed southward down towards the auxiliary airlock. When they arrived, the cutter was still about ten minutes out. Hanna checked Kresge's vital signs yet another time. He was stable and breathing, but his heart rate was very high and his color looked awful. There was nothing to do for the time being but wait for the cutter to arrive.

  "So you're Hanna Jordan?" said Harris.

  "Yes, I am."

  "Pleased to meet you, I'm Lieutenant Harris and this is Ensign Carlisle."

  "You two came in from the Scrapyard?"

  "Yes."

  "Do you know what happened to the two ships that went back out there?"

  Hanna looked as though she was about to cry. Harris and Carlisle looked at one another.

  "Hasn't anyone told you about your husband?" asked Harris.

  "No, they haven't." Her anguish was obvious. "Do you have news?"

  "It has been pretty hectic around here. Kresge was supposed to tell you. That must be what he was mumbling about a few minutes ago. Hanna... Caleb Jordan is on board the Ambassador's ship."

  "He's alive?" Her look was cautious, as though she were afraid to believe.

  "Yes, he and someone named Jessie survived the destruction of the first ship. It's a long story, but we managed to take Caleb prisoner and we brought him back with us."

  Caleb is alive! Praise the lord!"

  "That's not all," said Carlisle. "The Ambassador's wife is a Truthseer. She's convinced that Caleb is telling the truth about your innocence of any involvement in the Brotherhood's plot."

  Harris grew more serious.

  "Hanna, we need you to tell us about Ezra."

  "I don't know how much help I can be; he had me fooled completely. But I can sure try. What do you need to know?"

  "Well... he claims to have a nuclear device."

  "He what?"

  "We think that he might actually have a nuclear device. He could have gotten it from the same place that he got the pulse weapons for those two ships."

  Hanna paled. "Lord, have mercy!"

  "Caleb says that you've known Ezra since he was a kid in your Sunday worship classes. I have to ask you a really important question."

  "Okay..."

  "We already know that he has no qualms about killing people, though I'll admit that most of his victims so far have either been military or security personnel. Here's my question: Do you think he would use a nuclear bomb to kill over three thousand innocent people?

  "I...I need to think about that..."

  "What kind of a kid was he? Was he a bully? A victim?"

  "He was a beautiful child. As you can see, he grew up to be a very nice looking man." She thought for a moment. "Because of that he's always been rather vain. He was also something of a conniver, very good at getting others to do things for him. Never much for sports...come to think of it, he never was much of a fighter either. Couldn't tolerate any pain at all. I guess I've always thought he was a bit of a coward.

  "This is very important, Hanna," said Harris, watching her closely. "Do you think he would kill himself to kill all of us? Would he commit suicide?"

  "The boy I knew twenty years ago wouldn't. The man that he has become...I can't be sure but... I don't think so. In spite of how he's twisted things, he's very strong in his faith. To us, suicide is a mortal sin." She shook her head. "I wish I could be more help to you." She stopped for a moment. "How...How is Caleb?"

  "When we left him, he was fine," said Carlisle. "He was confined to his room, but it was a room fit for a king. He's a lot better off than we are!"

  Any more conversation was cut short by the arrival of Irene Marshall who came in with an anguished look and went straight to Kresge's side.

  "How is he, Hanna?"

  "I...I don't know, Ms. Marshall. He's hurt pretty bad but it doesn't look like there's any damage to his heart or his lungs. The Ambassador's ship has some up-to-date medical facilities and a doctor on board. He'll get the best help they can provide."

  Irene took Kresge's limp hand in both of hers and brought it to her cheek.

  "You can't die on me, Oskar!"

  Kresge swooned back to partial consciousness upon hearing Irene's voice.

  "Irene?" he asked weakly. "Irene, is that you?

  "Yes, Oskar, it's me."

  "Will you marry me?"

  Irene's eyes filled with fresh tears.

  "Oskar, yo
u can't be serious..."

  But Kresge had slipped back into unconsciousness again. Irene didn't know if he had heard her or not. She looked at the two newcomers. She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

  "Sorry, it's just that he means so much to me. You must be Lieutenant Harris and Ensign Carlisle," she said.

  "That's right, Ma'am," said Harris. "Fresh in from the Scrapyard."

  "Oskar was so proud of both you. Now..."

  "Easy...Ms. Marshall," said Harris. "He's not dead yet. Why don't you put a suit on and go with him? We can do without you here for a while."

  She seemed to brighten up at the suggestion.

  "Thank you, Lieutenant. I'd like that."

  She left for the adjoining suit room. A couple of minutes later, the medical module arrived from the cutter and was brought in through the airlock. Hanna, Haines, and Carlisle did their best to gently put the Commander into the module and seal it up. Two space suited figures, one them Irene Marshall and the other one of the Ambassador's men from the Istanbul's cutter, took the module out through the airlock and brought it on board the sleek little craft. The airlock door closed. Just a few minutes later, the cutter swiveled around and headed back towards the Istanbul.

  Chapter 69

  New Ceylon Orbital Station, Central Spindle, October 10, 2598.

  Ezra Hellfire Brimstone could not remember a time when he had been more angry or more frustrated. The gall of these people to ruin all of his carefully-laid plans! They would pay for their arrogance! He still had the self destruct from the old cruiser and, if it be the Lord's will, he would use it. Even if it meant his own death!

  That thought made him pause...He wasn't really ready to die. Not just yet. Maybe in another fifty years or so. Trouble was... the governor and his family had been one of Brimstone's most powerful bargaining chips...and now they were gone. Maybe he could still get some ransom money out of the mess this had all become. Or maybe he should just set off the device and get it all over with.