Junkyard Dogs 1: The Scrapyard Incident

by Phillip Nolte

  He tried to sit up and winced.

  "Don't try to sit up, Oskar, you took a pulse bolt to the stomach. You're darned lucky to be alive."

  "The hostages?" he asked, as he slumped back onto the bed and the memories began to trickle back.

  "The hostages are all okay, our rescue mission was successful."

  "Harris, Carlisle, Hawkins?"

  "Harris took command, as you ordered him to."

  "What about the terrorists?"

  "Harris and Carlisle came up with a plan to get them off from the station."

  "So they're gone?"

  "Yes, Oskar," said Irene. "They only got a million credits of marked money and, per Carlisle's instructions, Harris made them take their bomb with them."

  "I'll bet there's a story behind that! So it's all over, the station is safe?"

  "Yes, Oskar, everyone else is okay. You were the last casualty."

  "What a relief," he said. Then he paled slightly as he remembered something else.

  "Did I ask you to marry me, or was that something I dreamed?"

  "You did say something about marriage," said Irene coyly, "but you were badly wounded and Hanna Jordan had given you some kind of drug to keep you from going into shock."

  Kresge looked at her for a long moment.

  "Omigod, Oskar, was that a serious question?"

  Kresge smiled weakly.

  "Yes...I suppose it was." His face took on a look of mild regret. "Oh, Irene," he said, "I had meant to bring it up, but I thought we'd talk it over a lot more. That and...it was supposed to be so much different."

  "Different? How?" she asked, but she continued smiling at him.

  Well, there was supposed to be mood lighting, soft music, candles and wine. I wanted the setting to be perfect!"

  "You're a hopeless romantic, Oskar," she said, shaking her head. "Not that I mind! Music and candlelight would have been nice, but you have to admit that fighting for our lives against terrorists also has a certain charm to it. In the end, it doesn't really matter to me. I know I'll never meet anyone as wonderful as you, ever!"

  "So your answer is yes?"

  "Yes, Oskar." Her blue eyes were shining brightly and a single tear made its way down her cheek. Kresge leaned over the best he could and she bent forward and kissed him tenderly on the lips. He squeezed her hand.

  "You won't regret it," he said.

  "I already do," she said and winked at him. "By the way, if you can rest up really well for the next day or so, the ship's doctor has promised that he'll do his best to clear you to go to the dinner party. You have to attend in a grav chair and they'll have special food for you, but we'll be able to attend the final ceremonies with me."

  "Nothing I'd like better."

  "Get some rest Oskar, I'll be right here."

  "Okay," he said. "Irene?"

  "Yes, dear?"

  "I love you."

  Her smile was dazzling. "I love you too, Oskar. Now get some sleep."

  ***

  Portions of the posh Galaxy Hotel on the New Ceylon Orbital Station had been temporarily assigned to the military for the duration of the Meridian diplomatic summit. Lieutenant Ryan Harris, relieved of his temporary command by virtue of all the higher ranking officers now present on the Orbital Station, knocked softly on the door of one of the hotel's more upscale rooms. His own room was a deck down and though it was nice, it wasn't nearly as luxurious as this one.

  "Is that you, Lieutenant?" Ensign Tamara Carlisle's voice came through slightly distorted by the intercom.

  "Yes, it's me...Harris."

  The door buzzed and he entered. Her voice came from one of the other rooms of the luxury suite.

  "Have seat. I'll only be a moment."

  Harris, in a borrowed dress uniform, hat in hand, looked around briefly but remained standing.

  "Thanks for agreeing to be my date for the festivities, Ensign," he said, loudly enough that she could hear him in the next room.

  "After all that we've been through together, it seemed like the thing to do. In fact, if you hadn't asked me, I might have asked you."

  That surprised him a little, although not unpleasantly so.

  "Promise me something?" she said, peeking around the doorjamb.

  "Sure," he replied.

  "You have to tell me if I look too strange. I never wear formal clothing and this outfit feels awkward as hell."

  "I promise," said Harris, "but I'll bet you look just fine."

  She fussed for a few more minutes.

  "No laughing!" she said as she came into the room. She nervously performed a pirouette in front of him. He was reminded of a similar incident from a week or so ago when she had showed off her special spacesuit the morning after they'd met.

  Harris swallowed, stunned. In front of him was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Carlisle was dressed in an elegant strapless gown of an aqua hue that perfectly complimented her sea-green eyes. Her dark hair was done in an elegant upswept style and she had highlighted her Clan markings with a makeup of some kind that had subtle sparkles in it. A matching diamond necklace, earrings and bracelet added more sparkle at her neck, ears and wrist. After a moment, Harris found his tongue.

  "Ensign...Tamara, you look absolutely wonderful!"

  She blushed. "Thank you...Ryan. Irene helped me pick out the dress and the Lady Saladin lent me the jewelry. I couldn't possibly have come up with something like this myself!"

  "It's obvious they knew what they were doing! I'll be the envy of every man there!"

  She blushed again. "No need to get carried away!" She draped a white shawl over her shoulders and grabbed a small hand purse. "Okay, I'm ready. Let's go."

  ***

  The trade mission was considered to be a major step forward by all involved. Of course, it didn't hurt that both parties taking part in the trade agreement had recently developed a great deal of trust in one another.

  At the end of the long day, there was a formal dinner and ball to honor the Ambassador and his wife. The affair was attended by several hundred people and included dignitaries from the planet, the Federation officers who had responded when Ambassador called for help, orbital station officials, including Governor Larkin and his wife, as well as Irene Marshall, who was accompanied by a convalescing Oskar Kresge in a special grav chair, and anyone else who could finagle an invitation. Right next to the table for all of the dignitaries were several special tables for all of the brave souls who had risked their lives to take the station back from the terrorist group. Included in this group were the three Scrapyard defenders, two of whom were on their first date together, as well as Perry Allen, Marvin Jenkins, Clancy Davis-Moore, Kathy Haines, Salvador Vasquez, Daniel Gibbons, and all three of the Steubens. Angus Hawkins sat next to Helen Murdock, his own date for the evening. Hanna and Caleb Jordan were there in a dual capacity as members of the Resistance as well as representatives from Heard's World.

  By all accounts the festivities associated with the consummation of the trade agreement were also a huge success with incomparable cuisine and some truly excellent wines provided by the now-disbanded Organization. The Ambassador's speech was particularly stirring with remarks that outlined his vision of the trade agreement and what it portended for the future.

  "Fellow citizens of the quadrant. It is with great pleasure that I stand before you tonight at the beginning of a new era of cooperation between the Federation and the members of the Meridian system. I cannot speak for all members of the Islamic Alliance, but I can say that we represent one of the largest and most influential groups within the Alliance. We salute the Government of New Ceylon and, by extension, the United Terran Federation itself."

  He then hit a more sober note.

  "It is no secret that there are many planetary systems and individual governments that do not wish us well on this endeavor. I personally believe that moving now to achieve better relationships and foster a better understanding among different planets and different cultures is the wa
y forward for Mankind. Any other path is likely to lead to ever-increasing chaos and unrest. Let us use this momentous occasion to launch a new era. Let us take the lead in leaving mankind's long and difficult history behind us. As most of you know, my faith denies me the use of alcohol, but join me in the spirit of fellowship as I raise my glass in a toast. To the new agreement between the United Terran Federation and the Imperial Government of Meridian, may we live in peace and prosper! May we show the rest of Mankind the true way forward!" Then he smiled. "And with the situation that was overcome in this system just a few days ago as an example, may we have each other's backs!"

  The cheer that went up was loud and genuine. After the applause died down, Governor Larkin got up to say a few words.

  "Mr. Ambassador, Lady Saladin, President and Mrs. Hillborne, and all of you gathered here for this special occasion. I wish to take this moment to honor some very special people without whom I probably wouldn't be standing here tonight. But first, a little bit of history. When we trace our roots back to Old Earth, there are many traditions that have come down to us from across the centuries. One of these is the use of loyal and tenacious canines to guard collections of valuable artifacts. I am proud to say that this tradition is nowhere more alive and well than in our own little system. The references are simply too numerous to ignore; the resurrected Terrier, the Rover I, the Rover II, the Greyhound, the staff from Doebermann's. History will long remember the story of how the brave guardians of our famous Scrapyard came together with our own station security staff and other..." He hesitated to find the right words, "...concerned citizens... in our hour of need. In honor of all the tenacious canines gathered here to my right, I raise my glass. Ladies and Gentlemen: To the meanest Junkyard Dogs in the Galaxy!

  The applause was thunderous.

  ***

  Afterwards, Carlisle and Harris made their way back to the luxury suites of the Galaxy Hotel. It was late, nearly one am NCZM time, as they stopped in front of the door to Carlisle's suite.

  "Thank you for a wonderful evening, Lieutenant," she said.

  "You're more than welcome. I had a good time too."

  Carlisle didn't appear in any hurry to go into her room. She turned to face him, her back against the door.

  "So, you leave for the Santana Nexus tomorrow?" asked Harris.

  She nodded, "Yes, the Asimov leaves at eight in the morning and two days after I get to the Nexus I'm booked on a transport to Old Earth. With all the new information I have, and no duty during the trip, I should be able to finish my dissertation before I get back to the Academy. With any luck, the next time I see you, I should be Dr. Carlisle!"

  "I doubt you'll need much luck," said Harris. He paused for a moment before continuing. "The next time you see me... That could be a long time..."

  "I know." Her own look grew sad. "I think...I know...I'm going to miss you...quite a lot in fact!"

  "If I wrote to you, would you write back?" he asked, daring to hope. "We could send long distance email via the Military stage two network every two weeks or so?"

  She brightened up at that. "Really? I'd like that very much."

  He looked relieved. "I suppose I should go. You must have a ton of things to do to before morning."

  "Yeah, I'd better get to it," she said. Still, she made no move to open the door. Their eyes met and Harris thought he detected that same look he'd seen back on the bridge of the Terrier before the final battle.

  "There is one more thing before you go...," said Carlisle.

  "What is it, Tamara?"

  "I...I'd like it very much if you would kiss me goodnight."

  Epilogue

  ...This portion of my dissertation contains previously unpublished, indeed, previously unknown information. The author was able to obtain access to the original ship's log records from the Federation Orion Class Destroyer Terrier on a recent foray to the Federation's New Ceylon Reclamation Center. These logs contain information on field modifications that were made to the Terrier and her sister ships Osage, Fairmont, Dakota, and Albany. What follows are actual transcripts of the Terrier's log as recorded by her commander, Captain Eliza Evans, prior to and during the final battle of The Great War of Succession. The information contained in this log is contrary to the currently-held viewpoints on the final battle, particularly the conduct of Janssen's battlecruiser forces and Arthur's heretofore much maligned destroyer force...

  ...According to Captain Evans' account, modifications were performed on the destroyer's projectile weapons to render them powerful enough to significantly damage the enemy's battlecruisers and a protectant material was applied to the hulls of the destroyers sufficient to shield them from several pulse beam hits from these same enemy battlecruisers. More information on these modifications is contained in Appendix C (projectile weapon modifications) and in Appendix D (hull protectant material)...

  ...Perhaps of even greater importance, the Terrier's log reveals that Arthur's outgunned destroyer force did indeed hold off the enemy battlecruisers, even disabling the enemy flagship with concentrated projectile weapon fire targeting the enemy flagship's bridge. Their heroic actions allowed Jannsen, who was very slow to take advantage of the opportunity provided for him by Arthur's small squadron, to attack and ultimately defeat the larger enemy battlecruiser force. It has been well documented that Arthur lost his life in the battle. Until now, the true nature of what he and his small force accomplished has remained lost to history...

  The excerpts that follow are taken directly from the Terrier's log, specifically the bridge recorder. The words are those of Captain Evans...

  "October 5, 2538, 1:35 PM NCZM Time ...Lieutentant Bates, Commander Arthur has ordered us to attack the enemy battlecruiser force directly. We're to concentrate fire on the bridge area of the lead battlecruiser. Crank those two forward guns up to the maximum rate of fire. Let's see how well those bastards handle fifty rounds per minute..."

  "October 5, 2538, 1:51 PM NCZM Time ...Damn it! That fool Janssen has frozen; he's holding back for some reason. What the hell is he waiting for, an engraved invitation? Keep firing, Lieutenant, we have to stop those battlecruisers if we can, or at the very least, slow them down or they'll take our battleships from the flank and this battle will be lost..."

  "October 5, 2538, 1:55 PM NCZM Time ...Captain Eliza Evans log entry. This is amazing, I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't experienced it myself. I have personally seen several of our destroyers take direct hits from enemy battlecruiser pulse beams and keep on going. As we were told, though, a ship protected by the reaction fluid coating can only take a limited number of hits, the Dakota took a third hit and disintegrated completely. The debris cloud did horrific damage to the Osage as well...

  ...I never would have dreamed that a small force of obsolete destroyers could stand up to an entire task force of battlecruisers. These old tubs certainly are stout! It helps that the enemy is having a hard time hitting us; we're small targets and our evasive maneuvers have been more effective than expected. The hypervelocity forward guns are doing a surprising amount of damage. More importantly, it looks like our harassment has given Janssen time to get his head out of his ass and begin to move on the enemy ships..."

  "October 5, 2538, 2:15 PM NCZM Time ...Captain Eliza Evans supplemental log entry. The Terrier is drifting without power. We took a direct hit from a battlecruiser pulse beam and suffered a collision with the Fairmont. We have a substantial hull breach on the starboard side and our projectile weapons are no longer functioning. I don't have a list of casualties as yet but I fear that our losses have been heavy. The engineering crew thinks we'll have emergency power up within a half an hour or so. I have lost contact with Commander Arthur and with the other destroyers. We personally witnessed the total destruction of the bridge on Arthur's ship. Thank God, Janssen has finally attacked the enemy battlecruisers. We may win this battle yet...

  End of transcript.

  Hartwell Wrist Comp reference note highlighted for further review by Tam
ara Carlisle. Excerpt is from "New Information Regarding the Role of Commander Tobias Arthur's Destroyer Squadron in the Final Battle of the Great War of Succession" by Dr. Tamara Carlisle, Ensign, Federation Navy. Submitted to the Federation Naval Academy Graduate School as partial requirement for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in Military History.

  The efforts of the three survivors of the New Ceylon Reclamation Center attack and the Resistance group on board the orbital station could not stop the next war from coming; perhaps nothing could have. What their actions did accomplish however, was to slightly alter the alignment of adversaries. A slim majority of the Muslim worlds aligned themselves with Meridian and came in on the side of the Federation and a significant number of those that did not elected to remain neutral. These developments represented a subtle shift in the winds of chance.

  Would it be enough?

  The End.

  Note from the author.

  Thank you for purchasing and reading Junkyard Dogs One: The Scrapyard Incident. Take a moment, if you would be so kind, to write a review for the book. Short or long, it doesn't matter. Tell me what you liked about The Scrapyard Incident and what you didn't. Your time and effort will be greatly appreciated.

  Yes, I am working on the sequel, Junkyard Dogs Two: The Veritian Derelict, as I compose this message. The new book will be available as soon as I can get it ready.