"We feared to move her," replied one of the men, in a strange accent. "She is still in the landing craft, unconscious."
Hanna grabbed her medical gear and Caleb helped her get down from the wagon. She headed towards the open door of the landing craft with the two crew members trailing behind her. With the crew members temporarily concentrating on his wife, Caleb spoke softly but urgently to the Governor. "These fellows look like trouble to me. Did they say who they are?"
"They said they represent the Sheik of Barsoom, whoever that it is."
"Sheik of Barsoom, eh? Can't say I like the sound of that. Don't do anything foolish, but if something happens to us, get word to Commander Kresge and Lieutenant Harris over at New Ceylon as soon as you can!"
The Governor nodded, his expression serious.
Just then, Caleb's wife called out to her husband from inside the landing craft.
"Caleb? Could you come please? I'm going to need you."
Caleb grabbed the rest of the medical gear off from the buggy and headed for the open door of the landing craft. He was ushered into the passenger compartment where an unconscious woman with what appeared to be a very bloody leg lay on a litter.
"They say there are broken bones," said Hanna, "I'll need the instruments in that bag."
Caleb had barely gotten through the door to the passenger area when he was grabbed roughly and held tightly by the same two brawny crewmen who had greeted them outside. At the same time, Hanna was detained and held securely by yet another crewman who nonchalantly withdrew his pulse pistol from its equally well-worn holster and held it against her head. The "injured" woman sat up and shook out her black hair before stripping the bloody bandage off from her leg and standing up, obviously not injured. The dark eyes in her exotically beautiful face looked the two captives over.
"You are Caleb and Hanna Jordan?" said the woman.
"You already know that," replied Caleb.
"Just making sure," said the woman, "We are soldiers in Army of the Glorious Islamic Revolution. I am Fahada; our leader is His Eminence the Sheik of Barsoom. We have been informed that you know the location of a wrecked cruiser that still contains useable weapons. The Sheik has need of those weapons as well as your talents with pulse cannons."
Caleb ran down his list of options and discovered he really didn't have any.
"The ship is called God's Almighty Sword," said Caleb. "She was stashed out here at the end of the Succession War by the Veritian Brotherhood. I can show you how to find her, but take me and leave Hanna here. I'll do anything you want."
"She will be coming along," said the woman. "We must be absolutely certain of your obedience. Secure the hatch, Achmed, we are leaving."
"At least warn the villagers to stand clear," said Hanna, a look of anguish on her face.
"They will run for their lives soon enough," said the woman, with a wicked glint in her eye.
After a short countdown, the shuttle lifted off. Out the side viewport, Caleb saw the villagers begin to scatter as soon as the craft's engines began to cycle up and the Governor, bless his big heart and his clear head, had deftly swung himself up into the Jordan's buggy and drove it, the Jordan's horse and himself out to join the rest of the villagers at a safe distance from the departing spacecraft.
"Dear Lord, let him get word to Kresge," Caleb prayed silently, even while knowing that it was only a slim hope.
Chapter 16.
"...The main facility at the Santana Nexus is probably the ultimate expression of what can be accomplished using the basic spindle and ring design for an orbital space station. The vast majority of stations of this type consist of only a single ring. Another ten percent or so have been constructed with two rings. Only a few of them have been built with more than two rings and the Santana Nexus station is one of only three that have ten of them...
...Another way in which the Nexus facility differs from most other stations of its type is that the station doesn't circle a planet in close orbit. Instead, the sprawling facility occupies the L-5 point in the orbit of a large gas giant in the Santana Star System. This arrangement places the station within reasonable distance from the Whitney jump point. The harmonics of the various gravitational influences in the system place the jump point above the plane of the ecliptic, about one astronomical unit above the North pole of the star. The nearly circular orbit of the gas giant, and consequently that of the Nexus station, means that the distance from the station to the jump point remains, for all intents and purposes, the same, no matter where the station happens to be in its orbit...
...There are no inhabitable planets in the Santana system but there is the very strategic and vital Whitney jump zone. Though a minor player compared to the Sol Terra Quadrant, the Santana Quadrant contains a great deal of useful and important real estate including five major, inhabited Federation planets and another half-dozen minor planets, like New Ceylon, which have Federation ties. The Santana jump point is also the gateway to some of the most important planets of the Islamic Alliance, including Meridian, Jasmine and New Saudi Arabia. This vital location means that the Santana Nexus is a bustling point for travel and trade and justifies the expense of supplying virtually everything needed to sustain a permanent population of some fifty thousand people with another two or three thousand temporaries who are in transit to or from the Quadrant and the various destinations that can be accessed through the hyperlink point..."
Hartwell Wrist Comp reference highlighted for further review by Tamara Carlisle. Excerpt is from "The Santana Nexus Station: What Makes it so Special?" by Thomas Priebe.
"...Orientation onboard the station can be confusing for newcomers. The Nexus Station, like all others of its type, is spinning, partially for the stability of the platform, but also to provide simulated gravity for the occupants. The simulated gravity means that the direction normally sensed as “up” is actually inward from the outside rim of the station towards the spindle. ‘Down’, of course is just the opposite. The traditional terms ‘North,’ ‘South,’ East’ and ‘West’ are used to describe other directions important for navigating the station and maintaining orientation. The ‘North’ end or 'pole' of the station is the end that has the large, public airlock while the ‘South’ end contains the military docking facilities. For a person facing northward in the station, the rotation occurs in a clockwise direction. ‘East’ will take them in the direction of the spin and ‘West’ will take them against the spin of the station. Each level is clearly marked with Arabic numerals on numerous wall areas throughout the level while compass symbols to provide directional orientation are embossed into the floor material and are clearly visible at most corridor intersections…"
Hartwell Wrist Comp reference note highlighted for further review by Tamara Carlisle. Excerpt is from an orientation video available for download and as a hardcopy pamphlet prepared by the Santana Nexus Station authorities for distribution to tourists and other visitors to the station. No author is listed.
On board UTFN destroyer Asimov in the docking area of the Santana Nexus Station, December 2, 2598.
After just over a week in transit, Ensign Tamara Carlisle was packed and ready to leave the Asimov and board the Santana Nexus station several hours before the destroyer finally docked at the Nexus Station. She gathered up her personal gear in her small quarters and stacked it neatly on the bed. The rest of her gear, including the prototype command suit that she had been testing on her original trip to New Ceylon, would be offloaded onto the station and, within a few hours, would be transferred to the Meridian Ambassador's ship.
She had asked permission and been allowed onto the bridge of the Federation destroyer during the docking maneuvers for a look at the operating procedures of a thoroughly modern warship and she had been very impressed. She was also surprised to note that the Asimov and two other destroyers were the only Federation ships currently at the Santana Nexus.
"Where're all the Federation ships, Sir?" she asked the Officer of the Watch, Lieutenant Shirleen Nesbitt, a youn
g but very professional female officer.
"There's hostile activity erupting all over the Quadrant, Ensign," replied Nesbitt. "Every available ship is responding to some crisis or another. We aren't staying very long ourselves."
There was little opportunity for them to talk over the next half hour or so as the bridge crew concentrated on the business of getting their ship docked. Finally the announcement came over the intercom that it was time for Carlisle to disembark and board the Nexus station. She bade her new friend farewell and headed back down to her quarters. Once there, she slung her duffle over her shoulder, headed to the main airlock area and departed the Asimov. She made her way over to the Nexus Station on a shuttle that brought her from the destroyer to one of the receiving areas of the huge station.
She had been on the Santana Nexus station several times before but the sheer size and complexity of the facility was still almost overwhelming. Because of the large amount of inbound and out outbound traffic that was required to service a large, very mobile population, the Santana Nexus station had been designed with access facilities for ships at either end of the central spindle. The military used the "South" entrance while everyone else, including diplomatic craft, used the "North" end. Carlisle would have to get to the North end sometime within the next twelve hours or so she could transfer to the Ambassador's ship.
On board the station, Carlisle was surprised to find that the corridors were mostly empty and foot traffic was light. It seemed to her that there had been a lot more military personnel on the station the last time she'd been there. She found this lack of military personnel somewhat unsettling. Once out of the receiving area, the first thing she did was check with the Officer of the Watch at the military checkpoint.
"Ensign Tamara Carlisle just arrived on the Asimov from Sol Terra Quadrant," she said as she saluted the young Lieutenant. After he returned her salute she added, "Permission to come aboard?"
"One moment, Ensign," he said as he checked his electronic clipboard. "...Carlisle...Ah here you are. On special assignment for the Admiralty." His demeanor immediately became more respectful. "Permission granted, Ensign," he replied. Then he added, "You are to report to Admiral Kingston for further orders. She is on ring ten, fifth level, section 36 B."
During her two previous, brief visits to the station, there had never been any reason for Carlisle to go to "Brass Central" on ring ten and she hadn't a clue how to get there. If she'd had her wrist computer, as she had the last two times she'd been on the Nexus, she would not have had any problem. Seeing her somewhat bewildered look, the Lieutenant pointed to the access area for the spoke elevators which was just a few meters northward of the checkpoint. The elevators provided transportation outward from the spindle to the rings of the station. "Stay down here on this set of spokes; just take the elevator for spoke eight over there. When you get to the ring, take the ring elevator all the way out to level five and then head east. There's another security checkpoint a hundred meters or so down the corridor after you get there. You can't miss it."
She did find the checkpoint without incident and got directions from there to the Admiral's office but she managed to take a wrong turn somewhere. She walked almost a quarter of the distance around the tenth ring of the Nexus station before retracing her steps. After backtracking from yet a couple more wrong turns, she finally came to her destination.
The CPO in the admiral's receiving area looked her over with narrowed eyes as he announced her arrival into the intercom unit on his desk. After a short interchange with a gruff female voice, he motioned to Carlisle that she was to go inside the office complex. Once through the door to the complex, Carlisle negotiated a short corridor, about three meters in length, before coming to another door at the end. She knocked softly on the inner door. The same gruff voice invited her in.
As the door closed behind her, Carlisle saw a stern looking woman, perhaps forty-five or fifty years old who, at that moment, was concentrating on her video display and frowning. The woman's white Navy-issue coverall had two large and imposing gold stars on each collar and a name tag that read "Kingston" just above the left breast pocket. The admiral glanced up from her computer display as Carlisle came in; her look and her posture did not appear to be at all welcoming. After an exchange of salutes, the Admiral looked the Ensign up and down appraisingly, her gaze lingering for a time on Carlisle's left cheek as the older woman examined her subordinate's distinctive Spacer clan tattoo.
"At ease, Ensign," said Kingston, as she motioned Carlisle to take one of the chairs that were placed across from the Admiral's massive and very impressive desk. Carlisle took a seat and waited nervously while the Admiral consulted her video display for several more minutes.
"So, you're a part of Loftgen's Spacer recruiting program..." Carlisle nodded cautiously, not sure where the conversation was headed. "...and I see that you have just completed a Ph.D. in Military History, 'New information on the destroyer actions during the final battle of the Succession War.' Very impressive. I've always thought that Janssen was somewhat of a pompous ass!" Carlisle smiled tentatively and nodded her head again. The admiral continued, "...and I also see that you were part of the group that fought off the terrorist attack on the New Ceylon system. Commendable, Ensign, commendable." The Admiral's look grew predatory as she finally turned her attention to Carlisle. "That's all well and good, but what makes you think that any of this makes you fit to be a liaison to the Meridian Ambassador?"
Suddenly and unexpectedly faced with a stressful situation and what appeared to be an extremely hostile superior officer, Carlisle's speech problem came back with a vengeance."...Special request...Loftgren approval...I'm sorry, Ma'am, but I was told the Ambassador and his wife specifically requested me."
"I don't give a good God-damn about that! In my opinion, you aren't the least bit qualified for a position as important as this."
"I...I'm sorry you feel that way, Ma'am...er Sir."
"You're sorry! That's supposed to make me feel better? I'll have you know that I have at least ten people onboard the Nexus station right now that are more qualified than you will ever be. This is just that thrice-damned Loftgren sticking his nose into my business again!"
The crusty old woman frowned and fumed for a bit longer before coming to a decision.
"I can't overrule him in this matter, but I don't have to take this lying down either. Go ahead and assume a liaison position, Ensign, but I'm assigning my own choice for liaison to make sure this affair doesn't come totally apart! And don't you forget for one minute that I'll have people watching you the entire time. You'd better not screw this up! Or maybe I should say, go ahead and screw this up, I'd love to rub old Loftgren's face in it!" The improvised plan had cheered the older woman up a considerably but she still looked angry as she dismissed Carlisle with a final parting shot.
"I'll be sending Lieutenant Lawrence Harvick along to keep an eye on you. He'll be answering directly to me. In addition to his vastly greater experience, he'll out rank you. Oh yes, this is perfect." The old woman gave Carlisle a feral grin. "Go on, get the hell out of here!"
Carlisle saluted and stumbled out of the admiral's office still hearing the older woman's cackle of victory behind her. Taken totally by surprise and shaken to the core, she hadn't even had time to get angry which, as she thought about it, was probably a good thing even if it would have been a justifiable response. The interview continued to cycle over and over through her mind as she walked as fast as she could, in no general direction. Finally, she calmed down enough to get her bearings and head for the military receiving area where she was to claim her gear and head northward to transfer off from the station to the Ambassador's ship.
Another check with military authorities revealed that the Ambassador's ship, the Istanbul, was still in transit from the hyperlink point and would not be docking at the Nexus station until the following morning. Carlisle requested and received a small stateroom to clean up in and get some rest. Still in uniform, she threw her duffel i
nto a corner of the tiny compartment, flopped down on the bed, stared up at the ceiling and wondered just what the hell she had gotten herself into.
After a half hour or so of feeling sorry for herself, she felt the need to do something physical. She decided that a strenuous workout would be just the key to making her feel better. She remembered that the Santana Nexus had a weightless gymnastics arena, right nearby in a section of the spindle inwards from the very ring of the station where her small quarters were located.
Carlisle had competed on the Naval Academy weightless gymnastics team during the entire four years she had been an undergrad there. Since she had been one of the best performers on the team, it had been one of the few activities where her presence had been openly welcomed by the other students. A quick check on the computer terminal in her stateroom revealed that the arena was currently open for practice. She grabbed her workout clothes from her duffel, pulled off her uniform and put them on. After slipping a military coverall over the top, she headed up the spoke that led to the weightless arena located in a dedicated area of the central spindle of the station.
The arena area was all but deserted while she shed the coverall and performed a series of stretching and warm up exercises. After ten minutes, during which she worked her body hard enough to break into a sweat, she went to the attendant and got permission to go out into the arena.
"There're two more people in there right now, both of 'em are students, so just be careful if you do any full court maneuvers," said the young woman. "We don't want anyone getting hurt. I'll signal you when it's safe to go in."
Carlisle thanked her and, upon getting the all clear from the attendant only a minute later, opened the access door and entered the arena, pulling the heavily padded door closed behind her. She started with some easy maneuvers and combinations, to ensure that she was really warmed up. The other two gymnasts in the large, cubical arena were much younger than Carlisle, one looked to be a teenager and the other appeared to be even younger. When Carlisle flawlessly performed the series of maneuvers that made up the intermediate level exercise that the two youngsters were struggling with, they both stopped what they were doing to watch.
The Veritian Derelict (Junkyard Dogs) Page 10