The Veritian Derelict (Junkyard Dogs)

by Nolte, Phillip

  Rabbi Geller had been smiling throughout the entire exchange. Finally he spoke up. "I, for one, welcome the distinguished doctor. I have been perusing his writings and find that some of what he is saying has merit. Not all, mind you, but some certainly."

  The other two clerics glared at the Rabbi. He merely smiled blandly back at them. Carlisle sensed that these three distinguished gentlemen had been down this road before. The Ambassador attempted to direct the discussion.

  "As I was saying, we are here to discuss what steps we can take to ease the tensions out here in this part of the Quadrant," he said.

  "The aggression on the part of several governments in the Jade Consortium towards our colonists on Hobart must cease immediately," said the Bishop.

  "I think you are mistaken as to who the real aggressors are," countered the Islamic Cleric.

  "The raids on Kiwi freighters began over six months ago, our people were merely defending their property," said the Bishop.

  "I do not know who is responsible for the raiding," said the Ayatollah, "but I can assure you, they do not represent the Jade Consortium. I suggest you attempt to get a handle on the pirate activity in your part of the Quadrant rather than blaming us!"

  "Gentlemen, please," said the Ambassador. "The tension between your groups is well known. We are gathered here to discuss solutions, not to retread well-worn paths!"

  "I think I see a pattern here," said Talbot. "These raids were and are being staged by forces that wish for the tensions to increase. I would ask each of you who has the most to gain from having your governments at one another's throats?"

  The Bishop and the Islamic Cleric glared at each other for a moment before the Bishop grudgingly said, "The Kuwaitis."

  The Ayatollah paused in thought for a moment. "That is possible," he said, "They have been acting very subdued as of late, they would bear looking into!"

  Carlisle watched in fascination as the diplomatic summit worked its tortuous way through a number of the Quadrant's political rough spots. The discussion was often contentious and passions flared repeatedly. The Ambassador and, surprisingly, Lieutenant Harvick, managed to calm everyone down each time the conversation threatened to get really nasty. Finally, after an exhausting three hours and the hammering out of what appeared to be a workable agenda, it was time for the meeting to end.

  "Gentlemen," said the Ambassador, "I thank you all again for coming. Dinner is scheduled for seven o'clock this evening. I expect quite a number of people will be there who will be part of the larger meeting tomorrow. There will be a reception at six pm and we will all have a chance to get better acquainted. I believe all of you have already moved into your temporary quarters. Please let us know if there is anything that you need. Otherwise I think we are finished here for the day. I will see you at the reception."

  The three religious leaders filed out, leaving the Ambassador, Lady Sondia, F.C. Talbot and the two Federation Navy officers, one of them undercover and out of uniform, in the room.

  "Dr. Talbot," said the Ambassador. "I thank you again for coming. Your insights and your perspective are greatly appreciated."

  "You are too kind, Excellency," replied Talbot. "The pirate or terrorist activity -- whatever you want to call it -- in the Quadrant is particularly problematic. The Kiwis and the Jade Consortium are being distracted from the real threat." The old man stopped and shook his head. "I fear some kind of grand gesture on the part of these rabble rousers is imminent. Are the Federation forces on alert?"

  "I trust that you'll pardon my saying so, Dr. Talbot," said Harvick, "but I am not at liberty to discuss such things. I'm sure a man of your proven experience can understand?"

  "Of course," said Talbot, with a smirk. "How could I be so thoughtless?"

  "A simple oversight," said Harvick. "I understand that you meant no harm." He turned to the Ambassador. "Do you have further need of my services, Excellency? I should return to my quarters and transcribe my thoughts on this meeting while the impressions are still fresh."

  "By all means, Lieutenant," said the Ambassador, "Go and finish your duties."

  Harvick gave a slight bow before turning and leaving the room.

  "He's certainly a strange duck," said Talbot after Harvick left. Alone in the room with only the Ambassador, Sondia and Carlisle, Talbot leaned in close to Carlisle and spoke softly, almost conspiratorially. "I don't suppose that you are the same Tamara Carlisle that has been researching certain destroyer actions during the Succession War, are you? Or should I say, Ensign Tamara Carlisle?"

  Carlisle gulped. The old man chuckled good naturedly, "Don't worry, my dear, your secret is safe with me. How goes your study?"

  "My...my committee only signed off on my dissertation about a week ago, Sir," said Carlisle. "It's still working its way through the rest of the system."

  "I understand, of course. So tell me, what did you find out?"

  "That you were right about everything you'd been saying, Sir. It was nice to have made a contribution towards solving a mystery."

  "Janssen made it into a mystery," Talbot chuckled, "I only wrote about what I saw and about what we did. Now if you want a mystery, you could find out what happened to Prince Merrikh, the youngest son of the former emperor who was at the heart of the Succession nonsense in the first place!"

  "He was killed in the final battle, certainly," said Carlisle, "when the Succession flagship was destroyed?"

  "Yes of course, officially..." responded Talbot, "but I believe there were several trustworthy people who came forward afterwards and said that he had never boarded the enemy flagship in the first place."

  "How could anyone follow up on something like that fifty years later?" asked Carlilse.

  "As I said, Dr. Carlisle, a mystery worth solving," said Talbot with a knowing smile.

  "Great discussion," said the Ambassador. "I was hoping the two of you would have a chance to talk. Later I think there will be time for you to discuss things further. Right now I suggest you both take some time to freshen up a bit. As I said, dinner will be served at seven but there will be a social that begins an hour earlier." He looked directly at Carlisle. "It is at the social that we all will need to be especially vigilant." He paused for a moment, "Faiza told us about her conversation with you regarding...ah...certain other responsibilities. We had intended to ask you ourselves but the opportunity had not yet presented itself."

  "You mean the bodyguard part?" asked Carlisle. The Ambassador nodded, seemingly a little embarrassed. Carlisle set him at ease. "It's okay, really. Actually, I'm honored though I don't really know how much good I'll be. How do you want me to handle the reception?"

  "Faiza will not be in attendance. Just stay close to Sondia and me. I suggest that you speak very little, act as though you're really shy and somewhat in awe of the company. Just observe." That last part, about being somewhat in awe of the company, wasn't going to be difficult at all, thought Carlisle. "Oh, just so you aren't surprised again, Mr Clancy Davis-Moore will also be at the dinner. Don't worry, he has also been informed of your special status."

  The remaining members of the afternoon conference dispersed and headed back to their quarters. Carlisle tried to get through some of the information on the various representatives of the various governments she was about to go and interact with but her thoughts kept returning excitedly to the meeting she had just attended. Not only was F.C Talbot onboard the Istanbul, but he also knew about her research. She looked forward with mixed emotions to further interaction with the great man.

  Chapter 23.

  "...It was as though the woman was the very spawn of Satan! She could tell almost immediately when someone was lying or even shading the truth. Yes, I must admit that truthseers have their uses but I, for one, have never been even the least bit comfortable around them. It is reputed that this one did not even need the cursed electronic augmentation devices, that she could penetrate a man's soul without them. It is a great tragedy that she was not captured or killed during the New Ceylon
incident with the Veritian Brotherhood. We might have been rid of her and her accursed abilities forever..."

  Segment of a conversation about the Lady Sondia Saladin and her truthseer abilities recording during a confidential meeting in the early days of the Great Santana Conflict between the Sheik of Barsoom and a Lieutenant who had been subjected to a truthseer interrogation two years earlier.

  On board Meridian Imperial Diplomatic Ship Istanbul, docked near the Santana Nexus Station. December 3, 2598.

  The reception in the Istanbul's ballroom suites was well underway when Carlisle arrived. With around sixty people present, plus at least a dozen of the Ambassador's personal guard, the atrium to the ballroom was accommodating about as many people it could hold. Members of the various factions within the group had gathered into assorted clumps of various sizes, each of which seemed to be discussing the subjects dearest to them. The noise level was amazingly high.

  Carlisle scanned the room and started heading for the largest of the groups, the one that contained the Ambassador and his wife. As she made her way carefully through the throng she nearly bumped into Clancy Davis-Moore. Carlisle had met him two months ago during the battle to reclaim the New Ceylon Orbital station. There hadn't been time for her to get to know him very well but she knew that he had played an important role in the fighting. Because of this, he was also one of only a few people in the room that she felt she could trust completely.

  "Dr. Tamara Carlisle, I presume?" said Davis-Moore, by way of greeting. "How very nice to see you again." He hadn't used her military title and there was a hearty smile behind his impressive, handlebar moustache. His eyes twinkled.

  "Mr. Davis-Moore," she said, keeping their meeting outwardly formal. "The pleasure is all mine." He took two long-stemmed glasses of an amber liquid off from a tray that was being circulated by a steward and handed one of them to her. In keeping with Islamic tradition, none of these beverages contained any alcohol. His manner immediately grew much more serious and he leaned towards her and spoke very softly, so only she could hear him.

  "I don't like this set up one bit, Tamara," he said, eyes roving nervously over the crowd. "Several of these people are from the Meridian Orthodox Faction. They're the main opposition to the Ambassador's party back on Meridian."

  "I've been reading about them in my briefing materials," she replied. "Surely the security for this meeting is top level. What is it that's bothering you, Clancy?"

  "That's just it, the security screening when we were brought on board was only minimal; the Ambassador was afraid they might offend someone, particularly the Sheik of New Cairo or some member of this entourage. Maybe it's a long shot, but one of those people could have gotten through with a stealth hand weapon, like a quantum knife or something."

  "The Sheik of New Cairo?" asked Carlisle. "That name wasn't on my list."

  "That's how he was introduced," replied Davis-Moore.

  "Sondia told me to stay close to them tonight," she replied. "I'm on my way over to join them right now. I'll keep an eye out and do what I can. Thanks for the heads up, Clancy."

  He smiled again and looked at least somewhat relieved. "It really is good to see you again, Tamara," he said.

  She smiled back at him and resumed her path towards the Ambassador and his cluster of hangers on. As she came up to the group, Sondia greeted her warmly and motioned for Carlisle to take a place next to her. Lieutenant Harvick, in his Navy dress whites, gave Carlisle and her civilian clothes another long accusatory look as she took a place right next to him in the Ambassador's small knot of people. She made an effort to engage Harvick, to remind him that, in spite of her wardrobe choice, the two of them were still on the same team.

  "So, Lieutenant," she asked, "do you know which one of these people is the Sheik of New Cairo?"

  "He is the tall man with the purple sash," answered Harvick, nodding towards a man standing a little apart from their group who at that moment was conversing quietly with one of his attendants while looking at the Ambassador with narrowed eyes. Having identified the person of concern, Carlisle kept a portion of her attention on the Sheik while nodding and mumbling politely, something she was particularly good at, when she was introduced to any of the other dignitaries. With her nearly perfect memory, she could remember all of the faces, names and occupations of each of them. Sondia leaned over and spoke softly but urgently into her ear.

  "That young man in the brown robes right next to the Sheik of New Cairo is becoming more and more agitated and I'm almost certain that the Sheik lied about him, Tamara. Whatever you do, don't take your eyes off from him!"

  Carlisle could see little outward evidence of any nervousness on the young man's part but she immediately remembered that the Ambassador's wife had very special training and very special abilities. Carlisle also noted that Sondia was wearing one of her Truthseer veils.

  "Truthseer net?" Carlisle whispered back. The Lady Saladin nodded tersely in assent.

  Carlisle took a small sip of her drink and handed her nearly full glass to one of several servers circulating through the crowd. She turned her attention back to the young man, who had been introduced as one of the Sheik's aides, and tried to remain as inconspicuous as she could about it. Neither he nor this "Sheik of New Cairo" had been listed anywhere in her memory chip briefings.

  It was during the confusion at the end of the reception and the beginning of the dinner, when the small groups had either broken up or migrated as a group through a short hallway into the adjoining dining room that the terrorists made their move. Much of the crowd had already filed into the dining room and people were milling about looking for their seats while continuing their various conversations.

  When the atrium that had housed the reception was all but empty, with only a few of the Ambassador's immediate group and a handful of stragglers remaining, the attack came. The Ambassador's full attention was on the Sheik of New Cairo with whom he was having a heated conversation about some arcane religious issue. The young aide that Carlisle had been told to watch, his attention totally focused on the Ambassador from a position about two meters behind the dignitary, reached within his robes and pulled out something that flashed in the light. While retrieving the object, he had simultaneously begun to move towards the Ambassador.

  With her Spacer upbringing and her gymnastics training to draw upon, Carlisle had been at the very top of her class in hand to hand combat techniques during the entire time she had been at the Academy. With time only to react in the present situation, she allowed the instincts she had developed through long practice to take over. She roughly shoved past Harvick and stepped between the Ambassador and his would-be assailant. She fell into a fighting crouch, her hands up and open. Time seemed to stand still. The words of her hand-to-hand combat instructor at the academy flashed through her mind.

  "You are a very strong and very skilled woman, Tamara," he had said, "among the best I've ever trained, but you are small and do not mass very much. If you find yourself in a hand-to-hand combat situation with a much larger, armed opponent you must choose your earliest opportunity to go on the offensive. When you do, you must act swiftly and savagely; hold nothing back! Your object is to kill or maim, anything less could be fatal to you."

  Scowling angrily, the man turned his attention to this totally unexpected and unwanted distraction. His expression changed to one of incredulous wonder. Confronting him was an unarmed woman, one who was rather on the small side, with some sort of heathen-spawned tattoo on an otherwise not unattractive face. It appeared she was attempting to deny him access to the Ambassador. He would simply sweep this insignificant defender, this insect, aside to get to his target.

  He stepped towards her, intending to knock her out of the way with a sweep of his left arm but the incredible speed with which his opponent moved and her unexpected strength took the would-be attacker totally by surprise. Carlisle ducked easily under the sweeping arm and grabbed the man's other arm, the one with the weapon in it. Maintaining the sam
e fluid motion, Carlisle shoved downwards on the man's weapon arm, instinctively concentrating all of her weight and strength onto twisting his right elbow across the front of his rib cage. Something snapped in the man's arm and a ceramic-handled force blade knife clattered to the floor.

  With the would-be assailant bewildered, off balance and bent almost double, Carlisle had a split second to think. A knee to her opponent's exposed throat would crush his windpipe and almost certainly kill him. The man was helpless and she was surrounded by at least a dozen of the Ambassador's guards. In that instant, she chose not to kill him and redirected her right knee savagely up into the man's face instead. With his nose suddenly rushing blood, he collapsed in a heap.

  Now completely in the throes of a huge adrenalin rush, Carlisle came out of the brief skirmish with all senses on total alert and scanned the area for other threats, just as her training and her heightened instincts dictated. She immediately zeroed in on one of the servers. An older man taking advantage of the diversion provided by his companion, he was already approaching the Ambassador from his left side. As she watched, he ditched his serving tray after pulling another ceramic force knife out from under a stack of napkins.

  "Excellency, look out!" she cried as she leapt towards the new assailant, this time attacking immediately. She began spinning as she left the floor, landed on her right foot and delivered a vicious roundhouse kick with her left foot, catching the wrist of the older man's knife hand. The ceramic force knife skittered across the floor. Following through after completing the spin, Carlisle again found herself in a fighting crouch, facing the older man. Her movements had positioned her between the assailant and the Ambassador and she was in the process of making up her mind about whether she should kill the man, which was the safer way, or to merely try and disable him. Had it been just the two of them, the confused assailant would have been dead within the next few seconds.