The Veritian Derelict (Junkyard Dogs)

by Nolte, Phillip

  "From what Caleb has been telling us, they're probably checking their weapons. How much of a warning can you give us if they start coming back?"

  "What's wrong with their weapons?"

  "I don't want to elaborate," replied Harris, "but Caleb did something with the programming."

  "I can sure tell you if he does another microjump. Let me see…" There was a short silence. "...his intrinsic velocity was almost the same as ours...If he jumps back to within the minimum safe distance, that would make him…um…maybe fifty thousand kilometers away. The Greyhound is about forty-five minutes away from your position. Even if he cuts it a little close and jumps to forty thousand, we'd still have at least an hour and a half before he gets close enough to take a shot at us. If you're thinking about doing something to the wreck, you'd better do it now and get your butts back up here as soon as you can. We don't want to face him if he gets those guns working again. I can let you have one hour, Lieutenant."

  "Roger, Captain."

  "...Ships log...battle footage...Request permission to inspect the bridge, Lieutenant," said Carlisle, "This ship is historically very significant. I don't know if any of the logs are intact but we may never have another opportunity to check."

  "Go ahead, Ensign, but be damned careful and be ready to get back here to the shuttle on short notice. Oh, and take one of Kelly's marines with you. I don't think that going solo inside this wreck is a good idea."

  "Donahue," said Kelly, "escort the Ensign and give her a hand salvaging anything she wants from the bridge."

  "Yes, Sir!" replied Donahue, who looked to be the youngest of Kelly's contingent.

  Carlisle and her escort went to the bow of the ship and immediately headed up towards the bridge area.

  Harris, Caleb, Kelly and the rest of his marines headed into the wreck through one of the countless damaged areas in her hull. A quick inspection of the wreck from the outside, supplemented by the video Harris had taken of the old ship on their way in, had indicated that at least seven of the twelve main battery projectors on the wreck were almost certainly damaged beyond repair. Two of those seven units were outright missing, with jagged holes marking the spots where they used to be. With Brimstone's group having salvaged two intact units, three that were at least visually intact remained. Whether or not there was some chance that they were still operational couldn't be determined without a physical inspection. The idea that three more renegade ships like the ones that Ezra Brimstone had used to temporarily take over the New Ceylon system could be created was not a comforting one.

  Chapter 44.

  On board renegade destroyer Skorpios, somewhere in the Heard's World star system, December 11, 2598.

  The stolen destroyer had stopped running away after the single microjump. The captain and crew of the ship frantically examined the control systems on their newly-repaired main batteries to find out why their weapons had failed the first time they had tried to use them in battle. Because of the malfunction, they had been forced to run away from a ship that should have been no match for them.

  No match on paper anyway.

  This was the second time the destroyer had been forced to run. Captain Noori of the Skorpios was perplexed and angry. The "cargo ship" they had encountered had not only fired a beam weapon powerful enough to damage his destroyer, the old ship had also withstood a direct hit from the second pulse bolt fired by his destroyer before her weapons inexplicably went down. That shouldn't have happened either!

  "What did that damnable heathen do to our weapons?" asked the Captain. "We should never have set him free." The weapons tech wisely didn't point out that the heathen in question had only been set free to die within a matter of a day or so from a lack of oxygen.

  "I am not sure, Sir," answered the weapons tech. "It cannot be anything too serious, all systems check out normally and there does not appear to be damage to any of the components."

  "Continue your investigations, then," said Noori. "This ship is of little use to us without those weapons." He called out to his sensor officer, "Sirhan, what can you tell me about that cargo ship? It seems it is not a normal ship."

  "No, Captain, it is not. They have obviously made some modifications. In earlier times, it might have been called a Q-ship."

  "…A Q-ship? What in the name of Heaven is a Q-ship?"

  "Such ships were developed during an Old Earth conflict called 'World War I.' One of the antagonists developed the tactic to combat the threat posed by enemy submersibles to the merchant ships of their wet navy. They would mount powerful weapons on otherwise innocent looking craft and ambush the submersible when it came to the surface to attack what it perceived to be a helpless cargo ship."

  "So, it is a trap for the unwary? What have they done to it?"

  "It is difficult to tell for certain, it appears these people are associated with the Federation Navy. If they are, they have the inventory of that entire Scrapyard near New Ceylon available to them. They could have done most anything."

  "What do you know?"

  "As I was saying earlier, my readings indicate that the ship has at least twice as much power as it should have. That cargo ship is an old design…no, it is a very old design… so they must have replaced the standard power plant."

  "What about the weapon?"

  "Ah, the weapon." The man sounded almost as though he approved. "If I am correct, they have chosen well. It appears to be one of the Federation Bofors rapid fire units that were used on a few of their larger ships as secondary armament right at the very end of the Federation War of Aggression. It was one of the finer gun types developed near the very end of the War. If it is, we need to exercise extreme caution as the weapon is powerful enough to overcome our shields if we sustain enough hits."

  "It seems we have underestimated them. That will not happen again."

  "Captain?" It was the chief engineer over the ship's intercom.

  "What is it, Jubayr?"

  "I think I found out what that heathen did to our guns."

  "And?"

  "It is really very simple. The fire control computers can be set up so the guns will only fire when the weapons control officer releases them. It is a setting that is used for training purposes to ensure that the guns aren't fired prematurely by untrained personnel. The Infidel must have switched the computer over to the 'training' setting before he... was freed."

  "Can you repair the computer?"

  "No, but I think I have found a solution to the problem, Sir, I will simply need to approve the next cycle of weapons fire each time we use the weapons. If we had been more familiar with the ship, this would not have happened."

  "Do we need to test fire the weapons?"

  "If we are to go back into battle, it would be advisable. The enemy will almost certainly be able to detect a weapons test, so we will not be able to surprise him. I do not think that it will matter. If we head back towards the moon he will suspect that we have determined the malfunction anyway. Better for us to know for sure that the guns are operating properly. Oh, and remember, I will need to approve each round of shots."

  "Duly noted. I will inform the rest of the crew that we are test firing our weapons."

  "At your command, Captain," replied the engineer.

  After a quick announcement that the ship would be test firing the main batteries, the Captain gave the order to fire. A series of powerful flashes strobed outward from the beam projectors fore and aft of the bridge of the Skorpios.

  "Next round approved; capacitors are charging normally, Sir," announced the chief engineer.

  "Fire them again, Jubayr."

  "As you wish, Sir"

  Another salvo of flashes strobed outward fore and aft from the destroyer.

  "Excellent? ," said the Leader. "Good work, Jubayr! We will now return to the wreck. We shall see who has the advantage this time around!"

  Satisfied that their weapons were again charging and firing properly, they did not bother to check and see if the beams were properly sighted.


  ***

  Onboard the Wreck of Veritian cruiser, Instrument of God, on an unnamed moon in the Heard's World Star System, December 11, 2598.

  Harris, Hawkins and Caleb Jordan had been inspecting onboard the wrecked cruiser for a just under half an hour, taking a quick inventory of the weapons that might still be functional. With them on their tour was Sergeant Kelly and three of his Federation Marines. Kelly had a mesh bag slung over his shoulder that contained all the grenades that the Marine contingent had brought with them. If there was time, the small expedition would be using the grenades in an attempt to disable some of the remaining weapons on the old ship.

  Using schematics taken from Carlisle's wrist computer, they had inspected only the first of the several pulse beam emplacements that appeared undamaged enough that the weapons in them might still be operational.

  Kelly and the members of his Marine contingent had been armed with three grenades apiece. The grenades could be set up to detonate in one of several modes and, on this occasion, the marine elected to use remote detonation. With Caleb to advise them, the group went about determining the most effective spot to place the charges within the workings of the gun emplacement that would permanently disable the weapon. They had just finished placing the charges on the first of the remaining functional weapons and were figuring out where they needed to go to disarm the next two, when Harris got a communication from Murdock on his suit radio.

  "Lieutenant? The people on that destroyer must have figured out what Caleb did to their guns, they just test fired them. I want you to drop whatever you're doing and get back up here immediately! We don't want to wind up in a firefight."

  "I hear and understand, Captain," replied Harris. "We were going to go and try to place charges on the other two emplacements now. Can you let me know right away if that ship microjumps? We'll get back up to you as soon as we can if that happens. I don't want to face him in a straight up fight either."

  "Negative on that Lieutenant," said Murdock. "I want you heading back here NOW! Blow the gun you've got rigged and get up here immediately!"

  Harris only hesitated for a couple more seconds as the wisdom of Murdock's response became apparent to him.

  "On our way, Captain," came the reply.

  "Carlisle?"

  "Carlisle here."

  "Did you copy that message?"

  "Affirmative, Lieutenant, It's a damned mess up here but I think I have what I need. I pulled the quantum drive from the bridge computer. We'll be right down."

  Without further delay, the two teams made their way back to the grounded cutter. Kelly activated the remote detonator and the grenades the team had placed on pulse beam emplacement five exploded. The armored hull of the ship was easily stout enough to contain the blast and there was little outside evidence that an explosion had occurred. The team members did feel a slight tremor in the moon beneath them, however. Everyone then boarded the shuttle and strapped in before the small craft departed the moon without further delay. Half hour later they had docked with the Greyhound and secured the shuttle. As soon as she heard all were back on board, Captain Murdock wasted no more time. The Greyhound prepared to leave the Heard's World system.

  "Is everything secure?" asked Captain Murdock.

  "Yes, Captain," replied Harris, from the docking area.

  "Good," said the Captain. "Prepare to microjump back to the Whitney transfer point."

  "Jump programmed, said Perry Allen, "Awaiting your command, Captain."

  "Jump on my mark. Three...two...one...Mark!"

  The old and heavily modified cargo ship made another smooth transition into microjump mode and phased back into normal space within forty thousand kilometers of the system's Whitney macrojump point. Under full emergency acceleration, the old ship would be in the macrojump zone within an hour and a half.

  "Well done, everyone," said Murdock. "There's still a little time before we reach the hyperlink point. Make sure that everything is ready. Hanna and Caleb, I apologize, but I think we'd better take you back to New Ceylon with us. It ain't gonna work for us to take you home right now. I don't know that you'd be safe in this system anyway."

  "I understand, Captain Murdock," said Caleb, "and I agree with you. I just hope that my youngest son will be okay."

  "Lucius and Rachel can give him a hand, Dear," said Hanna.

  "Captain?" asked Chief Allen, his tone urgent.

  "What is it, Chief?"

  "The destroyer just phased into microjump mode. I can't be absolutely sure but it's a safe bet he's coming after us."

  "Damn the luck!" said Murdock. "Can we beat him to the macrojump point?"

  "Unknown, Captain. It depends on where he comes out of microjump."

  With her heart sinking, Murdock asked her next question. "Can we fight him again?"

  No one answered for a long moment.

  "We damned sure will if we have to, Captain!" said Carlisle, her jaw set.

  "It's a good thing I had the crews charge the capacitors back up while you guys were down there on the moon," said Murdock.

  "Best to hope we don't need them," said Harris. "But it never hurts to be prepared."

  Chapter 45.

  UTFN Reclamation Center, onboard Imperial Diplomatic Ship Istanbul, December 11, 2598.

  Kresge was reminded for the ninth or tenth time in the last hour why he hadn't wanted to be involved with any kind of diplomatic activity. Ever! The situation was made even worse by the fact that several of the diplomats on board the Istanbul were absolutely convinced that they had been deliberately kidnapped and were being held against their will. Ambassador Saladin wasn't able to help much; he was the one accused of kidnapping them. Nor did it help that at least one of the diplomats, the one who had attempted to assassinate the Ambassador, along with several of his followers, were actually being held in the Istanbul's brig. That the man had been an imposter and that one of his accomplices had killed himself had not been widely circulated for fear of alarming the remaining diplomats. All that mattered to them was that several of their number were missing and the diplomats weren't being told where those people were or why they were absent.

  Sondia Saladin was seated inconspicuously in a poorly lit area along the wall to the right of the podium, right next to Irene Marshall. The two women were there to observe and provide comment, if necessary. Kresge noticed that Sondia was wearing one of her veils again. Brilliant, he thought, the Islamic Alliance hardliners would think the veil was in deference to their conservative values while in actuality it was allowing her to obtain truthseer information on members of the audience in the room. As desperate as their situation was, any advantage the Ambassador could get might make a difference.

  "I demand that you allow me to contact my government," said the Emir of New Liberia. "My wives and my family will be frantic by now."

  "We are doing everything we can..." began Kresge but he was interrupted by the Ayatollah Barzai.

  "You and Ambassador Saladin are doing next to nothing!" the cleric announced, angrily. "That is the same thing you said yesterday and the day before."

  Kresge decided his best option was to convince the man that this was a military matter. "Need I remind you that the entire quadrant is now in a state of war?" said Kresge. "We simply cannot afford to give away any sensitive information until we know more about what's going on out there. Do you have any idea which side your government is on?"

  "No, Commander, I do not," said the Ayatollah. "Perhaps if I were allowed to contact them..."

  "I think you can see my problem, Your Eminence, if I let anyone call out, our location could be compromised and we could bring down an attack on this system. I will not allow that to happen."

  "How long, then, are we to be held against our will?" asked Barzai.

  "Only until we get more information." Kresge decided to color the truth a little bit. "There is supposed to be a Federation vessel here within the next few days to bring us some reinforcements and to pick up a load of parts. W
e might be able to send some of you back to the Santana Nexus when that ship arrives."

  Kresge didn't say anything about the fact that Santana Nexus had been under attack when the Istanbul left and that no one knew much of anything about the current status of the Nexus station. The ship he was referring to was already several days overdue. Realistically, Kresge had concluded that the ship wasn't coming at all, let alone within the next few days. The ploy did have the desired effect however. The Ayatollah gave him an angry glare but backed down and turned away.

  "Gentlemen, please," said the Ambassador, "We would not have brought anyone here against their will unless it had been absolutely unavoidable. I remind you that at least one of your Governments made an attempt on my life. How do you expect me to respond to that?"

  "Certainly you do not suspect our government," said Rabbi Geller.

  "I mean you no insult, Rabbi," replied the Ambassador, "but right now I don't know who I can trust."

  And so it went. After an hour of accusations flying back and forth, the Ambassador called an end to the ragged, confrontational proceedings. There were four or five angry discussions in several languages taking place among the diplomats as the meeting room emptied out. The Ambassador, Kresge and the two women met in the Ambassador's sitting room a few minutes after the meeting broke up.

  "Did you sense anything, Sondia?" asked Kresge.

  The Ambassador's wife looked drained. She sat wearily and slumped forward in her chair, holding her head in her hands. Irene had held her arm as they left the meeting and had helped her into a chair in the sitting room.

  "Yes, I did," she replied, "Probably far too much, in fact. Such a large group and so much passion makes things very difficult for truthseer readings. Forgive me Commander, I need a little more time to recover. The onslaught of emotions in that room was...very difficult for me."

  "Anything you obtained could be valuable, my dear," said the Ambassador.