"What do we do with him?" asked Harris.
"Just give the word," said Carlisle, through clenched teeth, "and I'll be more than happy to waste his ass! Maybe I'll start somewhere painful but not lethal." She pointed the pulse beam at the man's knee. If anything, the man's look became even more frightened.
It was a classic "good cop, bad cop" situation. Harris, in spite of the trauma of the last few minutes, recognized the opportunity immediately.
"Easy, Ensign, no need for that...Provided he answers a few questions."
The man, who had seemed somewhat at odds with his companion to begin with, began talking like there was no tomorrow.
"Don't let her shoot me. Like I said, I'm just an engineer! They took me along to hook up the pulse beams and keep them working. They told me they was after pirates that was robbin' their cargo ships." He looked at each of the defenders in turn. "You folks ain't pirates are you?" The last was more statement than question.
"No, we're not," said Harris. "We're Federation Navy, on assignment here at the Reclamation Center. Why did you attack us?" He glanced meaningfully at Carlisle with her pulse pistol at the ready. "Be truthful now," he added.
"I swear I don't know. I was just along to install the beam weapons and keep 'em workin'. I know we were in two other engagements before we came here, but they never told me where we were or who we were shootin' at. They told me it was pirates we were after."
"So you're telling me you don't know that your two ships attacked the main facility out here, killing all one hundred and eighty-five people on board, and then went to New Ceylon and destroyed the Boise and captured the orbital station?"
The little man's face turned to a look of horror. If it was an act, it was a good one.
"What do you know about the Meridian ambassador?" asked Harris.
"Ambassador? They never said nothin' about no ambassador." Still wearing a look of anguish, the man thought for a moment. He frowned. "Good Lord, no! Maybe that's what they meant?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Look, I was never included in their plans -- I'm not in the Brotherhood -- but I did overhear somethin' about making an example and some talk of a public execution or somethin' like that. I thought they was talkin' about the pirate leader."
"So you think they mean to take this person alive?"
"That's what I overheard."
"Tell me about the pulse beam weapons."
"Like I said, they needed me to hook 'em up and keep 'em workin'."
"That's not what I mean, where did they come from?"
"We took them off from the wreck of an old Succession War cruiser."
"Where?"
"Someone had put it down on a moon in the Heard's World system."
"Someone landed a starship on a moon?"
"Yeah...I mean... it's a small, low-gravity moon. If you'd seen the ship it would've made sense. It was damaged pretty bad. I don't think it could've been repaired. Besides, it was really old. Them beam weapons are the oldest ones I've ever worked on. First generation Parkinson Capacitor Banks - fussy as heck!"
"Where would the Veritian Brotherhood get access to a Succession Cruiser?" asked Harris?
"Beggin' your pardon, Sir, but the Brotherhood had one. They commanded and crewed an Excalibur Class heavy cruiser at the request of the Heard's World government during the Succession War."
"Carlisle, can you verify that?"
Carlisle kept the pulse pistol and her gaze firmly locked on the prisoner while she verbally accessed the wealth of data on her wrist comp.
"Veritian Brotherhood...Succession War...Heavy cruiser..." She continued to keep one eye on the prisoner while she consulted the results of her search.
"It's here," she said tersely. "Opposition ship Belarus renamed God's Almighty Sword by the Veritian Brotherhood. The ship was never accounted for when the final battle ended and was presumed to have been totally destroyed. There's a footnote saying that rumors persist to this day that the Brotherhood crew managed to escape with their cruiser during the final battle after it took heavy damage." She returned her full concentration to the prisoner again.
"Not the best news," said Harris. "So they could have what... as many as another eight of those guns squirreled away somewhere?"
"Beggin' your pardon, Lieutenant, but we canna be worrin' about that right now," said Hawkins. "What is bein' the minimum cycle time between pulses?"
Their prisoner thought for a moment.
"It's a little different for the two ships. This one was thirty-one seconds, the other ship is a little newer and she's got a little more power, that bank cycles in twenty-five seconds."
"What about sensors?"
"That ain't my area, but I think they salvaged a couple of old sensor units, too."
"You'd better be telling the truth," said Carlisle. Her eyes were like blue-green ice.
"I've told you as much as I know, I swear it." The man called Caleb hung his head. "For what it's worth, I am truly sorry. I'll help you in any way I can. This is really bad. My wife is on the other ship."
"Your wife?"
"Hanna, her name is Hanna. I don't suppose you care, but our last name is Jordan."
"Is she an engineer, too?" asked Harris.
"No, she's a medic and when she isn't doin' that, she's a cook. They wanted us because we could both contribute to their fight. I hope she's alright."
The defenders questioned their captive for a few more minutes. It seemed as though the man really didn't know any more than he had already told them. He might have even been telling the truth.
"You'll understand if I tell you we can't really trust you," said Harris.
"You won't have any trouble with me." Jordan's head hung dejectedly and he seemed totally defeated.
"Can I shoot him now?" Carlisle still seemed a little unhinged.
"No, Ensign, maybe later. Let's lock him in the old sensor room for now, let him stew for a while. We can jam the door mechanism. He won't go anywhere, it's vacuum outside of the other door to the compartment."
"Alright," she almost sounded disappointed. "I guess that'll have to do. For now..."
They locked the raider in the sensor room.
Chapter 37
New Ceylon Orbital Station, Governor's Suites, October 8, 2598.
Ezra Hellfire Brimstone looked at his reflection in the ornate mirror on the wall over the vanity in the Governor's personal rest room. He scowled at the handsome, blue-eyed, blond-haired man with the distinctive Veritian Brotherhood mohawk that looked back at him. Could none of his men get anything right? How in space were they to do God's work if none of their plans seemed to go anything but awry? The part of this operation that was supposed to be the easiest, taking out the communications capability of the Reclamation Center, had proven to be unexpectedly difficult. Who would have predicted that both of his ships would have to return to accomplish that one simple task. He bit his lip; they still hadn't heard any further communication from the first ship.
He had a brief bout of concern as he thought about how few of his men remained on the orbital station. Could they still capture the Meridian Ambassador with only twenty men? Of course, his forces would be back up to forty-seven if the men on both ships made it back from that cursed Scrapyard. He frowned at his reflection. What in heaven's name could have happened to the first ship? A makeshift weapon cobbled together by a handful of survivors? His jaw set. The men on the first ship had been taken by surprise; that wouldn't happen again. The second ship would take those heathens down, repair the first ship, and head back to the orbital station. Lord willing, the entire group would get back before the Ambassador's ship came through the Whitney Overdrive point. If they didn't, he'd just have to come up with something else.
Oh well, he thought, the Lord told us that our faith would be tested.
He thought instead of how the huge sum of money they were going to make when they pulled this bold plan off was going to save the faithful from the traps of Satan. Enemie
s of the Ambassador had offered Brimstone a huge sum for the delivery of the diplomat. An added bonus was another sum, nearly as large as the first, offered for the Ambassador's wife. Ezra shook his head. She was a mere woman. How could even the beloved daughter of the Meridian prime minister be worth that much money? She might wind up sold into slavery -- or worse -- but, with what was at stake, what did he care about the fate of an infidel woman with powers that were certainly a gift from the Devil Himself? With these bold and justified actions, Brimstone and his followers were going to be able to stop this unholy alliance between the heathens of the Federation and the Infidels of the Islamic Alliance from ever happening. With them at war with one another, or at least at renewed odds, he and his followers would be free to continue the Lord's work of ridding the galaxy of those who opposed the natural order of the Lord God and any who would have unclean contact with unbelievers and blasphemers. His face cracked into a smile much more wicked than expected from one so pious. Their cause was just. They would prevail.
He went back out to the chamber where the governor and his family were confined. The two adults were tied up and sitting on the floor with their backs to the wall. The two children were allowed more freedom in the locked chamber, but Ezra's men had orders to tie them up too, if they got out of hand at all. The boy seemed oblivious to everything anyway, playing some kind of game on a small console that fit around his wrist. Every now and then the boy would take a break and let his little sister play for bit while he kept a close watch on her. All the better, the game kept the children quiet and Ezra wasn't hearing any complaints. That was just the way he liked it.
If only some of the other things would go according to his carefully-made plans. Perhaps it was time to start thinking about some of the alternatives that he had so carefully considered.
The Lord helps them that help themselves...
Chapter 38
UTFN Reclamation Center, onboard the wreck of FNS Terrier, October 8, 2598.
With their prisoner secured in the former sensor room of the Terrier, the three Scrapyard defenders were once again in charge of the old destroyer. They looked at one another for a few seconds. Harris spoke up.
"Ensign, that was fantastic!"
Before their eyes, Carlisle underwent a complete transformation. The pulse beam pistol slipped from her grip, forgotten. She put one hand on either side of her face and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. "I was so damned scared! And then...I got so mad!" she spoke softly, her voice suddenly small and shaking. She opened her eyes and looked at the limp, floating body of the dead raider. "Omigod! I killed that man!" To the complete surprise and consternation of her two companions, she wrapped her arms tightly around her body and burst into tears. Harris and Hawkins looked at each other. Their seemingly invincible companion was now wracked with sobs, her arrogant, avenging tigress attitude completely melted away.
"Easy, Ensign, it's alright." Harris said, as soothingly as could. He went over to her and put his hand on her shoulder. "You mustn't beat yourself up about it. It's not like you had a choice. That man would have raped you, probably more than once. Good heavens, Tamara, you saved us all."
Instinctively, she reached out and put her arms around him. She buried her face in his shoulder, which served to muffle her sobs as she cried even harder. Harris, unsure of exactly what to do, held her gingerly, and somewhat awkwardly, while he spoke soothingly and gently stroked her hair. She hugged him more tightly, her sobs so intense that they were silent. Her reaction to the events of the last few minutes was so severe that she was shivering. Harris had heard many stories of soldiers and sailors slipping into post traumatic shock the first time they killed someone in combat. As he attempted to comfort the beautiful but distraught warrior, he felt that futile sense of longing again, only this time he wasn't able to fight it down as easily.
In the meantime, Hawkins steered the body of the dead raider off from the bridge and shoved it into one of the other empty rooms, closing the hatch firmly behind him. Harris continued to embrace the distraught Ensign, all the while gently stroking her hair, giving her time for the emotional tidal wave to peak and to finally pass. After a couple of minutes, she began to regain control.
Concerned about the possible side effects of shock, Harris said, "Let me know if you're going to get sick, Ensign."
She took a deep and ragged breath before lifting her head up and looking into his eyes, just for a moment. Those eyes, red from weeping, were full of pain. In spite of her obvious distress, Harris found her achingly beautiful. His breath caught and his heart seemed to skip a beat. Whether she noticed or not, he couldn't tell.
"Spacers don't get sick, Lieutenant," she said with a weak smile. Then, embarrassed by her loss of control, she averted her gaze, gently extricated herself from his embrace and wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.
"Thank you for that. I'm....I'm sorry Lieutenant, that was... damned unprofessional. It's just that...it was all so overwhelming. I killed that man! I've never killed anyone before." She looked like she might start crying again, but she visibly clamped the emotion down and the moment passed.
"None of us have before today, Ensign." replied Harris, gently, as his own sense of pain and loss of innocence seemed to come into sharper focus. He wondered fleetingly if the trio of defenders would ever recapture the easy camaraderie of the last few days. "You said it yourself earlier, if not in so many words. We're military; sometimes we have to kill people."
"I...I know that in my head, Lieutenant; my heart hasn't taken it all in yet."
"You were fantastic, Lass. You have my thanks for savin' all of our lives."
The three defenders took some time to tidy up a little. There were blood droplets in the air and here and there on the walls, floor and consoles. After about an hour, during which Carlisle seemed dull and distracted, she announced that she was exhausted and asked to be excused. She went back to her locker. To the amazement of the two men, she was asleep within minutes.
"Well, I'll be...," said Harris.
"Aye, Lieutenant, the poor lass is probably all in."
"I've never seen anything like it!" Harris shook his head in wonder. "Kresge said she was top of her class in hand-to-hand combat and that she was good with small arms. That wasn't the half of it! What she just did was absolutely amazing!"
"And it be a good thing too, or we'd probably all be dead by now!"
"I just hope she can bounce back," said Harris with slight shake of his head. "She seemed to take it pretty hard. We'll just have to see how she is after she wakes up."
The two men spent another ten minutes cleaning up the bridge area without further conversation. After looking around the bridge and deciding that there wasn't anything else that needed doing, Harris looked over at Hawkins.
"We did well today didn't we, Hawk?"
"Aye, Lieutenant. That we did." Hawkins couldn't suppress a wince as he cocked his arm up against his body and rotated his sore shoulder.
"That big guy roughed you up some. Sorry I didn't ask earlier, but are you okay?"
"Aye, Lieutenant, my shoulder's sore and my jaw be hurtin' a little but I'll survive."
Harris frowned in thought for a moment.
"I don't mean to pry, old fellow," he said, "but, just in case you don't make it, is there anyone I need to contact?"
Hawkins shook his head.
"Not really, Lieutenant. I've nay had much for family. Left home when I were a lad of sixteen. Truth to tell, the Navy's been me life for more years than I care to count."
It was obvious that Harris wasn't sure how to respond. Hawkins smiled humorlessly and continued.
"It's nay a problem, Lieutenant, it's been a good life really. Since Commander Kresge be coming to take command of the Scrapyard, it's been downright pleasurable."
"I'm sorry, Hawk. You know I had to ask."
Hawkins thought for a moment and seemed to come to a decision. "Permission to be speakin' freely, Lieutenant?"
"Of course, Hawk,
if I don't respect your opinion after all we've been through the last couple of days, I never will."
"Thank you, Lieutenant. It be about the Ensign."
"Okay...?"
"I dinna know quite how to go about this. Last time I stood up for a woman, I be getting' into a lot o' trouble. Mind you, it were the right thing to do, but I still be gettin' into a lot o' trouble."
"Don't you think you can trust me?"
"Lieutenant, we've been through hell together these last few days. You be good people. I be havin' more respect for you than I've ever been havin' for any officer. Ah...with the possible exception of that wee, fair lass over there."
"No offense taken, Hawk," Harris grinned. "That one is in a class of her own."
"Well, beggin' your pardon, Lieutenant, I think we ought to be considerin' her plan."
Harris looked at him for a full five seconds before replying.
"It's just so damned risky!" he said, finally.
"That be true, Lieutenant, but if anyone could be pullin' it off, it'd be her. You saw what she did in here."
"There's an awful lot that could go wrong."
"Aye, but if we don't be doin' somethin', as she be pointin' out, we all be dead anyway."
"I'll... think about it." Seeing Hawkins' doubtful look, he shrugged. "I mean it. I don't know that I can come up with anything better. We may not have any choice. Besides, she obviously doesn't know about the remote control capabilities for the boosters." Harris shook his head. "Thanks for your input, Hawk. And for trusting me."
The bridge was silent again for a few moments.
"The last time you stood up for a woman," said Harris. "I assume you're referring to the incident back on the Santana Nexus? There've been a lot of rumors, Hawk. It would still be awfully easy to die out here. Do you mind telling me what it was that really happened back there? What I've heard about it doesn't jibe at all with the man I've come know over the last few days."
Hawkins turned his head away for a long moment. Finally he looked back at Harris.
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