The Veritian Derelict (Junkyard Dogs) (5 page)

"
We're good. I'm going to keep an eye on that ship though."

"
I agree. We need to be ready to lend a hand if we're needed. This whole situation makes me nervous, Seamus. I'm gonna see if I can speed things up a little bit. My overflow hold is only about a quarter full, maybe we can just leave it that way. That would save a good half hour.
"

"I'd say you'd better do whatever you can, Niall."
O'Connell paused for a moment before continuing. "There was something about that energy spike that looked familiar. Let me do some more checking."

The two miners continued with their departure preparations but each kept half an eye on the old destroyer. They didn't have long to wait before there was more activity.
With the old vessel secure, the Sheik had called upon another faction of his forces, waiting in the nearby yacht, to proceed with the next stage of his plans. With little fanfare, the Sheik's trained personnel boarded the yacht's two shuttle craft. One of the shuttles headed for the mining station and the other, after negotiating the short transport from the yacht, boldly approached the old destroyer. The two miners watched as the shuttle docked with the destroyer and began to disgorge its occupants.

"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" radioed O'Connel
l.

"
Yeah, this doesn't look good at all! We'd better notify station security.
"

"I'm on it!" came the reply.

Seconds later, O'Connell radioed the mining station.

"
Piedmont Station Security? This is Seamus O'Connell, Captain of the
Donegal
, I can't be sure, but it looks like somebody is trying to hijack this Tunisian destroyer over here in the docking area."

After a short pause O'Connell got a response.

"
Deputy Security Director Hartmann, here. Did I hear you right? Someone is hijacking that old destroyer?
"

"Affirmative, Deputy Hartmann,
at least it sure as hell looks like it!" replied O'Connell. "There were several big energy spikes from that destroyer on our sensors about ten minutes ago and now there's a shuttle from that yacht unloading people onto it."

"
Yes, I can see them on my monitors
."

"There's another shuttle from the yacht heading for your station, Deputy Director."

"
Got it! Thanks for the info, Captain. I can't do much about the destroyer but I can sure batten things down here on the station. If you were getting ready to depart, I suggest you do so as soon as you can. We'll try and hold out here. There's not much you can do in any case
."

"Negative, Deputy Hartmann," said O'Connell. "
The
Glendaloch
can't leave for at least an hour yet. I have to do what I can for them."

"
I certainly can't force you to leave, Donegal. Good luck! I've got to get moving, looks like I might need to repel boarders. Hartmann out!
"

Patrick radioed O'Connell
again. "
I remember where we saw that energy signature, Seamus. That skirmish back at Hileah, thirty years ago. You and I were on the
Spitfire
when our task force surrounded a Kuwaiti destroyer that had fired on a Kiwi freighter. We had him outnumbered four to one and...
"

"
Now I remember. She was the same ship class as this destroyer. Just before the Captain surrendered, the crew disabled the weapons, fused the capacitors. It was the same energy pattern, wasn't it?"

"
That's right, Seamus. What do you want to bet that this destroyer's weapons don't work anymore?
"

***

New Tunisian Warship,
Mahdia
, outside Piedmont Mining Station, Catskill-Soroyan Star System, November 29, 2598.

Once
onboard the hijacked destroyer, the operatives, all of them former navy in some capacity, went to their respective stations and immediately began the sequence of activities necessary to prepare the vessel for operation. Since the ship had been more or less at standby status, the time required was not excessive. A few minutes later, with a new Captain at the helm, the newly provisioned destroyer with an experienced but somewhat rusty crew began to maneuver away from the mooring area. The yacht began moving at the same time. The second shuttle, filled with another fifteen of the Sheik's operatives, prepared to dock with the mining station.

***

Piedmont Asteroid Mining Station, Catskill-Soroyan Star System, November 29, 2598.

Deputy Director of Security for the Piedmont Station, Chris Hartmann, suddenly realized that this was not to be
the quiet, routine, early morning shift that he had been anticipating. Without hesitation, he calmly initiated a partial lockdown of all sensitive areas of the mining station, including power and life-support systems. Alarms began to sound. He also knew that with the alarms sounding, he would soon be joined by at least another eight security personnel. Hartmann knew they were all good people, he had taken over their training himself shortly after his arrival. As soon as these men and women arrived, which should be within the next few minutes, they were going to head for the main airlock and prepare to repel boarders.

Hartmann got up from his desk and
strode swiftly down the short corridor to open the weapons locker.

Chapter
7.

One Week Earlier...

"...As Mankind moved outward from Old Earth and began the conquest of space, it was not long before some individuals were born in and proceeded to live their entire lives in space. If they were born on a United Terran Federation facility, a ship or a space station, Law declared them citizens of the Federation. Since these people had not been born on a planet, they were technically known as "Unaffiliated." In daily parlance they were referred to as "Spacers" and were treated as second class citizens by much of the population of the Federation. Recognizing the value of this unique segment of society and the advantages that such a lifestyle brought to a Spacefaring government, the United Terran Federation had embarked on a campaign to better integrate Spacers, and their unique and valuable talents, into society. Recruiting Spacers for both enlisted and officer duties onboard Federation Naval vessels was one of the first activities. The program was new and though it had been mostly successful, there were still occasional areas of friction between the newcomers and the old guard, even at such facilities as the Naval Acacdemy..."

Hartwell Wristcomp reference note highlighted for further review by Amanda Steuben.
Excerpt is from "The Spacer Question" by Harquart Staunton Reeves.

Naval Academy, Old Earth, November 22, 2598.

Tamara Carlisle, Ensign in the United Terran Federation Navy and newly minted Ph.D. of Military History, reported as ordered to the office of the
Dean and Commander of the Federation Military academy, Admiral James C. Loftgren. She checked in with the Dean's secretary, who couldn't have been much older than she was. The young lady looked Carlisle over perfunctorily and told her that the Admiral was running late due to some unexpected business earlier and that she should have a seat.

Carlisle looked around the small waiting area and went for the only remaining chair, located by itself
in a corner near a large potted plant. The other chairs were occupied by new graduates of the academy who were waiting to visit with the admiral to obtain their first assignment. While most new graduates were simply processed and moved out, those with the highest levels of achievement were personally interviewed and processed by the Admiral himself.

This sort of special treatment was also reserved for "special students," underachievers and trouble makers. Carlisle felt a small dagger of fear
in her chest as she realized which group she was probably included in. She looked around the room. She remembered hearing that there were six honorees going through the ritual today but only five were currently in the room. She deduced that the sixth one must be in with the Admiral right now.

It was readily apparent to Carlisle that all of the
honorees knew each other. They certainly should have; they had worked together and competed against each other every day for the last four years. They were all very excited about their future and the posts they were to be assigned to. Aware of the need to maintain some level of decorum, they conversed quietly but enthusiastically with one another.

There were several covert glances in her direction. Carlisle was a bit of an enigma to all of them.
She was one of a small handful of Space-born citizens or "Spacers" who had graduated from the Academy and one of the first to go through the new special program. Not only that, she was a member of an elite group pursuing an advanced degree, which strengthened the barrier between her and the other students. To make matters even worse, rumors that she had single-handedly killed three male enemies, two of them in full battle armor, had circulated through the academy. If her status as a Ph.D. candidate had distanced her from the undergrads, her Spacer background and her recent combat experience had distanced her from the other graduate students. As she had been most of her professional life, Carlisle found that she was mostly left to herself.

Her thoughts wandered.

She felt a brief surge that mingled joy, apprehension and confusion in nearly equal amounts as her thoughts turned, as they often did these days, to Lieutenant Ryan Harris.

Carlisle, Harris and a technician named Angus Hawkins had been marooned in the
"Scrapyard," the Federation Naval Reclamation Center located near the planet of New Ceylon in a remote corner of the Santana Quadrant, when a group of terrorists had destroyed the main occupied facility with two cobbled together, but surprisingly effective, heavily armed cargo ships. After thwarting the plans of the terrorists, by disrupting an attempt to kidnap the Meridian Ambassador and helping to liberate the New Ceylon orbital station after it had come under control of these same terrorists, Carlisle and Harris had agreed to correspond over the Naval email communications network. 

The
last communication from the Lieutenant had been cheerful and newsy and had brought Carlisle up to date with all of the new friends she had made and others she had met during the course of their great adventure. As she thought about it, she felt a pang of regret. There hadn't been much in the message of a personal nature but then again, what had she expected? They weren't lovers or anything. Well, at least not yet. There just hadn't been time, or opportunity.

Her thoughts turned to what she would do when they met again before being hit with the disappointment that such a meeting was likely a long ways in the future, if it happened at all. She would compose an email to him tonight, as soon as she finished with the day's business and the Academy officials returned her wrist computer.

This somewhat depressing chain of thought was mercifully interrupted by the return of the missing graduate. The noise level went up as the other five left their seats and gathered around their colleague to congratulate her and find out what her new post was. One or two of them might have looked a little jealous when the new graduate excitedly told them her destination but they shook her hand anyway. The small celebration was interrupted by the secretary who announced: "Ensign Massa Sukamoto? You're next." The young man in question swallowed nervously and asked his colleagues to wish him luck before heading into the Admiral's office and closing the door behind him.

And so it went. Carlisle had no choice but to wait as patiently as she could as each of the remaining graduates was ushered into the Admiral's office for his or her exit interview and assignment. After nearly two hours, the last of them came out of the office. They left as a group, presumably to head for the nearest bar to talk things over and make their farewells as each was scheduled to depart for his or her new assignment sometime during the next few days. At last it was Carlisle's turn.

"Dr Tamara Carlisle?" The secretary looked at Carlisle over the top of the computer monitor on her desk. "Admiral Loftgren will see you now."

Carlisle smiled slightly at the unfamiliar
"Dr." in front of her name and swallowed nervously as she got up and headed for the Admiral's office. Carlisle had been a very bright but somewhat problematic student herself. Had she been a "normal" student, she would have almost certainly been a member of an elite group, like the one she had just observed, some three years earlier. Her Spacer origins had been a source of friction between her and some of the students from more traditional backgrounds. Most of Carlisle's "difficulties" at the Academy had been due to the actions of these traditionalists who had missed few opportunities to make her look bad.

She closed the door behind her and walked up to the Admiral's desk where she stopped, came to attention and saluted.

"Ensign Tamara Carlisle reporting as ordered, Sir!" she said, surprised to have gotten the entire phrase out without a "speech" incident.

Admiral Loftgren looked up from his computer monitor and met her eyes.

"Ensign Carlisle," he said, nodding his head. "At ease, Ensign. Please, have a seat. We have a lot to discuss."

Carlisle became even more nervous as the Admiral turned his attention back to his computer terminal for several minutes and rubbed his chin in thought as he considered the information on
the display. Finally he turned his focus back to the Ensign.

"That was some pretty good work you did out at New Ceylon,
Ensign. Very impressive."

"
...Scrapyard ambush...Succession destroyer...Veritian Brotherhood...um thank you, Sir."

The admiral
waited patiently for her to get the reply out before continuing. "And you've just finished a Ph.D. on a controversial subject concerning the Succession War. Congratulations, Ensign, I thought your exam went pretty well yesterday."

"
Really? Um...Thank you, Sir."

"You're probably wondering just what we're going to do with you next."

"Ah...That thought had crossed my mind, Sir."

The Admiral paused for a moment to collect his thoughts and compose an explanation. He frowned before he spoke. "To be perfectly candid, we still aren't sure what you're suited for. You've always had excellent grades and you seem to be a pretty
decent tactician as well as a gifted pilot. However, outside of this one isolated incident out at New Ceylon, you seem to do very poorly with any kind of team activity and then, of course, there is your notorious speech problem."

Carlisle started to speak but the Admiral held up his hand to stop her. "I know," he said, "much of the team problems were due to other students who had issues with your Spacer background. Believe me, we were well aware of what was going on. Steps are being taken to ensure that such things don't happen to any of our students in the future, no matter what their background.
"

Carlisle blushed but met the Admiral's eyes directly. With an obvious effort she spoke, "
Thank you, Sir. I learned a lot about being a team member during that ordeal out in the Scrapyard. Those people were terrific!"

"
Commander Kresge had nothing but praise for everyone involved, especially you," admitted the Admiral. "Still, I wonder about the wisdom of putting you onboard a warship when we may wind up at war sometime in the next few months."

It was
an ill-kept secret that the Federation Navy was finally beginning to mobilize their forces in response to the obvious marshaling of forces in most factions of the loosely organized but very powerful Islamic Alliance.

"Everyone on a ship has to be able to function as a team member," the Admiral continued, "and I'm just not sure you're ready, in spite of your recent success with this Scrapyard incident."

Carlisle hoped her devastation didn't show. She swallowed and remained silent but continued to meet the Admiral's eyes. The Admiral gave her a wry smile.

"Don't worry, Ensign, we aren't ready to get rid of you yet." Her look grew expectant. "Something has come up. Something a little out of the ordinary that, oddly enough, you seem to be perfectly suited for."
She continued to look at him. "I'll get to that in a moment," he said.

At this point he pushed
back away from his desk, interlaced his fingers around the back of his neck and rocked back on his chair.

"I'm not going to pull any punches with you, Tamara. There are those at this Academy who feel that we've wasted enough time and money on you already and we should give you a nice paper pushing job at some remote outpost or simply give you an honorable discharge and get rid of you altogether."

The words, while not totally unexpected, still stung the young officer rather badly.

"I, however, am not one of those people. I still think you have a great deal to give to the Navy and to the Federation. That
's why I'm going ahead and offering you a special assignment, one I think you are uniquely suited for. In fact, you were specifically recommended for the job by some very important people."

Unable to think of anything appropriate to say, Carlisle remained silent.

"I think it's very important that you know that I am not one of the people who would call you a mistake and move on, Ensign. Spacers like yourself are an untapped resource that the Federation can ill afford to go without. Not only that, I can assure you that we've had any number of 'problem students' come through these hallowed halls who have gone on to stellar careers in the Federation Navy. There's still plenty of room for outside the box thinking. If you accept this assignment, and I'm betting you will, you may very well need some of that unorthodox thinking that you seem to be so very good at."

"Thank you, Sir."

"I suppose you'd like to hear what the assignment is?"

"
Yes, Sir!"

"Before I go on, I have to
order you to keep absolutely silent about this. You are to tell no one about this mission. In fact you are not allowed contact with anyone until you hear otherwise. Anyone. Do you understand?" Carlisle swallowed then nodded her head in assent. The Admiral continued. "The Meridian Ambassador and his wife are looking for a Federation Naval officer to act as liaison between them and the Federation Navy. God knows there's a list of better qualified people as long as my arm, but they specifically requested you, young lady. You must have really impressed them!"

Carlisle remained silent, dumbfounded. Those gracious, sophisticated, important people had requested her? The admiral chuckled.