The Veritian Derelict (Junkyard Dogs) (9 page)

"Sergeant Kelly?"

"Yes, Sir," replied the burly, dark-haired marine as he and his entire contingent came smartly to attention. All seven of the marines bore distinct Spacer clan tattoos on the left side of their faces. Kelly and one other marine sported the same markings, the other five bore markings that were different from Kelly's and different from each other.

Most branches of the Federation Military attracted only a few Spacers. The Marine Corps was the most outstanding exception with perhaps half of their numbers coming from Spacer colonies. Such men and women were perfectly suited for the role, with lifetimes spent in environments that spanned the range between weightlessness to gravities that greatly exceeded 1 G. In fact many Spacers, especially Marines, spent a portion of their time training in 1.5 to 2 G environments to strengthen muscle and bone for the rigors of their profession.

"At ease, men," said Kresge, though the show of discipline had mildly impressed him. "I heard you boys had a close call during our troubles out here?'

"That would be an understatement, Sir," replied Kelly. "We had maybe an hour of air left when that merchant ship with the terrorists on board left. It was the cutter from the
Istanbul
that rescued us."

"Is everyone okay?" asked Kresge
; the Sergeant nodded.

"We're
doin' just fine, Commander. If I say so myself, Sir, these men are in top condition. 'though everybody was damned hungry by the time we got rescued."

"It was a near thing for all of us, Sergeant. Glad to have you with us." Kresge
looked the marines over another time. "What have you got for weapons?"

"We each got a sidearm and a
n M-74 pulse rifle/grenade launcher, Sir."

"Anything heavier?" asked Kresge.

"Yes, Sir," Kelly replied. "The Marine Master Sergeant from the
Valiant
left us a couple o' Skarpov light duty assault pulse cannons."

"Those would be 5
gigajoule single pulse units?"

Yes, Sir!"

"Do you and your men know how to use them?"

"We sure as hell do, Sir! And I guarantee that we're gonna get even better with 'em as soon as we can shoot
'em some more!"

"Anything else?"

"Actually yes, Commander. He also left us each a set of the latest Mark VIII battle armor." The Sergeant paused for a moment. "Beggin' your pardon, Commander, but if you could be puttin' in a good word for that Sergeant, we'd be much obliged. He might have brought some trouble upon 'imself for bein' so generous."

"I'll be sure and do that," answered Kresge. "Jenkins? Make a note so I don't forget. Anything you and your men need, Sergeant?"

"I don't like to speak ill of the dead, Sir, but Captain Dortmunder didn't seem to have any idea of what to do with us. We were scrapin' paint in the shuttle bay when the
Boise
was attacked. To tell you the truth, we'd like nothin' better than to help you folks out with this Scrapyard project, Commander. These are some damned good men, Sir. Put us to work!"

"Very good, Sergeant, that'll save me ordering you. I like your attitude!
All of you! I can't tell you how glad I am to have you with us. Go with Lieutenant Harris here," he motioned to the Lieutenant. "He'll get you squared away for transport to the Scrapyard. Hope your men don't mind doing some heavy lifting, we have a lot of stuff to load up before we head out."

"Bring it on
, Commander," replied the Sergeant.

"
Thanks, Kelly. You and your men are dismissed."

"Thank you, Sir." The sergeant and his
six men turned in unison and marched over to and through the door. Harris followed them out. Kresge smiled and shook his head in appreciation as he watched them go. The smile morphed into a frown with the realization that the small contingent of Marines and their meager assortment of hand ordinance, battle armor and two moderately powerful, portable assault cannons currently represented the most powerful weapons at his disposal for the defense of the entire planetary system. The concept was coldly sobering.

We g
otta do something about that, if we can
, he thought.

Chapter
12.

Yacht Carpathia, somewhere in the Catskill-Soroyan System, December 1, 2598

Contacting Ezra Brimstone
required conversations with several intermediaries, a great deal of waiting in between each contact and ultimately took the Sheik of Barsoom and his crew a little over a day and half to accomplish. On the run from Federation authorities for a laundry list of serious crimes, including piracy, kidnapping, terrorism, murder and absolutely convinced that he was also under a death sentence issued by the Sheik of Barsoom for the lack of success in his recent attempt to kidnap the Meridian Ambassador to the Federation, Brimstone, whose real name was Lester Dobbins, was understandably reluctant to be found. After being reassured several times that there was the possibility of a reprieve if the Sheik got the information and the services he wanted, Brimstone finally contacted them.

The call came through sometime in the mid-afternoon. Ezra Hellfire Brimstone
appeared on the main viewscreen of the stage II communications console on the
Carpathia.
His distinctive blonde Veritian Brotherhood Mohawk was gone, having been replaced by a much less conspicuous conventional hairstyle dyed to a much darker hair color. He was dressed in a conservative business coverall
.

"Ezra Brimstone, here," he said, gazing
boldly at the video monitor, "I understand that you've been looking for me?"

"
For several days now, my Christian friend," the Sheik exaggerated, with a smile that wasn't reflected in his eyes. "You are a difficult man to find, Mr. Brimstone!"

"I am currently having some 'difficulties' with the Federation Authorities," replied Brimstone. "
During the affair with the Ambassador, I destroyed some of their facilities and dispatched a number of their personnel." He shrugged. "Unfortunately, the damage and the loss of life could not be avoided."

"And yet you failed to accomplish the task I paid you to do?"

"Circumstances beyond my control, I'm afraid," replied Brimstone. "You will recall that I also lost most of my own men before myself and a small handful of them were able to escape with our lives. The New Ceylon Station defenses were far more formidable than we were led to believe!"

"It is good to know that you have an excuse," said the Sheik.

Brimstone's ice-blue eyes narrowed. "What's done is done. Rehashing my perceived shortcomings isn't why you called me, Barsoom, what is it that you really want?"

"
Very astute of you, Mr. Brimstone. We are given to understand that you found an individual who has some expertise with Naval weapons and that you also know where such weapons can be found. Is this not so?"

"
Oh, so you wish to arm a cargo ship or two yourself?" asked Brimstone.

"Ah...Something like that," replied the Sheik.

"You will pardon me if I ask what's in this transaction for me and the Veritian Brotherhood of Christ Resurgent?"

At this point the Sheik let a little of his frustration show.

"How about I lift the death sentence I have put out on you and all of the members of your precious Brotherhood?" said the Sheik, the false smile morphing into a feral grimace.

"
Ah... now that would certainly seem to be a good start," replied Brimstone, apparently unaffected by the Sheik's blustering. He considered the Sheik's suggestion for a long moment before replying. "Let me be absolutely certain that there is no misunderstanding. Did you just say that if I help you find this man, you'll lift the death sentence on me and my men?"

The Sheik stared at him angrily for a long moment,
"Yes, Mr. Brimstone," he replied grudgingly, "I will lift the death sentence on you and your men."

"Very well, then," said Brimstone
, "Whatever else you might be, I know you to be a man of your word. The individual you're looking for is named Caleb Jordan."

"And where might we find this
Caleb Jordan?"

"He
farms near the village of Nazareth on Heard's World. He is a Veritian, but not a member of the Brotherhood. You'll probably have to land on the planet to contact him; communications in that system are deliberately kept primitive."

"If I may be so bold, Mr. Brimstone, how
does one go about enlisting this individual for his services?"

"That's a very good question, Barsoom.
He didn't charge me anything, though I must admit that he and I did not part on the best of terms. He may require some convincing."

The last was a bit of an understatement.
Brimstone had not only lied to Caleb Jordan about the mission that the Brotherhood needed him for, he had almost gotten Jordan and his wife, Hanna, killed. In fact both of the Jordans had wound up escaping from Brimstone's group and their support had been vital for the success of the Federation Naval counterattack during the "Scrapyard Incident" in the New Ceylon system.

"And what
about the location of the weapons?" asked the Sheik.

Brimstone paused for another long moment before replying. "There is also the matter of the ten thousand credits that you claim must be repaid," he said.

The Sheik took a long moment to make sure he had control of his anger before replying. "I am prepared to forgive the debt as well," he said through clenched teeth, "as long as you provide the information I need."

"Very good!" said Brimstone. "
The answer is simple, there is a wrecked Succession War cruiser on one of the moons in the Heard's World system. Caleb Jordan knows where to find it. He helped us dismount and install weapons from that ship onto our cargo vessels."

"Ah yes," said the Sheik. "We have heard rumors
of a wrecked ship."

"
The rumors are true," said Brimstone. "There is one more thing, something you may find useful."

"And that would be...?"

"Jordan seldom goes anywhere without his wife, Hanna," said Brimstone, "and she is actually a very competent medic."

"A medic you say?" said the Sheik. "Perhaps that could be useful."

"Was there anything else?" asked Brimstone.

"Not for the moment," said the Sheik. "
Consider yourself very fortunate, Mr. Brimstone. I am not one who forgives easily. If we find this Jordan and get access to the weapons we need, then you and I are even. Perhaps we shall meet again?"

"I look forward to it," said Brimstone with a slight bow. "Until then
, Brimstone out."

The Sheik of Barsoom
, along with his yacht and his disabled destroyer, set course for the Heard's World Star System. They anticipated little difficulty in finding the planet and the village where their quarry lived. The hard part would be figuring out a way to get Caleb Jordan to help them.

Perhaps a little leverage
of some kind would provide the necessary incentive?

***

Somewhere on the Santana Nexus Station
,
December 1, 2598.

Ezra Hellfire Brimstone, aka Lester Dobbins, came away from his conversation with the Sheik of Barsoom feeling a
great deal better than he had for several weeks. Contact with Brimstone, initiated by the Sheik himself, meant that maybe, just maybe, the Sheik was no longer actively hunting him down. That still left the United Terran Federation Navy looking for him but even a modest easement of the pressure on him was most welcome.

Brimstone and his remaining cadre of cronies had been l
ying low, easily blending in with the huge population of the Santana Nexus, but that didn't mean that they hadn't been keeping up with current events. Hell was breaking loose all over the Quadrant as pent up angers and frustrations boiled over and just about every malcontent with an axe to grind decided the time was ripe to make some kind of a move. What Brimstone hadn't figured out yet was whether he should ally himself and his remaining men with some other faction or just look for someone who would give him
the most credits for the valuable and unique merchandise he had on hand.

During his
nearly successful attempt to take the Meridian Ambassador hostage, Brimstone and his group had managed to get their hands on two stolen cargo ships, arm these same ships with extremely powerful beam weapons salvaged from the wreck of the old Succession War cruiser in the Heard's World system, and use these ships in a bold plan that had almost succeeded in capturing the Meridian Ambassador. Brimstone and his group had actually occupied the New Ceylon Orbital Station for several days before they were driven off by Oskar Kresge's ragtag group of "resistance" fighters.

Brimstone and company had several sets of very old but still very serviceable battle armor as well as an assortment of powerful hand weapons. These items ought to be worth something though Brimstone was pretty sure he would keep them for himself and his closest associates. What was more problematic was what do with his most powerful asset. Keep it or sell it? No doubt a buyer could be found and an
exorbitant price negotiated but who do you sell a cruiser self-destruct device and the codes to activate it to?

In other words, how does one go about finding and selecting a buyer for a
thermonuclear bomb?

***

"...
Tunisian Imperial Navy
Dagger
Class Destroyer.

Length
: 200 meters.

Mass
: 5,600 metric tons.

Crew:
10 officers and 40 crew fully manned, 5 officers and 25 crew minimum.

Propulsion systems:

Reaction Drive: Foucault Cesium Ion Drive, Nominal thrust capability 1.5g, Maximum 5g, Emergency 8.5g.

Hyperdrive: Fourth Generation Pullman-Whitney Overdrive.

Armament:

Main:
Two 2000 gigajoule Parkinson capacitor discharge pulse beam projectors (3
rd
generation) in fore and aft single-mount, centerline turrets. Secondary: Eight 5.5 gigajoule Parkinson-Mitsubishi rapid-fire pulse beam projectors in 4 twin mount turrets. External hardpoints to accommodate four Keppler-Salaiz Vengence or Harrison Hellhound guided missiles (these mounts are also often used for transport of external cargo modules containing additional provisions for extended voyages).

This ship t
ype was declared obsolete by the Meridian Imperial Navy after the
Dagger
class was superseded by the
El-Nashar
class in 2578. However, the durable and serviceable design was widely sought after by the navies of many secondary powers, particularly those of the Islamic Alliance...

...
Mostly taken out of service by 2594, it is not uncommon to see these sturdy ships still providing service, even today, in some of the smaller navies. Built in the giant shipyards orbiting the industrial planet of Toledo near the center of the Santana Quadrant, destroyers of the
Dagger
class were manufactured in very large numbers with nearly ten thousand of them having left the yards before manufacturing finally ceased..."

Hartwell Wrist Comp reference note highlighted for further review by Tamara Carlisle. Excerpt is from "Janes Fight
ing Ships" (2598 version).

On board the renegade destroyer formerly known as "
NTW Mahdia
," recently rechristened
"Skorpios"
by her new owners, somewhere in the Heard's World Star System, December 1, 2598.

The stolen destroyer that approached Heard's
World was far from a new design. Originally built for and commissioned by the Meridian Imperial Navy over forty years ago, this particular ship had been decommissioned by them, after long and faithful service, a little over ten years earlier.
The Meridian Emporium had called her the
MIS Kalib
and her new owners, the Imperial government of New Tunisia, had renamed her
NTW Mahdia
. Her current, illegitimate owners did not have an official affiliation with any government as yet and they had seen fit to dub her
Skorpios
or "Scorpion" which was also the Sheik of Barsoom's family symbol.

"I know this is a change in plan,
" explained the Sheik, "but we must inform the other ship Captains to rendezvous with us here in this system."

"I will send a coded message through
our Stage II communicator, Sire."

"See that you do
so, Utbah."

While the communications tech was carrying out his orders, the Sheik went over to the Astrogator's station to see the layout of the planetary system they had just jumped into.

"Which planet is Heard's World?"

"It is the fourth planet out from the star, Sir
e."

Acting on
the tip from Ezra Brimstone, they had come to this remote planet to find Caleb Jordan, a man who reportedly could restore the disabled pulse cannons of their ship back to proper function. There was no doubt that this Jordan was up to the task; with only a handful of untrained men, he had been able to mount pulse beam projectors from a Succession War heavy cruiser on two run-of-the-mill cargo ships, converting them into formidable weapons. While there was no doubt that this Jordan fellow could do the job, what remained very much up in the air was whether or not he would perform the duties willingly.