Junkyard Dogs 1: The Scrapyard Incident (13 page)

Chapter 24

New Ceylon Orbital Station, Smuggler's Lair,
October 6, 2598.

Oskar Kresge
looked over the slowly growing ranks of fellow refugees that were gathering
deep in the bowels of the orbital station and wondered perversely, just for a
moment, if he wouldn't have been better off turning himself in. He shook the
thought off and concentrated on the task at hand. The group, "The
Resistance" as he was beginning to think of them, needed more information
on their enemy, more weapons,
more
competent people.
Maybe there were other groups like this one elsewhere on the station.

Kresge had never
considered the sheer size of the orbital station before. At more than six
kilometers in circumference and five decks deep, each deck consisting of up to
three sublevels in some areas, there was a hell of a lot of space on board this
orbital platform. Of course, he had to admit, in the past he had only come to
enjoy some of the finer regions of the station and spend time with one of its
more attractive residents.

Gibbons, the two
Steubens, and Maggie Simmonds had been the leaders of the group before the
attack on the station, but they had been running a smuggling ring and black
market operation. They had called themselves simply the Organization. They
hadn't had much experience in the day-to-day operations of what
was
rapidly becoming a small community and all of the
associated logistical problems of such an enterprise. The women had quickly
come to realize that Irene was the most experienced of any of them in such
matters and they found themselves relying more and more on her expertise as the
group's numbers continued to grow. Irene still had reservations about the
people she was working with, but she pitched in wholeheartedly when they asked
for her help.

The Organization
had pulled together a bewildering array of hard goods, clothing, electronics,
and other valuables. Kresge was just as impressed with the large cache of food
that the group had also amassed. The sanctuary itself had a number of
unexpected attributes. Many of the Organization members were maintenance staff
and they knew how to make things work. They had set up several sleeping rooms,
some with private bath facilities. These were used infrequently for smuggling
people traveling illegally, one of the more lucrative of the group's
activities. Near the common area, they had rigged separate male and female
sanitary facilities that they had even managed to rig up with showers.

Kresge himself
hadn't actually seen that much of the station yet, but the ringleaders had
assured him that there were many ways for a knowledgeable person to get around
without being detected. The Organization had, in fact, sent several of the most
agile and trusted of their number to use these pathways to do some
eavesdropping. The first of their observers was due back within the next half
hour. Meanwhile, Irene had used her natural organizational skills and her
considerable personal charm to get the women working together more effectively.
She came up to Kresge, wearing a makeshift apron with an assortment of stains
on it, holding a large spatula.

"It looks
like I get to make dinner for you after all, Oskar," she said, smiling at him.
Kresge smiled back but couldn't help but notice how exhausted she looked. He
took her in his arms and they held each other for a long moment before they
both went over and sat down across from one another at a nearby table.

"So, what
are we having?"

"We're
having chicken cordon bleu with an assortment of baby vegetables and a baked
potato with your choice of trimmings."

"What?"
asked Kresge,
incredulously.
"That sounds like
the menu at the Spaceview Restaurant! I thought we'd be roughing it here!"

"These
people are pretty resourceful," said Irene, with grudging respect.
"The meals were actually intended for the Spaceview, but there was a mix
up and a double order got shipped. Our hosts generously took the extra half of
the order off the restaurant's hands before they even knew about it."

"Well, I'll
be...," said Kresge.

Our biggest
problem was figuring out how to heat the food up. There's a technician, Helen,
I think her name is, who commandeered the spare ultramicrowave oven that the
restaurant was storing down here on the fifth level. She had it hooked up and
working within a half hour or so. It doesn't look like we're going to go
hungry, anyway."

"Actually,
it looks we'll be eating pretty well!"

"We have
food enough for weeks unless the group gets a lot bigger. They have a good
assortment of other entrées from the restaurant, and they've squirreled away a
lot of other food and stuff over the last several years. Anytime there's
something extra, slightly out of date, or available for the taking, they somehow
wind up with it."

"Yeah, they
seem to have the run of the place. The Governor will probably run out of stuff
before we do!"

There was a minor
commotion over near the entrance to the hideout. Kresge reached across the
table for Irene's hand and gave it gentle squeeze before getting up to check on
the disturbance.

"Save me one
of those entrées. I'll be back as soon as I can." He headed across the
room. Gibbons and Allison Steuben were talking; Allison gestured towards the
direction of one of the main entries to the hideout.

"What's up,
Dan?" asked Kresge as he came within earshot.

"Allison and
Orville took a maintenance cart over to the other side of the station to see if
there were any more people that we needed to bring in here. Apparently they
found a small group. Allison is a little ways ahead, but the rest of them
should be along in just a few more minutes.

"Commander
Kresge," said Allison Steuben, "nice to finally meet you." She
was a pleasant-faced woman, quick with a smile,
who
had short, light brown hair and pale blue eyes.

"Likewise,"
replied the Commander. "What have you got for us?"

"We found
some more people," she said. "I think you'll be pleasantly
surprised."

"That would
be a nice change," said Kresge.

She grinned.

A few minutes
later, Orville Steuben came in with what looked like about ten newcomers.
Kresge noticed immediately that there were two Federation Navy uniforms among
them.

"Jenkins,
Allen!" Kresge called out.

The two men
looked in his direction as soon as they heard his voice. Kresge hurried over to
them.

"Commander
Kresge?" said Jenkins. "Commander, Sir! Man, are we ever glad to see
you!"

"We were
heading over to the Junkyard Lounge for lunch when all hell broke loose,"
said Allen. "We were just at the entrance when the shooting started."
He looked around. "What happened to Kathy? You need to meet Kathy Haines,
Commander; she was in the group we came in with. She's one of the higher-ups
with station security."

"Is that her
over there?" Kresge pointed to a tall, athletic-looking brunette in a
security uniform who was talking heatedly with Gibbons.

"Yeah,
that's her."

"Gibbons
will make sure that we meet, don't worry."

"What do you
know about these people, Commander?" said Allen, looking around the room
again.

"Most of them
have regular jobs as maintenance and supply crew here at the station. In their
spare time they're the ringleaders of the smuggling and black market operations
in this part of the quadrant. Station upper management heard rumors about this
place, but they didn't have a clue how to find it. As you can see, there's an
awful lot of unused real estate on this station. Especially here on the outer
levels."

"Given the
current situation, it looks like a damned good set up to me," said
Jenkins.

"It gets
better," answered Kresge. "These folks know all of the shortcuts and
back ways to get around on the station without drawing attention. Right now
we're just gathering information. We've got spies out all over the place to see
if we can find out who's behind the attack and what it is that they want."

"Who's in
charge?" asked Allen.

Kresge smiled
slightly. "Good question. Gibbons does most of the talking. I'm the
military advisor, whatever that means. Irene has been helping the women get the
place organized."

"Is Irene
Marshall here, too?" asked Jenkins.

"Yes, we
were having lunch at the Spaceview Restaurant when the attack came. We had some
of the best seats in the house for the destruction of the
Boise
. We ran to my quarters, grabbed some of my stuff, and started
heading outward. Orville Steuben and Maggie Simmonds found us just a few
minutes later and brought us down here, just like the Steubens did with your
group." He paused and looked back and forth at the two men. "I can't
tell you how good it is to see both of you."

"Amen,
Commander," said Allen. "We saw the Governor on the viewscreen asking
you and Ms. Marshall to turn yourselves in. I bet Jenkins a hundred credits
that you wouldn't do it."

"So, how'd
that turn out?"

"How do you
think? He wouldn't take the bet!"

"You're a
wise man, Jenkins."

"Thanks,
Commander. I'd say the smartest move these people could make would be to put
you in charge."

"We'll see.
Under the circumstances I could invoke martial law and take over anytime I
wanted to, but that just doesn't feel right. Not yet, anyway. I don't suppose
either of you has any kind of weapon?"

They both shook
their heads.

"No,
Sir," said Jenkins. "I didn't think we'd be able to bring anything
with us, on account of the big diplomatic shindig.
With these
recent developments, I kind of wish that I had packed my pulse pistol or
something."

"I didn't
bring anything either," said Allen.

"I suppose
it was too much to hope for. I don't know how much of a fight we could put up
even with some decent weapons -- these invaders look to have somewhere around
fifteen to twenty sets of battle armor. All we have so far is my pulse pistol,
a few stun rods, and an obsolete hunting rifle. Damned thing shoots
projectiles! That's gonna make it tough. If you get any bright ideas, let me know
immediately."

"Will do,
Commander," said Jenkins.

"That
reminds me, Commander," said Allen. "I got a pretty good look at one
of the raider guards while we were making our way over here. The battle armor
these guys are using looks like it's about two generations out of date."

"You
sure?" asked Kresge.

"Yeah, the
stuff looks ancient."

"Maybe we
can use that. Go get yourselves something to eat, guys. We can talk more
later
." Kresge grinned wryly. "Enjoy the meal --
we're serving chicken cordon bleu today."

The two men gave
him a perplexed look, but mumbled their thanks as they headed over to the chow
line. A short, wiry, grey-haired woman in threadbare
coveralls
who had been waiting patiently nearby for the three men to finish their
conversation, cleared her throat. Kresge had seen her several times since
coming to the hideout, but hadn't had the opportunity to talk to her before.

"Yes, what
is it?"

"Name's
Helen Murdock, Commander," said the woman as the two of them shook hands.
"They told me you were the military advisor. I don't want to take up a lot
of your time, but I just wanted to let you know that I'm at your
disposal."

"Thanks, Ms.
Murdock. I take it you're the one who helped get the kitchen organized?"

"That's
right, Commander,"

"Mind if I
call you, Helen?"

"No problem,
Commander."

"Well,
Helen, what else do you bring to the table?"

"I'm a
pretty fair technician, if I do say so myself. I was an electrician's mate in
the Federation Navy, but that was over thirty years ago. After that I worked here
on the orbital station as a power tech for the next twenty years or so. My dad
passed on five years ago and left me his cargo ship. I've been operating and
maintaining it myself since then."

"What kind
of ship is it?"

"She's a
Bombardier Mark I Cargomaster, Commander, the
Greyhound
," said Murdock, proudly.

"If you'll
pardon my saying so, Helen, you must be a pretty good tech if you can keep that
old girl running."

"Yeah, she
takes a bit of doing."

"Glad to
have you with us, Helen. I've no doubt that we'll make ample use of your
talents. Where can I find you?"

"If it's
okay with you, Commander, I'll just hang out with the kitchen crew for now.
They're pretty busy over there. Nice meeting you."

"My
pleasure," said Kresge.

The technician
cum ship owner turned and made her way back over to the chow line. Kresge
headed over to where Gibbons was still talking heatedly with the tall woman
from security. A knot of men was beginning to gather nearby and they did not
look happy. Gibbons turned to Kresge as soon as the commander came within
range.

"Commander
Kresge," he
said,
his exasperation evident.
"This is Kathy Haines, Deputy Director of Security. She says we're all
under arrest! See if you can talk some sense into her!"

"Commander,"
said the tall woman. Her voice was a husky alto.

"Mind if I
call you Kathy?" asked Kresge.

She nodded
tersely, her attention still on Gibbons. Kresge continued. "I think you
should reconsider your attempt to arrest anyone."

"But,
Commander...?"

"No buts,
Kathy. Think about it. We have far bigger problems right now. The station has
been attacked by unknown forces. I can all but guarantee that the people down
here are not allied with the attackers; they lost at least five of their own in
the initial attack. In case you haven't noticed, they're providing us with a
refuge to regroup and try to figure out what to do. Stand down. Better yet,
join us! Lord knows we could use someone with your knowledge of the
station!"