The Santana Nexus (Junkyard Dogs Book 3) (39 page)

Chapter
59.

Santana Nexus Station, weightless gymnastics arena, January 12, 2599.

Back in the tenth ring hub area of the Santana Station,
Fahada had made several more passes across the arena attempting to wound or kill her virtually unarmed prey. Carlisle had so far been able to avoid any further injuries but she knew that it was only a matter of time before that situation changed. The wound on her left leg wasn't bleeding badly, but it was bleeding. Worse, she was breathing heavily and could feel the stitch in her side where her ribs had been injured during her last altercation with Fahada. There had simply been insufficient time for her to fully recover her stamina and she was well aware that she was tiring rapidly and would not be able to continue at this pace for very much longer. Momentarily resting against one of the padded walls of the arena, she took a series of deep breaths, to recover as much as possible before having to make her next move.

Ever mindful of what her opponent was doing, she
remained aware of Fahada's behavior at all times. As Carlisle looked across the arena, there was some satisfaction in seeing that her assailant was also breathing heavily.

Carlisle had lost all track of time but knew that it couldn't be
too much longer before the Resistance would be attempting to separate ring ten from the rest of the station. She also knew that the gymnastics arena was located in the hub of the tenth ring. If the separation happened anytime soon, she would be marooned along with most of the Sheik's army!

During this brief respite, while both of the contestants
were taking a moment to catch their breath, the Ensign had a rare moment to think. In the course of avoiding Fahada's repeated attacks, she had noticed that the assassin followed some patterns; that her foe had some tendencies, maybe Carlisle could take advantage of them?

Fahada looked back across the arena
at the little Spacer warrior and her eyes narrowed. It was time to end this spectacle. She herself was beginning to get tired. She had fought dozens of opponents under these same conditions in the past year but none of them had ever lasted half this long. And this little fool wasn't even really armed! She smiled inwardly. She had merely been toying with the Federation's little pet Spacer. This show had gone on long enough, it was time to finish this. She would begin to press the attack in earnest.

Fahada lined herself up and launched another attack.

This next pass was almost fatal for Carlisle. Fahada broke with her previous pattern of attack. Without Carlisle noticing, she had
switched the quantum knife to her other hand
! Carlisle had been using her tethers to take advantage of the fact that Fahada had, so far, been wielding the knife in her right hand. Her instincts for self-preservation dictated that she stay to Fahada's left side.

Carlisle saw the
change a microsecond before it was too late and managed to block Fahada's new knife arm away at the last instant. As they parted, she felt a burn along the bottom of her right forearm. Fahada had drawn blood again!

As she rested against the wall for a short moment afterwards,
Carlisle realized she wouldn't be able to steer clear of serious or fatal injury for more than another pass or two. Sooner or later, Fahada would get lucky or Carlisle would make a mistake. Probably sooner, as tired as she was getting. For the umpteenth time, Carlisle wished that she had a quantum knife of her own. Or, at the very least, a better weapon.

"Think, Tamara!" she said to herself under her breath. Her academy instructors had always emphasized that a
good tactician makes the best use of what they have on hand and Carlisle was nothing if not an excellent tactician. As her tactical mind raced to find a solution, it dawned on her that she did have another weapon, more than one of them in fact!

From the time that she had be
gun practicing with the powered tethers, when she was less than five years old, Tamara Carlisle had yet to meet anyone who was better at using them than she was. There had been several times during this dire situation she currently found herself in that she had only been able to get out of trouble because she could do things with a tether that Fahada hadn't expected. The solution that came to her was risky, but the grim truth was that she had nothing to lose, her captors weren't letting her out of this arena until after she was dead. She came to the stark realization that she had better find a way to end this contest before Fahada did!

Carlisle readied herself for the next pass.

As had been the case with all of the other runs, both of the combatants were currently on opposite sides of the arena, up against the padded wall, catching their respective breaths.

Fahada began to line herself up to make another rush at Carlisle.
As had been the case with all of the other attack runs, Carlisle didn't dare do anything until her opponent committed herself to some kind of attack vector so she could figure out what the best countermove was going to be. Fahada sprung off from the wall to perform what appeared to be another straight on frontal attack. This time Carlisle waited until her attacker was almost upon her before she feinted as though she was going to attempt her escape by shoving downward. Fahada had been waiting for that tactic and immediately shot the tether from her right wrist towards the "floor" of the arena in anticipation of pulling herself in that direction in pursuit of Carlisle.

Instead of heading for the floor of the arena,
the Ensign kicked out directly at Fahada. The Sheik's assassin, with a triumphant grin on her face as she smelled a victory coming, cocked her knife arm, the left one again this time, to deliver the fatal strike. From a distance of about two meters, Carlisle fired the tether on her right wrist, not at one of the walls this time but
directly into the face of her opponent
! Fahada was momentarily stunned as the grappling pad of the tether smacked her right in the middle of her forehead. Carlisle shot past Fahada and used her momentum to put as much impact as she could muster into a vicious kick that she delivered to the side of Fahada's head.

The Sheik's killer was knocked unconscious and
as her weightless body twisted limply in reaction to the blow she had received, she became entangled in the same tether that had stunned her. Carlisle used that tether to pull herself back to her now defeated opponent. The first thing she did was secure the quantum knife. The knife had a trigger stud that had to be held down to activate the blade. With Fahada rendered unconscious, the blade was no longer deployed. Carlisle ditched her useless practice knife and slipped the thong that had kept the quantum knife loosely attached to Fahada's wrist around her own right wrist.

In the space of a few heartbeats the tables had turned completely. Carlisle
was alive, she was armed and she had a valuable hostage. Things could have been worse. Within a few more moments, several of the guards were almost certain to enter the arena, probably with stun rods and simply stun Carlisle to avoid further injuring Fahada and take them both out of the arena. With little time to react, Carlisle remembered some other things that non-gymnasts probably wouldn't know. She knew that several of the locker and preparation rooms were just on the other side of the arena walls. The guards were no doubt watching all of the normal exits, so escape by any of those routes was going to be difficult, if not impossible. Carlisle would not be using any of those normal exits.

N
ow that she had armed herself with a quantum knife, she'd make her own exit!

She considered her options for just a moment and decided that her chances were better
for the time being if she kept her hostage with her. She took a few more precious seconds to wrap Fahada up a bit more securely with the tether. By the time she finished, the door on the other side of the arena was opening. Carlisle thought she could see the end of a stun rod starting to poke though the crack as the door was pushed open. She got a secure hold on Fahada and shot her remaining tether up at the blank panel of the ceiling. She reeled herself up until she made contact with the ceiling, grabbed the handle of the quantum knife in her right hand and pushed the activation button. A violet line outlined the shape of the otherwise invisible blade. She plunged the knife into the ceiling and cut out a lopsided circle, the molecule-wide blade cutting through padding and metal alike as though they were paper. She pushed the circle upwards and unceremoniously shoved her hostage through the opening before following behind her. She found herself in the same compartment they had brought her to earlier where they had forced her to change out of her clothes. There was no time to get dressed but she slipped off the cuff of the tether that was entangling Fahada, and with a sense of immense relief, slipped her wrist computer back on. With the schematics it contained, a single tether and the quantum knife, maybe she could figure out a way to escape!

With no idea whatsoever about how much
more time remained before the separation of the tenth ring. She decided that her best course was simply to get off from the tenth ring immediately by the shortest route she could find. Fortunately, the weightless gymnastics arena was located in the spindle of the station. All Carlisle had to do was to find a way to get herself a little further northward and into the spindle area of the ninth ring.

She
might even be reasonably safe on the tenth ring except that when the ring separated, there would be a number of connections between the spindle components of the ninth and tenth rings that would be depressurized. If any of the completely untested safety overrides on the station malfunctioned, the extent of the depressurization could easily involve even more of the two hubs than expected. There was also the matter of hostile pursuit. If she could get to the ninth ring spindle area, she would find some of her friends and finally, she hoped, safety. As she pulled up a schematic of the station on her wrist computer, she heard a commotion in the corridor outside.

She fought down
another wave of panic.
Think, Tamara, you looked at the schematics for this station several times over the last few weeks.
She closed her eyes and forced herself to relax. Whoever her pursuers were, they had misjudged where she had exited the arena and were hammering on the door of the compartment next door.

Carlisle opened her eyes again and scanned the schematic
. There! There was a ventilation shaft in the ceiling just couple of meters above her present location. She should get to that and see what options she had from there. In an effort to buy a little bit more time, she went over and locked the door to the compartment.

Carlisle
then took a long look at her unconscious hostage. What to do? Bring her along? Carlisle had a brief vision of her trying to guide the limp form of Fahada through ventilation shafts and into some of the other tight spaces she might have to go into and decided that no, a hostage would slow her down way too much. Fahada was one of the enemy's deadliest champions and the woman had just spent the better part of a half hour trying to kill the Ensign for sport. Maybe Carlisle should just kill her, quickly and cleanly. She wouldn't even have to use the quantum knife.

Fahada certainly deserved to die for all of the evil she'd done in the name of the Sheik
!

Carlisle grasped the quantum knife in her right hand but
after one more look at the tied up, helpless and unconscious form of her former opponent she rejected that idea immediately. She had killed several men in single combat before but this...this was different, a helpless, unconscious and tied up victim was another thing entirely. Even if it was justifiable, recommended even, it just felt...wrong! The words that Lieutenant Harris had spoken when she had sought his comfort after her bad dream came back to her,
"You're not a killer, Tamara, you're a soldier and there is a big difference!"
She briefly wondered longingly if she'd ever see him again.

With the decision
regarding her hostage made, Carlisle quickly lashed Fahada as securely to a bench as she could in thirty seconds and, in an effort to confuse her pursuers, unlocked the door to the compartment again. After consulting the wrist computer schematic of the local area once more, she shoved up to the ceiling where she used the quantum knife to cut the ventilation grating loose. She pivoted the grating down and headed upwards into the ventilation shaft. She pulled the grating back up behind her and used the quantum knife to slice a strip of metal out of one of the braces inside the shaft. She then used the strip to secure the grating. She made her way up into the ventilation system, keeping the wrist comp schematic open the whole time to guide her way. In the nearly zero gravity of the spindle area, negotiating the ductwork was really pretty easy going. It was also possible for her to be very quiet. It would probably take the enemy some time to figure out where she had gone.

By then, with any luck, she should be safe.

Chapter 60.

Santana Nexus System, on route to the Nexus Station, January 13, 2599.

The four ships of the
Junkyard Dogs Strike Force had come out of their microjump about a half-hour away from the Santana Nexus Station and, after regrouping, formed up to approach the Station. As they closed in on the docking areas, Kresge, who had remained on the bridge of the
Beastie,
was consulting with Captain Helmsford about what the Strike Force should do next. The tactical plot of the Station and the ships nearby showed Kresge most of the enemy warships were lined up in the docking area. Three of them were not.

"It looks like three of the enemy destroyers are standing guard
," said Kresge. He pointed them out, "there, there and there... The other five are all in a nice neat row in the docking area. Good, it doesn’t look like any of them have been alerted yet."

"Have you thought about how we should handle this, Commander?" said Helmsford
.

"I was waiting to see what we'd be up against," replied Kresge.

"I might have an idea," said Helmsford.

"We
're making this up as we go," replied Kresge, "What have you got in mind?"

"How about we match up our three destroyers with the ones on guard," said Helmsford, "
and we take on the other five with the
Beastie
?"

"That's a pretty tall order, Captain
!"

"Maybe not, Commander," replied Helmsford. "Those
other five destroyers are just sitting there all lined up perfectly. They aren't suspecting a thing, I don't know if we're going to have a better opportunity!"

Kresge looked at the tactical plot again and saw the ne
at, orderly row of five of the Sheik's revolutionary destroyers lined up side by side in the Military docking area.

"You're absolutely right, C
aptain," replied Kresge, "This is too good of an arrangement to pass up. Get me the Captains of our destroyers."

Within a minute, Kresge was addressing all
three of the Junkyard Strike Force destroyer Captains. "I want our three destroyers to take on the three ships that are standing guard. The
Beastie
will handle the other five. Talk to me, tell me why this isn't going to work."

There was a short pause while the destroyer Captains considered the implications.

"Commander?" said Captain Nesbitt from the
Asimov
, "My tactical officer suggests that we'll have a much better chance of success if we take on those guard ships three on one instead of trying to match up toe to toe. As you can see, none of the enemy ships is in a very good position to cover the others. If we strike hard and fast we should be able to even the odds considerably in a very short time."

"An excellent suggestion, Captain Nesbitt, "Three on one it is. I'd take on the one closest to the station first."

"Aye, aye, Commander. Now what are you going to do?"

"
We're going to turn the
Beastie
loose again!" replied Kresge.

"On
the destroyers in the docking area?" asked Nesbitt.

"That's right, Captain, we're going to try
a strafing run right down that line of parked destroyers!"

"
With that weapon you might just be able to pull it off! Good hunting, Commander!"

"Same to you, Captain Nesbitt.

Kresge took a seat where he could keep an eye on the action without interfering with the operation of the ship.

Helmsford began barking orders.

"Weapons? Get that main battery online and prepare to charge up those capacitors!"

The
Foul Beastie
continued past the freight docking area and headed straight for the southern end of the station towards the docking area for the military ships. The hybrid ship proceeded for almost a minute before they were challenged.

"Unknown freighter?
You are not authorized to be in this restricted area. You will return to the commercial end of the station immediately and prepare to be boarded. Failure to comply will result in you being fired upon. Comply!"

Helmsford ignored the challenge.
To avoid any chance of the enemy detecting their weapons, the
Beastie
had been running without any of the capacitors for the high-powered Bofors turret charged up.

"Hawkins?"
Helmsford called down to engineering, "Get that number two reactor ready to charge capacitors!"

"Aye, aye Captain!" replied Hawkins, from d
own in engineering. To the crew manning the reactor he shouted, "Be bringin' number two reactor to one hundred and eight percent, if you please, Lads! Spritely now, but be keepin' your eyes on your readouts!"

The noise from the powerplant rose in intensity as t
he now at least marginally experienced crew kept a close eye on the cobbled together consoles of the prototype ship. So far, all readouts remained within normal limits. In the meantime the gun crew activated the motors that raised the turret to firing position.

"Charging port side capacitors, now," said Hawkins. The
crew of the
Beastie
felt the massive powerplant surge six times in rapid succession and after only about four seconds, the entire complement of six capacitors for the port side projector were charged up. "Now we be chargin' the starboard side," shouted Hawkins above the noise of the straining powerplant."

"Keep her at a hundred and eight percent, Angus, we’re going to start shooting some bad guys right about now!" said
the Captain of the
Beastie
.

Helmsford called out to the men in the turret, "Ready those projectors! We're going to roll the ship over so you've got a clear shot at every one of those destroyers while we make an overhead pass on them. Rolling the ship...Now!
Start shooting as soon as you acquire a target!"

"Aye, aye, Sir!" came the reply.

As they approached the row of parked destroyers, the helmsman on the
Beastie
used a combination of control manipulations to execute a simple one hundred and eighty degree roll. At the same time, the gun crew instructed their targeting computers to bring the projectors into alignment with the row of targets. With the ship rolled over, the gun crew now had an unimpeded view of every one of the parked destroyers although, with the
Beastie
inverted above them, they all appeared to be overhead and upside down. Just as the first ship in line came into the sights of the gun captain, Helmsford gave the order to fire.

The ripping sound of the ultra
-rapidfire projectors rattled the entire ship as the emplacement, again operating in extreme rapid fire mode, unleashed a torrent of pulse bolts that tore into the row of unsuspecting enemy ships, indiscriminately ripping out chunks of hull, weapons emplacements and whatever else they happened to encounter. Kresge watched in slack-jawed amazement at the almost incomprehensible amount of destruction the
Beastie
was dealing out as the powerful pulse beams strobed out and ripped viciously into the row of destroyers. At the rate the pulses were being generated and delivered, every single ship in the row had received at least eight to ten hits when the run was finished. Since none of the destroyers had had time or reason to activate their shields before the strafing began, the damage to each ship was extensive and debilitating.

Kresge took one look at the carnage created by the single pass and immediately decided that another run at them would be superfluous. The
Beastie
would join the other ships of their attacking fleet and finish up any resistance that remained.

Within
the last hour, the enemy's Naval forces had gone from a cruiser and eight destroyers to only three undamaged destroyers remaining. These three destroyers were now outnumbered four to one and when facing either the
Beastie
or the
Asimov
in a ship to ship altercation, they were hopelessly outgunned.