Junkyard Dogs 1: The Scrapyard Incident Read online

  Kresge took a bite of the pastry and found it to be pretty good. The coffee, however, was a major disappointment and not for the first time. He made a mental note to ask Irene why, with the source of some of the finest coffee in Federation space right next door, the Governor of the orbital station allowed such a dreadful brew to be served. He turned his attention back to the discussion.

  "We're finally getting a little ahead of the game," said Dortmunder. "We just need to get everything put back together. I'm thinking maybe twenty-four hours at most. I might be able to lend you a few of my men after that."

  "Thanks, Stefan, anything you can do would be much appreciated."

  "I take it the ceremony will be held in the station assembly room?" asked Kresge.

  "Yes, I hope they finish repainting it today so it has some time to dry. Don't know if we can do anything about the smell, guess we'll just have to live with it. Maybe if we crank up the ventilation...," he trailed off absently.

  "I expect the Ambassador will want to tour the station?" asked Kresge.

  "Yes,"' the Governor replied, a note of resignation in his voice. "I don't know how we can avoid it. We'll have to be selective about where we take him. There just isn't time to get the entire station ready."

  "Think you'll stay on decks one and two?"

  "We certainly will! There's just too much unfinished when you get down to the fourth deck and below. There's even a rumor that some black market agents have made up a kind of storage facility and headquarters area somewhere down on deck five. I don't know if it's true or not; we haven't been able to find it if they have."

  "We've tried scanning for it, Chip," said Dortmunder, "but the thickness of the ring alloy and the damned anti-radiation coating blocks our scanners."

  "I know," said the Governor. "We'll have to try something else. They must have somebody working on the inside, but who?"

  No one had an answer.

  Kresge continued the briefing. "You say things are going okay over on the Boise?" he asked Dortmunder.

  "We'll be able to take the Ambassador on a limited tour if he requests it," replied Dortmunder. "There are a lot of restricted areas on a warship anyway. He'll be expecting that."

  "What do you need me to do?" asked Kresge.

  "Maybe you could be available when he arrives and then for an hour or so before the ceremony, at the end of all the planned tours," Larkin replied. "He might have some interest in our famous Scrapyard and you'll be just the person if he has any questions. I trust that you'll be present for the ceremony and that you'll be able to join us for the official dinner in the evening. I've already asked Ms. Marshall to attend and she says she's looking forward to it."

  "Great," said Kresge and, in a change from the usual situation with these two men, this time he meant it. He continued. "Who's coming up from the planet?"

  "Um... the President and his wife, the trade secretary, and delegations from both houses of Parliament. They'll start heading up here when the Ambassador's ship comes through the Whitney Hyperlink Point."

  "Sounds like this could be a pretty good show," said Kresge.

  "We certainly hope so," said the Governor. "I'll just be glad when it's over."

  "Shall we meet again tomorrow?"

  "Not unless you have something really important. Just be at the assembly room on time. I trust you can bring Ms. Marshall?"

  "Yes, I think I can handle that."

  "Oh, one more thing," said the Governor. "What do you think of this? It's my son's birthday today and I thought it would make the perfect gift."

  The Governor laid a small rectangular box down on the table and removed the lid. The other two men gathered around to look.

  "You got that for your kid?" asked Kresge, not sure whether to be really impressed or really horrified. "That's a Hartwell wrist computer. Those are worth a lot of credits!"

  "I know. It was pretty expensive for an eleven-year old, but he's been getting really good grades and he just completed the training sessions on the new Cyberdex keyboard system that these things use. You only need one hand! Kid seems to have a knack for that sort of thing. That and he really takes good care of his stuff."

  "If he masters that rig, he'll be ready for anything!" said Dortmunder. "Those things are state of the art. Kresge's new Ensign...What was her name, Oskar?"

  "Tamara Carlisle," said Kresge.

  "Yeah, Carlisle. She toured the Boise a few days ago. She's got one and she can do almost anything with it."

  "I sure hope he likes it," said the Governor. "He asked for a new holovideo game and I bought him this to play it on."

  "Might be a bit of overkill, but that rig will definitely do the trick!" said Kresge. "I got a birthday coming up myself, Chip! Do you need the date?"

  All three men laughed.

  "We'll see you at the festivities, Oskar," said Larkin, still smiling. "Stefan, can you give me about a half hour? I need to give this to my son. I have no idea when I'll get home tonight."

  "No problem, Chip. I'll just go over these reports until you get back. There's more than enough to keep me busy."

  Kresge left the two men to work out some more of their mutual problems and threaded his way through the chaos back to his quarters. He checked the time. Two more hours until his lunch with Irene. He reached for his computer, confident there was just enough time to finish the report he had been working on.

  Chapter 11

  ...Interplanetary and interstellar transport both have been made possible by the now ubiquitous Whitney Overdrive. Invented and perfected by Hiram Whitney, the drive generates a spherical field around a spaceship that temporarily phases into Wu-Chang multi-dimensional space (often referred to colloquially as 'hyperspace') when power is applied. Depending on a myriad of factors, the most important of which are the proximity of gravity wells, the vector of the ship applying the drive, the amount and the duration of power applied to the field, and the masses being transported, the ship will rephase with normal space some appreciable distance away from its starting point. Since the distances covered are often farther than light can travel during the same amount of time, the Whitney Overdrive is often referred to as a 'Faster Than Light' or 'FTL' drive, but this description is inaccurate since the ship never actually exceeds the speed of light but in fact retains whatever intrinsic velocity it was experiencing before the drive was activated.

  ...When operated at energy levels below Henckel's limit, the Whitney Overdrive can be used for relatively short distance travel (fractions or multiples of Astronomical Units), like those encountered when traveling between the planets of a star system. These short duration, short distance phase shifts are referred to as 'microjumps.' To execute the 'macrojump,' transport over long, interstellar distances (fractions or multiples of parsecs), power levels above Henckel's limit are required and the ship must be within a zone called the 'Whitney Jump Point' which is a special region of normal space wherein the gravity wave harmonics make possible the longer duration phase shifts required for this mode of travel. With the proper amount of power applied and the Whitney field generator tuned to the proper frequency, the ship will then rephase within another Whitney jump point. Tuning the field generator to the 'resident frequency' of the destination jump point is critical to executing a successful macrojump. Travelers do experience some level of time dilation as several standard days will pass for each hour spent in macrojump mode and some jumps may require several hours of subjective time. Most of the usable Whitney Jump Points are located within an astronomical unit or two of the star in systems with G or K type stars. Jump Points in red or blue giant star systems are often dangerously close to the star or in some cases actually located within them ...

  Until someone comes up with a better system, spaceships must still rely on reaction-type drives for maneuvering and for matching velocity with their destination planet, orbital station or other construct. Since microjumping to or from distances closer than a hundred thousand kilometers of an object with the mass and gravity
of a planet is still not possible, even with military grade Whitney drives, interplanetary travel times are still measured in days, weeks or, in some cases, months...

  Hartwell Wrist Comp reference note highlighted for further review by Tamara Carlisle. Excerpt is from "The Whitney Revolution: Engine of a New Destiny for Mankind" by Melvin Patterson.

  Onboard cargo ship Greyhound, near the New Ceylon Orbital Station, October 6, 2598

  Helen Murdock cursed as the wrench she was straining against slipped on the bolt she was trying to loosen and she skinned the knuckles of her right hand on the framework of the Whitney Overdrive module. Murdock was the sole proprietor of the aging cargo ship Greyhound, which may have been an appropriate name in the ship's earlier days but was maybe a little optimistic given her current condition. The Greyhound had seen better days, that much was certain. The ship was nearly eighty years old and had made countless cargo runs throughout the Santana Quadrant during that time. That was before Murdock had inherited the ship from her father -- who had himself been the fifth or sixth owner -- when he died a little over five years ago.

  Gambling on the premise that the New Ceylon system was set to become more prosperous and more populous as a result of the coming trade agreement, Murdock's plan had been to nurse the old ship along for a few years, making a modest income by running some of the cargo that NITrans didn't deem profitable enough and using the proceeds to refurbish or replace the old ship at some point in the not-so-distant future. She had returned to New Ceylon a week earlier and had delivered her cargo and a couple of wealthy passengers who had opted for passage onboard the Greyhound as opposed to more regulated carriers. Murdock didn't know what she had transported for them and she hadn't bothered to ask. The sealed containers had been addressed to Doebermann's Specialties, the big department store and outfitter located on the first deck of the station, so they could have contained almost anything. With their papers in order, her passengers had unloaded their cargo, transferred money into her account at the Santana Nexus Bank and been on their way.

  Unfortunately, Murdock had heard something go "clunk" in the vicinity of the Whitney Overdrive unit on the old ship as she phased out of the final microjump on route to New Ceylon from the hyperlink point. On the bright side, the wrench had slipped because the bolt had broken loose and she could now remove the cover from the Overdrive unit. After a short inspection, she realized that she lacked the expertise to make repairs. Murdock was a first-rate backyard mechanic, but she quickly realized that she was going to need some expert help to get the old ship going again. Repairs were also likely to require a lot more credits than she currently had.

  First things first.

  "New Ceylon Orbital Station? This is Helen Murdock, Captain of the cargo ship Greyhound calling."

  After a short pause, a security person from the Station came onto Murdock's viewscreen.

  "New Ceylon Orbital Station Security, Salvador Vasquez here. How can I help you, Captain?"

  "My Whitney Overdrive unit just went on the fritz, Mr. Vasquez. I know you folks want everybody out of here within the next twelve hours, but I don't think I'm going to be able to do that."

  "Let me check with the Director of Security, Ms. Murdock. I'll call you back...," Vasquez said, looking at his wrist chronograph, "...within the next fifteen minutes."

  "Thank you, Mr. Vasquez."

  Murdock waited patiently, occasionally sucking on her injured knuckles. No permanent damage had been done, but the injury was still painful. True to his word, Vasquez called back in just over eight minutes. After another obligatory exchange of formalities, the security man had good news for Murdock.

  "Mr. Harmon says that you may remain here provided you allow a security inspection. He would also prefer that you not be onboard your ship during the Ambassador's visit. Are these conditions suitable?"

  "Ah...yes, of course. When can I expect the inspection team?"

  "It won't be like that, Ms Murdock. We'll simply have the Boise run a scan with their military scanners to see if you're carrying anything dangerous or illegal. Since you gave your permission a minute ago, they're probably running the scan right now."

  "I didn't know they could do that," said Murdock.

  "It's the military, Ms. Murdock. You know how they love their secrets."

  There was a short pause.

  "The results are coming in right now. One person currently onboard, no contraband, no weapons...looks like you're clean, Ms. Murdock."

  "I didn't have any worries on that account," said Murdock, glad she hadn't contacted the authorities while her unknown cargo was still on board.

  "For your information, the scan also went over your ship's status. It looks like your Whitney Overdrive unit has gone out of alignment and will need some major adjustments before it will be safe to operate again. Do you need some help with that?"

  "Eventually. I have to find the funding first."

  "Let us know if you need further assistance, Ms. Murdock."

  "Ah...Yeah. Could someone pick me up? I don't have any way to get over to the Station on my own."

  "I'll arrange for the Boise's cutter to pick you up on one of their next runs. I suggest you be ready on a few moments notice."

  "Thank you, Mr. Vasquez."

  "No problem, Ms.Murdock. I hope you enjoy your stay at the New Ceylon Station."

  The screen went blank.

  Murdock breathed a sigh of relief. Fortunately, the docking fees for remaining at the New Ceylon Orbital Station were pretty reasonable. She should be able to stay for several months before her resources ran out. Her three crew members, all temporary hires, had disappeared onto the orbital station shortly after the ship had been unloaded. They weren't likely to wait around until the Greyhound was repaired. She would almost certainly need to hire a new crew and that could be a problem considering the remote location of the New Ceylon system. She sighed. Oh well, she'd cross that bridge when she came to it. At least they were going to let her leave the ship in her bay at the docking facility. For security purposes surrounding the Meridian Ambassador's visit, the authorities had cleared the schedule for cargo deliveries for a week. There were to be no ships in the near vicinity except those that were authorized to be there. Could have been worse, much worse.

  She went to do something about her injured hand.

  Chapter 12

  ...After Hiram Whitney invented his eponymous Overdrive, practical travel between stars became possible. Communications, however, had proven to be a serious challenge, at least until others of genius equal to Whitney's turned his Field technology towards developing FTL communications. By the time of the Great Human Expansion, made possible by the Whitney Overdrive, reasonably compact Whitney Field communications consoles had been developed that could provide nearly instantaneous communication between planets and ships across an entire solar system. A direct offshoot of microjump technology, these in-system devices are still referred to as "Stage I" Whitney consoles. Such a system requires a moderate investment and uses a moderate amount of power. These consoles quickly became fairly common. Most starships, for instance, were, and still are, equipped with Stage I Whitney communications devices...

  ...Fifty years later, with the development of the Stage II communications console, instantaneous star to star communication became possible. Unfortunately these consoles are still very expensive and require enormous amounts of power, which is why they were, and remain, relatively rare. Only large orbital platforms, luxury passenger liners, large cargo ships carrying very expensive goods and selected military ships are equipped with Stage II communications consoles. The United Terran Federation maintains at least one Stage II console in each of its inhabited star systems...

  ...Neither type of Whitney transmitter will function in the presence of atmosphere; the transmitter must be in vacuum to operate properly...

  Hartwell Wrist Comp reference note highlighted for further review by Tamara Carlisle. Excerpt is from "The Whitney Revolution: Engine of a New Desti
ny for Mankind" by Melvin Patterson.

  UTFN Reclamation Center, Auxiliary Tracking Station, October 6, 2598

  After boarding the auxiliary tracking station, Harris, Carlisle, and Hawkins headed straight for the Stage I Whitney communications console. They didn't waste time removing their suits. Harris hit the switch on the console.

  Nothing happened.

  "What the...?" Harris instinctively gave the console a couple of raps with his hand, even though his engineer's mind knew that it was a futile gesture. He visually scanned the console, located the reset switch and pressed it. Still nothing happened. He realized that the problem must be somewhere else."

  "Hawk, can you give me a hand? There's no response. We have to check the connections for this console."

  "Aye, Lieutenant, that I can." Hawkins removed the access panel on the bottom of the console. He handed the panel to Carlisle and stuck his head and shoulders inside the lower portion of the console. His inspection seemed to take a long time.

  "There be loose wires in here," he said, finally.

  "Can you tell where they're supposed to go?"

  "I be thinkin' so... looks like someone disconnected the console from the main power source; there be somethin' else hooked up."

  "Out of place, Tamara...nonstandard...supplemental heat? ...Could it be this heating unit?" asked Carlisle, pointing to a small cube-shaped unit that looked like it had been placed to provide supplemental heating for whoever was operating the tracking computer. The unit was bent and battered and looked like it had been salvaged from one of the wrecks outside. Not only did it look out of place, but it was putting out heat at that very moment.

  "Where the hell did that come from?" asked Harris, incredulous that anyone could be so stupid. "Damn it! If I find out who did this... Hang on, Hawk, the circuit breakers are over on the center pylon. I'll see if I can cut power so you can reconnect the console. Ensign, tell me when that heating unit stops running."