Free The Veritian Derelict (Junkyard Dogs) by Phillip Nolte Page A

Glendaloch undocked, Deputy Chief."
    " Good, that takes care of one major concern. The station is pretty well locked down at the moment; those terrorists up in the airlock area aren't going anywhere anytime soon. I had the cargo handlers transfer those pure metals onto the Glendaloch just before she undocked. No sense in giving these terrorists any chance of getting their hands on anything that valuable. Now have the workers secure that NITrans supply ship. The freighter was headed to Patagonia and then to New Ceylon after they got done here. I have half a mind to send the mining ships with her and see if the Federation can send us some help. We should be fine for the time being though. With two months of supplies on hand, we can hold out here longer than these terrorists, I would think. I'll talk it over with O'Connell and Patrick, but first I think we should see if we can get some more information on what these terrorists are up to."
    "What do you mean?"
    "I mean we need to interrogate some prisoners."
    "How are we going to go about doing that?"
    Hartmann gave the man a wolfish grin. The grin, combined with the Spacer tattoo on his left cheek, gave him a particularly sinister look "We have plenty of weapons and we also have a fair amount of riot gear. I think I know might know a way to take on a soldier in battle armor."

 
    Chapter 9.
     
    New Ceylon Orbital Station, November 29, 2598.
    Helen Murdock was sound asleep when the com unit in her posh hotel room softly announced that someone was trying to contact her. It was early, only 0530, and the man sleeping next to her, Engineering Technician Second Class Angus Rory Hawkins, did not awaken. Murdock smiled as she looked over at him, still a little overwhelmed by the intensity of a love affair that had united the two of them so late in life.
    She slipped on one of the plush, full-length robes that came with the expensive hotel room . Murdock and Hawkins, key players in the successful defense of the New Ceylon Orbital Station just a few weeks ago, were guests at the hotel, compliments of the Station Government. After fluffing up her kinky medium-length hair, she sat down at the com unit and pushed the "accept communication" key. The screen showed a handsome, immaculately groomed, dark-haired man in a Federation Navy uniform with Commander's insignia on the collar.
    "Commander Kresge," said Murdock. "It's early. What can I do for you?"
    "I received some disturbing news from last night's courier ship communication, Helen. As of yesterday at about 1800 hours, the Federation has officially begun to mobilize. Intel says that several of the more militant Islamic Alliance governments have been quietly building up their own forces for several months now. No one is willing to say just where they think this is all heading but I have been ordered to mobilize our forces out here, such as they are, and prepare defenses. I suppose we should have seen this coming, but it's still kind of a shock."
    "Not good news, Commander, and I sure do appreciate the personal call to warn me, but what can the Skipper of an eighty-year old Bombardier freighter possibly do to help the Federation Navy?"
    "I've been ordered to get the Scrapyard back up and functioning ," replied Kresge. "Your ship looks to me like a good temporary solution to the problem that we no longer have a main living facility. It's my understanding that you had intended to bring the Greyhound out to the Scrapyard anyway for replacement of some of her propulsion system components. She could act as accommodations for us while the repairs are done. Naturally, I am authorized to pay you a reasonable fee for the use of your ship. The fees would be in addition to whatever equipment is required to be installed and calibrated on the ship. The Navy has already agreed to donate the parts and labor."
    Murdock had listened quietly while Kresge made his proposal, nodding her head in understanding.
    "I don't know how to refuse, Commander, my