Admiral Wolf

by C. Gockel

  Sinclair tapped his temple. “Hailing a hover cab, Princess.”

  Alaric rolled his eyes, but a hover cab dropped from the ceiling almost immediately. One of its doors popped open like a ptery wing, and James pushed him inside just as the “gaggle” drew close. “Captain Dar—”

  The door shut, almost taking off Sinclair’s foot. Sinclair and Alaric both exhaled at the same time, and the hover rose to the ceiling.

  “Any more information?” Alaric asked, heart pounding. Had something happened? Some of the high-ranking members of the council were not happy with Alexis’s push to allow weere women to emigrate to the Republic. Had there been an incident? How had she gotten here? Who would lift Alexis off world?

  “No,” Sinclair replied. “I can try to find out more by—”

  “Just find out where they are,” Alaric said.

  Sinclair nodded. A heartbeat later, he said, “Got them.”

  The hover accelerated. Sinclair scowled at his knees and was silent. Alaric asked no more questions, trusting Sinclair was trying to find out what he could. The hover slowed and lowered.

  Sinclair shook his head. “No intel on any sort of instability on Luddeccea.”

  The door beside Alaric opened, and though he couldn’t see his family, he jumped out, Sinclair following him.

  Sinclair inclined his head forward and to the left. “They’re—”

  But Alaric already saw Alexis. She was tall, even for a Galactican woman. Her head was high, but her face was distressed. “Alexis!” He broke into a run and was in front of her in three strides. Sam and Lucas had their hands in hers, Markus was sleeping in a sling—they were alive and seemed unharmed. But when her eyes met his, they went wide. Grasping her shoulders, he whispered, “What are you doing here? Has something happened?”

  His normally collected wife stammered, “I … no … nothing has happened.” Her eyes slid nervously to the side.

  “How did you get here?” he asked.

  Pointing at Volka, Lucas shouted, “Mommy asked the weere lady to give us a ride in her spaceship!”

  Alaric looked over his shoulder. There was Volka. Alexis said nothing had happened. But she’d come here with Volka … who she hated. She had so much pride, what could possibly cause her to come here with their children?

  Sinclair said nothing was wrong on Luddeccea …

  He remembered their last awkward goodbye on Luddeccea, when she’d been as frosty as a northwest province winter. Perhaps not because she was unfeeling; perhaps because she did feel and did not know how to express it. Something snapped into place in his mind. “You thought I wouldn’t come home.” He should be insulted … but … she’d come here with Volka. How much of her pride had that cost her? She’d given up her pride to bring him home. It was more vulnerability than she’d ever been able to show him. He was touched. He dipped his head over Markus, kissed her head, and said softly, “I’m sorry I made you worry.”

  At their feet Lucas snorted. “She would never think that!”

  Pointing at something, Sam said, “Daddy, why are you kissing a pink-haired lady in that … picture?”

  Alaric pulled back, at first not comprehending. He followed the direction of Sam’s finger and almost swore.

  Sinclair came to his rescue. “It’s not a real picture of your father. It’s a hologram.”

  Alaric fumed. He and Sinclair had encountered several of them. At least this one had his likeness with a woman, and not with a man modeled after Sinclair himself. That had been uniquely uncomfortable.

  Addressing the pink-haired holo-woman as though she were a real person, Sinclair said, “Star Darling, the Galactic Fleet and Republic Intelligence is hosting Captain Darmadi’s visit in the Republic. Our lawyers are very interested in your work.”

  The holo of Alaric popped out of existence. The holo of Star Darling rounded on Sinclair. “All of my images are computer generated. If any of them resemble Captain Darmadi, it is purely coincidental.”

  Sinclair replied dryly, “But the plot seems to be borrowed from a holo released two years ago by Lovely Nebula, and 75% of the dialog was directly lifted from Starlight Melody’s Taming the Asteroid Pirate. I’m sure Ms. Melody and Ms. Nebula would take our lawyers up on an offer of pro bono—”

  Star Darling winked away.

  “—representation,” Sinclair finished.

  Alaric turned back to Alexis. “I’m sorry about that.”

  She still looked stunned.

  Wincing slightly, Sinclair addressed his wife. “Your husband is the current real world celebrity à la mode. The fan holos will end in about a week. Most of them are rip offs of earlier works and we’ll be able to take them down—it’s the only way they can produce them so fast—but there will be some we won’t be able to make go away.”

  Alexis’s mouth made a small “o.”

  “Who are you?” Lucas demanded, staring up at James.

  Alaric bent beside his son. “This is my friend, Mr. James Sinclair.”

  Sinclair bowed politely as Alaric continued his introductions. On Sam’s shoulder a tiny werfle appeared that Lucas declared was “Little Solomon.” Alaric raised an eyebrow at the creature, and it signed, “You can’t get rid of me.” Alaric bit back a grin, and then Lucas asked loudly, “Are you a pirate, Mr. Sinclair?”

  There was a moment of silence. Lucas traced a line down his cheek, mirroring the scar Sinclair had on the side of his face—a long gash of black that revealed his poly skeleton.

  “Lucas,” Alexis whispered warningly.

  Sinclair winked at Lucas. “Maybe.”

  Lucas’s eyes went wide, his mouth dropped open, and then he reached out with his right hand, grabbed the fingers of Sinclair’s left and pumped vigorously. “Very pleased to meet you, sir.”

  Alexis sighed. But Alaric saw she was also almost smiling. Alaric took the hand freed by Lucas.

  His older child’s expression was more guarded. “Are we going home now, Father?”

  Alaric couldn’t tell his boys he’d been dead, or that he was a cyborg. “I’m stuck here for a few more days. I have some appointments to keep.”

  “You’re all welcome to stay, too,” Sinclair said.

  Alaric smiled. Alexis looked quickly between him and Sinclair.

  Sinclair tilted his head. “If you would like, you can stay planet-side.” His eyes fell to Sam and Lucas. “More room to run.”

  “Alexis?” Alaric asked.

  Alexis’s lips pinched. “Yes?”

  He was asking for her opinion, not her attention. He hoped one day it would sink in. “Do you want to stay on Earth?” He shrugged. “It’s really up to you.”

  His wife stared at him too long. And then she lifted her chin. “Yes,” she said and did smile.

  Alaric picked up Sam with one arm and hugged Alexis with the other. It hurt on both sides. He didn’t let them go. Lucas attacked their legs—with the arm not involved in grasping Sinclair’s fingers in a death grip—and the baby started to stir. Sinclair began discussing logistics. Alaric’s eyes went above his family’s heads. Volka was gone.

  Having left Alaric to his family, Volka walked back along the promenade. She was still connected to the Darmadis by the fabric that made up the universe. At the same time, she was connected to no one.

  “What am I to you, chopped quinoa?” Carl protested.

  Volka blinked. “I don’t think you can actually chop quinoa, Carl.” Thinking of the mealy grain, she stuck out her tongue. Too. Much. Fiber.

  “You know what I meant,” Carl grumbled.

  Volka instantly felt bad. Carl was, well, not her friend precisely …

  “I’m your overlord,” Carl supplied. “I care about you; I really do.” He kneaded her shoulder. “Look, Hatchling, you did the good you could, even though it was hard. I’ve inhabited monogamous species before. At a certain point in your lifecycle it’s understandable to feel … untethered … and incomplete if you’re not partnered.”

  Volka’s shoulders
slumped. “I thought I was partnered.” Maybe she shouldn’t have. Maybe she had deluded herself because she liked Sixty. She didn’t have the same frenzied, single minded love for Sixty she’d felt for Alaric once upon a time, but that had been fueled by her season. When Sixty had proposed she’d just been … happy.

  The werfle squeaked sadly. “It made me happy, too. Pairing off my Hatchlings will make holidays more convenient. But it’s hard to fix things from so far away.”

  Volka rubbed her cheek against his bewhiskered snout. Was that why Alexis had come, to close the distance to “fix” things? It seemed to have worked. Should she be with Sixty now?

  “Would you sacrifice the fight against the Dark for Sixty?” Carl asked.

  Volka gulped. No, she wouldn’t. Still, she wished she could justify flying Sundancer to the battle of System 5. But although Sundancer was invincible to ordinary weapons, she was not safe from infection. An ordinary Fleet fighter could safely be doused with a lake’s worth of Dark-infested sludge and would have some resistance to phaser fire besides. Even if Sundancer could drop Volka off and escape, Volka would still have to find Sixty and not bungle his operations trying to help. That would leave only Carl to pilot Sundancer if something happened to her.

  “And I need sixteen hours of sleep!” Carl said. “Finding where the Dark is building its armada is vitally important, no matter how boring.”

  “Says the werfle who can sleep through most of the boringness.”

  Carl put a paw to his nose and made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. He coughed. “We’re the only ship and crew that can do it—or should do it. The Luddecceans’ ships are better utilized in combat. Sundancer is excellent for reconnaissance—she can free-gate multiple times in seconds—the Luddeccean vessels have to recharge their drives.”

  Volka wondered if she was supposed to know the last.

  Carl sniffed. “It’s nothing the Republic hasn’t discovered already. Oh, hey, look at you, you’re not being overly distracted by the thoughts of everyone around you. All it took was a good wallow!”

  Volka blinked. She hadn’t been overwhelmed by the thoughts around her. Wallowing hardly seemed like a healthy strategy to—

  A wave of curiosity rolled through the humans. It was so strong Volka was sure she’d not be able to miss it if she was still wallowing. In her mind, she saw raindrops outside the Time Gate, blurry, indistinct, and coming at her from all directions at once.

  Pointing ahead with a tiny talon, Carl squeaked. “Look with your eyeballs, not your telepathy.”

  She blinked and saw a public holo ahead like the one that had featured Alaric and Star Whoever. “I didn’t growl when I thought about her!” Volka exclaimed, jogging over to the holo.

  “Rat livers, I’m proud of you,” Carl snapped. “Now look!”

  Volka’s breath caught. It was the elder ships. They were hovering beyond the gate … a dozen or so of them. She’d been wrong—they were stupid enough to bring the fight here. Her hands balled into fists. Let them try.

  “They’re hiding themselves from me,” Carl said. “I wonder if Sundancer knows they’re here.”

  At his query, an image came from Sundancer, not of the elder ships, but of a midsize warship in the berth next door. Sundancer thought it was very pretty.

  Volka’s fists uncurled and her ears perked. The ships weren’t invading anyone’s minds like they’d done with Volka’s crew. That was … different. From speakers everywhere came a warning to get to midlevel decks. Casting aside her musings, Volka broke into a run, heading back to Sundancer.

  34

  Admiral Wolf

  Galactic Republic: Time Gate 1

  There were few things Captain Orion Smith of Fleet Intelligence disliked as much as interrogating the mutant known as Volka, or Carl Sagan, or any other member of the The One for that matter. Interrogating them in the midst of a first contact crisis was even less appealing. In Sundancer’s berth, to Lieutenant Young, he snapped, “Where is she?”

  “Volka and Carl accompanied three of our passengers to the medical wing, sir,” Young replied.

  Orion’s nostrils flared. “Neither she nor ‘the passengers’ have appeared at the medical wing, Lieutenant.”

  The “passengers” in question, Alexis Darmadi and her children, were just one more potential problem that Volka and Carl had dropped in Orion’s lap. His superiors thought the arrival of Alexis Darmadi would potentially sway Captain Alaric Darmadi to defection. There were many things about Intelligence’s handling of Darmadi’s case that Orion did not approve of; chiefly, making an android the lead on the matter—Orion had applied himself for the assignment and been denied when surely any human would have been a better choice. However, Orion could acknowledge the potential Darmadi’s family had to sway the captain toward defection. Unfortunately, Darmadi’s family’s arrival was immediately and definitely a headache. The Luddeccean Embassy on Earth was requesting an audience. How would he explain Volka bringing the family of one of their Net-Drive captains to the Republic? “I’m sorry, gentleman, she mistook them for weere; sometimes they don’t have fur or ears.” Not likely to be acceptable, especially when “weere” among Luddecceans was slang for “whore.” That insult to a Luddeccean Lady might get him poisoned, and Luddeccean Intelligence might not even bother to make it look like an accident.

  Only somewhat less life threatening, no fewer than ten Republic Senators were requesting to speak with him—thankfully, etherly. Perhaps that mistaken identity excuse would work for them? He doubted it would work with Time Gate 1’s immigration authorities who were demanding an explanation—and paperwork—for all four Darmadis and one smuggled werfle. Orion had already felt a headache brewing behind his eyes before sixteen alien vessels of potentially malicious intent and likely immune to Galactic firepower showed up outside Time Gate 1. The headache was by now a screamer.

  Neither Young, nor his team standing neatly at parade rest, looked disturbed to learn that Volka, Carl, and their charges were missing. “She was traveling with children,” Young suggested. “Maybe she stopped to get them a snack? With the emergency, I’m sure she’ll show up quickly.”

  Orion snapped, “I am not.”

  There was a whoosh behind him, and unmistakable light footfalls.

  The corner of Young’s lips twitched.

  Orion narrowed his eyes at the Marine, and then turned to his two nemeses. Even wearing armor, Volka did not look like a woman who, under ordinary circumstances, might have been tried for treason. She was tiny, and her diminutive stature, wide eyes, and cartoonish wolf-like ears made her look younger than her years—even when her ears were flat against her head, like now.

  Snapping his hands behind his back, Orion reminded himself that she was etherless and uneducated and likely didn’t know the danger she’d put the Galactic Republic in when she’d revealed the existence of quantum teleportation fusion weapons while aboard the Luddeccean Net-Drive ship in System 33. Likewise, she hadn’t realized Orion’s generosity in offering her a visa despite that in exchange for spying on Luddeccea by becoming Captain Ran’s “weere.” Nor had she been the one to blackmail an elected official to get her visa. She also couldn’t know how it damaged cohesion and made the Republic look disorganized when she’d bolted off to rescue Alexis Darmadi without Fleet.

  His eyes fell on the werfle sitting on her shoulder, licking a claw, its fangs glistening in the low light. It knew though.

  The creature looked up at him and ran its tongue over its jaws, catching a sparkling drop of venom.

  “I don’t know why they are here,” Volka blurted. Her ears had come forward. The low light made her narrowed eyes glow like an animal’s.

  Orion exhaled. Of course she didn’t know. She was … politely … simple. She could barely use the ether even with the speech-to-ether device she wore on her wrist.

  Volka’s ears flicked.

  Did she have fleas?

  Her ears flattened, her nostrils flared, and her lip cur
led up. Orion almost expected to see elongated canines. If the only faster-than-light ship in the galaxy didn’t have an emotional bond with her—

  His ether pinged with no less than the Chief of Intel Operations. A chill prickled his brow. With a thought, he answered and had the ether message transcribed into text that appeared as an overlay at the edge of his vision. “Status, Captain?”

  He replied silently, “Beginning consultation now.” Hoping, “beginning” would give him time, he spun away from the mutant and the weere to speak to Dr. Patrick Shore and Lieutenant Young. “You reported that you didn’t believe that there would be further confrontation with the ‘elder ships.’ As that is clearly not the case, any ideas of what they are doing here?”

  Shifting on his feet, gaze evasive, the doctor said, “It won’t be violent.”

  Orion’s ether pinged again, this time with Time Gate 1’s Chief Communications Officer. “They are still not responding to hails.”

  Clearing his throat, the doctor addressed the mutant. “Volka … perhaps if we tried contacting them the way we did before?”

  A note at the periphery of Orion’s vision alerted him that not all the civilians on the station were following instructions to seek inner levels away from exterior walls. One of Orion’s contacts in station security sent a message asking if lockdown was necessary.

  “We could try that,” the weere said, joining the Marines between Orion and the ship. Orion’s heart rate picked up. As he understood it, the way they’d “contacted” the elderships before had been in a sort of joint spaceship-facilitated telepathic state—or mass hallucinogenic event.

  “You must not contact them without clearing it with Intelligence first,” Orion managed to command.

  Volka’s ears flattened, and her werfle hissed. The weasel-like creature might have spoken, but Orion’s superior officer was pinging him. “A seventeenth ship has just been sighted. Have you learned anything?”

  “Not yet, sir,” Orion replied.