Wolfhound

by Kindal Debenham

  The difference between the two men was stark. Where one had been bored, almost vacant of enthusiasm, this officer projected a calm energy that made Jacob want to come to attention. Dark hair streaked through with gray showed the commander’s age, and his face was a combination of hard angles softened only by lines caused by strain. It was the kind of face a warrior who had seen too many battles would wear.

  The commander spoke, his voice carrying over the crowd with the help of a microphone fastened to one side of his collar. “My name is Commander Rodgers. On behalf of myself and the rest of the command crew, I would like to welcome you to the crew of the CNS Wolfhound.” A stir of murmurs passed through the crowd, but Rodgers did not seem to notice. He continued.

  “Some of you might be wondering why a completely new crew is being introduced to the ship. The reason is simple: the Wolfhound is a completely new ship, one that has spent the better part of two years in refits. I am one of the only officers here who served aboard the original Wolfhound and as such, I will be in command of the vessel on her maiden voyage.”

  Commander Rodgers nodded to the other officer, and the lieutenant commander touched a control on the pad-style reader he held in one hand. A wireframe hologram of the warship sprang to life in midair at the front of the room. Jacob’s eyes were instantly locked on it, running over every contour and surface as the image rotated.

  The Wolfhound wasn’t a large ship, only about two hundred meters long, but it didn’t need to be gigantic to be impressive. Navy vessels tended to look like clumps of boxes welded together, but the Wolfhound was somehow endearing in its own unique ugliness. The central hull was thinner than it was tall, and rectangular, with four arms branching off from the bow like the points on a compass star. The southern arm extended much further than the other three, and all four bristled with railguns.

  The bridge was located in the rear portion, a smooth bump on the top of the ship ahead of the signal drone launchers. The sail spars meant to provide the ship’s propulsion splayed out at the aft of the ship, each of the four dark energy sail rigs at a forty five degree angle from the forward arms. Brake sails formed a quartet of bulges about halfway back from the bow, each angled to be directly forward of a sail rig. Several radiation masts, meant to cool the ship in the times between combat, extended from the main hull as well.

  It was a destroyer, meant to fly fast and bring its large number of guns to bear on lighter enemy vessels, and from the way the guns were placed, it was always meant to be on the attack. Jacob could easily imagine the vessel doing exactly that, striking with the grace and efficiency of a swooping hawk. This ship was no cargo hauler, no station tug. There was little in the way of wasted space and less in terms of comforting lines. The Wolfhound was a predator, pure and simple. Something about it appealed to Jacob, and he smiled as the commander continued.

  “The Wolfhound is one of the first in a new class of ships in the Celostian Navy. She is based on the Defender model, which was designed to serve as both a fleet support vessel and an independent patrol craft along the frontier. In an extension of that role, the Navy has put considerable effort into the redesign of the old destroyers, expanding her armaments and developing the ship into a more heavily armed warship.”

  “Unlike the earlier models, the Wolfhound is armed with twelve railguns, three of which are long range weapons.” The commander stopped for a moment as a burst of startled murmurs swept through the crew. Jacob glanced at the other two ensigns sitting next to him and saw Laurie’s jaw hanging open a little. Isaac, on the other hand, leaned forward eagerly, his eyes bright. Commander Rodgers continued, a smile lightening the hard edges of his face. “I can tell that the heavier armament has already made an impression on you. The Navy hopes it makes an equal impression on our foes.

  “In addition to the superior firepower, upgrades have been made to the number and placement of the point defense turrets, sensor posts, communications arrays and missile interdictors, all of which will bring the Wolfhound into a class of its own in terms of combat effectiveness. They even managed to stuff in an electronic warfare suite capable of deploying both decoys and sailjammers, as well.”

  Commander Rodgers’ face grew serious. “Only six of these refitted destroyers have been created. Of those six, two have been assigned to experienced destroyer crews, two to midlevel crews, and two to fresh crews. Between the six ships, we hope that we can demonstrate the effectiveness of this new design and provide sufficient data for the Navy. That is our primary purpose throughout our shakedown cruise.”

  “Before we reach that stage, however, I am going to subject you to a slight change in protocol.” He smiled a bit grimly, and Jacob felt his eyebrows go up. Uh oh.

  “Since there are a lot of fairly new officers and enlisted personnel, we will be doing a few simulator tests in order to determine what sections each of you will serve in. Depending on the results of those tests, I and Lieutenant Commander Piebald will make the assignments.” He motioned to the balding man, who had his head down and was tapping away at the reader he held. Piebald glanced up, frowned studiously at the group, then nodded and went back to his work.

  “That testing will keep you more than occupied over the next week before the Wolfhound departs. You will find the schedule for those tests sent to your personal readers for your information. I trust those of you fresh from the Academy will enjoy the experience of taking tests; those who’ve been away for a while will just have to remember the wonderful blessing they were as you go through it.” Jacob chuckled along with several others in the crowd, and the commander smiled faintly.

  Then Commander Rodgers’ face grew hard, losing any hint of the mirth it had shown moments before. “Before I dismiss you, I want to clear up one final issue. I am no stranger to the rumor mill, and I know many of you may have heard that this assignment is a hard-luck tour, or that we are a crew of leftovers and scrubs.” He paused. Silence settled over the crew like a thick blanket. A few people shifted uncomfortably, while others muttered a bit. Jacob risked a glance at Isaac, only to find the ensign looking down at his shoes, his face pale.

  “I want to assure you that no matter what you may have heard, we will all take this mission, and our performance during it, very, very seriously. I expect proper naval discipline to be observed, and that each and every member of the crew will perform the drills and duties he or she is assigned to the best of their ability. The Navy expects nothing less. At the end of the shakedown cruise, I will be making recommendations as to who should remain with the Wolfhound and who should find new assignments. My hope is to find no such changes are necessary.” The absolute silence that followed those words told Jacob everyone in the room knew what the commander meant. Everyone shapes up, or we end up flying junk patrol on some garbage scow. He suppressed a shiver and kept his focus on Rodgers.

  “Dismissed.”

  After the briefing, the room dissolved into something very much like the familiar chaos of an emptying classroom. Jacob stayed with Isaac and Laurie as the three of them made their way through the crowd toward an exit. There, just outside the door, he paused to take out his personal reader, a palm sized computer that carried virtually everything he needed, and tapped a few buttons glowing on the screen to bring up his mailbox.

  The first new message contained his berth assignment while he was on the station, as well as the training schedule over the next few days. He ran his eyes over the simulator sessions, mentally assigning them to the different sections of the crew. Support. Nope that’s not going to work. Gunnery; might be interesting. Engineering, no problem, but boring. Countermeasures, a bit too passive for me. Bridge! If I could make pilot…His smile grew as he pictured himself at the destroyer’s helm. What would Dad have thought of that?

  Jacob turned to ask Laurie what she had on her schedule. Isaac suddenly swore to himself and tried to duck behind her, unsuccessfully trying to use her smaller frame as cover. “Isaac?”

  “Quiet, man! He’ll hear you!”


  The worry in Isaac’s voice contrasted sharply with his previous tone. He looked around, feeling the muscles along his back tense slightly. “Who? What’s going on?”

  “Schroder. Groph Schroder.” The quiet whisper contained shame Jacob hadn’t expected.

  Before Isaac could explain, Laurie lashed out with an elbow, and Isaac broke off wheezing for air. “Stop dancing around me and just tell us what’s wrong, will ya?”

  “He’s an ensign from my last post. The captain and I had some—disagreements—and I posted a few of his more embarrassing personal emails around the ship. Schroder caught me, and he’s been holding it over me ever since.”

  Jacob looked around at the crowd of milling crewmen. “Point him out to me.” Isaac pointed, and Jacob’s eyes locked onto Schroder. The ensign was as tall as Jacob was, though still shorter than Isaac. He had a wolfish appearance, predatory eyes and a confident stride. Dark hair hung almost to his eyes, and he had a scar along the left side of his face. Dangerous. Jacob nodded. “Got him.” He turned back to Isaac. “What kind of stuff has he made you do?”

  “He forced me to pull a few pranks on people he didn’t like. Mostly, he just pushes me around. Why the hell is he here anyway? He’s some rich bastard’s son from Rigannin. Really connected with the Federalist party back home. I never thought he’d show up on a last chance crew.”

  “Maybe someone else realized what kind of a person he was.” Jacob shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s get to our quarters.” His eyes strayed back to where Schroder stood talking to a petty officer. “We have a lot to take care of without worrying about some stupid ensign.”

  Chapter Two

  Jacob sighed as his turn for the Gunnery simulator came. The simulator was nothing special. Set into an alcove in the side of the training room, it was composed of a holographic projector embedded in the center of a small, gray desk. The side of the desk facing him had a single pair of controls, both of which looked like gun handles. Buttons along the side helped select targets and issue commands. Both handles had a large trigger. Jacob strapped himself into the chair in front of the simulator and the projector came to life in front of him. A hologram of the Wolfhound in a field of stars and ships blossomed in midair. Here goes nothing.

  The hologram in front of him glowed data of available targets. Under each dot, he could see data about their course, relative speed, distance from the ship, and size. Of the three, he picked one of the corvette-sized targets that approached from the front. Head to head engagements were the most dangerous, so he would deal with that one first. He selected it with the press of a button and the target ship grew to fill the hologram. It was a solidly built craft with a fat central hull and a single wing stretching across its back. DE sail rigs glowed along the side of the target, with the energy field ‘sails’ that actually provided the propulsion hanging down from the wing on either side. All right, let’s hit you hard.

  A glowing dot appeared to show the aim of the railgun he was controlling and he moved the dot over the surface of the target ship by moving the gun handles. As the dot moved, a percentage calculated by the targeting computer came up to show how likely a hit would be considering the angle, strength of enemy point defense, and the relative speeds involved.

  For a moment, Jacob wavered between firing a burst directly at the bow of the craft and attempting to do more damage, or choosing a less critical section to fire at to avoid the point defense fire. Finally, he settled on firing directly at the bow, hoping his shells would be fast enough to pierce the screen of defensive fire and inflict heavy damage as a result. He pulled one of the triggers on the handles and locked his choice in. Then he pulled the other to send shell after shell on its way. The simulator shuddered slightly as he squeezed the firing trigger, and the targeting computer zoomed out a little to show the approach of the railgun salvo. It sped toward the target with incredible speed. As the shell drew close, turrets on the hull of the enemy ship moved to track it. Brilliant gouts of plasma fire lanced out and reduced his shots to clouds of easily deflected chaff.

  The simulation continued for the better part of an hour and a half, and shot after shot seemed to go astray. By the end, Jacob was glad to leave it behind since it was clear to anyone who cared to watch he wasn’t cut out for Gunnery. As he walked away from it, he saw Schroder waving at him mockingly, and he could barely suppress a grimace. The ensign from Rigannin had wasted little time in becoming Jacob’s personal annoyance. It seemed like every time Jacob faltered, Schroder was there to mock him. It was infuriating, especially since the other ensign had so far avoided a direct conflict. Outside of an upfront confrontation, there was little Jacob could do without risking his own career.

  Deliberately ignoring Schroder’s gestures, he headed for the nearby cafeteria, hoping Isaac or Laurie would be waiting, and found them getting ready to eat.

  “Hey Hull! How’s it going?” Laurie’s chipper mood did little to improve Jacob’s own, and he half sat, half collapsed into an empty chair across from her.

  “Pretty much the same as before. I barely managed to scratch anything in the Gunnery sims, and four of my patients died in the Medical tests. I’m getting the feeling that neither Support nor Gunnery’s going to want me anywhere near them. How about you guys?”

  Isaac smiled before shoving a fork full of scrambled eggs in his mouth. “I hit everything I aimed at today in that Gunnery sim. Are you sure you’re doing it right?”

  “Shut up, Isaac. Not everybody’s meant to pull a trigger all day.” Jacob softened the comment with a wry half smile, and Isaac chuckled as he chewed, shoving his fork in for another bite.

  Laurie sighed and rolled her eyes. “Oh, I know what it is, all right. Our little genius here is just looking for brighter targets to hit.” She glanced at him knowingly. “How did your turn at flying the skiff go the other day?”

  Jacob’s smile grew big before he realized it. “It was incredible. That simulator actually makes you feel like you’re really in a ship, you know? I only got to fly three missions before they kicked me out, but I think I did pretty well in all of them.”

  She nodded. “So you’re going for Skiff ensign? You may have some competition there. I heard that Iriel, that blonde over there with the ponytail —” Laurie pointed over to a small woman with active, cheery features – “just about broke the sim with how well she did.”

  “She can have the Skiff. It’s the Helm I’m after.”

  Isaac grunted sourly from where he was still chewing his way through a double-mouthful of eggs, and Jacob looked over with one eyebrow raised. “What, you don’t think I can do it?”

  There was a slight pause as Isaac took the opportunity to swallow and thump his chest, making sure it all got down. “I think you could, Jacob, but why would you want to? Bridge positions are for people who want to be captain or something. Just go for the Skiff position and avoid all the stuffed shirts.”

  Laurie gave him a sharp look. “As much as it pains me Jacob, I have to agree with him on this one. The competition for a bridge position is going to make it hard. A lot of people are going to have connections you just don’t have.”

  Before Jacob could respond, Isaac broke in. “And that’s supposed to mean he won’t get it? Just because some other guy has a guy who knows a guy?”

  Laurie shrugged. “Hey, I didn’t make the rules. It’s not like I like it either; I just know that's how things work in the real world. You can either accept it, or get disappointed.”

  Jacob snorted. “Thanks for that little ray of sunshine, Laurie.”

  “Now wait just one damn minute.” Isaac set his food aside and leaned in. “You’re saying some rich, connected bastard like Schroder’s going to wind up in charge of the gun crews no matter how well I do. Right?”

  Laurie nodded reluctantly. “It is what it is.”

  “Well to hell with that.” Isaac leaned back and stabbed another egg with his fork. “Go for it, Jacob. Show those bastards how it’s done.”

 
Jacob smiled and turned back to Laurie. She shook her head and picked at the salad on her tray a little grumpily. “Both of you are insane.” Then she sighed and sat back in her chair. “So what else do you have for the day?”

  “Just another run on the Countermeasures sims, and then a chance to act as the Communications ensign for a bit. Tomorrow I do the simulator run for the Helm after a little time in the Engineering section.” Jacob could hardly suppress the eagerness in his voice. Laurie nodded encouragingly and sipped some of her juice. Jacob gave her a curious look. “How about you?”

  Laurie set the juice down carefully. “I think I did pretty well on the Detection simulators. Only a couple of shots got by me, which is better than Bellworth here did.” She gave Isaac a playful nudge, and he grimaced at her. “I’ve got Point Defense next, which should be fun. I wouldn’t mind being that ensign at least. It’s not like we can trust either of you two to keep the shells away from our hull, in any case.”

  Jacob nodded thoughtfully, remembering the simulation he’d done of the point defense position. The post was all about positioning point defense turrets to intercept incoming fire, trying to anticipate where the shells had been targeted before they could hit the armored hull of the destroyer. Laurie always had a talent for second guessing people; he wouldn’t be surprised if she ended up there after all.

  His stomach suddenly growled, and he looked over at the lunch line. “I’ll be right back, guys. Just have to pick up some fuel.”

  Isaac nodded, his mouth empty for once. “We’ll save you the seat.” Jacob stood up and walked over to the buffet-style serving table, sliding into line behind a surly-faced lieutenant. As he waited, he went over the colossal failure at the Gunnery simulator again, picking out details he should have noticed before, berating himself inwardly for every missed shot and every blocked shell.