Wolfhound

by Kindal Debenham

  “I recognize that you may not agree with my decisions. I acknowledge the fact that the situation is difficult. I know each of us is frustrated, angry and grieving, but I have no choice but to do what I’ve been ordered to do. Before he died, Commander Rodgers told me to get you home. To get all of us home. That I intend to do, come hell or high water.” The silence continued, and Jacob stood back from the podium. “Anyone who has any further issue with that mission can speak with me later. For now, report to your stations and continue the cleanup work. By the end of tomorrow I will have new duty assignments and drill schedules ready. Until then, you’re dismissed.”

  The silence, equal parts sullen and somber, lasted until the majority of the ensigns had filed out of the room. Isaac and Laurie stayed behind, and Jacob shook both their hands for it. Then they left too, and Jacob was alone with his thoughts.

  Jacob turned on the projection of the Wolfhound again. The splotches of red and yellow damage indicators were hideous to him, something that sickened him when he thought of the lives that damage had also cost. He reached out to the red wounds in Engineering and thought of Ensigns Carver and Gi. If I hadn’t rolled the ship, maybe they wouldn’t have been hurt. His eyes turned to the damage around the officer’s mess, along with the gaping hole in Wolfhound’s armor there. If only I had traced the power branches back, I might have found the bomb. Why did I let Schroder distract me? The lost possibilities taunted and berated him from the corners of his own mind, and Jacob brooded over the presentation of the consequences of his mistakes until the doorway to the briefing room slid suddenly open once more.

  He turned to the opening to find Ensign Mensah, the medical officer. The man’s uniform was flecked with spots where severe disinfectant had washed away blood, leaving pale marks. The number of spots told an obvious struggle against the terrible wounds some of the crew had endured in the battle. Surprised to see the somber ensign outside of the medical bay, Jacob tried to pull himself out of his haunted study of the ship and face Mensah. “Ensign Mensah, what brings you here? I thought you were busy in medical.”

  The medical officer approached Jacob with a straightforward stride. He noticed there was a medical kit in Mensah’s hand. Strange. Mensah spoke in an even tone. “The wounded have all been stabilized, so I can now start tending to more minor injuries. I assumed it would be appropriate to start with our acting commander.”

  Mensah’s easy acceptance of Jacob’s command was a second, more welcome surprise. He smiled. “Well, you don’t have to worry about me. I wasn’t hit by anything during the fight that caused me any trouble.”

  “Except the blow to the head.” Mensah’s response was vaguely accusatory, and Jacob felt his smile turn to a puzzled frown.

  “Blow to the head? What are you talking about?”

  Mensah sighed. “I can see the swelling from here, Jacob. Let me take a look at you, or acting commander or not, I’m confining you to medical.” Jacob locked stares with the other officer, but Mensah’s eyes showed no trace of retreat. “It does the crew no good to have an addled brain in charge of things, Ensign Hull.”

  Recognizing the sense in those words, Jacob dropped his gaze and sighed. “Okay. One of them hit me with a pistol butt from behind. Go ahead and take a look.” He shook his head and smiled. “Just don’t talk about it. Enough of the crew thinks my head is swelling as it is.”

  The joke teased a tolerant smile from Mensah as he set down his kit and started to remove the tools of his trade. There was momentary silence before the medical ensign spoke again. “How are you holding up, Ensign Hull?”

  Jacob raised an eyebrow. “Me? Just a hit to the head. I’m fine.” The Medical ensign gave a simple nod before going to work, but his lips thinned in displeasure. He applied a small patch of something to Jacob’s skull and gave him instructions, but Jacob barely noticed. His own fatigue was catching up with him now, and when Mensah left, he decided that it was time, finally, to rest. He managed to make it to his quarters without anyone seeing him, and he let himself sink with weariness onto his cot as soon as the hatch was sealed.

  Lying on the bed, he glanced over at the picture that lay on his desk. It had fallen over on its face, likely knocked into that position by the beating that the Wolfhound had taken. He managed to sit up and reach over to right it. His family smiled up at him from the past, their happiness clearing away a bit of his worry and fatigue.

  He found himself studying his father’s face, admiring the determination and solidity apparent in the man’s stance and expression. What would you want me to do now, Dad? He shook his head, lying back down. He was asleep a short time later.

  Chapter Ten

  Hours later, Jacob woke to the banging of a fist on his hatch. He pulled himself from his cot and hit the switch to open it, allowing the portal to open for whoever was pounding on it so intensely. The banging stopped, which was a blessing for his aching head. Apparently mild head wounds only grew worse with a night’s sleep, but he still managed to look up the ladder and find Al-shira staring down at him. She grimaced. “Have you even changed yet, Hull? We’ve been looking for you for a half hour now.”

  Jacob leaned on the wall in front of him, supporting himself on both hands as he blinked sleep from his eyes. “What took you so long to find me? It’s not like I went to sleep in an engineering tunnel.”

  The other ensign snorted to herself in disbelief. “We looked for you in the commander’s quarters first, and then in his office. We’ve even been searching Engineering and Storage. We all assumed you would have moved out of here by now. It’s not like these are better quarters than a commander’s room, Ensign.”

  Jacob shrugged, uneasy. “I don’t think that I’d like to move into those. After all, it’s full of Commander Rodger’s things. I wouldn’t feel at home, really.” His words brought a sudden silence into the conversation, one full of both the awkward feelings the situation created and the pain of loss both ensigns felt.

  Al-shira shook her head stubbornly, freeing herself from those constraints. “Look, Ensign, get changed into something besides that dress uniform and get up to the commander’s office. We’ve got things to take care of.”

  Jacob let out a sharp grunt and nodded. He hit the switch again to seal the access hatch and give himself some privacy, and then turned to his locker. For a small moment he wondered if the pirates had come back, but he shook his head. She would have mentioned that, wouldn’t she? He began throwing on clothes as fast as he could. Command was already looking to be a painful proposition, and he doubted time would make it better.

  Ten minutes and one short reassuring conversation with the bridge officers later, Jacob opened the door to Commander Rodgers’ office. It had been sealed using the same command code he’d used on the bridge, and the door slid easily open. He felt an odd sense of regret at having to intrude on the man’s personal space, but the office would be the only place that personnel files could be accessed. It was the only way to get things back in order.

  It was a small room, as almost every room in the Wolfhound was. It was fairly clean, with a simple vacant desk that had a computer terminal. A few chairs had been arranged before it in seemingly random positions. There were a few personal touches here and there; two pictures were placed along the left hand wall, showing Commander Rodgers with his family. The first he recognized from Rodgers’ office on the station, and he felt a stab of grief. He won’t be coming home. I’m sorry. Behind the desk was a picture of the Wolfhound flying through the darkness of space, and along the opposite wall was a projection screen.

  Jacob turned his back to smiling faces of Rodgers’ family as he came around the side of the small desk. He entered the code one more time at the terminal in order to bring up the initial screen. First things first. I need people in charge of each individual section, and then I need an organized list of who is still functional enough to be on the duty roster. Glancing at the chair, he hesitated. Then he gingerly settled into it, hunching over the desk rather than leanin
g back.

  The first file he brought up contained the details of the Wolfhound’s assignment. He followed the line of the course the commander had planned, noting the various drills and exercises that would have been used to train the crew. Partway along the course, he found a location labeled ‘Ambush Site’ and selected it. The image of a ruined asteroid mining station came up, along with details of an automated set of ambush drones.

  A smile spread across Jacob’s face for a moment. The debris field for the destroyed mine would have been perfect for the drill. More details appeared on the screen, showing where small ten-meter attack drones would have burst from various locations to swarm at the destroyer, firing practice rounds and dodging return fire. Command codes to activate the ambush, as well as the signal frequency needed to deactivate them and reprogram them, also came up. Jacob looked over the screen almost fondly, noting Rodgers’ sense of humor in some of the programmed maneuvers before switching the screen over to the personnel files. Back to work.

  He had just started to bring up a file on Taylor when a knock at the door brought him up short. Who could that be? “It’s unlocked. Come in!”

  The door slid open to reveal Laurie, looking uncomfortable. Jacob waved her forward. “Hey, Laurie. What’s going on?”

  The discomfort on her face increased slightly. “Jacob, a lot of people have been looking for you. They keep coming to me or to Isaac with all sorts of problems…”

  “Problems?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. Interpersonal stuff. Complaints. I kept sending them here, but they said you weren’t in yet.”

  Jacob sighed. “I just got here. If you want, just send them my way and I’ll try to take care of it.” He paused, surprised by the uncertainty still on her face. “Anything else?”

  She paused a bit longer, as if searching for the words she needed. “I was just wondering if there was anything you needed to talk to me about.” Laurie rushed on without pausing for a response. “Not that I want to talk about anything, it’s just I needed to know if you wanted to.”

  For a moment, Jacob stared at her, wondering what had thrown her off so much. Then it hit him. “I honestly don’t think I have anything to worry about except running the ship and getting us home, actually. Inappropriate relationship concerns take a back seat.” Jacob watched as she relaxed a little. “In fact, I’m sure if anyone had a relationship going right now, if they kept things quiet and did their jobs, it’ll be nobody’s business for the rest of the mission. Sound about right?”

  Brightening visibly, Laurie nodded. “It does. Good luck with the others.” She walked out and shut the door, calmer than she had been before. Jacob turned back to the display showing the officer profiles. All right, Taylor looks like he has a solid service record. Too bad he doesn’t seem to like me very much. Still, he looks like he could do a pretty good job if he tries.

  He was able to continue sifting the different files and reports for ten minutes more before another knock came at his door. Irritated, he looked up and called out to them. “Come in.”

  The door slid open to reveal a man in a typical uniform, with the single bar of a crewman on the left side of his jacket. Jacob waved him in. The man closed the door behind him before turning to Jacob and addressing him. “Ensign Hull, my name is Crewman Lionel Bates. I’m from the Support section, Storage services.”

  Jacob stood up and stretched out a hand. “Nice to meet you Crewman Bates. How can I help you?”

  The Support crewman looked at Jacob’s hand, and then turned his attention back to Jacob’s face as if he hadn’t seen it. “I came here to express a complaint about the current way things are being run, Ensign.”

  The edge in the man’s voice sent a sudden spike of rage through Jacob, but he restrained it. Calmly folding his arms across his chest, Jacob studied the crewman. “Is that so?”

  “Yes it is.” The crewman drew in a thick breath. “I came here to tell you that under no circumstances will I be content to continue using the same organizational system that has plagued this ship for so long.”

  Confusion reigned for a heartbeat or two. Words came before he could catch them back. “Organizational system?”

  “Only barely so called, Ensign.” Pure, unadulterated rage started to burn in those eyes. “Ever since we left port, Ensign Timmitz has been wallowing in the same kind of sluggish processes and outdated habits. He has repeatedly refused to listen to any kind of reason, and is continuing to support and even magnify his error in the face of horrifying failure.”

  Jacob’s astonished mind had finally caught up with reality, though he still felt a little off balance. “So what you are saying is—”

  “The whole system has to be redone! Everything!” The zeal in the man’s face was truly frightening by now, as was the incredible amount of tension locked away in his stiff posture. “What I have in mind is a complete and utter overhaul starting with a reverse alphabetical order combined with the latest priority protocols from Harel First University…”

  What followed was an hour of nearly incomprehensible explanation, frustrated rambling, and technical details. Jacob only had to contribute a few words here and there to reassure Bates that he had a live audience, and nod sympathetically. By the time Jacob’s legs had started to ache from standing, he managed to hustle Bates outside with vague assurances to look into the matter with Ensign Timmitz.

  Even as he had turned away from the door, someone called for him to wait. Jacob turned to find a Marine with a pair of crewmen in tow. Both crewmen looked banged up; one had a slowly darkening black eye and the other’s uniform jacket was torn. “What seems to be the problem, Private?”

  “We caught these two fighting in the corridor. Sergeant Chiun suggested that we take them to see you.” The pair of crewmen exchanged sullen looks, but the Marine standing there in her combat armor seemed determined to ignore them. Jacob found himself sighing again before he could stop himself.

  “I’ll take care of it. Thank you for bringing it to my attention.” He waved the two of them in and turned back to the Marine. “Have a good day, Private.”

  The woman smirked. “You too.”

  Jacob slid the door closed and turned to face the two crewmen. He was faced with twin expressions of resentment and hostility. They continued to watch him as he took his own seat and waved for them to sit down. When they had warily taken their seats, he nodded. “Who wants to tell me what this is about?”

  The one with the torn jacket broke in first. “This pile of gutter trash disrespected my gun crew. He said—”

  “The hell I did! You would’ve earned it anyway, you stinking piece of—”

  “Hey. Hey!” Jacob shook his head as the shouting cut off. The two crewmen continued to glare at each other from where they sat, neither really acknowledging his presence. Frustration started to build in him again, and he stood up, hoping the motion would attract their attention. The crewman with the bruise glanced at him, and he immediately locked eyes with him. “You first. What happened?”

  The crewman directed another sneer at his opponent. “This little coward was bragging about his crew, and how his ensign got put in charge of the others during the fight. I said that the only reason that happened was that you were an id…ah…” Suddenly the man seemed to become aware of who he was talking to, and an awkward expression wormed his way across his face. Jacob waited, keeping his face impassive until the man finally finished lamely. “You were distracted, is what I said.”

  The other crewman’s eyes had narrowed now, and then darted to look at Jacob. “Yeah, that’s what he said alright. Then I told him to take it back, but he said no. So I told him again.”

  “You hit me!”

  “You deserved it! And you tackled me anyway.”

  “After you sucker punched me you frontier kissing—”

  “That’s enough.” Jacob’s resigned voice cut through the argument, and the two crewmen lapsed into glares. He sighed. “Both of you are getting demerits on your record for fi
ghting. No.” He held up a hand as their heads snapped around, and he shook his head as they opened their mouths to protest. “We don’t have time for stuff like this. Report to your ensigns, and they will assign further punishments. Understood?” The crewmen grumbled something like agreement and he waved to the door. “Dismissed. Don’t come back here again.”

  He had just barely reached for the key to activate the screen when a knock sounded at the door.

  Something inside snapped, and Jacob leapt over the desk and went for the handle. Ripping it open, he started to lean out to scream at the person who waited for him on the other side and stopped short.

  Sergeant Ashford, looking like a barely restrained wall of anger, stood at the head of a very long line. The people behind him looked strained, bored, or angry. They stood with backs stiffened by offenses, slouched nearby Marines who accompanied them, and snarled at foes they recognized in the line. Ensigns, petty officers, crewmen, even Marines all waited with an air of impatience. Jacob could almost see the hours of unavoidable agony stretching ahead of him in the scene.

  He brought his eyes back to Ashford. “Get in here. Now.” Half pulling the surprised Marine into the office, he slid the door shut behind them.

  Trying to calm himself and avoid having his hands shake with adrenaline, he walked back around the desk and sat down.

  Ashford didn’t bother with the chairs or preambles. Instead, the sergeant walked directly up to the desk and leaned over it, placing his hands on either side as if to claim it as his own. Jacob resisted the urge to lean back as the Marine loomed over him and began in a voice that was almost a growl. “We have discipline problems already breaking out all over the ship. There are the makings of a mutiny building here, and it is your fault.”

  Jacob knew the accusation should have offended him, but after everything he had already dealt with, it had less effect than a strong kick to a very dead horse. He rubbed at a spot on both temples with his hands. “What problems have you noticed, Sergeant?”