Wolfhound

by Kindal Debenham

  The petty officer sitting at the Communications console frowned suddenly. “I have an incoming signal from the area of the ambush. It’s hailing us in a code I don’t recognize.”

  “Singh, can you use that signal to track down the position of the transmitter?”

  “Already on it.” Singh was silent for a few more moments. “I’ve got it. Updating the image now.”

  The blip on the projection flared slightly, and one of the secondary screens below the projector brought up a magnification of the object. It was roughly cylindrical, with a few odd antennae sticking out of one end while the other was taken up by a fairly large sensor array. The area around it swirled with the explosion of dark energy, which he had expected. Each riftjump created a sudden burst of dark energy current expanding from the point an object jumped into, while creating a momentary absence of energy where it had jumped out of. Jacob let out a small breath. “A signal drone?”

  Singh nodded. “Yes, Ensign. Not of Celostian design, but it is just a drone. We've been pinged by the sensor array, but it was just a general scan of the area. No other objects are jumping in after it so far, and it is only transmitting a single message.”

  Jacob looked over at his the petty officer. “What does it say?”

  The man shook his head. “No idea. It’s got some kind of encryption key that I don’t think I can break. Maybe once—”

  “I can handle it.” Al-shira’s sharp words cut through the petty officer’s explanation, and she promptly walked over to the console. Without a hint of protest, the petty officer abandoned his station and strapped himself in at an auxiliary station along the wall. Al-shira buckled into the restraints and tapped at a few keys, ignoring Jacob’s questioning look.

  After a few moments, she spoke up, her voice grim. “It’s a variation of the encryption code the pirates used. The drone is demanding a progress report from the ones we killed. I believe it came from the Bloodthorne. It does not provide a system for us to send the response, however, so we can’t reply. Unless there was a second rendezvous point in that data you found?”

  Jacob shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Okay, so if we don’t respond, the rest of the pirates are going to realize something’s up. How much time do you think we have?”

  Al-shira shrugged, but Singh spoke up from his console. “The drone riftjumped in about ten minutes ago. I bet they are going to wait a while for a response. Maybe a day?”

  Jacob grunted. A full day? We could still make it to the mine then. “Al-shira, keep monitoring the drone. Let me know if anything in the signal changes. We want to be ready for whatever might happen.”

  “Yes, Ensign.” The bitterness in Al-shira’s tone nettled Jacob a little, but he shunted the concern aside as he turned to the officer at the Helm.

  “Increase speed. Get us to the mine as quickly as possible.” The image of the Wolfhound in the projection accelerated rapidly as the DE sails picked up strength, powering the destroyer toward its destination.

  Then the far-off drone disappeared, the small blip disappearing in a sudden burst of energy. Dark energy immediately collapsed on the area, specks filling in what looked like a vacant hole that the drone had carved out when it jumped. Singh spoke hesitantly, his voice filled with uncertainty. “The drone has jumped out again. It must be some kind of heavily modified model.”

  “It’s a probe, not a signal drone.” Jacob felt a sudden burst of fear. They’ll know where we are. “We need to get out of here. Al-shira, get me Ensign Navaja on the line.” For once, Al-shira didn’t respond. She just tapped a frantic command into her controls, and a light burned to life at Jacob's secondary console. He stabbed at it with one finger. “Navaja. Can we get the riftjump to Reefhome underway?”

  Navaja didn’t answer for a long moment. When he answered, he spoke slowly and carefully, as if questioning a small child. “Reefhome? We can certainly begin, but wouldn’t that leave us out of contact with the rest of the fleet when they come looking?”

  Jacob grunted. “I’m a bit more worried about the pirate fleet at the moment. Can we jump or not?”

  Frustration now laced the Navigation ensign’s words. “Yes, Ensign Hull. We are able to jump. We only need to begin the necessary calculations and charge the Capistan. I estimate we could make the jump in thirty to forty minutes.”

  The estimation seemed unbearably long, but Jacob knew it was more than Navaja’s reluctance standing in the way. If the pirates had started their own riftjump into the system, then it was fairly likely they would arrive long before his crew was ready to jump out. True, they would have to jump in relatively blind to the local situation, but since the probe had received a clear visual it would not be too hard for Dianton and his ships to catch up. Try as he might, Jacob couldn't come up with any plan that would delay the pirates long enough to escape. Then his thoughts came to a halt as his father’s words came to him. What was it he said? ‘The best way to take a punch is to not be there when it lands.’ Suddenly a new possibility occurred to him. He smiled.

  “Ensign Navaja, could you run an estimate for me on a shorter-ranged jump?” He felt the smile grow on his face as he described the maneuver to his increasingly agitated Navigation officer. Jacob couldn’t help it, though. Plans like these were too precious not to enjoy.

  Forty minutes after the disappearance of the probe, an entire pirate fleet riftjumped into the system.

  Though he had been expecting it, Jacob still blinked in surprise at the size of the enemy fleet. Fifteen contacts, grouped into five separate trios formed a rough sphere around where the Wolfhound’s course would have carried them. The formation was slightly sloppy, and it would have been easy to strike at one part in an attempt to escape, but with such an overwhelming numerical advantage the pirates could afford a little sloppiness.

  Unfortunately for them, Jacob and the rest of the crew of the Wolfhound were watching the show from nearly a day away, floating above the wreckage of the abandoned asteroid mine. It had been only a moment’s conflict to argue Navaja into performing the short-range riftjump, and the Capistan had only needed ten minutes to charge. Now they were completely out of range. Jacob chuckled to himself when he imagined the pirates’ reaction, having found their prey had slipped the trap.

  Al-shira, however, did not share in his good humor. “What are you laughing about, Ensign? We may have avoided them for now, but they can still riftjump to catch up to us. We still need a lot more time before we are able to riftjump out of the system.”

  Jacob nodded good-naturedly. “True. We need about twenty five more minutes in fact.” He gestured to the counter he had set up underneath the projection of the surrounding space. “The thing of it is, we’ve gained quite a bit of advantage for not much work. First of all, we make it so that they have to perform a second riftjump to get to us. That gives us another ten minutes' breathing room. Probably fifteen since jumping in is going to make it hard to charge their Capistans quickly.”

  She continued to give him a defiant stare. “So we get a little closer to safety before we die. What do you think that accomplishes, Ensign?”

  The biting emphasis on his rank was starting to wear its way through his good mood. “Second, we now have a wall to put our back to. They can’t surround us as easily, so they’ll have to change formation.” Pointing to the projection, Jacob continued before she could respond. “Third, Ensign Al-shira, we get a good look at what is coming after us.” There was, of course, a fourth reason to face the pirates near the mine, but Jacob did not want to get into that discussion at the moment. He turned to look at Singh, who was looking at him with eyebrows raised. “Ensign Singh, what are we looking at?”

  The Sensor ensign’s voice seemed much firmer this time, though he still hesitated a bit before he answered. “Most of them seem to be corvettes, while a lot the rest are frigates.”

  As Singh spoke, blips representing the pirate craft flashed for a moment to indicate the contacts he was referring to. By Jacob’s count, there were at le
ast four combat frigates and eight corvettes, which meant no matter what he did, the Wolfhound would lose a straight fight. He pointed to the fifth group of ships, none of whom had lit up. “What about these ships?”

  “They're different. Two seem to be a kind of modified frigate, while the last one is a destroyer.”

  “A destroyer?” Jacob raised his eyebrows. “Magnify them. I want to see if we managed to pull the Admiral himself out to hunt us down.”

  The last group magnified, and Jacob felt a chill run down his spine. The destroyer was almost as long as the Wolfhound, though its shape sacrificed extra length for solidity. It was made up of two half-egg shapes, the bottom one shifted ahead of the other by about half its length. Four railguns studded the upper half on either side of the midline. The flat part of the bottom half sported a pair of missile bays. On the bow of the ship, against all reason, the pirates had mounted a plasma cannon turret. A larger version of the defensive turrets, it was designed to intercept entire ships rather than just shells. With one shot it could cut through armor and hull like a blade through tall grass.

  DE sail rigs hung from the flat surface of the upper half of the ship, lighting the aft with a bluish glow. Brake sails sprouted from the curved part of the upper hull. Railguns and defense turrets were scattered evenly around the rest of the craft, which had been painted black, gray, and red with vicious, predatory stripes. It had to be the Bloodthorne, Admiral Dianton’s ship. Jacob couldn’t imagine the man commanding his fleet from any other craft.

  The other two ships in the group were smaller, half the Wolfhound’s length. With slender, segmented hulls and six branching arms, they both looked more like a centipede than anything. Three pairs of smaller ships lay nestled in the curves of the arms. “Singh, what are the two frigates with the Bloodthorne?”

  Singh frowned. “It looks like they're patrol boat carriers. Motherships meant to extend the range of the smaller craft since they can’t riftjump independently. That’s strange. I’ve never heard of a pirate group using that kind of stuff.”

  Al-shira snorted. “They’re probably boarding skiffs. They look about the right size.”

  The Sensor ensign nodded. “You’re right. They probably could fit at least thirty soldiers on each one. Plenty of troops for a boarding action.”

  “They must still want us intact then.” Jacob filed that detail away for safekeeping, and then turned to Al-shira. “Sound the alert for battle stations. I want to have communication links to Taylor, Laurie and Turley as soon as they report in.”

  She grunted in response before she turned back to her console.

  Jacob hesitated. “One last thing, Ensign Al-shira.”

  Al-shira looked up and glared daggers at him. “What is it, Ensign?”

  He tapped a few keys on his console and forwarded his newly adapted ‘training plan’ to the Communications ensign. “I want you to transmit a message directly to the Bloodthorne. While they are listening, I want a second message, with these instructions, directed to a receiver within the mine below us.”

  Al-shira looked up sharply. “What? What could you possibly say to them that would help this situation? And what are these instructions? Are you seriously trying to program a drill in the middle of—”

  “Ensign Al-shira.” Jacob met her eyes firmly. “We don’t have much time for discussion. Open the channel to the Bloodthorne and let me know if you do not receive an affirmative response from that receiver. Thank you, Ensign.” He held her eyes for another moment until she dropped her gaze back to her console. Then Jacob turned his attention back to the projection of Dianton’s pirate fleet. The enemy ships were already reforming for another riftjump, and he had no doubt where they would show up next.

  Then a light appeared on his communications console. The channel was ready. He tapped it, and spoke in his firmest, coldest voice. “Admiral Cyril Dianton of the Telosian pirates. This is Ensign Jacob Hull of the Celostian Navy, acting commander of the CNS Wolfhound. You and your associates are charged with acts of piracy, murder, kidnapping and conspiracy under the Celostian Naval Code. Surrender immediately and you will receive a fair trial in a Celostian court of law.”

  A startled bark of laughter came from the petty officer at the Helm, but Jacob silenced the man with a glare before he continued. “Continue to fight and you will all be destroyed. I await your response. Ensign Hull, out.”

  He tapped the link and it faded, showing that it was no longer active. Jacob looked up to find the rest of the bridge crew staring at him in shock. Raising an eyebrow, he returned their stares. “What? It seemed fair to give them a chance.”

  Al-shira started murmuring something under her breath. Jacob caught only a part of it, but it sounded like she thought he had officially gone mad. He shrugged it aside and turned back to Singh. “How much longer before they jump?”

  Singh looked down at his console. “Until they jump? Uh, best estimate…” His voice trailed off. “Five minutes.”

  Jacob nodded. “Helm, in four minutes start to bring us around to the far side of the mine. I’m betting they put their weakest group down there, with the Bloodthorne directly above us. Once they jump, we’ll hit that group and make a run for it while the Capistan charges.” The Helm officer acknowledged the order, and Jacob settled back in his chair. It was all coming together now. The next few minutes could very well determine the fate of the ship, but at the same time he was no longer worried. There would either be enough time to make the jump, or there wouldn’t. Either way, he would have done his best.

  The minutes crawled by as he watched the pirates preparing for their riftjump. As he waited, Jacob saw the communication links on his side console light up as the other officers reported to their posts. Before long the entire ship was ready. The rad masts had been retracted, the guns were prepped and Laurie was standing by to receive enemy fire. From the sound of it, Ashford had even organized the Marines to repel boarders, which was heartening, though hopefully unnecessary. He’d already had enough face-to-face combat to last a lifetime.

  Then the Wolfhound came about and started to head for the other end of the mine, the petty officer maneuvering the ship as instructed. The countdown for the riftjump shifted as the currents flowing through the Capistan changed, but it was not a significant change. Jacob nodded, satisfied with the progress of his plan. At least, he was satisfied until Al-shira stiffened with surprise in her seat.

  She turned to Jacob. “Message from the Bloodthorne. It’s addressed to you.”

  Curious, Jacob motioned for her to send it to him. When the light burned on the console, he tapped it, and the bridge was flooded with the cruel, hard voice of the pirate admiral.

  “Ensign Jacob Hull, acting commander, eh? Well, well. Aren’t we putting on airs, ensign?” He chuckled, low and deadly. “I’m afraid I won’t be surrendering my fleet to you today, ensign, though you would do well to give up the fight. You see, you might think since I’m going to kill you anyway, you have nothing to lose. In that, you underestimate me, ensign.”

  Dianton’s voice grew deeper. “I have your files here, ensign. Turns out both parents are dead already, in an accident caused by unfortunate equipment failure over Irene. Oh well, opportunities wasted. You have a sister, though. Catherine Hull. Studying at Corleigh still.” The admiral paused for one terrible moment. “Not too terribly hard for accidents to happen at schools you know. Muggings gone wrong. You know how it is.”

  The jovial tone returned, and Jacob felt spikes of hatred start to flood through him. “Surrender your ship Hull, or you won’t be the only one who dies. Admiral Dianton out.”

  Silence filled the bridge as the light winked out. The officers weren’t looking at him, but Jacob could feel their attention on him all the same. He carefully unclenched his hands from the arms of his chair and when he spoke, it took extra effort to seem calm. “Helm, turn us around. Put us on an attack intercept for the most likely jump location for the Bloodthorne. Combat speed.” The Helm officer hesitated, and
Jacob felt something in him snap. “Helm, I’m taking control. Stand by for assistance if needed.” He pulled out the miniature flight wheel and turned the destroyer back towards the upper part of the mine again.

  Then, as the Wolfhound gained momentum, the pirate fleet vanished from its distant location and roared into existence all around them.

  Their formation was much tighter this time, likely the result of being able to see their target directly. Again they were spread out into five groups, with the frigates and the corvettes ringing the Wolfhound on all sides. The Bloodthorne, flanked by both boat carriers, hovered above the Wolfhound, looming like a deadly knife in the darkness. Jacob felt his lips drawing back over his teeth in a feral grimace as he aimed his ship at the enemy. With a snarl, he hit the communications link for Taylor as they drew closer. “Guns, give me a volley or two on the Bloodthorne. Make it count!”

  Taylor acknowledged, but Jacob had already shoved his awareness of the other ensign out of his mind. All his focus was on Dianton’s ship, hanging helpless in the swirls of dark energy that accompanied every incoming riftjump. For the next few moments, the pirate flagship would be unable to move, to dodge. It was vulnerable, and Jacob did not intend to waste the opportunity.

  Then, just as he had closed to point blank range, a warning alarm rang through the bridge. Singh called out over the warbling siren. “Torpedo tracking systems! We’re being painted!”

  Despite the rage boiling in him, Jacob felt a chill. Torpedoes were armed with DE sails for acceleration, as well as basic targeting and navigation computers. The remainder of the weapon was a simple, sharp projectile meant to tear through a target vessel at speeds far beyond what any ship or railgun projectile could achieve. Kinetic energy built up by a torpedo could tear through a ship as if it were paper, leaving the hollowed out shell to drift through space afterwards. While easy for smaller ships to dodge, even a glancing blow would leave the Wolfhound crippled or worse.