Wolfhound

by Kindal Debenham

  Isaac chuckled through his food for a moment. “Is that why you’ve been all mopey? You’re doing fine, you idiot. What do you think you’ve been screwing up so badly?”

  Jacob glared at Isaac again, his response delayed by the need to swallow first. Mopey? “I almost got us killed when Dianton came for us. I haven’t been able to get a lot of the crew to look at me like a commander yet, and then there’s Ashford, who keeps telling me we’re all going to die.”

  The Gunnery ensign’s face lit up with amusement for a moment, and then he choked on the bite he was swallowing. After a few coughs, breathless laughter spilled out punctuated by his incredulous words. “You…you can’t be… serious!” Still coughing and shaking his head, Isaac set his plate back on the desk and took a few moments to regain his composure. “You know most people couldn’t have done even that, right? You already won a battle, and Dianton’s taken out or tricked a lot more people than just you. Besides, Ashford’s just a sour grump no matter who’s in charge.” Isaac bit off half a roll with an almost vicious air, as if sealing his words with the act.

  Laurie seemed almost as amused as Isaac had been. “He’s right, Hull. You’ve been doing your best, and that counts for more than you know.” She paused. “Maybe you should just let someone else drive next time, so you can focus on everything else.”

  “But I…” Jacob stopped as the common sense behind those words shut him down. He sighed. “You’re right, Laurie. Any other suggestions?”

  Laurie laughed, then reached over and patted his arm reassuringly. “Just keep at it, and we’ll stick with you. You’re not doing this alone, you know. We’re all in it with you.”

  Jacob nodded, relief hitting him like a blow. In its wake came weariness, but it was a welcome change compared to the tension that had been driving him before. “Thanks, Laurie.” He tried to find more words and couldn’t. “Just… thanks.”

  Laurie nodded and went back to her food, tucking away another bite of spaghetti.

  Isaac managed to swallow his roll and take a quick drink to wash it down. The Gunnery ensign smiled and leaned back. “So why aren’t you off somewhere doing something captainy, anyway?”

  Jacob gave him a sharp look. “There’s nothing to do right now. We’re still hidden, and the pirates don’t even know we’re here yet. I can’t fight the next fight if I’m still tired from the last one.”

  Laurie shared a look with Isaac and then gave Jacob a knowing smile. “Right. So who convinced you to take a break based on that argument? Taylor?”

  Jacob sighed and rubbed his forehead, just above the bridge of his nose. “And Ashford. And half a dozen other people. They were a bit more colorful about it, though.”

  She laughed. “I’m sure.” A more serious look came over her face. “So will we really attack them here?”

  Jacob nodded. “They have what we need, and they have those people trapped. I’m going to work out a few scenarios and try to come up with the best plan of attack. We’ll need to move soon, though. The longer we wait here, the more likely we’ll get discovered and either chased off or captured.” Jacob poked a fork into his spaghetti.

  Isaac swallowed a mouthful of his noodles and gave Jacob a rakish smile. “Well, don’t worry about it Jacob. We’ll give them a good beating this time, and the Station will come out okay.” He motioned with his fork, brandishing it as if it were a sword. “The pirates won’t stand a chance.”

  “I hope so, Isaac.” Jacob gave his friend a smile. He felt it fade a little as he remembered the work ahead. “I hope so.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Things were not going well.

  Jacob knew he was on borrowed time. Though the Wolfhound remained safely hidden behind the asteroids of Reefhome, all it would take would be a slip when the guards were looking, or some new arrival from Dianton’s fleet, for their hiding place to be discovered. Then it would be time for battle, whether the crew liked it or not, and he had resigned himself to the fact already.

  The problem was this time he knew it couldn’t be an off-the-cuff battle plan. The near-disaster at the mine had convinced him of the need to arrange things ahead of time, and Jacob sequestered himself in his office to that end. He ran simulation after simulation of attacks on the fleet guarding the Station. He sent the Wolfhound on strike mission after strike mission, only to watch his ship be battered and crippled, chased off, or flat out destroyed. Those moments were terribly painful as Jacob was forced to imagine his friends and fellow crewmen dead and dying onboard a wrecked ship.

  In a way, then, it was a relief when an abrupt knock sounded at Jacob’s door. He looked up to see Al-shira slide the door open and step into the room. The Communications ensign seemed uncertain rather than angry, but Jacob still had to repress a sigh at the thought of having to deal with another burst of angry commentary on his command. As badly as his day had been going, the last thing he needed was to deal with her now.

  At the same time, command was never meant to be an easy thing. Jacob shut down the simulation he had running Rodgers’ computer and turned his attention to her. “Yes, Ensign Al-shira? How can I help you?”

  Al-shira did not respond immediately. Jacob raised his eyebrows and waited. Such an uncertain silence was far from normal for her, and as the moment stretched he started to tap a finger on the desktop. Just as he opened his mouth to ask for an explanation, Al-shira finally spoke, her words coming out in an anxious rush.

  “I just wanted to come and confirm some rumors that I’ve been hearing. That’s all.” Al-shira’s words echoed the awkward uncertainty in her face. Jacob frowned as he sat back and studied her.

  “I would be glad to help, Ensign Al-shira. Go ahead.”

  A flash of the old resentment and indignation flashed across her face, restoring some of Jacob’s feelings of normalcy. When she spoke again, her words had once again found that harsh tone he had grown used to, as if she had bitten them off some chunk of verbiage and was spitting them in his direction. “Some of the crew members feel you are getting ready to attack Reefhome Station, Ensign. I was just hoping to find that they had read the situation wrong.”

  Jacob grunted sourly. “And why would you hope that, Ensign?” He watched her face fill with horrified resignation, and this time there was no avoiding the weary sigh that welled up in him. Al-shira exploded.

  “Because I would hope our commanding officer would not be an imbecile intent on getting us killed. I would hope he would have enough of a sense of responsibility to avoid combat at all costs until contact can be made with the fleet. I would hope he wasn’t such a warmongering fool that he would have us all dive headfirst into a fight we can’t win. That’s why I would hope I had heard wrong, ensign.” She finished the last sentence in a near snarl, her eyes flashing with rage, and Jacob felt his own anger beginning to rise.

  “Is that so, Ensign Al-shira?”

  “Yes! That is so.” Al-shira injected as much venom and sarcasm into those words as any human could ever have managed. “What are you thinking? You’ve got the gun crews and countermeasures teams manning the simulators day in and day out, you’re pushing the repair crews and support staff as hard as they can go, and here you sit, trying to devise some great plan to carry the day. You’re not a great war hero, Jacob Hull, and no matter how hard you work this crew into exhaustion, they can’t win this battle. Not with you in command, and not against a fleet like that.”

  Jacob met her glare with one of his own, his sense of pride still stinging from her tirade. He waited until the anger he saw smoldering in her eyes started to cool, and then he nodded slightly. “I’m afraid you’re right, Ensign Al-shira.”

  There was a heartbeat of silence. Al-shira took a step back and her anger seemed to turn into confusion. “What?”

  “I said you’re right.” He waved at his computer. “I’ve been running simulations for the past three hours, trying to come up with a reasonable plan to free Reefhome, but our resources are too limited. Every plan I come up with leaves t
he pirates in control and our ship either badly damaged or destroyed. The worst scenarios end with us all dead or captured, and the Station hurt as well. We’re stuck.” Jacob glanced down at the desktop, and a new silence stretched between them.

  Al-shira was the first to break it. “Why would you have wanted to lead the attack anyway? What would make you take that risk?”

  He gave her a harsh look. “I don’t suppose you have thought about the fact that we could get the riftjump data we need from the Station, or even from the wrecks of the pirates.”

  The Communications officer blinked in response. Then her eyes narrowed. “That might be true, but that’s not the real reason you want to attack, is it Ensign. Otherwise, you’d just be looking for easier ways to get that information.”

  Jacob sighed. The memory of his weeping mother rose again in his mind, and he shook his head to ward the image away. “You’re right again, Al-shira. I can’t stand the thought of leaving those people on the Station without at least trying to free them. There must be thousands of them trapped on that Station, under the pirates’ guns. If things hadn’t worked out well in our last two engagements, we could very well have ended up there too.” He paused and leaned back in his chair. “Think of what that must be like, spending day after day knowing you’re under the heel of a treacherous, murdering bastard like Dianton. That any day could be your last if you don’t bow and scrape enough, or move quickly enough to satisfy some Telosian slave driver. To look out at the stars when you can manage it and wonder when someone, anyone will come for you.”

  He looked up at Al-shira, and he felt his jaw tighten as determination filled him. “I want to come for them, Al-shira. I want to set them free, all of them, and I don’t want to wait until it’s convenient or it’s safe. I want to hit those pirates so hard they can’t even think about coming back without feeling fear. That is why I would want to do it.” Jacob started to say more, but the words caught in his throat. He glanced away again, feeling frustrated. “But I can’t, can I? I can’t make it happen.”

  “Not alone.” Al-shira’s voice was surprisingly soft, and Jacob looked back to her in surprise. For a heartbeat there seemed to be something resembling sympathy in her gaze, but whatever it had been disappeared under a wave of all too familiar outrage. She stood up a bit straighter. “You would do well to remember you’re not the only officer on this ship who could plan an attack, Ensign.” She turned and started for the door. “Let me know when you finish tinkering with your own ideas and are ready to get serious. I can have the officer corps assembled in the briefing room in a quarter of an hour.”

  The Communications ensign yanked open the door. She was gone before Jacob could manage a response. He shut his mouth and stared after her, wondering what exactly had just happened. Then he shook his head. Al-shira, strange as her argument was, made sense. He tapped a few keys to prepare a message for the rest of the ensigns and petty officers. There was not much time to spare. After all, the people of Reefhome Station had already waited long enough.

  A short while later, the officers of the Wolfhound had gathered in the briefing room. Jacob once again found himself standing in front of over forty blank faces, though now he had Sergeant Ashford scowling at him from behind rather than up front. Not much of a difference, but somehow, it matters. The achingly long pause was less terrifying now, and there seemed to be less uncertainty in his audience. Maybe they were growing more accustomed to hearing things they never planned on hearing.

  Laurie was the first to raise her hand. “So you want us to come up with a plan to take on an entire pirate fleet and free a space station, without causing any major civilian casualties? By ourselves?”

  His own uneasiness increased by the tone of incredulity in her voice, Jacob nodded. “We have no way of contacting outside reinforcements, and I would prefer the people of Reefhome Station not be killed as a result of our attack. Besides, if we can manage to take the station intact, its repair and supply facilities, as well as the navigation data in its computers, would help us on our way back to the fleet.” Jacob let that sink in. “This is our chance to get home. So, how?”

  There was another pause, one that stretched out for a long time. Each of the officers seemed to be absorbed in studying the hologram projection of the enemy fleet. Both carriers followed a standard configuration with the main hull in the shape of a hollow half-cylinder. Nestled in the curve of the hull of each carrier was a half dozen boarding skiffs, their squat forms sheltered by the skeletal hull of the craft that carried them.

  In sharp contrast, the other ships were far from delicate or fragile. The Rand’s Ire was a little over a fourth of the length of the Wolfhound, with a blunt wedge of a prow that sprouted a trio of wings towards the rear of the craft, each of which carried a powerful DE sail rig. The other corvette, the Cruel Hand, had a narrow central hull that was teardrop shaped. The fattest part of the shape formed the bow, which was covered in point defense cannon and crowned by a railgun turret. Two blunt wings sprouted from the port and starboard of the ship, about two thirds of the way back from the front, both of which ended in a complex DE sail rig combined with brake sails.

  The Ravager, of course, was far larger than any of them and far more solidly built. A rectangular section made up most of its length. The bow was blunt ended with a small ridge rising from it that contained what looked like a railgun deck. A pair of rectangular side sections were connected to the ship on the port and starboard sides, while another large prominent ridge rose from partway back the dorsal surface of the ship and continued almost to the aft portion. A large set of slender DE sail rigs was set up in the aft, while two more railgun decks were set into each side section. It was a ship famous for the skill of its crew, and the biggest threat to the Wolfhound by far.

  Sergeant Navaja finally raised his hand. “We could perform a tactical riftjump to close with our enemies. If we catch them off guard, we could launch a surprise attack and even the odds, correct?”

  Jacob nodded, and motioned to the screen depicting the positions of the ships. “True. The only problem is what our target should be, since the jump will make it impossible to dodge any counterattack. The most dangerous ship is most likely the Ravager. It has an experienced crew and an unknown armament. If we jump in and strike it, though, that leaves the Ire and the Hand to pummel on us at leisure while we're unable to maneuver. It also lets the carriers launch their boats and possibly destroy both us and the station.”

  Isaac raised a hand. “Could we hit the carriers then? That way the boats don’t get launched and we could rip away on the corvettes and the frigate without worrying about the station.”

  Ashford’s blunt voice broke in before Jacob could respond. “Of course we could do it that way. Because we trust that a bunch of new recruits and stale leavings can handle three ships with experienced crews in a straight up fight.” The sarcasm in the sergeant’s voice seemed to cast a dark cloud over the assembled officers. He snorted in contempt and shook his head. “Besides, the way they’re lined up we can only hit one of them. Spread too far apart otherwise.”

  Isaac muttered something, and Laurie, sitting in front of him, turned and shot him a shocked look. Ashford’s face hardened at Laurie’s aghast expression, but before he could speak, Jacob intervened. “The carriers are too far apart to hit both at once, but hitting them appeals to me. They typically have all of their boats docked from what we’ve seen, and it would eliminate several targets if we caught them before they could scramble. The second carrier might run at that point, and the remaining boats we could likely handle.” He motioned to the screen. “That doesn’t leave us much room to deal with the other ships, though.”

  The other Marine sergeant, a quiet woman named Chiun, raised her hand. “Are we sure Ravager is fully functional? The last I heard of it was that the Gawain shot it to pieces over Westhaven.”

  Jacob nodded slowly. “It is probably here for repairs, but the ship looks fairly intact from what we have seen. It has performed a
few maneuvers, and it seems to be functional enough.” He shrugged. “It is possible that if we wait long enough they will leave, but Ensign Timmitz has informed me that waiting may not be an option.”

  The Support ensign nodded, his face unyieldingly solemn. “Our supplies are already beginning to look serious. If we do not find some way to resupply soon, we could very well run out.” As the other officers focused on him, he shrugged, his deep voice not betraying any hesitation. “We weren’t loaded for a month-long campaign. Most of our ammunition is actually training shells, and the food will now run out in about two weeks. Waiting is not a good idea.”

  In the silence that followed, Jacob looked from face to face, seeing reflections of his own worries in each expression. Fighting is one thing, but running out of food? Our only choice is to surrender in order to avoid starvation if it gets that desperate. If the pirates don’t kill us first. Sergeant Chiun raised her hand again. “Is it possible the Ravager does not have a full crew onboard?”

  Jacob shifted his gaze to Ensign Singh, who shrugged carefully. “It is hard to tell from here. In any case, the ship must have at least a skeleton crew in order to perform the maneuvers they have been doing. Why do you ask?”

  The sergeant’s face took on a hesitant look, as if she did not enjoy speaking so many words at once. “If Ensign Iriel would be willing, I would like to lead a detachment of Marines to board the frigate. We can use the skiff, and at the very least we should be able to give them something to worry about when the shooting starts.”

  Jacob raised his eyebrows. “The skiff isn’t exactly an assault shuttle or a boarding pod. Are you sure you could make it onboard?”