Wolfhound

by Kindal Debenham

  The Wolfhound’s skiff was already away, launched out of the hanger as if it were a railgun shell all its own. Jacob frowned as he watched their course, and his frown turned into a frustrated growl when he saw them arc toward the Ravager. “I thought I told them to hit the Hand!” He touched a communication link. “Laurie! Get Ensign Delarouge to back Iriel up with countermeasures.” Al-shira nodded and bent over her console, working furiously.

  Then the helmsman was maneuvering, and Jacob felt pressure build as the woman activated the port DE rigs and the starboard brake sails. The Wolfhound twisted in the unseen current of dark energy that surrounded them, bringing its bow around to face the remaining enemies. The riftjump had dispersed most of the force of the current, propelling it away and around the Wolfhound and making it hard for her to catch any force in the sails at all. Still, the petty officer at the Helm managed to present the starboard side to the remaining four pirate craft rather than the aft.

  Jacob hit the link for Countermeasures again. “Laurie, point-defense along the starboard side!”

  “I know!” Her annoyed tone quickly cut off as the corvettes and the frigate fired, the projection lighting up with the energy washes from the railgun shots. Jacob watched in horror as the projectiles streaked in from all three ships in five separate streams of shells. He braced himself, grabbing the sides of the console with his hands as the railgun fire streaked in.

  Then the point defense turrets fired, blazing through space and crisscrossing the starfield with brilliant purple plasma fire. Shells exploded, showering nearby space with shrapnel that showered across the length of the Wolfhound, striking sparks off the destroyer’s armor. A small shudder went through the Wolfhound, and Jacob slowly relaxed as the remaining shells flew harmlessly by. The pirates' lack of accuracy had cost them their one chance to cause real damage to the ship.

  The Wolfhound continued its slow turn, bringing its bow in line with the enemy ships. As the petty officer stopped the turn and started both DE sails on full power, Jacob spoke up.

  “Helm, take us past the enemy ships and close with Carrier Sigma. I don’t want torpedoes fired on the Station.” While the helm officer struggled to comply, a group of darts from the electronic warfare array stabbed out at the Ravager, passing the frigate as it began an evasive dive away from the destroyer. A familiar series of blasts bathed the DE sail rigs with purple energy, and the bluish glow of Ravager’s sails jerked out of existence. The frigate’s attempt to dive became a gentle, helpless descent that would take it close to the destroyer as it went by.

  Even as the Ravager began its shallow dive, the point defense turrets stuttered to life, stabbing lances of purple fire out at the incoming skiff as Ensign Iriel made her run on the helpless craft. Jacob’s breath caught in his throat. The small craft skittered through the waves of plasma fire, dodging the beams and dancing around the incoming fire as if it were a game of tag. Each maneuver brought the skiff closer, but the burning spears of plasma fire continued to come closer and closer to the make-shift assault shuttle as the pirates did their best to burn the ship from space. The Ravager might be a sitting duck, but if even one turret gets a solid hit they are all dead. The skiff dipped suddenly, diving in toward the frigate at a sharp angle. The little craft drew up short just under the prow of the Ravager, disappearing from view. A flash lit the underside of the frigate a moment later.

  “Ensign Iriel reports contact with enemy target. Boarding parties are away.” Al-shira’s voice was still tense, and her eyes were still glued to her console when Jacob looked in her direction. Jacob nodded anyway and turned his attention back to the pair of corvettes ahead of him.

  While he had been focused elsewhere, the other pirates had begun their own evasive tactics. The Hand twisted away from the Wolfhound, starting a long looping turn that would take it past the destroyer’s starboard side. Carrier Sigma, empty of torpedo boats and apparently intimidated by the fiery death of its companion, turned away and started a run out toward the distant boats, who were now curving back around toward the battle. The Ire took a much bolder course, diving at the Wolfhound with all three DE sails blazing. The smaller ship quickly grew closer in his projection, and Jacob felt a creeping sense of unease as the pirate ship continued to put on speed. They wouldn’t ram us, would they?

  Apparently the petty officer at the helm had decided not to find out. The Wolfhound’s DE sails flared with power, and the destroyer lurched forward, still fighting the dark energy currents that swirled around it. The distance between the two ships closed rapidly as the Wolfhound picked up speed, and Jacob smiled when he saw the corvette’s course shift slightly. Not a ramming maneuver, just playing chicken. We’ll see how that goes. He spoke up. “Helm, shift course to aim straight at the Ire. We don’t want to give them more firing time if we can avoid it.” The Helm officer nodded, and the Wolfhound turned to aim straight at the incoming corvette as the distance between the ships vanished.

  For a moment, it seemed like the two ships were going to collide, but at the last moment the Ire rotated and sped up. The pirate passed the Wolfhound at such a short distance that Jacob could have sworn he heard the hum of the other ship’s sail rigs. As it slid by, the railgun on the corvette fired. Shells streaked in from such a short range that Laurie’s turrets could only cut one of them apart before the other three hit the destroyer.

  One shot skimmed off of the Wolfhound’s port side, bouncing like a stone off lake water and shooting off into space and exploding at a harmless distance. Another exploded on the dorsal part of the Wolfhound’s bow, just aft of the gun decks. The third buried itself further down the port side of the destroyer, tunneling in just below the port airlock before exploding.

  The ship shook with the impact, and Jacob was thrown hard into the restraints on the left of his seat. Screens to his right showed red in multiple areas, and he swore as the petty officer fought to keep the Wolfhound on a stable course. He continued to growl in frustration as more shots came in from the Hand and the Ravager. Space lit up with explosions as the point defense turrets picked off the ones that came close. More shudders went through the ship when more shells exploded on the armored prow, leaving glowing, twisted sections of shattered armor behind. Jacob had just felt a flicker of gratitude that the bombardment was not worse when another shot, slipping past their defenses, drove itself into the ship’s ventral armor. The resulting blast threw him against the restraints again.

  Damage alarms rang out throughout the ship. Jacob coughed lightly and made an effort to sit up straight. He glanced at Al-shira, who was looking slightly groggy. One of the restraints on her seat had snapped, and it looked like she had been thrown head first into her station. Since Gi was still down, she was in charge of coordinating communications from Engineering. “Damage report?”

  She shook her head and blinked before answering, taking an extra moment to swipe at the blood leaking from her forehead. “We have a major leak at the airlock, along with severe damage on the port side of deck two. Teams are already on their way to deal with the casualties. Storage bay five is gone, we’ll need new food supplies soon.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “We have fires reported near the Capistan. Ensign Navaja is not responding.”

  Jacob swore, and hit the communication designation for Taylor. “Guns, give me something!”

  The response was more than Jacob could have hoped for. A rolling volley streamed out from the Wolfhound’s gun decks, sending heavy railgun shells out toward the Cruel Hand as one gun deck after opened fire. Point defense turrets answered in a wave of purple energy, but the corvette’s defenses were quickly overwhelmed. Two shells burrowed in through the armor on its port wing, exploding with enough force to rip the underlying structure apart. It bent so far that it nearly snapped off, and the sail rigs on that wing flickered out entirely. Two more shells exploded on the surface of the pirate craft, shattering armor plates and shaking up the ship. A third shell left a burning crater in the bow.

  Isaac’s long-
distance guns had chosen the Rand’s Ire for their target. They sent another double volley of speeding shells towards the craft as it floundered in the wild dark energy currents behind the Wolfhound. The initial trio of shells exploded into harmless hails of shrapnel as the point defense turrets of the corvette caught them. Only one of the remaining three shells punched its way into the fleeing craft. It tore like a demon’s claw through the Ire’s aft section near the DE rigs. The rigs flickered slightly, and a few minor sails went out, but for the most part the corvette absorbed the damage fairly well and continued on its course.

  Jacob growled. This fight is turning into a slugging match. “Helm, take us underneath Ravager so we can put them between us and the Ire. Then turn to intercept Carrier Sigma.” Hopefully that will make them think twice about shooting at us. As the destroyer passed under the still-coasting frigate, Jacob glanced over at Al-shira again, frowning in concern when she wavered at her post. “Ensign? Do you need to be relieved?”

  Al-shira’s back straightened sharply, and she gave him a glare, though her eyes still seemed slightly dull. “I’m fine, sir.” Her attention turned back to the. “Signal from Iriel. The Marines are clearing out the Ravager.”

  Singh broke in before Jacob could press the issue. “Sir, the Hand seems to be having trouble maneuvering. It is making no attempt to return to the fight. Carrier Sigma is changing course to intercept it, while the boarding skiffs are on course to close with us. Ire is coming back around to help it by giving it cover fire.”

  Jacob nodded. A bold move, but they’ve already shown they aren’t cowards. We’ll see how much longer they can keep this up. The petty officer brought the Wolfhound up in a curving loop to take it back around the frigate to point at the Ire’s future position, inverting the ship as she did so. A handful of shots from the Ire cut toward them, but they were so ill-aimed that Laurie’s defense cannon only had to intercept one shell. A couple of shots streaked out from the Ravager too, but neither made it past the defense screen this time.

  Then the Wolfhound was on another intercept course with the two corvettes, angling in to cut between the Ire and its stricken companion. Come on, give me another salvo. As if in answer to Jacob’s unspoken plea, the gun decks fired again, sending a vicious wave of shots toward the pirate ships, even as the enemy responded with salvoes of their own.

  Taylor had obviously chosen his targets based on the effect the shots would have rather than the threat presented by the enemy. Two of the heavy railgun decks unloaded their shells on the empty carrier. The first volley sprayed shots all along its length, shaking the craft with impacts as its point defense turrets frantically tried to pick off the incoming shells. The second set of shells arrived half a heartbeat later, and four of them hit clustered together. The overlapping shock waves from the explosions broke the back of the skeletal craft, the bow lifting up slowly as an ever-expanding fireball spewed shrapnel from its wounded structure.

  The third heavy railgun deck sprayed fire toward the wounded Hand, striking the crippled ship with another pair of shots to its stern. The blasts shook the ship, and it started to pinwheel through space, a cloud of shredded metal and streaming flames trailing through space. Isaac’s guns focused their barrage once again on the Ire. While the high-speed shells were able to make contact with the corvette’s hull, most of the shots merely skipped off the armor plating, leaving pocked scars when they bounced away, and ripping jagged scars in the armor when they managed to explode.

  The return fire was much more scattered and subdued than it had been before. The Hand only managed to fire once. The gun on the Ire fired four shots, running their single weapon to near burn-out. Only two of the guns on Ravager fired, which Jacob hoped meant that Chiun’s Marines had managed to neutralize at least the forward guns.

  Once again, the Wolfhound was engulfed in waves of explosions and shrapnel as Laurie’s defense turrets sprayed plasma at the incoming shots. Three of Ire’s shots exploded short of the hull, and the fourth missed wide, shooting off into space. The shot from the Hand somehow managed to slip through, lancing into the starboard side from above and ripping a crater in the Wolfhound’s armor. Fire from the Ravager did little more damage, with some missing wide, others stopped short by defensive fire, and the remainder exploding on contact with the armor, shattering armor plates and failing to accomplish much else.

  Alarms continued to shriek as the tremors faded, and Jacob looked up to find the Ire starting to maneuver away from the battle. Flames were leaking from one of the gashes it had taken in the last exchange. The Hand was utterly unable to continue to fight, and seemed more focused on trying to slow its spin than on firing back or evading future hits. Both carriers were shattered hulks of metal, neither able to do much more than launch escape pods and lifeboats. All that was left was the Ravager.

  He turned and saw Al-shira grimly bracing herself against her console with her arms locked, seemingly keeping herself upright through sheer stubbornness. Singh was still firmly harnessed and unhurt, though the Sensor officer looked somewhat grim after the repeated beating.

  Singh caught Jacob’s eye and nodded. “We have five more minutes before the torpedo boats are on us again. The Ire is starting to run for it, the Ravager seems to be incapacitated, and the others are all knocked out.”

  “Thanks, Singh.” Jacob looked back at Al-shira. He hesitated as she swiped the cut on her forehead again, and then asked anyway. “Al-shira, can you raise Iriel or Chiun? I need to know what is happening on that frigate. We can’t ignore it forever. See if you can get a few casualty reports as well. Helm, put us between the Ire and the Station, then turn to face the skiffs.” The petty officer complied, and Jacob nodded as he watched the Wolfhound begin to move. The maneuver would give the guns a chance to pound the corvette and then turn on the boats once the smaller craft came into range. Can’t let them get aboard, or this was all for nothing. Al-shira’s voice, slightly puzzled, brought his head around.

  “Sir, I’m getting an open signal. It’s from the Ire.”

  Jacob blinked, his hands drawing back from the controls for a moment. What could they want to say? “Put them on.”

  Al-shira nodded and moments later a new voice was growling through the speakers at him.

  “This is Captain Riggits of the Rand’s Ire. We surrender. Repeat, we surrender. Do not fire.”

  Astonishment shot through Jacob, and for a moment, he wondered if he was hallucinating the words. The next emotion was relief, an overwhelming wave that swept over him and nearly robbed him of words. He caught both of the other Ensigns on the bridge staring at him wide-eyed, Singh with his mouth half-open. Then Jacob managed to steel himself enough to respond. “We accept. Shut down your DE sails and come about on a heading toward us.” He turned to Al-shira. “Guns, don’t open fire again on the corvette. Switch to the torpedo boats.”

  The pirate’s voice cut in again, still a resentful, sullen growl. “The boats aren’t going to be a problem. They’re signaling their surrender as we speak. Just don’t fire anymore.” On the screen, the Ire began a simple turn to bring its bow back around, and its DE sails shut off. Jacob nodded, satisfied.

  “Confirmed, Rand’s Ire. Give them the same instructions and wait for further instructions. Wolfhound out.” Jacob nodded to Al-shira, and she cut the transmission with a sudden hiss of static. As that noise faded, Jacob sank back in his seat and shook his head in disbelief. He looked over at Singh. “Are they doing it?”

  “Yes, sir. All six are slowing down. The Ravager doesn’t seem to be prepping to fire either. The ship should have gotten its rigs back online a few seconds ago, but they’re still dead in space.”

  Al-shira broke in again. “Iriel is signaling us again. She says the Marines are almost done cleaning up there. The Ravager’s crew is laying down arms and surrendering along with the rest.” She hesitated, swiping at her cut again. “Another signal coming in, this one from the station.”

  He frowned. The station? “Put it on. Then repor
t to Medical and get yourself taken care of. That’s an order.” Al-shira opened her mouth to protest, but then she stopped, nodding reluctantly. The petty officer who had been standing by came over to change places with her as she typed in a few more commands and unbuckled herself from the damaged restraints.

  Jacob cleared his voice as a light came on, indicating that the link was open. “This is Ensign Jacob Hull of the CNS Wolfhound. Who am I speaking to?”

  “You’re speaking to Captain Swenson, you damned little runt! You tell your captain that we have a deal, and it’s one he’d better take if he’s wise.”

  The sheer hatred leaking through the transmission made Jacob raise his eyebrows. He leaned back in his seat, a half-smile of amusement slipping across his features. “What deal would that be, Captain?”

  “We’ve got a few thousand civilians onboard this floating pile of scrap, but we’re willing to let all of ‘em go. All you have to do is let us board the Ire and leave the system, and we’ll let you have them. Otherwise, we’re going to make sure not a single one of you Celostian bastards makes it onto Reefhome Station alive, and for kicks, we’ll start floating civilians out to you, one at a time through the airlock. Without space suits. You understand, runt?”

  The rant wore down, and Jacob felt cold rage move through him. Swenson’s threat sounded all too much like the threat Dianton had made against his sister. He waited a long moment, letting the pause stretch as the pirate on the other end waited for an answer. Finally, when he spoke, there was a chill in his voice that he’d never felt before. “I’m afraid my commander is dead, Captain Swenson. He was murdered by members of your gang over a week ago. I’m currently the man you have to make your deal with.” He sucked in a single breath and forced it out again through gritted teeth. “And I say no deal.”