Wolfhound

by Kindal Debenham

  As the skiff drew closer, Jacob began to pick out differences in the station. Where there had once been a collection of nearby storage containers, there was now a large repair dock, hanging delicately in space near the spinning station. It was attached by an umbilical to the central structure. Several spots along the central structure where there had once been docking hangars and transfer points had been replaced with maintenance bays and ammunition dumps. How long have the pirates been here? How could the Navy not have known about this? Jacob felt a chill run through him as he pondered the possibility that pirates had infiltrated the Navy enough to conceal the occupation. A moment later, a more rational part of his mind came to the slightly less terrifying conclusion that the Navy likely didn’t care about some random frontier station.

  Iriel directed the skiff toward a hangar on the central column, and Jacob started to brace himself for what he knew would come. They’re going to be looking for a captain or at least a commander, not some jumped up ensign. He glanced back at where the Wolfhound hovered, keeping watch over the cluster of captured and crippled pirate craft as if it were some battered, deadly sheepdog. I can’t afford to let the crew down by letting the people here walk all over me. Let’s get this over with.

  The skiff slid into the hangar with a subtle bump, and Jacob unbuckled the seat restraints so that he could stand. The Marines leapt up and moved towards the door. Both had their rifles ready, and as they took up positions on either side of the skiff’s hatch, Jacob could easily understand why the pirate crew on the Ravager had not lasted long against a group of forty of them. Morris only succeeded because he caught the two on the bridge off guard. If one of them had been there instead of me, maybe he could have gotten to Rodgers in time. He shook off the feeling of inadequacy and nodded for Iriel to open the hatch.

  The door slid open, and Jacob stepped forward. The Marines beat him through the opening, guns up and ready, sweeping across the corridor as if the soldiers searched for threats. Jacob followed close on their heels, hoping the spacers on the other side would not see them as just another group of invaders.

  In the small hangar, Jacob found several people waiting at the entrance to the bay. There were two men and three women, all of whom were dressed in work overalls and wore hesitant expressions as they watched the Marines move across the hangar. Jacob nodded at them reassuringly and walked toward them. He heard footsteps on the metal deck behind him as Ashford and Taylor followed suit.

  One of the men stepped forward, his face still full of uncertainty and suspicion. “You’re the people from the destroyer, right? We’re here to welcome you, and to thank you for helping us. We wouldn’t have freed ourselves without you.” He paused, his eyes searching through the small group. “May I ask where your commander is?”

  Jacob answered, trying hard to keep his voice firm and trying even harder to ignore the feeling that the question had been addressed to Taylor or Ashford rather than him. “I’m Ensign Jacob Hull. I’m currently in command of the Wolfhound. Have all the pirates on the station been accounted for?”

  The man blinked, obviously taken off guard. “You? But…” The unspoken question died in midair as the man’s eyes flicked over Taylor, Ashford and the two Marines before settling incredulously on Jacob again. Refusing to be discouraged or intimidated by the silence, Jacob simply waited for an answer.

  Finally, the man sighed and shook his head. “We have the majority of them locked away in a dining hall. They went more or less quietly, which was surprising. There are a few holdouts here and there who apparently believe they will be executed whether they surrender or not.” The last phrase seemed to be another unspoken question, but Jacob didn’t answer it. He had other things to worry about.

  “Do you think you could manage to hold a few more for us? I would rather not let the pirates remain on board their ships. We could supply you with Marines to guard them if that would make you feel more at ease. Perhaps they could help… convince…the holdouts to join the rest as well.” Ashford grunted, and Jacob thought he heard a sour murmur from his second in command, but Jacob ignored him. Offer them something in good faith and they’ll learn we aren’t here to conquer, just to help. Then maybe we’ll get some help in return.

  The man nodded cautiously, though his expression said he was more thinking it over rather than simply agreeing. Jacob was suddenly reminded of the way his parents had done the exact same thing during trade negotiations, and he had to repress a smile at being back among frontier spacers again. The man’s voice was studiously cautious when he spoke, as if schooled to hide any kind of interest. “If we house the prisoners for you, it would be nice if you helped out. Of course, we would appreciate some other help as well, just to offset our expenses.”

  Jacob nodded, aping the man’s motion and expression. One of the other spacers murmured something in surprise, and Jacob was suddenly struck by the familiarity of that voice. He looked over to find the second man openly studying him, a look of surprise on his sturdy features. “Is there something wrong?”

  The man shook his head, uncertainty back on his face. “No, nothing’s wrong. It’s just, for a moment there…” His voice trailed off and he looked Jacob over again, this time more openly. “You said your name was Jacob Hull?”

  The voice seemed so familiar, and yet Jacob couldn’t place the face anywhere in his memory. “Yes, Ensign Jacob Hull. Why do you ask?”

  “Any relation to Ephraim Hull? Captain of the Sprite?”

  Jacob nodded again, this time more firmly. “He was my father. Did you know him?”

  A broad grin spread across the man’s face, and he stuck out a hand. “You’re damn right I did. The name’s Miguel Salazar. Your father helped me out of more jams than I would care to admit, and I’m glad to see that the apple hasn’t fallen far from the tree.” The other spacers shot a few glares his way, obviously not happy he was interrupting the bargaining, but Jacob ignored them and shook the man’s hand.

  “Any friend of my father’s is a friend of mine.” The name suddenly clicked into place far back in Jacob’s memories. “You used to fly a ship, didn’t you? The Solar Expanse?”

  Miguel nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, once upon a time. Now I’m stuck on this station with this grimy bunch. The Telosians took the Expanse off my hands and renamed her something vicious.” The man’s expression soured. “I was happy to see you settle some accounts with them. How’s your father?”

  Jacob bowed his head for a moment, his expression kept carefully blank. Can’t let them see a novice. He brought his head back up and met Miguel’s eyes. “He’s dead. There was an accident, and…” His voice trailed off as grief assaulted him for a moment, and he just shrugged helplessly. Embarrassment flickered through him as a pause stretched between them.

  Finally, Miguel broke the silence. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that. In any case, I’m sure we could see our way clear to letting you keep the prisoners here on the station. After all, you’re the ones who took care of ‘em in the first place.” The first man made a sound of protest, which Miguel silenced with a firm look. He gestured to the station with one hand. “You’re all welcome to take what you need here, and we’re happy to help any son of Ephraim Hull however we may. We owe him that much.” Grumbles among his fellow spacers cut off as Miguel swept a challenging look over them, and Jacob smiled when Miguel turned back to look at him.

  “Thank you. We are going to be needing some supplies, which we would be happy to pay for—”

  Miguel strode forward and threw an arm around Jacob, waving the stream of words off with his other hand. “Of course, of course. First, though, you’ll need to tell me how an ensign wound up commanding a destroyer in a front line position. We’ll let the others take care of the arrangements while we eat.” He paused to give his companions another sharp glance. “I’m sure they will treat them like they were my family.” The words were delivered in a blunt, serious tone that deflated the group completely. A couple of them wore openly dejected looks, and th
e man who had spoken first actually glared openly at Jacob.

  Uncaring, Miguel started to march Jacob away, half dragging him under his arm. “Come on, Ensign Hull. I know the perfect restaurant to discuss this in, my treat.” Jacob looked back over Miguel’s arm and saw Ashford and Taylor watching him with alternating looks of annoyance and amusement. The Marines fell into step behind them, and the rest of the spacers stood grouped in a decidedly haggard half-circle as Ashford started speaking. From the tone of his voice, Jacob could already tell that the spacers were going to have a very hard time bargaining. Hopefully he doesn’t get us into another war already.

  As they left the growing squabble behind, Jacob looked over and found Miguel’s cheerful demeanor slipping away. A distant look came into the spacer’s eyes, and Jacob wondered what the man was thinking of. Silence stretched as they walked together through the corridors of the station.

  Reefhome Station was just as Jacob remembered it, if a bit dingier and less well maintained. Unlike the pristine corridors and plain surfaces of the Wolfhound, Reefhome’s passages were poorly lit and cluttered. The predominant color of the walls and ceiling was a rusted red, a color shared by the disturbing amount of the machinery and equipment left to decorate the floors. Access panels were scattered through the corridors. Some had intricate locking systems and security cameras to prevent the wrong sort of people from accessing controls or information, but most remained unlocked.

  They left the first corridor and came out into one of the four main centers in Reefhome Station. It was a garishly lit section of the station that Jacob didn’t remember very clearly, though the half-recognition of the place set off a series of excited memories of exploring the station with his parents. The section was a large hollow tube, showing off the empty space at the center. Such openness was a luxury that attracted almost as many customers as the shopping centers and restaurants did. After so much time in cramped stations and stuffed spaceships, Jacob remembered standing in the center and gaping up at the vacant space. Even now it was a little strange to him.

  Along the sides of the tube was level on level of stores, entertainment spots, markets and retail outlets. Shop fronts were lit by bright, flashing billboards or dancing highlights. Videoscreens decorated some of them, attracting the eye with their flickering graphics and bursts of color. Elevators which customers could pay to use moved between levels, but most people resorted to the shorter ladders and staircases that led between parts of the section. People were walking briskly along the railed balconies and terraces of the tube, busy on their various errands, and all throughout the tube was a rumble of conversation, a murmur of people going about their business.

  The ground level was filled by a small park. It was a kind of garden, kept fresh by a team of gardeners who were even now still working to keep trees, bushes and grass healthy. The plants' vibrant green color contrasted sharply with the rust red metal around them, and spacers were relaxing under the branches of the trees on various benches or stretches of green grass. Seeing their smiles and busy conversations, Jacob felt himself relaxing a little, though he still wondered why Miguel was bringing him here.

  Miguel finally broke his silence as Jacob stood taking in the details of the market. “So Jill was with Ephraim when it happened?”

  Jacob turned. Miguel wore a troubled look as he waited for a response. An echo of pain ran through him, but he refused to let it find a permanent spot in him. He nodded. “You knew her as well?”

  With a hesitant nod, Miguel closed his eyes. “I knew her. She grew up in the same place I did, a place like Reefhome Station. I still remember the day she met Ephraim and moved away.” A sad smile made its way across the man’s face. “She was so happy then. It’s a shame that she is gone, like so much else.”

  Jacob nodded again, uncertain of what to say. They stood there in silence for a moment before Miguel sighed and motioned toward one of the nearby elevators. “Will you join me still? I meant only to keep you from having to deal with Boris and the others bickering; you look like you need to rest after everything.”

  Jacob let a smile spread across his face. “Sure. Let’s take the stairs, though. I never liked the lifts very much anyway.”

  Miguel’s eyebrows rose slightly, and he chuckled. “Still spacer raised, then? I remember Ephraim was always stubborn about using ladders and stairs. ‘My own feet are good enough for me,’ he would always say.” Miguel's musings trailed off as he led the way up the nearest flight of stairs, leading Jacob toward a particularly large restaurant whose storefront was dominated by a giant videoscreen showing a whirling model of Reefhome. The name of the place, the Reefrock Grill, glowed in the background of the model, while words occasionally replaced the image, usually a quote from a food critic declaring it to be the best cooking in the Station.

  Miguel had lapsed into silence again. Jacob, struck with a sudden curiosity, began to ask questions of his own. “Miguel, how long have the pirates been here? They don’t seem to have changed all that much while they were here.”

  The spacer shook his head and motioned to a store they were passing. “They’ve been here for years. We’ve just been forced to try and go on living in spite of them and their restrictions, but most of this is a front. The restaurants would have run out of most of their supplies long ago if the pirates hadn’t wanted to eat there. Everyone has lost almost all of their savings, and for the past few years, most of us have been forced to work on their ships and cater to their whims. The Tube’s the only market that is still mostly open; the other market sections are full of closed shops and bad memories.” He motioned again, to another store that Jacob hadn’t noticed before. The shop's windows had been broken, and foul messages were etched into the front door. Unlike the other stores and restaurants, the videoscreens were dark, the billboard blank and unlit. Looking around the market again, Jacob picked out more stores that were blank and empty, and he felt a sudden chill of anger.

  “So they’ve just been pushing around shopkeepers and mechanics for years? Why hasn’t anyone done anything?”

  Miguel shook his head and sighed. “We tried at first. Not many spacers are willing to give up our independence or our freedom that easily, or else we wouldn’t be out here on the fringe.” His forehead wrinkled with the pressure of old memories. “Back at the beginning, there was always someone with a plan to get the message out, to make a riftjump to Celostian space. A few actually tried it.” He shrugged. “Nobody made it out of the system before the pirates took them. They didn’t just punish the escapee, either. They hurt families, children. After a while, they made everyone out on a freighter or near a message drone leave their families where they could be watched. That put a stop to most of it.

  “Here on the station, some people tried to resist in other ways. Sometimes it was just talking back to some swaggering tough on one of the ships. Other times they would refuse to serve them in stores or restaurants, or keep delaying things they ordered.” He glanced back at the darkened shop again. “The pirates cracked down on them pretty hard, too.”

  Jacob fell silent. A moment ago, he had not seen a single empty shop, and now it seemed like they were the only shops he saw. They were everywhere, like dull holes in the light and movement. The happy faces he saw wandering around seemed much more strained, as if the joy they were feeling was almost forced to cover their desperation. He shuddered, and suddenly found it hard to look forward to the meal.

  They arrived at the restaurant and were immediately shown to a table. Even with its brilliantly lit exterior, the place was barely more than a quarter full. The murmur of activity and conversation was more subdued here, and the hostess merely waved to a nearby empty table rather than showing them there. As Miguel fell into one of the chairs, Jacob waved the Marines off and sat down across from him.

  As he looked around at the dispirited people in the restaurant, another question forced its way into his mind. “Wait, if times have been so bad before, why aren’t people celebrating? I mean, the pirates ar
e gone now, right?”

  Miguel hesitated before responding. “It’s not that simple. The pirates have been beat here, yes, but that doesn’t mean they can’t come back. Dianton is still out there, and still has a sizable fleet. Unless the Celostian Navy decides to take up residence here, we are going to be sitting ducks for whoever has the guns to hit us, especially since the pirates have taken all of our old defenses. Most people either see this as a temporary situation, or the opening for a frantic exodus to some other part of space.”

  “So they are either looking at this like a vacation from Dianton or like they are finally having to choose between their freedom and their home.” Jacob frowned, looking down at the table. “I can see how that wouldn’t cheer many people up.”

  The spacer nodded, pausing as a waitress dropped off a couple of menus. He unfolded one and continued in a lower voice. “It doesn’t help that a lot of us don’t have a way off the station. There’s going to be a panicked rush to the hangars the moment the first transport announces it’s leaving. The pirates aren’t going to be happy with whoever is left here, and nobody’s going to want to be the ones left with the mess.”

  Jacob nodded, still deep in thought. The waitress came, and Miguel ordered a meal Jacob had never heard of. He ordered a steak burrito meal that he vaguely recognized, and then went back to the mess he found in his head. Slowly, a plan started to form. He looked up from the table to find Miguel watching him with a smile on his face. “What?”

  Miguel’s smile grew a bit. “Oh, nothing. I just remember your father wearing that look on a few occasions. He usually had it when he had to deal with a problem everyone knew he couldn’t fix, and things always turned out a little better than they were before he started. You’re just as stubborn as he used to be, aren’t you?”

  One of the Marines at the other table chuckled a little bit, and Jacob gave him a sharp look. “We always preferred the term ‘determined’ rather than stubborn.”