Wolves at the Gate

by Shane Van Aulen

  “Lt. Collins convinced them to give us approval to get married,” she said grabbing him and kissing him again.

  “I don’t believe it!” he said after she let him go.

  “Believe it,” Mike said, “Now go find somewhere private to catch up. I’ll meet you here at 0700 hours.”

  “Yes sir,” he said taking her hand and quickly leading her away.

  Mike smiled feeling good about all of it. Grabbing a couple sandwiches and coffees to go he went to his quarters with the two repair droids tagging along behind him.

  His temporary billet was part of a wing of guest quarters. It had a common shower room and head at the end of the hall. His room was a little bigger than a laundry closet. Leaving the droids in the hall for the moment he cleaned up and returned to his room. Setting up for the evening he brought the droids in and had them stand as far from his bunk as possible. He knew it would be weird if he woke up in the middle of the night and saw the shapes of two droids hovering over him.

  He guessed that it didn’t matter as he still had a lot of work to do tonight. While he was at the JAG office he managed to get the files that he’d needed to help him make some important decisions. The Captivity had five hundred and twenty-six prisoners, of which four hundred and six were Karduans. A third of those were Blue males but he doubted that anyone would be willing to release some of them to his care. He’d bet good money that many of them were Believer Disciples and would join their cause if they only knew but that wasn’t an option.

  He was more concerned with the one hundred and six human prisoners. Twenty-five of them were being held for smuggling and or piracy. The rest were there serving sentences for various offenses, all being found guilty at a Captain’s Mast or at a General Court-Martial. That left a lot of human service men and women left out of the fight.

  Settling in his bunk he ordered the droids to shut down and then proceeded to go through the eighty-one files of human prisoners in which he was hoping to find twenty viable candidates from. As he went through their files he was surprised that so many of them were in the stockade for drug convictions.

  Mostly, it was for personal use but there were a few who had been convicted with intent to sell and trafficking. He didn’t want any drug users so he took them off the list. There were others that he struck off his list including one for murder, two for sexual assault and one for spousal abuse.

  There were a few who had been found guilty of dereliction of duty, one that was in for being AWOL in wartime and several that were charged with treating with contempt or being disrespectful in language or deportment towards a superior officer. This last group he went through to see who had been convicted by Captain LaFevers, Commodore Essex or Admiral Yancy. If they had, he was almost sure that they also had an interesting story to tell him.

  At some point in the night, he finally fell asleep. When he woke in the morning he looked over his notes from the night before and saw that he had a decent list of possible crewmen.

  After cleaning up and getting dressed he then activated the repair droids and went to the cafeteria to meet the Chief and to get some breakfast. CPO Schmidt was already there and was halfway finished with his meal. He looked up from his eggs and smiled as the young officer approached. Nothing was needed to be said about that smile, Mike just nodded and went to grab some chow for himself.

  Sitting down he hurried through breakfast while outlining what he wanted to do today. First on the list was to get out to the Mastodon and see for himself the condition of his ship. A start-up and full systems diagnostic were needed as well as to get started on repairs.

  Luckily, no matter what else was wrong he still had two repair droids and a master engineer to help him make it right. Fortune not only follows the brave but the prepared, at least that’s what his father use to say to him.

  After all of that, he still needed to arrange an appointment with Admiral Janice Dupain, the Commander of the 8th Defense Fleet. It was another busy day but hell after a year of this he was getting used to it.

  Finishing quickly, they hurried to the shuttle bay to catch a ride out to the massive repair ship. Schmidty had already found out the shuttle schedules and there was a parts delivery heading out this morning. The shuttle ride was uneventful and Mike used the time to contact the ISS Shinano.

  He managed to reach the Admiral’s office but her yeoman said that she was unavailable. It seemed that the entire fleet was preparing to depart the system in a few days and she was too busy to meet with an unknown junior officer about some prisoners.

  It was disappointing but it didn’t mean that he was done trying. Reaching the Mastodon, they got off behind some of the shuttle’s crew as they spoke to the deck hands who were there to help unload and store the new parts from the shuttle delivery.

  Mike didn’t need a guide and walked past all of them to the rear airlock exit. It led to the interior of the ship and to the closest lift. The Chief and the two repair droids hurried to keep up. Reaching the open airlock door, he passed by a Petty Officer First Class who was coming into the shuttle bay.

  “Can I help you, sir?” the Petty Officer asked.

  Mike was going to say no thanks but he needed to know which deck his ship was stored on.

  “I’m the captain of the frigate Goliad, can you tell me where you have her berthed.” he inquired.

  The young PO1 looked like he was going to laugh until he noticed the serious expression on Mike’s face.

  “Well sir, that old battle frigate is down on D-Deck Section-B,” he said and added, “Do you need a guide, sir?”

  “No thanks Petty Officer, I once served on the Mammoth and know the floor plans,” he said remembering his weeks as that ship’s captain.

  “Aye sir,” he replied as the Lieutenant, CPO, and their two droids filed past him.

  Mike lead them to the closest lift which they took down to D-Deck. Moving down a service corridor they reached Section-B. Activating the door’s sensor it slid open with a swooshing sound. The bay was as dark as space and its air smelled like metal.

  “Computer, turn on bay’s lights and air circulators,” he ordered.

  The lights immediately came on and a whine could be heard as the air was being sucked out of the bay through its filter system and fresh air was pushed in.

  The bay looked like it hadn’t been used for a while. Right in front of them was a completely stripped-down sloop. It engines, both bender and in-system drives were completely gone. All of its energy weapon turrets were also missing and most of its hull plating had been removed.

  Mike had seen a lot of damaged and blown up ships but he hadn’t seen a ship looking like a skeleton since Austro Prime when ISS Surprise had been reduced to nothing more than a hulk. The left side of the bay had bins of scrap metal and salvaged parts along with several larger cargo containers.

  Walking briskly around the dilapidated sloop he saw at the far end of the bay the frigate he had been made captain of.

  The ISS Goliad, sat there taking up that corner of the bay and looked as if it had been a while since anyone had touched her. The ship’s main particle turret was completely missing and was nowhere to be found. One of her missile turrets was damaged and two fusion turrets were also completely gone. She had a half-dozen missing panels of armor plating from her hull. She still had her original bender drive but in place of her old fusion drive unit was a completely new impulse engine.

  “She’s not that bad,” Mike commented moving across the bay to the waiting frigate.

  “What?” Chief Schmidt said in surprise.

  “She doesn’t have any battle damage, she’s just old and neglected,” he stated.

  “That can still get you killed,” the Chief said moving around her long length and inspecting her.

  Mike ignored the NCO for a moment and turned to the repair droids

  “Droids, general repair and maintenance protocol level 4. Also, register and record all needed repairs not covered by level 4 protocols,” he ordered sending t
he droids to work.

  “Sir, there is an airlock extension bridge to the port side’s upper lock,” CPO Schmidt reported point up to the extension bridge.

  Mike looked up and nodded, remembering that, that was how they had set up the Alamo. So, you could access the upper deck without going through the entire ship.

  He was about to go over to a service lift that would take him up to the bridge when a yell stopped him and made him turn and look.

  “What are you doing on my ship?” someone shouted sounding angry.

  As Collins turned he expected it to be the Mastodon’s captain but instead, it was a rather large Senior Chief Petty Officer E-8.

  Mike smiled at the approaching Senior Chief thinking that he recognized him.

  “What are you doing on my ship and on this deck,” he repeated as his round face became red.

  The senior lieutenant moved closer and said, “At ease Senior Chief.”

  “Sir, with all due respect who the hell are you to be down here?”

  Collins looked at his name tag and smiled again before he answered.

  “Senior Chief Wineburg, I’m the captain of that frigate,” he said gesturing with his thumb back to the old ship.

  “What?”

  “Yeah and I’ve got four days to get her space worthy and get back to Starbase 24 at Ryu Six,” he stated as if it was going to happen.

  “Sir, no offense but you must be crazy,” he said in all honesty.

  Mike laughed, “Not the first time I’ve heard that.”

  “Well, I don’t see how you’re going to do it?” the old NCO said shaking his head.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Everyone is busy with these heavy and light cruisers. We just don’t have the manpower to spare. Also, this heap needs a new particle cannon and a couple of fusion turrets which we are plumb out them. The turrets and her new bender drives are on back order and are not expected for several weeks if not longer,” he informed crossing his arms and letting out a huff at the end.

  The young officer looked at him still smiling.

  “You wouldn’t be related to Chief Warrant Officer Tim Wineburg?” he asked.

  “He is my older brother,” Ted Wineburg said and added, “He was lost on the Mammoth over a year ago and is presumed dead or at least a POW.”

  Mike was still smiling at the Senior Chief Petty Officer, who was now considering belting the arrogant young pup.

  “No Senior Chief, he was rescued along with his ship and crew about twelve months ago by a boarding party from the attack cruiser Star Wolf,” he said watching a shocked expression spread on the non-com’s face.

  “My brother is alive?” he stammered momentarily moved by the news.

  “Yes, in fact, I saw him about five months ago, he and the Mammoth are operating at a forward repair base near Austro Prime,” Mike informed remembering quite clearly as the Chief Warrant cursed loudly as he worked on restoring the heavy cruiser Ajax.

  “Sir, if you are messing with me …” he started.

  “I’m not, there should be a bulletin update coming down from the Admiralty as we just got back in contact with them a few weeks ago.”

  “I’ll check on that but it doesn't matter. I still don’t have any people, droids or parts to spare,” he stated.

  “Fine, what about that boneyard of dead ships out there, is that off limits too?” he asked.

  “No, any ship repair or restoration project can use anything they find in the scrapyard,” the Senior Chief answered.

  “Great, so if you can download any ship schematics you have along with a list of pending and completed repairs then I can get on with getting my ship out of here,” Mike said with all the confidence in the world.

  “Whatever you want sir, it’s your time you’re wasting,” he said pulling out a large palm pad and bringing up the files this young crazy officer would need.

  Mike stayed for two hours helping with a cold core power startup. He then left Chief Schmidt with the droids while promising to get back to them as soon as he could. Schmidty called back to him to bring some sandwiches and coffee with him when he returned.

  He hated to leave but if he didn’t get some more hands on this they’d be here a month trying to get the Goliad repaired. He needed a crew and crew was what he was going to get.

  Taking a shuttle back to the space station he then waited an hour before he could arrange a ride out to the ISS Shinano. He got a little lucky as some of her personnel were returning with some final supplies before they left the system. Mike had been on an auxiliary carrier a few times before. He had helped a little on the ISS Lexington’s restoration but other than that he really didn’t know the ship plans all that well.

  Pulling out his palm pad he brought up the Lexington’s deck plans and headed to a lift that would take him to the bridge. When he got to where the lift should have been he found nothing but a wall. He was still staring down at his pad when a crewman saw his dilemma.

  “Sir, if you’re looking for the lift it was moved during the restoration. The lift is now at the end of the corridor,” a technician third class said.

  “Thanks,” Mike said and went down the hall and found the lift. He took it up to the command deck but was really unsure where he was going. The admiral wasn’t the ship captain and he didn’t have a clue where her office would be.

  Reaching the command deck, the lift doors opened and he saw two armed marines on the other side of the doorway standing on guard. Both of them looked at him as they performed a weapon’s salute with their gauss rifles.

  Mike quickly snapped off a salute.

  “Sir, this is a restricted level, what can we do for you?” the marine corporal to his left asked.

  “I’m looking for the Admiral’s office,” he said truthfully.

  “I’ll have to give you an escort, sir,” the marine stated glancing at Mike’s commando badge and pilot’s wings.

  “Lead on, Corporal,” Collins replied following behind the marine as he headed down the hallway.

  He had worked on the Lexington’s bridge when he was at the Wolf’s Den and he already knew they had redesigned this level. The bridge and CIC must have been expanded. The captain’s day room had been moved and the captain’s mess was completely gone. In their place was a small wardroom and two office areas with a common reception area. Seated behind the poly-metal desk was a busy looking male yeoman secretary.

  “This officer is here to see the Admiral,” the marine stated with a nod.

  “Thanks,” the yeoman said as the marine turned about-face and returned to his post.

  Mike also gave him a nod of thanks as he left.

  “Do you have an appointment, sir,” he asked bringing up the admiral’s schedule on his holo-screen.

  “No, I don’t have an appointment. I’m Lt. Michael Collins and I need to see Admiral Dupain about the ISS Goliad,” he said walking up to yeoman at his desk.

  “I’m sorry sir, the Admiral is very busy with planning the fleet’s departure and doesn’t have any time to see you or anyone else,” he said closing the schedule screen.

  “I only need five minutes,” Mike persisted.

  “I don’t know what to say, sir,” the yeoman replied and then added, “the Admiral won’t be back until later today. I can take a message for her if you want.

  “That’s alright,” he replied and sat down on one of the waiting room’s chairs.

  “Sir, what are you doing?” the yeoman inquired.

  Mike smiled as he settled in.

  “I’ll wait and deliver my message myself,” he said.

  “Very well, sir, but she might not be back at all today,” the secretary informed shaking his head.

  “I’ll wait,” Lt. Collins replied pulling out his palm pad and using his time to review the Goliad’s status. He wanted to plan out a work schedule and decide in what order they needed to fix things based on need, parts availability, and priority. He was stuck here but he could at least use his time wisel
y.

  Five hours in the course of one’s life is but a blink of an eye. On the other hand, five hours waiting on a hard chair seemed like an eternity.

  Mike had already gone through all of the Goliad’s current systems status three times in the course of the last five hours. He had worked out a schedule based on the information provided by Senior Chief Wineburg and had prioritized the absolute minimum that had to be done to get the ship space worthy. He also created a list of must haves, really needed and that would be nice for parts and other items.

  He never did get Chief Schmidt his sandwich and coffee but he managed to send him a text link from his pad telling him to use the Mastodon’s chow hall and also passed him the work schedule he had made.

  Schmidty sent a text link back telling him that one of the torpedo tubes’ load gates and feed lift was trashed. The life support air recycling unit was down and that there was no maser or even a space radar unit on board. He had the repair droids working on replacing the missing hull panels and he was hoping they would be done in another fifteen hours.

  Mike told him to keep up the good work, take breaks and that he was still stuck waiting for the admiral to return. The Chief acknowledged his message with simple “Wilco” being neither a positive or negative reply as he was too busy to answer in depth.

  They had a ton of work to do and Collins was stuck waiting. Getting up, he paced back and forth several times feeling like he was back in the brig on the Pallas. When the yeoman took his lunch break, he offered to bring something back for him which Mike gladly accepted.

  By fifteen hundred hours he was feeling an ever-growing anxiousness to get back to his ship and lend a hand. He knew his mission was just as important as what Schmidty was doing but it didn’t make him feel less useless. At seventeen hundred hours another yeoman, this time a young woman, came in to take over for the next duty shift. It seemed that these offices didn’t shut down but ran on a twenty-four-hour cycle.

  The first yeoman briefed the second on what was happening both with events on the ship and with the fleet. He reviewed the admiral’s expectations and gave her a list of administrative tasks she needed to complete during her duty shift.