Jupiter Fleet 1: Werewolves Don't Purr

by JS Rowan

  “Arjun, what’s this all about?”

  Arjun turned to Thor. “Thor, do you recognize some of these wolves? If so, please tell us how and why you know them.”

  Thor looked at Admiral and answered Arjun’s question like a presentation to an engineering client. He smiled a little and adopted a professional tone.

  “I do recognize them. Some of these werewolves were the ones that did not respond to our reclamation efforts on board the Space Dog.”

  “Reclamation?” asked Admiral.

  “Trying to restore their human personalities,” thought Arjun offhandedly.

  “Ah,” thought Admiral.

  It was a low-key response that did not hint at the giant werewolf’s feelings on the subject. Arjun turned away from Admiral and addressed the former green-collar wolves.

  “Do any of you recognize either Thor or me?”

  All the wolves shook their heads no. They looked confused. Arjun turned back to Admiral.

  “In fact, I spent thirty to forty minutes with each one of these wolves. We had hoped that we had left a blank spot in their memories, but until this moment I did not know for sure.”

  “This is all very interesting, Arjun, but when you asked for this meeting, you said you had something that could be crucial to our victory,” thought Admiral, growing impatient with the demonstration.

  “Indeed, I do have, Admiral.” Arjun turned toward the waiting wolves. “Vishnu.”

  The werewolf subjects all lay down on the deck plates, curled up, and went to sleep. Admiral went over to the wolves and gave one a small kick. The sleeping werewolf snorted a little, moved over to another part of the floor, and then went back to sleep.

  Admiral had a big doggy grin on his face. Both Frosty and Thor wore looks of shock.

  “How did you do that?” Admiral thought.

  “Before we let the green-collar wolves go from our testing room, we entered deep into their subconscious minds and planted an overwhelming desire to sleep upon hearing the command word. They will not wake up for many hours, or unless I say the counter-command.”

  “Which is?”

  Arjun turned to the sleeping werewolves. “Krishna.”

  The former green-collar wolves woke up and were a little confused about why they were sleeping on the floor of the Command Deck.

  Admiral was delighted, his tail wagging back and forth, his ears pricked forward and a sparkle in his eyes. Frosty’s tail started to wag too. Over at her position, Ashley’s eyes were round with amazement.

  “You were right, Arjun,” thought Admiral, “this is definitely something we can use.”

  After Leona had spent nearly forty minutes talking with everyone from the janitor to the United States CINC NORAD on the radio, the American government officials finally decided that she should talk with the president.

  “This is President Bill Hartley of the United States, who am I speaking with?”

  “This is Leona Stevenson. I own a farm near Dumas, Texas. I’m pleased to talk with you, Mr. President.”

  “So, you’re a US citizen?”

  “Um…yes? I am now the captain of this ship, which we have named the Space Dog. I have formed an alliance with some free werewolves that now control Jupiter Station—a space station that was taken away from the enemy raiders,” said Leona.

  “What! A US citizen making alliances with alien invaders! Outrageous!”

  A hot retort was on the tip of her tongue. Leona was tempted to say that the president lacked qualifications to make any kind of deals off-planet, but she held herself in check.

  “On this ship we have people taken from all over planet Earth. Many of them just want to go home. I would like your help returning them to their nations and cities,” said Leona.

  “How did it happen that you became the captain of this ship? Our best military people from around the globe have been killed or captured just trying to secure a shuttle.”

  “That is a longer story than I have time for, Mr. President. I would like to talk with you about getting those people back to their homes and families.”

  “You’d better make time, Ms. Stevenson. My advisors tell me that it is impossible for you to have captured that ship. It is most likely that you have been brainwashed by whatever alien is controlling you, and everything you say is a lie. I would like—”

  “Listen, you idiot! President or no, you need to get your head around this. I have captured this ship and have engaged in space battles to defend the Earth. No wonder I didn’t vote for you! You have the imagination of a turnip! I’m going to talk to the British and to other nations. Maybe they will treat me a little better.”

  Leona terminated the connection, breathing out harshly, her teeth bared like a lioness.

  After all they had been through to survive the deadly captivity and battles with the Supes, just to hit the wall of stupid bureaucracy! The stupidity of the US government—her own nation—was driving her crazy. Leona got up suddenly from her chair and started pacing rapidly back and forth, clenching and unclenching her fists.

  That was when Hiroshi cleared his throat.

  “Um, do you want to hear what they are saying now?”

  Leona turned toward Hiroshi, her eyes ablaze. The slender young Japanese almost recoiled in his seat, but controlled himself.

  “What? How did you—”

  “I don’t know, I just thought that I would like to hear what they are saying in the White House Situation Room, and the system connected me.”

  “So that is how the Supes always knew where to hit us. They could listen in on all our communications.” Leona dragged a hand through her hair, and then nodded at Hiroshi and sat back down in her chair.

  Hiroshi activated the eavesdropping system and it broadcast telepathically, to the bridge crew, the conversation that was going on in the Situation Room. It was like sitting in the room with the president and his staff. The system had to be picking up several video feeds and telephone feeds and making a simulation in their minds. It felt surreal.

  “I want to know everything about this woman. Find any relatives living in this country—anything that can give me some leverage over her,” said the president.

  When Leona “looked” around the room, the system put identification bubbles over the heads of everyone in it.

  “She is married to Theodore Stevenson, who, along with her mother and father, Mary and William O’Brien, were reported missing from their homes in Texas. She has two grown children attending college in Miami,” said a man that the system identified as being with the FBI.

  “Good, have someone pick them up. If necessary we can hold them hostage for her good behavior.” The president’s face was contorted with hate. “How are we coming with beefing up the lasers to do more damage?” he continued.

  “NORAD reports that the upgraded power capacitors will be online within two hours, in three of the laser facilities. The other seven will be at least another day,” said an air force general.

  Leona broke the connection. The sudden change in point of view made her dizzy for a moment.

  “Hiroshi, can you patch me through to my kids?” she thought.

  However, before Hiroshi could start to do anything, the ship’s computer system responded to her thought request and made the space-to-Florida call.

  “Hello?” came the voice of Leona’s daughter, Sarah.

  “Sarah, it’s Mom.”

  “Mom? How? I mean—you were taken! I thought you and Dad and Grandma and Grandpa…I thought you were dead!”

  Sarah’s voice had tears in it, and Leona’s eyes brimmed in response.

  “I know, sweetie, I know. It’s a long story, but right now I need you to listen. Is your brother there?

  “Yes, he’s sleeping in his room. Too much studying.”

  “I need you to wake him up and leave your apartment right away. Just bring your wallets, never mind packing clothes.” Leona made her voice brisk. “You know the boat that Gramps has down at the Miami Beach Marina?�
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  “Yes, he gave me the keys to it the last time I saw him. He told Will and me to take good care of it.”

  “Good. Both of you, bring the keys, get in that boat, and head out to sea as fast as you can. It’s an emergency. I will meet you out at sea.”

  “Mom, how will you find me? How will I know it’s really you? What is going on?”

  “You don’t have any time for the answers. Sarah, trust me! You will know it’s me. I’ll be standing in the door of a spaceship.”

  Ashley was standing on the platform of Jupiter Station next to an air lock where the Supe ship was supposed to dock. O’Neil was late, really late. He was supposed to arrive fifteen minutes ago. The shuttle craft was waiting to dock, and O’Neil was supposed to be front and center to welcome it when it did.

  Ashley did a little dance of impatience, then smoothed her hair with her fingers in lieu of a comb. Though, what would an alien monster know or care about how she looked?

  She gave the order to proceed with the docking and sent a runner to find out where the marine officer was. O’Neil came around the corner a moment later. He was wearing a thought-helmet.

  “Do you really think that’s a good idea?” said Ashley, looking pointedly at the thought-helmet.

  “Yes, I do,” was all O’Neil said.

  Ashley waited for some sort of explanation but O’Neil said nothing. Her internal temperature started to go up.

  “This is going to be a long day if I have to translate everything,” she said, giving him a hard look.

  “Yes, it will,” said O’Neil.

  Ashley’s eyes narrowed and she bared her teeth a bit in frustration.

  “Careful,” O’Neil said, “they might mistake you for a wolf.”

  A mental picture of a tiny Ashley-blonde werewolf played in her imagination.

  O’Neil looked around and nodded, and fifty heavily armed human troops came into the Docking Bay, all wearing thought-helmets.

  The troops formed themselves into two ranks and stood at attention. The air lock opened, and ten regular werewolves and one Alpha wolf came out onto the platform. The Alpha looked at the troops present and decided that they were not intended as a threat.

  The Alpha wolf turned back toward the shuttle and an average-sized Supe came through the door. He had the same chicken-like skin and beaky nose as the ones from the Space Dog. But Ashley raised an eyebrow. Whereas the Supes they had met to date had been dressed mainly in green, this one wore purple and yellow. His head plumage was purple too.

  The Supe looked at the troops wearing the thought-helmets. He tried to scan O’Neil and got nowhere. He then tried to scan Ashley, but she blocked him and gave him a stern look. The Supe decided to push harder. He did an intrusive force-scan with all his telepathic power.

  Ashley had deflected more powerful mind-blasts than this during the battle for the Space Dog, so she decided to turn the tables. She pushed his scan back and gave him a small painful telepathic punch, too.

  “Try that again and I’ll turn you into a zombie,” said Ashley, not sure if the Supe would know what a zombie was.

  The alien looked like he was going to try something else on her, so she sent him a mental picture of a zombie’s decayed flesh and shambling walk. The Supe showed disgust and stopped trying to pry.

  “Shall we proceed to the negotiations?” thought the Supe.

  “What is your name?” asked Ashley.

  “That is not for worms like you to know,” said the Supe.

  “Ashley, tell him that we will proceed into the room next to us. I have set up the room to translate speech into thought, and vice versa,” said O’Neil.

  “Thanks for telling me!” said Ashley, clenching her jaw, unable to decide who was a bigger jerk, O’Neil or the Supe.

  “Oh, and tell the Supe that his guard wolves can wait outside. We don’t need any unnecessary accidents happening during negotiations,” said O’Neil.

  Ashley relayed the message. The purple Supe’s wolves objected to the arrangement at first. The Supe then had them check out the adjoining room. There were no other exits and no apparent weapons. The werewolves relented and left the room.

  The door closed and everyone sat down at the table. The sharp-eyed Supe noted that the humans were uncomfortable in the Supe-type chairs. He seemed to take pleasure in the fact.

  “You have done us a great service by taking this ship and station,” thought the Supe.

  The thought-amplifier broadcast the alien’s words audibly.

  “That is kind of you to say, but I must ask why?” said O’Neil.

  Ashley heard the system echo the question telepathically.

  “I won’t bore you with politics, but we were in competition with the Merkenaucht clan for the last seat in the great council,” said the Supe.

  “And by competition, you mean war,” said O’Neil.

  “I don’t think of it quite so dramatically. However, given your limited capacity for understanding these things, I suppose war is as good a term as any,” thought the Supe. “Frankly, I don’t think you know how bad it is going to be for you and your species,” he continued.

  The Supe leaned back in his chair. To Ashley’s telepathic sense, it was apparent that the purple-plumed alien was gloating.

  “When the Merkenaucht clan finds out what you have done here, they will bring ten thousand of their finest ships and exterminate your species.”

  “And you can help us?” said O’Neil.

  “Certainly—for a price, of course,” said the Supe.

  “What do you have, and what is your price?”

  “Straight to the point, I like that. We have two new missile fabricator robots, and a more powerful laser-cannon design.”

  “How much more powerful is it?” asked O’Neil.

  Ashley saw that not knowing how much the Supe despised the humans meant that O’Neil could be dispassionate about the negotiation. She gritted her teeth.

  “Nearly three times the power of the laser-cannons you have on your ship now. Additionally, they have a faster recharge rate and smaller generating systems. So your ship can have two additional cannons forward and four new cannons aft. Your engagement range will also increase to almost three million of the measurement units that you use, kilometers, I believe you call them.”

  “That sounds good. What do you want for them?”

  “We have identified twelve of the smaller moons orbiting this planet as having minerals we need—we have a list.”

  The Supe glanced toward the console and it lit up, showing the locations of all the moons in question, plus a list of the minerals, and the quantities of them.

  “That is most of the minerals available in this system. I will pay you half of this list,” said O’Neil.

  “There are plenty of moons around this planet. You can afford eighty percent of that list.”

  “Not if I am going to build enough ships to defend my species from the Green clan. Make it sixty-five percent of the list.”

  “This haggling is quite beneath me, so I will consent to your barbaric demands,” thought the Supe.

  “Does that mean we have a deal?” asked O’Neil mildly.

  “Yes, we have a deal. Now, what identification do you use to seal a deal on your planet? We use a handprint. No two are the same for us. Or we could use DNA,” thought the Supe.

  “A handprint will work just fine for us. However…when is delivery of the weapons systems?” said O’Neil.

  “Well, it is immediate, of course, as soon as the minerals are on our ships. It would not do to bargain for things one does not have in one’s possession. That is one of our basic laws. We can also provide the installation of the weapons. We will have to dock with your station to unload and begin the installation.”

  “That will do just fine,” said O’Neil.

  “Then I will return to my ship and begin preparations. We will send docking instructions to the humans controlling the station systems when we are ready.”

  Th
e Supe and the humans got up and left the room. The Supe headed straight for his shuttle without a farewell or backward look. O’Neil knew from his studies of their culture, on the computer consoles, that the alien considered it beneath him to notice the werewolves that were providing his protection.

  Too bad for him, O’Neil thought, otherwise, he might have noticed that the wolves he is going back with are different from the wolves he came in with.

  “OK, Leona, the shuttle is approaching the pickup spot,” said Hiroshi.

  Hiroshi had insisted that he was going down in the shuttle and was going to be the pilot. They had left Isamu as the pilot of the Space Dog and Commander Gupta in command of the ship.

  “Thanks, Hiroshi,” said Leona. “I will move to the back.”

  Her father, Will, had also come with her, so he could protect his daughter and grandkids. He looked just as young as all the rest of the red-furred werewolves, and had learned the basics of werewolf combat from Axel Chin.

  Commander Gupta had insisted on a complement of wolves and marines to also be on the shuttle. Everyone sat quietly—the kind of “relaxed” that could explode into action at an instant’s notice.

  Quite a crowd to pick up two scared kids, thought Leona to herself.

  She worried about Thor’s father—for some reason his mobile phone was not taking calls. Maybe Gramps had forgotten to charge it again, or had left it beside the coffeepot or in his car. She worried about whether Gramps was being scooped up by the feds like they were trying to do with her kids.

  One of the werewolves gave Leona a gravity harness and helped her put it on. Then Hiroshi opened the back door. Leona gasped in the buffeting wind. The shuttle was about fifteen feet off the water and traveling so fast that the shock of their passage was making a rooster tail of water behind them.

  Suddenly the shuttle slowed and they were above the small white boat. Hiroshi engaged a gravity lift, picked the entire boat out of the water, and deposited it in the back of the shuttle. The whole operation took less than a minute.

  Leona smiled and waved at the kids, whose mouths were open in shock. Once they realized it was her, Will and Sarah waved back hesitantly.

  Hiroshi closed the rear door and engaged a local gravity field to keep the boat upright, then cut off the grabber field. Immediately, he sent the shuttle rocketing upward at a steep incline, and Leona was glad to have the gravity harness that was keeping her upright.