“The Log
of the
Gray Wolf”
By
Shane Van Aulen
This book is a work of fiction. All names, places, characters and plot are works of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual places, events or people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright by Shane M. Van Aulen
All rights reserved including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
Cover art used by license agreement from© Can Stock Photo Inc. / [csp16531980]
To my father who taught me how to box when I was eight and how to love for a lifetime.
And
To my Beloved Rose, my Amazing Grace,
I gather my dreams together and put them into words, yet they are inadequate to the burden of my heart.
You are always on my mind.
You are always in my heart.
I await you still.
I seek you always.
Your Elder Knight
Chapter One
It wasn’t fair! That’s what Mike Collins thought as he rushed down the dusty street, hurrying his way to one of the star-port’s remote access shuttle terminals. It was a normal windy day for autumn on Austro Prime, and he had to pull his overcoat closer to his body to keep it from making too much resistance.
At twenty-three and a recent graduate of the prestigious, though remote Harpers Military Academy, he should have been in uniform and at war. The battle with the alien Karduan Empire was at a pivotal point where humanity was on the brink of losing. Everyone knew that the war wasn’t going well; after all, that’s one reason why life wasn’t freaking fair!
Running as a gust of wind tried to push him back, he mumbled a curse under his breath. As he made it through the set of security doors, he paused only briefly for a body scan. He was a regular at the small auxiliary star-port. This station mostly served cargo shuttles and transports heading from planet-side to awaiting freighters and the commercial star-dock in planetary orbit.
Rushing to the automated ticket agent, he slipped his credit card into the slot and bought his ticket with a quick tap of a key. There wasn’t any voice interface with the computer at this station, but that didn’t matter, as there was only one flight leaving. In fact, with the recent turn of events, he was sure that this was probably the only flight in the next twelve hours.
Just a month earlier, this planetary system had been a key outpost in the war against the matriarchal-led Karduan Empire. With a hydrogen star, a developed world, and an Imperial repair dock for starships, it was ideally situated near enough to the front, yet safely behind the lines of battle.
The Blues, as the Karduans were called due to their faint, pale white skin that seemed to be almost iridescent, had pushed back against human advances into their space with sudden and crippling attacks on all of the United Earth Confederation’s outlining worlds.
The Emperor of the Confederation, who though technically was just a unifying figurehead, had called for diplomatic negotiations, but the Confederation Security Council and Planetary Senate had moved ahead with preparations for war. During the previous five years, the war had raged between mankind and the Blues with neither gaining the upper hand for any extended period.
Mike, at age twenty-three, was just finishing an extra semester so he could graduate at the beginning of the new school year. Much to his own embarrassment, he had to stay through the summer session because he had failed his final semester of Applied Interstellar Physics. The headmaster and commandant of Harpers Military Academy was an old retired Confederation ship captain named Sir Randolph Hawkins Hope. He was a hero from the war with the Reds formally known as the Voroosh.
They were intelligent bipedal reptilians that had briefly conquered Earth over fifty years earlier. That experience, coupled with years of colonial civil unrest and pirate actions, made him an excellent choice for the position of dean for the military college.
Captain Hope, also known as “The Hawk” by his men and friends, had tried to get Mike’s failed class waived, but the regulations were quite clear that he had to pass in order to graduate. Collins still couldn’t believe that he had passed with top honors in Ship Tactics, Leadership and had taken a first and best of class in Pistol and Sword, only to watch his fellow and maybe more academic classmates graduate without him.
Despite the pain of his missed graduation, the true misery came three months later, just after his delayed graduation ceremony. Having the sole distinction of being the only summer graduate, he was equally disappointed when his mother and father could not attend the brief ceremony.
His father was a navy commander aboard the ISS Prometheus, a Titan Class battle carrier serving on the other side of the galaxy. Mike’s mother was a research scientist back on Earth working on advanced healing serums to save the lives of those severally wounded in battle.
Both of his parents had wanted to be there, but during a war, such as the one they now fought, certain sacrifices had to be endured. He did have some extended family, including a supposedly rich uncle, but his family was estranged and he didn’t even know his uncle’s name. His father always said that they would make their own way without pride or privilege.
Captain Hope had tried to make up for it and held a small ceremony at his home to which the faculty and the senior students had been invited. It was a nice commissioning service with punch and refreshments afterwards. Commander Weaver, the Assistant Dean of Students, shook his hand and then quickly left without a word. Weaver was a local officer on attached service from Austro Prime’s Planetary Defense Force and was often not only at odds with the off-world students, but sometimes with the school’s ancient commandant.
“I’m sure he has something very important to do,” a familiar voice said from behind him. Mike turned and saw that there was another staff member standing there. This time, it wasn’t a frowning or scowling face, but a wide grin that greeted him.
“Commander Hutton, it’s good to see you, sir,” Mike said with a welcoming smile as he extended his hand. Hutton grasped his hand in his with a grip of iron.
Commander Alfred Hutton was Harpers Academy’s Master of the Sword and was said to have once been a naval commando. His job was to teach the midshipmen in the use of small arms, unarmed combat, and small unit ground tactics. Of all of the academy’s officers present, Hutton had to be Mike’s favorite teacher.
The fortyish officer carried the title of Master of the Sword with style and was literally a master, having once been a participant in the Interstellar Olympics. The commander was rumored to have left the active service to help care for his ailing wife and was given this assignment as a reward for his exceptional past service. Though outgoing with his students, Hutton had kept his personal problems and his past to himself.
Hutton released his grip but continued to smile. “Congratulations, Ensign Collins. Have you decided what branch you will ask for? Fighter Command could use a skilled pilot, but I know that you also have a head for small unit tactics and battle strategy.”
Mike shrugged his shoulders, still debating with himself over what course he should choose. He was just starting to answer to that effect when a midshipman from the junior class rushed into the room. The young man was breathless, having run across the academy’s grounds to the commandant’s house.
Rushing through the room, the midshipman found Captain Hope discussing the Battle of Actium that had been fought between Octavian and Mark Antony’s fleets in 31 BC. Spotting the commandant, the midshipman ran the few final steps and thrust the message pad into the old officer’s hand,
interrupting his story.
Ignoring the panting and flushed young man, Hope looked down to the pad as he slowly read the message twice before looking up. The captain’s old and wrinkled face looked as if he had aged ten years. “Gentlemen, please give me your attention,” he said, as the room quickly became silent and attentive.
“Thank you, I have unsettling and bad news,” he said, glancing down once to the message pad almost as if to make sure that what he had read was true. Raising his head up from the pad and holding his body erect, he seemed to elude a sense of power and confidence that the entire room felt. No matter what he was going to say, the assembled men knew that it was not the end.
“A joint armada of five previously unknown Karduan battle fleets have punched through Web Sector Twelve’s defense line and have cut off this section of the quadrant from the Confederation,” he said, pausing to let the news sink in. After a moment of whispered rumbling, he continued.
“Almost, all of Web Sector Twelve has been cut off from the rest of the Confederation. Along the jump web, at least twenty planetary systems have been occupied and thirty more systems have been isolated, including our own system of Austro Prime. All available ships have been summoned to try to defend against a continued Karduan attack.”
Before his words could truly sink in to the shocked and muted crowd, the double doors to the dining room were thrown open with a crash, causing all heads to turn and look. Standing in the doorway was Commander Weaver along with a dozen armed planetary soldiers. The commander was no longer dressed in a formal dress uniform of the Confederation, but instead he was now wearing the brown duty uniform of Austro Prime’s naval forces. He also was equipped with a standard officer’s pistol belt and sidearm.
The pistol was still in its holster, but Mike could see that it was an ultra-modern Browning Star-Master Auto Needlier, which was commonly called a gauss pistol. A needle or gauss pistol was an electromagnetically powered weapon capable of firing poly-steel needles through most types of personal armor. The Confederation military used a Smith and Wesson version and the CCF, short for Confederation Constabulary Force, used a Krager gauss pistol, which was also able to fire shock-darts as well as armor-piercing projectiles.
In either case, gauss and EM powered weapons were high-tech and expensive. Weaver’s possession of a gauss weapon was a symbol that reinforced his power and position. His men were armed with assault rifles, which fired caseless hypershot gyro-assisted rounds.
“Now that I have everyone’s attention,” he yelled needlessly, for the room was already silent. “I have an announcement: the planetary government of Austro Prime as well as the Austro star system have officially declared themselves neutral to the recent conflict with the Karduan government and have formally severed its ties to the United Confederation of Earth. In addition, the newly formed Republic of Austro has signed a nonaggression and noninterference treaty with the Karduan Empire.”
“Treason!” A chorus of voices said almost as one.
Weaver took it in stride and calmly unsnapped the safety flap on his gauss pistol’s holster. “No matter what you want to call it, the decision has been made to save the Austro system from certain destruction. If you were wise, you would also choose to keep this academy from destruction.”
The commander’s last comment had its intended effect and the room once more became quiet. The Austro soldiers had, in the meantime, spread out behind him on line and were now in a position to control, or if need be, level the room.
“This school has been declared property of the Austro government. All students are invited to remain. Being that no faculty member is on active Imperial duty and Austro is now a neutral country, the staff is also invited to stay.”
“What of Captain Hope?” someone asked, wondering if the old commandant would still be in charge.
Weaver turned the gaze of his beady little eyes to the old hero. The Hawk stood as proudly as his nickname, waiting to hear the traitor’s sentence. No matter what, he was unmoved and unafraid of anything the commander could say.
“Captain Hope will remain in charge of the academic portion of the school, and I will be in charge of the administrative duties,” he said with a satisfying smile that could only be described as despicable.
Everyone looked to the commandant, waiting for any word from him. Hope clearly saw that his options were few. Many of his faculty were retired or had been medically discharged from active service. A third of his staff was Austro citizens that held dual commissions in both the Confederation Reserves and their planetary navy.
Almost all of them had families on Austro, and would have a hard time if they resisted the change in government. God only knew how long this had been planned, though it shouldn’t have been too much of a surprise, considering that this sector had once been a major player during the Colonies Rebellion.
Quickly summing up the situation, Captain Hope nodded his white head in defeat. The best course was to wait for the Confederation to retake the sector; any other action would only result in countless and needless deaths.
“We will do whatever you request,” he said, lowering his head and looking to the floor in abject defeat.
That was a month ago, and Mike still couldn’t believe it. He had been both extremely lucky and unlucky. He was lucky, in that he had not been arrested as an active duty Confederation officer and placed in an interim prison camp to sit out the rest of the war. Unfortunately, he had not been able to get off-world or get to a Confederation ship that was trying to escape the area before being impounded or commandeered. Instead of serving on a starship, he was forced to get a job as an assistant custodian at the abandoned repair dock orbiting Austro Prime.
The facility was owned by the Imperial family’s America Corporation and was capable of repairing up to six ships at a time, including ships of sizes even up to the heavy cruiser class. With some modification, the station could be altered to even service capital ships, including battle carriers and battleships.
When word had reached the station’s crew of Austro Prime’s defection, the Confederation personnel made rapid repairs to a damaged frigate, the ISS Varuna, and made a desperate attempt to escape the system. The ISS Varuna’s fate was as yet unknown.
Since then, the station had only been manned with a temporary maintenance crew and custodial staff. The new Austro government was still trying to figure out what they should do with it and all of the damaged ships still in dock. The problem was that the treaty they had signed with the Karduan government limited the number of warships they could have for defense as well as the number of interstellar ships.
In addition, the powerful America Corporation’s office on Austro Prime had immediately flooded the Austro courts with petitions and suits over the ownerships of the station.
All of this was in the back of Mike’s mind as he rushed to catch his ride up to the abandoned station.
The once bustling transport terminal was now a ghost town. It was hard to believe that at one time hundreds of stevedores, longshoremen, and millions of metric tons of cargo were transported to and from orbiting starships, the star-port, and the repair dock. Hurrying across the empty causeway, he waved to the sole human employee of the station that he happened to see on the other side of the lobby.
The custodian paused from his repairing of a malfunctioning robotic floor scrubber and returned the young man’s wave with one off his own. “Running late again, Mike?” the gray-haired older man yelled with a wide and knowing grin.
“Damn wind slowed me down again!” Collins replied with their common banter and repose. Smiling he boarded the old transport shuttle and was surprised to find it full of people. Moving to the only empty seat, he noticed that all of his fellow passengers were men of similar age and dress.
They were mostly past the age of mandatory retirement or were a few years younger with apparent physical disabilities. One man in his early fifties obviously had an old robotic-looking mechanical arm were his left arm used to be. Another had
a glowing red orb for a right eye, looking menacing without trying as he smiled at the gray-haired man sitting next to him.
Taking the last seat, Mike nodded to the men across from him and took note of their attire. All of his fellow passengers were dressed in the standard one-piece red jumpsuits of the Home Stead Corporation. The Austro-based and partly government-owned corporation was rumored to have taken control of all star-dock and freight activities from the America Corporation.
Normally, Mike would read the E-paper and catch up on the local news and any word about the war. Sometimes he would write letters to his family or read a chapter of the most recent novel he was consuming. Often, he would read a military history book or a technical manual on the latest weapons system. He knew he had to keep his skills sharp as well as growing if he was ever going to be of any use to the Confederation.
Today he just pretended to read the E-paper on his palm pad hand computer while he tried to listen to the conversations of the men around him. Surprisingly, the men were very quiet and the only talk Mike picked up on was a conversation about grandchildren. Giving up on eavesdropping, he finally leaned closer to the man next to him who seemed to be reading an old style hard text bible.
“Excuse me,” he started, as the wrinkled and tired looking man glanced up from his reading. “I work on the repair station; are you men heading there?”
The old fellow gave him a kind smile and nodded his head. “Yes, we are. We’re supposed to start stripping those abandoned Confederation ships for parts and salvage.”
Mike looked to the shuttle’s floor and let out a soft sigh. The last thing he wanted to see was the scrapping of the ships left in the repair dock. If they were scrapped, they wouldn’t be able to rejoin the war effort and help defend humanity. The Austro separatists that used the war to aid in their goal of an independent planet had –- by declaring neutrality -- placed that much of a burden on the rest of Earth’s children.
The Log of the Gray Wolf (Star Wolf Squadron Book 1) Page 1