The Log of the Gray Wolf (Star Wolf Squadron Book 1)

by Shane VanAulen

“What do you mean?” the Minister demanded, sensing that this was more than a case of a runaway ship.

  The Hawk ignored him and kept his gaze on his old friend.

  “John, you were once a Confederation captain, so you know my answer. You have a decision to make for yourself and you have…” he paused, looking over to Commander Richards.

  “Forty-five minutes until we reach the bender point,” Richards said and continued, “The two Austro cutters by the well haven’t moved.”

  “Sir, the Karduan ships and Austro cutters are just passing the repair station in a pursuit course,” the maser operator reported as he had been instructed.

  Admiral Kirkland’s face took on a horrible look as he stared at Hope.

  “Good God, Randolph! You’re not going to blow up the repair station?”

  The Hawk smiled, but shook his head.

  “Nothing as dramatic as that,” he replied, turning his chair toward Martin and the comm. chief’s positions. “Mister Daley, Chief Parker, are we ready with your and Commander Hutton’s little surprises?”

  “Aye, sir!” the men sang back together. The looks on their faces were ones of mischievous glee.

  “Excellent, please implement phase one,” he ordered, turning his chair back to the main holo screen.

  The minister and admiral seemed confused. "What’s going on?” Rutford inquired in a much meeker voice.

  “Wait and see,” Mike said with an evil grin.

  The Austro Defense Cutter ADS Resistance and her sister ship the ADS Shield had taken up parallel courses to the three Karduan ships. The two destroyer escorts had leaped to the pursuit and had pulled ahead of the slower Karduan destroyer. The cutters could have easily outraced all three of them, but had been ordered to hold back and support, not initiate any attacks on either the Confederation cruiser and absolutely not on the Karduans.

  The Karduans’ position currently put them in between the repair station and the cutters. At that moment, a shuttle was launched from the repair station’s docking port and accelerated towards the nearest ship, the Karduan destroyer KD 1257.

  “This is ministry shuttle pilot Ken Usheiba calling any Karduan ship,” announced a broadcast on an emergency frequency.

  “Go ahead, shuttle,” a female Karduan operator replied.

  A picture appeared over the view screen of Ken Usheiba behind the controls of his shuttle; the compartment door was open, and in the background was the seated and unconscious form of Lady Siel-Ca. Her male servant was currently attending her. “We’ve taken casualties including her Ladyship’s guards, and the Lady Siel-Ca is badly wounded.”

  “Hold,” was the one-word reply from the Karduan comm. officer as she relayed information and waited for instructions.

  Bre-Nan rushed from his lady’s side to the shuttle’s comm. screen. “Please hurry, my lady is not well, and I don’t know how long until she passes!”

  An answer was quickly forthcoming. “Continue on course and dock at our upper portside airlock,” the Karduan destroyer ordered. “A medical team will be standing by.”

  A standard bio-screen and a voice identification scan had been completed in those few short minutes. The scan indicated that the voice of both the pilot and the male servant were genuine, and a bio-scan showed that there were three lives onboard, one of which was fading fast.

  “Roger that!” Ken returned, and continued on course at full speed. “Could you cut your engines so I can alter course to catch up to you without getting vaporized?”

  “Affirmative,” was their sole reply as the Karduan destroyer shut down their engines and coasted on its inertia.

  As Usheiba approached the destroyer, he still had yet to cut his speed or start to use his breaking thrusters. Instead, his course changed slightly as his shuttle -- at full speed -- slammed into the rear of the destroyer’s engine. The resulting explosion due to the lack of gravity in space kind of pushed and rocked the ship, and through inertia, continued its forward movement. It effectively no longer had an engine.

  The shuttle had been packed with all of the excess plasma and fissionable materials available as well as any unusable conventional explosives that the station and remaining ships had to provide. Commander Hutton had set up the explosives to blow on command, or in this case, they simply blew as it crashed into the powered-down engine core.

  Martin had scanned the images of the shuttle’s three occupants and had created the interactive simulation. He had rigged the shuttle’s life-support computer to broadcast the life signs of the imaginary passengers. The shuttle had a preprogrammed flight path, which would continue on course with or without the destroyer’s permission.

  The Karduan destroyer escorts and Austro cutters seemed to stall in space, uncertain what to do as the destroyer rocked with a second internal explosion. From the far side of the repair station, the ISS Rebecca’s engines came to life, and the old and badly damaged minesweeper pulled away from the dock.

  “What the hell?” the Captain of ADS Resistance exclaimed as he watched not only the destruction of the Karduan destroyer, but also the derelict Confederation minesweeper as it pulled out and into space.

  Across the system, the ISS Star Wolf had a different reaction as the cheers of the crew drowned out the captain’s commands.

  Once the bridge had settled down, Hope looked to his old friend.

  “All right, John, here is your out,” he started as he watched the smiling face of the old admiral. Kirkland was the Commander of the Austro Defense Forces, but in his heart, he was still a Confederation captain.

  He nodded as he wiped a tear of joy from his eye.

  “What’s your offer?” he asked.

  “You can’t be serious,” Rutford started to protest, but was quickly dragged out into the hall by Collins and a nearby guard.

  Hope pointed to the main holo screen with a laser pen, outlining his plan.

  “Have your central command order your cutters to offer assistance to the Karduans, which they will probably refuse. Then have one cutter chase after the Rebecca, and make sure they take their time catching her and searching her. Have your other cutter board the station to make sure we didn’t rig its power core to implode.”

  “Did you?”

  “Of course we did, but play ball, and I’ll give you the deactivation code. The Austro government can then use the station as a peace offering to the Karduans to repair their damaged destroyer.”

  The admiral wiped the sweat from his face and looked from the holo screen to his old friend and fellow strategist. “And the other two cutters at the gravity well?”

  Hope shrugged. “One could have engine trouble, and the other we could just put a single shot through their drives. They could then withdraw honorably from battle with the scars to prove it.”

  Kirkland hesitated, considering the chances of the two cutters and remaining Karduan ships taking on the cruiser in battle.

  The Hawk sensed his thoughts and added, “If we are forced to fight, I guarantee you that I will blow your cutters from the stars.”

  Letting out a loud sigh, he admitted his defeat. “Very well, Randolph, I’ll give the order, but I can’t guarantee they will go along with it.”

  “That’s another problem.” Pivoting his chair a little, he looked over his shoulder. “Mister Collins, please bring the minister back in here.”

  Mr. Rutford didn’t look happy, but at the same time he seemed more cowed then he had before.

  “What do you want?” he asked, figuring out some kind of a deal had been reached while he was out of the room.

  The Hawk smiled, which sent a shiver down the minister’s spine.

  “I have effectively taken two privateer ships and the Karduan destroyer out of this fight. I have destroyed one of your planetary defense platforms and have sent the Rebecca on a collision course with the civilian space station. I have set the power core on the repair station to implode, and only God knows how much of the station will rain down on the planet below. I have promis
ed the admiral here that if I have to fight your cutters, I will concentrate all of my fire on them and totally ignore the Karduans. This would effectively leave Austro Prime open to an easy invasion and occupation,” the old captain paused, letting his words sink in.

  “I have given Admiral Kirkland a way out, where you’ll be able to save both of the stations and your defense cutters from harm. What I want from you is your support and for you to order the ministry to carry out the admiral’s commands.”

  The Minister of Interior’s mouth had inadvertently opened, and he looked shocked that such a once-respected officer would result to terrorist tactics. “I… I-” he started, but was interrupted.

  “Give us a moment, Randolph,” Kirkland requested, grabbing the minister’s arm and pulling him to the side to converse.

  Masters leaned close to Hope and smiled. “Remind me not to play poker with you,” he whispered.

  The Hawk bent towards him. “Who said I was bluffing?” he said with a straight face and then he cracked a very faint smile.

  The old marine didn’t know how to take it, and he made a mental note to be careful if he ever played cards with him for real money.

  The admiral quickly filled him in on the plan to keep their ships busy while the Karduans and the cruiser fought it out.

  “Listen, Rutford, his plan lets us look as if we are doing our part and holding up the treaty. If we actively go after him, this cruiser will blow our cutters from space.”

  The minister looked unconvinced, having had a moment to catch his breath and get his bearings. “No, it would only lead to the Karduan commanders pointing the finger at us and placing the blame on us,” he argued, shaking his head and frowning.

  The admiral looked exasperated, but you don’t get to be a flag officer without playing the political game.

  “Think of it this way: you’ll be the man who personally braved the danger and saved the destruction of two space stations and considerable damage to the planet,” he said, playing on the man’s vanity and political ambition.

  His squinty eyes flashed as the thought of being the savior of Austro Prime crossed his mind. “But I’d have to be there to sell it and make sure the Karduans bought our side of it. Perhaps if I and the Karduan ambassador were left behind, it would work; a sign of good faith, so to speak.”

  Unbeknownst to them, Captain Hope had been eavesdropping and answered before they had even had a chance to pose their request.

  “I’ll drop you off in a life pod before we bend, but I won’t relinquish our other prisoners.”

  His face was set like a stone statute’s, and anyone looking at it could tell that there was no further negotiating with him.

  The Minister of the Interior looked discontented, but nodded his agreement. “Deal!” he said, and was then escorted to the communications station to send his orders.

  “Sir, the two Karduan destroyer escorts have resumed their pursuit course,” Lewis at the maser station sang out.

  “They didn’t stop to help their destroyer!” the Austro Admiral exclaimed, surprised at their callousness.

  “Humph! That’s Austro Prime’s ally,” Masters commented, his words sending a message to those around them.

  As the bridge calmed down a red light started flashing on the helm’s panel.

  “Mister Dover, what’s the problem?” Richard asked as he rushed to the helm controls.

  Alister ran over the systems and shook his head. “It looks like we’ve lost power. The port engine has cut out and we are traveling on inertia.”

  “Can we make the gravity well ahead of the pursuit ships?” Hope asked, leaning forward in his chair to better hear his answer.

  “No, sir, even with our lead, they will catch us five minutes before we reach the bend point.” His words sounded as a death sentence, and the room became quiet.

  The Hawk peered at the main holo-viewer in thought. Without looking away, he gave an order. “Mister Collins, Mister Daley, and Gunny, get down to engineering and see what you can do.”

  Hutton thought that it was amazing that the old man had remembered his time in the engine rooms of the old ISS Bunker Hill from just reading his 201-file’s service jacket. It was funny because it was that experience which had convinced him to push for Imperial Special Forces training, a.k.a. Commando School.

  Reaching the engine room, he saw that the place was still a huge mess. Jury-rigged relays and patched control panels seemed to cover the place. It reminded him of the Hill; the old ship always seemed to be two steps ahead of blowing itself to bits. The sight of the place made him wonder where the old girl was now.

  Finally getting to the control room, he found the chief warrant officer, who the men had called “the Padre”, along with Mister Cappilo, and a half dozen midshipmen and veterans.

  “What’s the status of the starboard engine?” he asked, getting a half-dozen evil looks in return for his question.

  The Padre took his question in stride.

  “We’re having trouble with the helium-3 hydrogen mix to the fusion drives of the port engine. We haven’t had time to try a restart of the starboard engines. Commander could you and Mister Cappilo give it a try?”

  Hutton gave the middy a grin, and together they left to run a diagnostic of the starboard engines. It was time-consuming, and though they knew a battle was going on, they continued to work and try to eliminate system by system as they looked for the problem that kept the new engine from starting.

  When Martin, Masters, and Mike showed up to the engineering section, it was in a total panic. A pressure value had failed, and the heilum-3 and hydrogen mix had become too rich. They quickly performed an emergency shutdown to avert a disaster.

  Martin saw Hutton and Cappilo over at the starboard engine computer’s controls. “I’ll go give them a hand with the starboard engines.”

  Mike nodded to his friend and turned back to their other problem.

  “Padre, how soon until we can try a restart?” he asked as he and the Gunny rushed over to help. Along with six other crewmen they hoisted up a replacement control vent.

  “At least an hour to replace the valve and to seal it,” he said, holding a laser torch to the vent’s seam.

  On the bridge, the news from engineering was grim as the thought of losing started to sink in.

  “You could surrender, Randolph,” Kirkland suggested, “You’ve given it a good run, and I’ll guarantee you internment on Austro for you and your men for the rest of the war.”

  Hope was silent, unwilling to throw in the towel yet.

  “How soon until we are in their weapon’s range?”

  “Twenty minutes, sir,” the maser station reported.

  Richards slammed his hand down on the panel causing the holo image to flicker. “If we could only slow them down, we’d at least reach the bend point.”

  “Prepare missiles,” Hope ordered, wanting to throw something at them, and with any luck, give them pause.

  “Sorry, sir, we have four missile turrets from the Rebecca, but no missiles,” the first officer reported.

  Pausing, the Hawk considered his options. “Torpedoes,” he called.

  “No torpedoes either,” Dover replied from the helm controls.

  “Have the stern particle cannon turret commence firing when they are in our range,” he commanded to a suddenly silent room, which made him ask, “What’s wrong now?”

  Richards was the bearer of the bad news this time. “The stern turret is still damaged and can’t rotate rearward.”

  Hope let out a sigh and rubbed his face with his left hand.

  “What do we have?” he inquired and added, “Can we at least blow out a garbage bin at them?”

  The bridge crew nervously chuckled. It made them all feel a little better, but the situation was still grave.

  “That’s it!” Dover exclaimed, spinning about in his seat. The look on his face was bright, and filled the room with hope. “Sir, we found twelve type four plasma mines in the hold of the Re
becca!”

  The Hawk’s eyes opened wide and then narrowed as he grinned. “Where are they now?”

  “Cargo hold three, near engineering,” Alister said and looked to his scope, which was tied in with the maser station’s readout. “If we drop them directly behind us, it may cause the enemy to change their course and buy us some time.”

  “Not enough mines or enough time to help,” Richards added, being a realist.

  Hope brought his hand to his chin and rubbed it.

  “There is enough for what I have in mind.”

  The call came for Mike, the Gunny, and Hutton to leave the ailing engines and to go to the hold containing the mines.

  Upon seeing them, the navy commando wrinkled his brow in confusion.

  “Where the hell are the type and yield markings?” he wondered, looking each of the mines over in search of their nomenclature numbers.

  He recognized the mines as type four anti-ship mines. The mines were made entirely with special plastex alloys to avoid detection by even the most modern detection scanners. Hutton had been trained to take apart most types of ordinance to use their payloads as impromptu demolitions. In all his years, he had never seen anything with an explosive charge mislabeled or, even worse, not labeled at all.

  “That’s how we found them,” Mike commented, pulling a mine from its storage frame. “We thought the same thing, and that’s probably why they were in the Rebecca’s food storage hold instead of a mine rack or having been deployed.”

  “We should count our lucky stars; it is also likely that that’s why they were overlooked when all the other ordnance was removed from the Rebecca,” Masters added as they loaded two of the mines onto an automated cart.

  Regardless of their yield or the mystery of their origin, they had no other options, and quickly prepared the two mines to be detonated on command.

  “Wait until they have almost caught up to us and we are almost in their range,” Hope instructed as he sat back and waited, trying to look calm and in control. He was as worried as any man in the crew, but he had no one to look to but himself and his experience.