Star Wolf (Shattered Galaxy)

by David G. Johnson

  “Oh,” John answered, sighing with relief that Molon was not going to probe the events on Ratuen any further. “The home base of the Theocracy of the Faithful is in Orenc subsector C, around a star system called Hiped. The nickname for it within the Theocracy is Haven.”

  “Ah, I see,” Molon replied, nodding. “Well, do you have anyone else you wanna call while we wait?”

  John knew who his next called needed to go to, but something deep inside him still cautioned about fully trusting the Star Wolf crew. If they had any idea what he was worth, the temptation to hold him for ransom would be almost overwhelming. So far, Captain Hawkins had dealt squarely, but John’s gambling instincts were screaming for him not to show his cards just yet.

  Still, there was little other choice at this point. He needed Molon’s cooperation to get back to the surface. John sent another silent prayer heavenward that his faith in his rescuers would prove true. Then he turned to answer Molon.

  “Yes. I need to call my corporation’s headquarters.”

  “Your parents’ corporation, you mean,” Voide said with slyness in her voice that let John know in no uncertain terms his cover story in the briefing room had fooled no one.

  “No, my corporation,” John admitted. “It was my parents’ but I inherited it. If neither Ben nor the Theocracy was behind the rescue, Salzmann Pharmaceuticals is the only other idea I have for who it could have been.”

  John gave Mel the communication codes, and she patched the call through. A thin male in a full business suit popped onto the screen.

  “Salzmann Pharmaceuticals, how may I direct your call?”

  John once again stepped into the center of the bridge and addressed the operator.

  “This is John Salzmann. I need to speak to Chairman Biggs.”

  The young man fidgeted briefly before clearing his throat to reply and affecting a smile.

  “I’m sorry sir, Chairman Biggs is in an emergency meeting of the board of directors and has left explicit instructions that he not be disturbed. Can I put you through to his assistant? I am certain he will return your call as soon as he is out of the meeting.”

  “Young man,” John said, in a commanding tone none on the bridge had heard from the normally amiable doctor. “Did you not hear me? This is John Salzmann, President and CEO of the company that, for the moment at least, issues your pay vouchers. I’m glad the board is in session, as it will give me a chance to speak to all of them. Please, patch me through to the board room now.”

  The young man swallowed visibly and moved a shaky hand toward the comm controls at his desk.

  “Just a moment, Dr. Salzmann. I will see what I can do about patching you into the board room. Please hold.”

  “You do that.”

  The Salzmann Pharmaceuticals logo popped on screen, and pleasant, indistinct music piped through the bridge speakers.

  “Wow, pale,” said Voide, “you do have a backbone hidden deep in there. You should let it out more often.”

  John laughed, not certain if Voide’s comment was an actual compliment or just sarcasm, but he chose to take it as the former.

  “Yeah,” John replied. “I am the terror of interns and entry level clerks everywhere.”

  The nervous youth reappeared, even more rattled than before. His hands shook and his voice wavered his response.

  “Dr. Salzmann, Chairman Biggs says he will be happy to call you as soon as the meeting is concluded if you would leave your comm codes with me.”

  “Son,” John continued, his voice taking on a steely sternness, “patch me into that board room comm system right now or so help me your great, great grandchildren won’t be able to find work on Tede. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, but Chairman Biggs—”

  “Reports to me.”

  “Y-yes sir. Patching you in right away sir.”

  Moments later the image of a room full of stuffed suits filled the screen, with a heavy-set man in a gray pin-striped suit yelling at the rest of the room.

  “Now it is imperative we take this action immediately before it is too late—”

  Awareness that the comm system had been activated suddenly came over the boardroom. The heavy-set man turned and flashed a fake smile in John’s direction.

  “John, we are so glad you could make it for this meeting. We heard rumors you were off planet.”

  John fought the instinct to retch at Biggs’ sycophantic overtures. The guy was a weasel, but he had one of the best financial and business minds on Tede.

  “Yes, Bill. I am so glad you immediately and willingly took my call.”

  John fought back a smirk as Biggs flushed like a card player caught bluffing his last chips into a losing pot.

  “Of course, John,” Chairman Bill Biggs said with a smarmy tone in his voice. “You are always welcome here.”

  “Thanks, Bill. It is comforting to know I am welcome to drop in on board meetings for my company.”

  “Of course, John,” Biggs said as he flushed a deeper red and busied his hands checking something on his datapad. “So what can we do for you?”

  “Maybe nothing. Given your statement about the rumors of me being off planet, I take it you were not aware that Elena and I had been kidnapped?”

  The fat man fidgeted, and several exchanged glances from the others present in the boardroom spoke volumes.

  “Kidnapped? Oh, goodness no,” Biggs said, fumbling with his fingers before wringing his hands. “We had no idea.”

  “So,” John said, a steely tone entering his voice as he glowered at the chairman thorugh the comm system. “You didn’t think it strange that I was suddenly out of touch for weeks?”

  “Well, John,” Biggs said, clearing his throat and reaching for a glass of water. After a large gulp, he continued. “There might have been some whispered scuttlebutt to that effect, but who believes these kinds of things. I mean people being snatched off hermit-worlds isn’t a common occurrence, you know. Most hermit-worlders can’t pay much of a ransom.”

  “Good to know you were skeptical,” John pressed. “So what did you think happened to us, Bill?”

  “Well, John,” Biggs laughed nervously, “you are quite the gambler. We thought you might have taken Elena and gone chasing some card game somewhere, who knows. It is not our place to judge you.”

  “That’s comforting,” John replied and silently stared at Biggs, waiting for the stout man to continue.

  “Still,” Biggs said, finally breaking the nervous silence, “in the best interest of the company, we thought it best to call an emergency meeting to discuss all possibilities.”

  “Doubtless those possibilities involve the disposition of my voting shares should I fail to turn up in a reasonable time?” John asked.

  Sweat beaded on Bill Bigg’s forehead. A few more sideways glances told John his guess was right on the money.

  “Among so many other things, yes, John, that was one item on the agenda. Fortunately, you are fine, and we can table that discussion for another time.”

  “Don’t worry, I will relieve you of that burden. Larry,” John said addressing Lawrence Filburne, Salzmann Pharmaceuticals’ chief legal counsel.

  “Yes John,” Filburne answered.

  “Get in touch with Saul Peterson, my personal attorney, today. He has in his possession a folder labeled Sigma Initiative. Work with him through everything needed to implement this plan right away.”

  “Yes sir,” Filburne answered.

  “Uh, John,” Biggs interjected, “what exactly is this Sigma Initiative? Shouldn’t you discuss the details with the board before enacting a new policy?”

  John flashed the heavy-set chairman a condescending smile. John had put off this showdown for too long. It was sad that it took such a violent and tragic set of circumstances for him finally to pull the trigger on this.

  “You are right, Bill. So, while I have you all here, let me lay it out for you. Last year I set up a trust of investors called the Sigma Seven. The Sigma Initiat
ive contains all the paperwork to ensure, in the event of my death or extended absence, that voting control of my shares will default to this Sigma Seven trust.”

  Biggs was clearly flustered, and a number of other board members looked as if they were on the verge of coming out of their seats.

  “Who are these people?” Biggs objected. “You can’t just turn voting control over to strangers. They haven’t been vetted by the board. This is highly irregular.”

  “Nevertheless, Larry will work through everything with Saul and will verify that everything is legal and proper. The board won’t need to worry about the disposition of my voting shares in the future.”

  “But, John!” Biggs said, his voice rising to a semi-shriek and the nervous perspiration on his face changing to a deep crimson flush of frustration.

  “No need to thank me, Bill, I am happy to take one more worry off your already busy plate. Now you can move on to all the other items on your agenda. I will leave you to it. Keep up the good work, everyone.”

  John nodded to Mel who cut the connection before Biggs could voice another objection.

  “Well, that was fun,” John said flashing a smile toward Molon. “Unfortunately it appears my company wasn’t behind the rescue attempt either, although I wouldn’t necessarily rule them out of being involved in me going missing in the first place.”

  “Seriously?” Molon asked, his ears twitching forward and a lupine scowl crawling over his features.

  “No, not really,” John sighed. “Biggs might have the motive and desire to act directly against me, but the guy has all the spine and fortitude of seaweed.”

  “Well,” Molon replied, shaking his head, “unless you have any other ideas about the possible identity of our patron, there isn’t much else to do but wait.”

  “Actually captain,” John answered rubbing his chin as his head buzzed with an idea, “there is.”

  Molon raised an eyebrow and waited for John to elaborate.

  “I’d like to go back to my house and take a look around, maybe pick up a few things. If I won’t be free to leave until the contract is settled, at least I can grab a bit of home while I wait.”

  “That should be fine,” Molon nodded.

  “Captain?” Twitch interrupted.

  “What’s up, Twitch?” Molon answered.

  “We need to make a supply run. We may not be able to restock armaments here on this hermit-world, but quite a few supplies we need should be available.”

  “Good call. Assemble a resupply detail: humans only as you might need to venture outside the secure starport area to get the supplies we need.”

  “Voide,” he said, turning to his security chief. “It looks like we’re going dirtside. Prep for an undercover infil-exfil op, and meet us in the shuttle bay 0800 Elucia City local time. You’ll be escorting John to his house and back.”

  “Undercover?” Voide asked.

  “Yeah. We don’t know for sure locals weren’t involved in the Salzmanns getting snatched, so I don’t want him exposed any longer than necessary, and I sure don’t want him going anywhere unescorted. I’ll wait in the starport for our patron to call.”

  “Aye, sir,” Voide acknowledged.

  “Mel,” Molon continued, turning to his comms officer. “As soon as you get any response to our message, patch it through the cargo STS to my personal communicator.”

  “Yes, Molon.”

  “I hope you understand, Doc,” Molon continued, returning his gaze to John. “I don’t want you out of sight until everything is settled with this mystery patron. Like it or not, you are our living pay voucher for this one.”

  “I understand,” John replied, wondering if he would become a captive if the mysterious patron didn’t respond.

  John’s stomach churned as he wrestled with how to broach the next subject wracking his mind without appearing to undermine the captain’s authority. He had no desire to make a nuisance of himself, but he couldn’t reconcile Molon’s promise to abide by Tede’s anti-alien laws with the just-uttered instruction to the Prophane Pariah security chief to escort him home.

  “Um, no offense, captain,” John interrupted, lowering his voice so that hopefully only Molon might hear, “but have you forgotten Ben’s cautioning regarding Tede law?”

  “What do you mean?” Molon asked.

  “Well, captain,” John paused, trying to figure the least-offensive way to proceed. “The starport authorities will never let Voide out of the secure zone. You might need to arrange a human escort, if you insist an escort is necessary.”

  Voide’s hearing had to be more sensitive than John gave her credit for. She flashed John a feral grin.

  “What’s the matter, pale? You don’t like my company?”

  John didn’t want to honestly answer that question. He wasn’t crazy about the idea of being alone with the Pariah, but fortunately he had another answer that was equally true.

  “It’s not about that. The law says no non-human sophonts outside the starport secure area.”

  “Don’t worry, pale,” Voide replied. “It won’t be a problem.”

  *****

  The door chime to Molon’s quarters sounded.

  “Come.”

  Twitch strode in, headed straight for the cabinet where Molon kept his best brandy, and poured herself a double before dropping onto his couch.

  “Make yourself at home,” Molon quipped.

  “Don’t I always?”

  “True,” Molon replied. “Still, a full glass right off the bat? Usually we have to argue for half an hour before you work up to a full glass.”

  “You want one?” Twitch asked. “This is going to be a double-sized convo.”

  “Sure, thanks,” Molon replied.

  “Well, help yourself,” Twitch said without budging off the couch. “It’s top notch stuff.”

  Molon grinned at his XO before getting up, walking over to the cabinet, and pouring a full glass of his own. If Twitch said booze was going to help whatever she came to talk about, he believed her.

  “Thanks for sharing my booze,” Molon said with a grin. “That’s very generous of me.”

  “Anytime,” Twitch answered, taking a deep draught of her glass. “Your booze is my booze.”

  “You know,” Molon said with a shake of his head, “on any other ship, this would be considered rank insubordination.”

  “Good thing I’m not on another ship,” Twitch replied with a smile.

  “Or serving a different captain on this one,” Molon quipped.

  “I think you know better,” Twitch replied, her tone growing suddenly serious. “If Star Wolf had a different captain, I wouldn’t be here.”

  “Should I be comforted or worried?” Molon asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Bit of both, actually.”

  Molon and Twitch had been together for a long time. Being around her was like slipping into a comfortable pair of shoes that had been broken in long ago and now just fit like a second skin. She had been his first partner in the Scouts. They had been to remote regions, mapping new worlds and exploring new systems. They had been undercover together, and had saved each other’s behinds more times than he could count.

  They had always been a great team. Molon was the brawn and Twitch was the brains. His job was getting them into messes, and hers had been getting them out of it. He handled the grunt work, and Twitch handled the paperwork. Their old CO in the Scouts had said he had never seen a more perfect pair. Molon trusted Twitch more than he trusted himself.

  “So, I’m guessing you didn’t just drop by to drink up all my brandy and chit-chat, eh?”

  “Nope,” Twitch replied.

  Molon waited, but Twitch just took another drink.

  “So am I supposed to guess, or are you going to tell me what the problem is?”

  “You are, Lobo, as always.”

  Uh oh. Twitch used his call sign. That was never good news.

  “What’d I do now?”

  “Same thing you always do.
You’ve set up what should have been a routine away mission to turn into a real Charlie Foxtrot.”

  Charlie Foxtrot -- phonetic code for the letters C and F. Military personnel used to use the phonetic alphabet to make sure their communications were not misunderstood. Not unlike Twitch, telling him in no uncertain terms that she thought his call was a total cluster-frack.

  “Well, I don’t see it, so enlighten me.”

  “That’s the problem,” Twitch said, suddenly shifting her relaxed posture into a straight-backed stiffness. “You never see it. You have an absolute blind spot when it comes to your crew. How many traitors, turncoats, or spies have we had in the four years we’ve been on Star Wolf?”

  “I dunno,” Molon said rubbing the fur on the back of his neck. “Half a dozen or so.”

  “Fourteen,” Twitch answered.

  “Fourteen?” Molon raised an eyebrow. “That many?”

  “Yeah. And how many of those turnabouts did you see coming, Lobo?”

  Molon took a deep draught of his brandy and rose to get a refill. He knew the answer. It went without saying.

  “That’s right,” Twitch pressed. “None. Because the honorable Molon Hawkins thinks everyone else in the universe plays it just as straight as he does. Join his crew and you can tie a grenade to his tail. He’ll never suspect a thing.”

  “Aw, come on now Twitch. Some of those guys were pros. Who could have spotted them?”

  “Me. In fact, of the eleven you let me meet before you hired them, I warned you against each one. Did you listen? No.”

  Molon slumped back into his desk chair and cocked his head at his XO.

  “And if I’d listened to you, we wouldn’t have half the crew we are running with now. In fact, I recall you said we shouldn’t take on Mel and Voide.”

  “Mel is damaged, Molon,” Twitch said getting up to refill her own glass. “She’s going to crack under pressure, you just wait.”

  “Come on, Twitch, give the kid a break. What she went through on Tetoyl at the hands of that Alpha Pack governor Dragk would have broken most people. She’s stronger than you give her credit for.”

  “She’s cracked, Molon,” Twitch said, dropping heavily back onto the couch. “And the minute you put any pressure on her, she’ll shatter.”