Star Wolf (Shattered Galaxy)

by David G. Johnson

  Molon watched the window to normal space appear ahead. Nothing but stars showed through the narrow portal, but any experienced spacer knew enough to keep clear of the dead-on front of a voidspace jump point. There was a lot of space they wouldn’t be able to see until they had completed the transition back into real space. An entire fleet could be waiting outside the VEP, and they wouldn’t know it.

  “Warbird.”

  “Yes, captain?”

  “Have a secondary course plotted back into this VEP to Tede. How long will it take to reverse course at best speed?”

  “We will hit normal space with considerable momentum. Maybe two minutes tops to reverse course and get lined up to hit the VEP again.”

  “Queue that up. If sensors pick up anything bigger than a System Express boat near that jump point, don’t wait for an order, drop in that secondary course.”

  “Aye captain.”

  “Twitch, if it comes to it I need you to shave that two minutes as close as you can while readying evasive maneuvers.”

  “Mmm,” Twitch responded.

  Molon knew Twitch was mostly gone from the bridge now. Her mind was immersed in the helm control system. She was tied into the external sensors, astrogation, and more, feeding her all the info she needed to pilot Star Wolf, but she wouldn’t be an active contributor to any conversation until she knew they were safely on course and not in need of speed-of-thought piloting anymore. There wasn’t a better pilot in the galaxy to have in that chair.

  Molon had taken ships into known danger hundreds of times. That was never as bad as the waiting when he had no idea what to expect. Even with Twitch at the helm and jacked in, and even with every one of his top officers at their stations, Molon couldn’t stop himself from revisiting his mental checklist to make sure he had taken every precaution to ready them for whatever might lie ahead.

  The nausea that always accompanied transition peaked and suddenly subsided. This time, the quiet fwwp sound the VS drive normally sent shuddering through the ship, marking the completion of transition out of voidspace, was drowned beneath a blaring crescendo of alarms.

  “Holy crapoli!” announced Lieutenant JG Jerry “Hoot” Barundi from the bridge sensor station. “We got a Nova-class cruiser, ten kilotons, and a squadron of long-range assault fighters in close proximity.”

  Hoot was the last senior bridge officer and right behind Warbird in the chain of command. He was good, if sometimes a bit over-excitable. A whiz kid with ship’s sensors, he was also the most broadly skilled bridge officer on board. Hoot’s background with System Defense Command gave him a wide spectrum of skills, and the ability to fill in at any bridge station aside from security and engineering. The more relaxed discipline of the SDC also freed him from the communication formalities observed by most former military officers.

  “ID on that cruiser?” Molon asked.

  “Transponder shows ICR Revenge.”

  “Dreck!” Molon snarled. “A Provisional Imperium ship. Twitch, back into voidspace now!” Molon barked at the helmsman.

  “Mmm,” Twitch mumbled, the helm interface plugged into her CID flashing wildly in response.

  “No joy on reentering this VEP, captain,” Hoot interjected.

  “Why not?” Molon growled, his face showing irritation at being countermanded by his sensor officer.

  “Those fighters have voidspace disruption emitters. They fired them up as soon as helm punched in that reverse course. This door is closed.”

  “What the…?” Molon started. “VDE’s are tech fifteen toys. Since when does the Imperium have half a dozen of them to mount on fighters?”

  “Fighter transponders show Dawnstar IDs” Hoot replied.

  “Of course they do,” Molon snapped. “Who else would it be? Warbird, lay in the course for the rabbit hole. Twitch, evasive maneuvers but get us hauling hull toward that jump point. We can outrun the cruiser, but those fighters are another matter. If they pursue, those VDEs are going to lock us out of voidspace anywhere we go.”

  “Fire orders, captain?” Voide asked.

  Star Wolf’s security station was also the station that commanded ship’s weapons.

  Clearly the Pariah was itching for a fight.

  “Load two blinder missiles, and drop them between us and that cruiser. That’ll buy us a minute or so before they can target their big guns. We aren’t sticking around to slug it out here, not in range of that cruiser anyway.”

  “Aye sir,” Voide answered, clearly disappointed at the distract-and-run orders.

  If it were up to Voide, she’d fly Star Wolf right up that cruiser’s exhaust ports, guns-a-blazing. Retreat wasn’t in her vocabulary. Fortunately for them all, Molon was in charge, and he was a firm believer in discretion being the better part of valor.

  “Hoot, is that big son-of-a-gun sporting a spinal mount weapon?”

  “Not as far as I can tell.”

  “Double-dreck!” Molon swore. “This just keeps getting better. Voide, get your security teams geared up and ready to repel boarders. If that cruiser ain’t carrying a spinal, she’ll be chock full of assault craft. We won’t be able to outrun this fight.”

  Voide nodded, punching up the remote status transmitter from her bridge panel to her wrist module. She called for Lieutenant JG Angelica “Halo” Dickenson, to report to the bridge and take over as weapons officer, before sprinting out the port forward portal.

  “Captain,” Mel said. “The cruiser is hailing us.”

  “I doubt they want to talk about the weather. Broadcast the PI signal code for comms down. Let them suck on static for a while. We can always exchange pleasantries if we run out of other options.”

  “Aye, sir. Transmitting comm damage code now.”

  “Good. Now switch comms control to my station, and get John to engineering. Tell Dub I want the two of you dressed like deck hands and into vac-suits. If we’re lucky these guys won’t know John by sight, so a little masquerade ball can buy us some time if we get boarded.”

  “No, captain,” John objected. “This is my fault. If we can’t get away and the ship gets boarded, trade me for your freedom. I never meant for anyone else to get hurt because of me.”

  “A noble gesture,” Molon replied, “but useless. PI troops don’t negotiate, and you already know what Dawnstar’s hospitality feels like. Do what I tell you. You’ve had vac-suit training, I hope?”

  “Yeah, the basics anyways.”

  “Then get to engineering now and suit up.”

  “But captain, I—”

  Molon turned to Mel. He couldn’t believe what he was about to do.

  “Mel,” he said, cutting John off mid-sentence and giving his Fei communications officer a knowing look, “get him out of here now, whatever it takes.”

  Before John had a chance to complete his objection, Mel grabbed his hand.

  “John, come with me to engineering.”

  “Yes,” John said, with a hazy tone in his voice. “Let’s go to engineering.”

  The two of them exited through the same door Voide had, passing Halo on her way in.

  “Lieutenant JG Dickenson reporting as ordered, captain,” Halo announced, not waiting for acknowledgement before assuming her post at the security and weapons station.

  “Halo, if you can get a missile solution on any of those fighters, fire at your discretion.”

  “Aye, captain.”

  Molon punched up general comms on his chair panel.

  “Attention all personnel: report to your assigned anti-boarding battle stations. All shifts report, this is not a drill. Vac-suit protocol initiated. Hull depressurization in ten minutes.”

  He reached into the compartment under his chair and retrieved his fitted vacuum helmet, attaching it to the collar seal on his boarding vac-suit. All other bridge officers did the same, even Twitch who was careful to maneuver her vac-suit helmet gingerly around the interface module currently jacked into her CID.

  “Hoot,” Molon asked via the suit comms. “Those
fighters aren’t firing on us yet?”

  “Nope. Half are hanging around the VEP to Tede, the other half are following us toward the rabbit hole. Those VDE’s are one heck of a power drain. I doubt they can keep them powered and fire energy weapons at the same time. Scans show they’re not equipped with slug-throwers, lucky for us.”

  “And the cruiser?”

  “Big boy ain’t firing either. They should have a firing solution on us by now. They seem more interested in keeping us here than blowing us to pieces.”

  “That’s what worries me,” Molon replied. “Keep an eye on the bow of that cruiser. She’s going to puke assault craft any minute now. Let me know when that happens.”

  “You bet!”

  “Twitch,” Molon said, knowing that even when fully jacked in, his XO could still hear his commands. “We aren’t going to outrun the fighters to the rabbit hole, but if we can draw the fighters out from under the protection of the cruiser’s guns, we can turn and engage them. Make best vector to get and keep us as far as possible from that beast.”

  “Already…on…it,” Twitch replied, a little sluggishly as she pulled out of VR enough to respond. “Been dropping klicks between us and that cruiser since we arrived. Now if you will excuse me, I have an exciting VR program to return to. I think a starship battle is about to happen and I don’t want to miss a second of the show.”

  “Smart aleck,” Molon replied but was grateful Twitch was at the helm. If they needed evasive maneuvers, he would rather Star Wolf be executing them as fast as Twitch could think.

  “Hoo-whee, you called it, captain,” Hoot announced.

  “What now?” Molon asked, growing a little impatient at Hoot’s casual communication style.

  “Six assault transports and four heavy gunboats just left the cruiser headed our way. Assuming current speed and the class of those ships, we’ll be in range of the gunboats in twelve minutes. The assault transports will close to boarding distance in twenty-three.”

  “Boom-Boom,” Molon called to the engineering station. “Prepare to depressurize all decks.”

  “Aye, captain. I already cued depressurization to match your earlier command. Depressurization in eight minutes.”

  “Gotta love a crew on their toes,” Molon remarked. “We might get through this yet.”

  “You do realize,” Hoot responded, “we’re still in range of that cruiser. Those blinders are long expired. If the big boy hasn’t vaporized us yet, chances are those gunboats aren’t going to open fire either.”

  “Half a dozen long-range fighters locking down any VEPs and a half dozen assault transports en route, why waste the energy?” Molon answered; not even sure he was convincing himself but liking the alternative even less. “Maybe they want to pick through the scraps. That cruiser’s guns wouldn’t leave enough of Star Wolf to recycle.”

  “Yeah,” Hoot replied, “but they only need one of those fighters on each end to keep a VDE field up and lock us out of voidspace. They could have switched the rest to guns hot if they wanted to engage. They mean to take the ship intact.”

  “I noticed that,” Molon said, resigning himself to the fact that the all-too-familiar pattern in their tactics told a tale he had hoped never to hear again. “Rest assured, I fully intend to test their resolve on that point.”

  Molon knew there was one sure way to confirm if his instinct was correct.

  “Halo.”

  “Yes, captain?”

  “Calculate a full firing solution on the two leading assault transports, all weapons. Thirty seconds before we hit the weapons range of those gunboats, Twitch is going to do an about-face and blow past the gunboats full speed. I want you to say a weapons-hot hello to our inbound guests. We have a range advantage, so let’s see how determined they are to keep their fingers off the trigger.”

  “Aye, captain,” Halo replied. “If Twitch can give me a forward firing vector, I’ll light ‘em up.”

  “Twitch,” Molon said, turning once again to his helmsman and executive officer. “Assuming they don’t go guns hot after our little greeting, they definitely intend to board us. Make them work for it, would you?”

  “Mmm,” Twitch mumbled and gave the slightest hint of a nod as the control module plugged into her CID continued to pulsate wildly as it processed her mental piloting commands.

  “Halo, after that initial howdy, you have free-fire orders. Be ready, though. With Twitch flying evasive, it’s going to be a bit like shooting darts, during an earthquake…while drunk.”

  “No worries, captain,” Halo replied with a smirk. “I’ve had practice at that.”

  “I bet you have,” Molon laughed.

  *****

  John watched hazily as the corridors scrolled by them. It was like a calm-filled dream. The faces of the crewmen they passed looked grim and determined, but all John felt was the warmth and peace of Mel’s hand in his. He could not escape the nagging thought struggling to break into his consciousness that there was something important he was forgetting, but somehow, strolling hand in hand with Mel, none of that mattered. Without knowing why, he was reassured that things were exactly as they were supposed to be.

  They walked into engineering. The large, malmorph chief engineer snapped a glance in their direction as he was struggling to don an oversized vac-suit.

  “What are you two doing here?” Dub asked, flashing a familiar sarcastic smile. “Did Cap lose the bridge already?”

  “Molon asked that I bring John here,” Mel replied, “He wants him disguised as a deck hand. Boarding is imminent, and the captain suspects John is their target.”

  “Ah, hide and seek; fair enough. In that room there,” Dub said, gesturing toward a door marked EMERGENCY GEAR, “you’ll find lockers with spare deck crew jump suits and engineering vac-suits. Hurry up and get changed. Cap’s gonna depressurize this place in about five minutes.”

  Mel gently tugged John’s hand. He found himself compelled to follow her toward the door. Once inside the room filled with storage lockers, she released her grasp.

  John’s emotions pounded him like a tsunami. He remembered leaving the bridge and the journey here, but giving up without a fight was not in his nature. He recoiled from the blue-skinned comms officer.

  “What’d you do to me?”

  “John, please, there will be time to explain later.”

  “Explain now!”

  “If you do not get into this vac-suit immediately, you will be dead, and the explanation will no longer matter.”

  John was far from done, but reality was what it was. He retreated around a row of lockers, using them as a visual barrier between himself and Mel while they changed. He wasn’t sure what the Fei rules on modesty were, but at the moment they also served as a barrier between himself and whatever witchery Mel possessed that robbed him of free will.

  Once changed and vac-suited, John returned to main engineering, not sparing Mel so much as a sideways glance on the way out of the locker room. The vac-suit felt cumbersome. He had been through deep-space training before. He remembered it was standard procedure to shunt the ship’s internal atmosphere into a special, pressurized room when under attack. This kept the vacuum of space from ripping any personnel out through hull breaches caused by battle damage.

  Book knowledge never replaced actual experience, however, and John found the reality of his current predicament almost overwhelming. He lumbered over to Dub, who had also finished suiting up, and addressed the engineering chief through the suit comms.

  “Where do you want me?”

  “Out of my way,” Dub answered. “You and Mel head for the upper deck of the hangar. There will be plenty of cover there, as well as several of the flight crew battle stations, so you won’t look out of place.”

  John’s heart sank at the thought of going anywhere with Mel.

  “Um, what if I just hang out in a corner here, I’ll stay out of the way.”

  “No, you won’t,” Dub snapped. Any hint of his normal jovial nature was nowhere
to be seen. “Engineering wasn’t designed with extra space, and the half second it takes to dodge around you could be the difference between saving and losing the ship. Go to the hangar, the barracks, the mess hall, or anywhere else. You ain’t gotta go home, but you gotta get the heck out of here.”

  John nodded and headed for the exit. While he had been speaking, Mel had slipped up beside him. He heard the suit chime a request for a private comms channel. Against his better judgment, John acknowledged it as they made their way out of engineering and toward the upper hangar.

  “John, please listen.”

  “Listen to what, Mel?”

  “Listen to me.”

  “I’ve heard enough. The captain warns me to be careful around you, and then he puts you on me like an attack dog or something. When you grabbed my hand, I lost myself. I don’t want to be anywhere near you right now.”

  “I understand. It can be quite a discomfiting experience at first.”

  “Discomfiting? You forced me to do something against my will. Discomfiting doesn’t even scratch the surface.”

  “John, I can influence you, and I can strengthen some of your emotions while suppressing others, but I cannot make you do anything you don’t want, on some level, to do.”

  “I didn’t want to leave the bridge.”

  “Yes, you did,” Mel replied.

  All emotion had left her voice. John recoiled at her stark reply. What was she implying?

  “This crew is about to fight, and maybe die for me. I never wanted that. Going back for Elena was my burden. I never thought it would drag you all into such danger.”

  “Yes, you did, John,” Mel repeated.

  A flash of anger jumped into John’s throat. This Fei had just called him a liar. Yet somewhere in his gut he knew there was truth in her words. On some level he had known that returning to Ratuen would lead to this.

  The ship lurched wildly, with the gravitic stabilizers straining to compensate. The shudder of the ship’s weapons firing vibrated through the now-depressurized, soundless corridor. Whatever he had left behind on the bridge, it was clear that Star Wolf was now fighting for her life against whatever was coming.