Star Wolf (Shattered Galaxy)

by David G. Johnson

  “You’re a fool, admiral” Mark protested.

  “You may have operational command, Russel, but this is a combat situation. I’m in charge. Now, get off my bridge!”

  “Admiral,” the sensor officer announced. “The carrier has dropped forward screens and opened a bow porthole. It looks like some type of spinal mount assembly, but the weapon is like nothing I have seen before, sir.”

  “What?” Starling shrieked. “A spinal mount on a carrier?”

  “It’s a neural cannon,” Voide announced, matter-of-factly. “Congratulations, admiral, you’ve just killed us all.”

  “Helm,” Starling snapped. “Spin the—”

  Suddenly the bridge was filled with officers grasping their helmets in both hands and writhing out of their seats before collapsing onto the floor. A piercing pain ripped through Voide’s skull.

  Subjecting prospective agents to neural weapons at the GalSec academy was part of the training. The feeling was not unlike the neural grenade that had taken her out in the boarding action on Star Wolf. Well, that is, it would have been similar if someone taped that grenade to five of its friends, shoved them inside her skull, and then set them off in a chain reaction one at a time. Fortunately, she did not endure the agony for long as the merciful darkness of unconsciousness engulfed her.

  Fifteen – Out of the Frying Pan

  Molon’s head throbbed worse than the morning after a three-day bender. Groping blindly to gain a purchase on the world around him, it took him a few moments to realize he was no longer wearing a vac-suit. A strong smell of antiseptic filled the air, and soft linens engulfed him. Unsure of the last time he had eaten, he smacked his lips and tried to swallow away the coppery tang coating the inside of his mouth. Whatever contents might still be in his stomach were lobbying aggressively to make an encore appearance.

  Straining to open his eyes, seeking confirmation that he was still alive, he squinted at the bright, recessed ceiling lights. Blinking several times helped to clear the glaze blurring the world around him. He found himself in what appeared to be a sick bay bed. Beside him, monitors were emitting a gentle, rhythmic pulse, displaying vital signs that seemed to be compelling evidence that he was not, in fact, dead. However, given how he felt, death might be an improvement.

  Molon sat up slowly, trying not to jog what was left of his brain out of his ears. On an identical bunk to his right lay Voide, just now starting to twitch as though she were fighting off her own hangover. Her forearms had been freed of the devices placed on her by the crew of Revenge.

  John lay on a bunk to his left. The doctor had half kicked off his sheets to reveal he was still wearing deck crew coveralls. The chain partially visible around his neck gave Molon hope that the disguised datacube with Elena’s research had not been discovered. John moaned groggily, showing early signs of returning to consciousness. Molon was impressed that the human was fighting off whatever had robbed them of consciousness almost as quickly as Voide was. No one else from the crew was anywhere in sight.

  A middle-aged human woman dressed in a white nun’s habit entered the room.

  “Oh, you are awake, dear” the nun said, beaming. “That’s good. So, how are we feeling today?”

  Her voice was excessively cheerful given Molon’s current state. Now he really felt like throwing up.

  “I don’t know how you feel, sister. I feel like I’ve been kicked in the head by a Dractauri and set on a three-axis tumble through space, but thanks for asking. By the way, where exactly am I?”

  “You are in safe hands, dear,” she replied, with Molon’s sarcasm not deterring her grin in the slightest. “I’ll fetch the doctor. I’m sure he can answer all of your questions.”

  Without another word, she scurried out. Molon glanced around. It looked like the recovery room of a sick bay, but far roomier and better equipped than Star Wolf’s claustrophobic infirmary. From the subtle hum and the almost unnoticeable vibrations running through the flooring and into the bedposts, they were on a ship. Was this still Revenge? Given that the nurse wore a habit like the nuns of the Faithful, he doubted it.

  In walked a man dressed in a white monk’s cassock, followed closely by the grinning, overly chipper nurse. On the monk’s left breast was the mark of a lion, but not the golden lion of the Provisional Imperium. It was the fully maned, red and black lion’s head with an underlying banner bearing the motto Fratres Leonis: Brothers of the Lion.

  Voide grumbled and mumbled as she sat up in bed, sniffing loudly. John rubbed his head and moaned, smacking his lips and scrunching up his face as he struggled to sit up as well. The monk flashed a placating smile as if he were mimicking the nurse’s. Molon wondered if they practiced that in front of a mirror.

  “How are you three feeling?” asked the monk, presumably the doctor whom the grinning nurse had promised.

  “Lousy,” Molon answered, while nothing more than unintelligible moans and grunts came out of Voide and John. “But if you’re a doctor, you probably guessed that.”

  The monk laughed, and the nun-nurse covered her mouth to suppress a giggle.

  “I imagine you have quite the headache. The captain assures me the neural cannon was set at a level to incapacitate the crew of the Revenge without causing permanent damage. Unfortunately, that means you all received the same treatment. Regrettable, but unavoidable. I’m afraid neural weapons aren’t particularly selective. Don’t worry. Preliminary cerebral scans of you and your crew show no permanent damage. Still, you should take it easy for a few days nonetheless.”

  “So, I’m still waiting for someone to tell me where we are. And speaking of my crew, where are the rest of them?”

  “You are aboard the UCA Hornet’s Nest,” the monk-doctor answered.

  “And my crew?”

  “They are safe, I assure you, captain.”

  “You will forgive me if I want more than your assurances, doctor. Who’s in command of this ship?”

  Just then, into the room walked Brother Martin wearing a brown monk’s cassock with the same emblem above the left breast as the doctor wore. He nodded a greeting to Molon.

  “Captain Hawkins, it is so good to see you again. I wish it were under more pleasant circumstances.”

  Molon could not quite choke back a laugh that set his head ringing once again. He knew Brother Martin, and the Brothers of the Lion, were in this deeper than they let on. Their showing up and ambushing Revenge was no coincidence.

  “Just happened to be in the neighborhood, huh? What a lucky break for us I suppose.” Molon made no effort to hide his sarcasm.

  “On the contrary, Captain Hawkins,” Brother Martin said shaking his head and flashing a smug grin. “It was no coincidence at all. We have been following you since you left Tede. I suppose it is a good thing we were.”

  Well, at least he was honest about following them. The question of the day was why. Molon expected he would find out what they really wanted soon enough. Had they figured out John had Elena’s research, or did this oubliette run even deeper?

  Voide, having finally regained what passed for consciousness after a neural weapon brain scramble, cleared her throat.

  “So,” she began in a raspy voice, clearly fighting through considerable pain. “How’d you pew-warmers manage to pull off a proximity jump?”

  “Ah, yes, Captain Smythe is quite something, isn’t he? While technically a mercenary captain, he is also a member of the Faithful, a high-ranking officer in our defense forces, and a wonderful servant of the Lion of Judah. When our brotherhood was based in the Tede system, Smythe had a number of small, jump-capable ships working secretly in the Hatacks system to thoroughly map out rabbit holes in local voidspace. While he was there, he put up shielded micro-transmitters throughout the Hatacks system. We thought it a waste of time, given our plans to relocate our base of operations further within the borders of the Theocracy, but fortunately for you his insistence proved quite providential in the end.”

  “That map would be pretty handy
to have,” Molon said, nearly salivating as he considered what he might be able to trade for such a useful combat tool. “Knowing all the rabbit holes near Hatacks would surely give Enoch enough of an edge to retake that system for the Theocracy.”

  “Why of course,” Brother Martin replied. “Naturally, we sent the information on to Haven as soon as it was completed, Captain. We are on the same side after all. Unfortunately, Enoch isn’t particularly interested in a marginally useful system like Hatacks.”

  “Why not?” John asked, finally composing himself enough to speak, albeit groggily. “Hatacks would make a far more suitable border base than a hermit-world like Tede.”

  “I agree, Dr. Salzmann,” Brother Martin replied, “But Hatacks, with mapped jump points to Hececcrir and Courspoun, would be far too strategic a system for Dawnstar and the Provisional Imperium not to spend considerable resources to retake it. Tede still stands on the Theocracy side of the border only because your hermit-world has nothing worth taking. If it did, I doubt Enoch would commit the resources to defend it. He has his hands full with his Fei allies trying to recapture the worlds occupied by Alpha Pack. He’s entrenched, fighting purely defensively everywhere else.”

  “So, Brother Martin,” Molon interjected, changing the subject away from distant politics and more to immediate concerns. “I’m still waiting for someone to tell me the location of the rest of my crew.”

  “Safe and sound,” answered Brother Martin. “They are receiving the best medical care our order can provide. We didn’t have the bunks aboard Hornet ’s Nest, so I have had your uninjured crew housed back aboard Star Wolf. Our engineers are making repairs to your ship as we speak, assisting your malmorph engineer, Dubronski I believe his name is. Remarkably resilient character that one. He was conscious and alert before we even finished getting the rest of your crew off Revenge.”

  Molon knew malmorphs often received boosts to some of their physical or mental attributes as side effects of the malmorphsy. Dub was highly resistant to intoxicants, a fact Molon had discovered the hard way. Maybe he had some innate resistance to neural weapons as well.

  “Where are our wounded?” John asked. “We had two with severe radiation sickness due to those Imp Marines using radiation rounds.”

  “They are in good hands, doctor, I assure you. Why don’t you all just rest a bit? Brother Zebedee, our senior Brother on board, wants to speak with you as soon as you are up to it.”

  “I want to see our wounded now,” John snapped. Taking a deep breath, he added, “Forgive my rudeness, Brother. I just feel it is my duty to oversee their care personally. They are my responsibility.”

  “So you have joined Star Wolf as the ship’s doctor then, have you, John?” Brother Martin asked, his smile slipping a little.

  “Yes, I have,” John answered.

  “Well, good for you. Everyone needs a place to serve.”

  “I’m glad you approve,” John replied. “So I would appreciate being taken to see my patients now, if you would be so kind.”

  “Fine. Brother Landrus will see to it,” Martin said, losing his smile completely while nodding to the white-cassocked doctor. “And Brother Zebedee will send for you all shortly, captain. Please let Sister Agnes know if you are hungry or require anything at all.”

  Brother Martin turned and left. Brother Landrus, his grin unwavering, spoke softly, extending a hand toward an internal door leading to an adjoining room.

  “Your wounded crewmates are next door in the Critical Care Bay. Our CCB is state of the art, I assure you. We have initiated a Zotroxin system flush and anti-radiation medication. They should be fine in a few hours. I have them scheduled shortly for a regeneration bed session to work on the tissues already damaged by the radiation.”

  “Wow,” John exclaimed as he followed the doctor out of the main sickbay. “Regen beds are TL14. What are monks doing with that kind of tech?”

  “We are ascetics, doctor, not primitives. Quality medical equipment is no more a luxury than starships. Besides, they came with the ship, so it would be wasteful not to use what the Lion has provided.”

  Molon turned to Voide as Brother Landrus escorted John out of the room, with Sister Agnes close behind.

  “So, Security Chief Matsumura,” Molon asked with a lupine grin on his snout. “In your expert opinion, have we been rescued or just upgraded to a more comfortable hoosegow with more congenial jailers?”

  Voide laughed, followed by a grimace that showed it still hurt to do so.

  “I’m a pessimist, captain. The bright side is usually just the side closer to the flames.”

  *****

  The CCB on board Hornet’s Nest was positively dazzling. John had rarely seen planetside hospitals, even on worlds far more advanced than Tede, that were this well outfitted. Much of the equipment here was unfamiliar to him. Was that complex-looking console with spiral leads attached to shining silver discs some type of resuscitator?

  The beeping machine in the corner holding various liquids in an array of tubes, with leads running to beds housing two of his crewmates, must be the apparatus administering the Zotroxin flush. That, at least, was John’s best guess by the color and consistency of the fluids being dispensed. This was a far more complex system than the simple IVs he was used to, but he conjectured this gave precise monitoring and control of the rate of flush, which could be dynamically tailored to each patient’s physiology. This was seriously impressive gear.

  Against the far wall sat two TL14 regen beds, powered up and ready for use. Suddenly, amidst this collection of technological finery, John felt like a dirt-covered farm boy at a high-society cotillion.

  Bobby Lee and Mel were in two of the four CCB beds. Both had forearm-mounted IV cuffs connected to the complex flush machine. John had seen these types of cuff at a medical convention once on Furi. The elongated cuff wrapped around the forearm, keeping the needle safe from accidental removal from the vein while the self-contained medication compartment allowed the patient mobility. In this case, the cuffs were not using the self-contained medication dispensers, but were bypassed by the feeds from the Zotroxin machine.

  “Brother Martin tells me you are from Tede, Dr. Salzmann. You wouldn’t happen to be affiliated with Salzmann Pharmaceuticals, would you?”

  “Yes,” John said, shifting uncomfortably but seeing no reason to lie to a fellow Faithful. “That’s my company.”

  “Really? Well then, doctor, you are treating our patients already. The Zotroxin we are using comes from Salzmann. It’s the most effective radiation flush available. Hard to believe this came from a TL6 world.”

  “Yeah,” John snapped. “Sometimes our backwater moss and dung remedies really work.”

  John was used to condescending attitudes toward hermit-worlders, but coming from a fellow Faithful, it just seemed out of place.

  “Forgive me,” Brother Landrus replied, sounding sincere. “I meant no offense. I was only marveling that it is not always necessary for man’s latest and greatest technology to provide the answers. Sometimes the Lion provides through humble means.”

  “I’m sorry, Brother Landrus,” John said, sensing his overreaction to such an innocuous comment. “I suppose that neural cannon or whatever your ship hit us with has me a bit out of sorts. If you don’t mind, I’d like to check on my crewmates.”

  “Certainly,” Brother Landrus nodded, guiding John to the beds containing Bobby Lee and Mel. “I’m afraid the lad is out cold. Between weakness from radiation and the neural overload, he may not wake up for several hours. The Fei, however, does seem to be coming around. I will leave you alone. You can find your way next door once you are satisfied. Be sure to call Sister Agnes if you need help with anything.”

  Landrus turned and left. John approached Mel’s bed with a wrenching in his stomach that matched the one in his head. As he approached, Mel cracked open her eyelids and smiled weakly.

  “Hey, you,” John said, sitting beside her on the bed but reluctant to take her hand. “Captain Ha
wkins says no sleeping on the job.”

  “Hello, John,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Where are we?”

  “Safe for now. You are in good hands,” John repeated the platitudes from the Faithful caretakers. “You should be feeling as normal as you can with a bullet hole in you within a couple of hours. They are flushing all the radiation out of your system and repairing the damage.”

  “John, there was a psionic attack. Are you okay?”

  John puzzled at Mel’s statement. She had not been privy to the details about the neural cannon attack. True, it was a weapon that simulated some psionic effects, but how did Mel know what happened? Molon mentioned the Fei being empaths. Was that it, or was it something more?

  “We were hit by a neural cannon. I imagine it is a lot like a psionic attack. How did you know?”

  Mel dropped her eyes. John could see her tense visibly.

  “Just a guess. I’m very tired, John. Can we talk later?” She was clearly dodging the question.

  Mel reached for his hand, and John fought his every instinct to pull away. As he gently took her hand, none of the confusion or powerful sensations he had felt before flowed from her. Maybe that had all been his imagination, or maybe Mel was too weak to duplicate her previous effect on him. Either way he was glad for a normal touch. Her powder-blue skin was soft and cool, and oh so pleasant.

  “Sure, Mel. You rest. I will check on you again in a little while.”

  He stood and turned to go, but his grasp on Mel’s hand lingered as long as possible. He wanted more than anything to stop himself from letting go. John’s head was spinning, not from anything emanating from Mel this time, but from a wave of emotion rushing from his gut to his head. This was crazy.

  He loved Elena with all his heart, and if there were even a chance of getting her back, he would move the galaxy to make it happen. Yet even without any strange, possibly empathic emanations from Mel, her touch stirred feelings in him he could not suppress.

  John walked out of the CCB, glancing back over his shoulder at the waifish Fei communications officer. So gentle, so delicate, but there was far more to this azure enchantress than he had yet seen.