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

by Shane VanAulen

  The old worker stared at Collins thoughtfully for a moment, noticing his look of despair before glancing to his companions.

  Passing the portside of the repair dock, Mike looked out the porthole as he did everyday. There were four ships remaining after the escape of the ISS Varuna along with the station’s crew. One was a large military fast-transport freighter, the ISF Cape Town, which was arguably the fastest cargo ship in the fleet. Its job was to carry supplies, equipment, and troops rapidly to the front, or in an emergency, re-supply or in a standard support role.

  The fast transport had been towed into port after taking a critical bridge hit from a damaged and out-of-control fighter. The second ship was the ISS Rebecca, a minesweeper and layer that had been damaged from a mine during a clearing operation. Its hull had taken several severe breeches that had also taken many of her crew’s lives.

  “A sad sight,” said the bible-reading worker next to him. Glancing back to the compartment, Mike saw that every one of the salvage workers had turned in their seats and were crowded around the handful of portholes. They all wanted to look at the damaged ships as they passed them by. Watching them instead of the ships for a moment, he saw that their expressions were all a mirror of each other’s, each filled with a tide of deep and heartfelt emotion. These men, no matter what their current jobs, were truly injured at the sight of such loss and destruction to these gallant ships.

  Turing back to the window, Mike saw that the shuttle had turned to make its final approach as they passed the portside of the station and the remaining two ships. The next vessel was a frigate-class ship of war. Built for escort duty, this class of ships had been around since before the time of the Spanish Armada. The smaller ship was lightly armored, yet heavily armed and capable of high speeds.

  This example of the frigate-class was the ISS Surprise, named after the ancient British warship that had been part of the attack on Ft. McHenry during the American War of 1812. It was that ancient wooden ship from which lawyer and volunteer soldier Francis Scott Key had written his poem, which would become the lyrics of “The Star Spangled Banner”.

  Unfortunately, the ISS Surprise was in horrible shape. What battle had not done to her, the station’s repair crew had. In their haste to get the ISS Varuna space-worthy, they had stripped many of the remaining systems from the more badly damaged Surprise. These sections of the frigate’s hull had both weapon’s ruptures as well as complete armored hull panels missing. Her engine section was completely absent, and half of her weapons’ turrets were either cut from her hull or had been torn from her in battle.

  She was a floating shipwreck, barely recognizable from her former proud form. Mike shook his head and said a silent prayer, hoping that the crew of Varuna had safely escaped back to Confederation lines.

  “She’ll never fly again,” one of the salvage crewmen, muttered drawing evil glances from his mates.

  Leaving the remains of the Surprise behind, the shuttle passed the final berthed ship - one that was taking up two dock areas. The last ship was the ISS Star Wolf, a Corvette Class fast-attack cruiser. She was gigantic compared to a frigate, being larger than a destroyer or even a light cruiser, yet still smaller than a full battle cruiser or an immense battle carrier.

  She was made to operate behind enemy lines, harass enemy shipping, and carry out special deep space operations. To carry out her missions, she was equipped with the most modern engines and weapons systems available and was so new that she was only one of four ships in her class.

  Her sister ships, the ISS Star Fox, ISS Star Tiger and ISS Star Lion had all proven themselves in battle, and the ISS Star Wolf was no exception. She had numerous dents, pox marks, and scorches in her armored hull. The Wolf’s portside had taken several hull ruptures. Half her point defense anti-missile heavy gauss cannon systems as well as her short-range fusion cannons were missing.

  Many of her heavier particle beam turrets looked as if someone had torn, crushed, or held a flame to them. In her lower forward compartment near the bow, she had six torpedo tube launchers, three on each side. The Wolf also had a bow to stern ship length spinal mounted particle cannon that utilized her fusion and bender drive engines to create a massive and extremely deadly particle wave discharge.

  The only problem with her spinal particle cannon was that to utilize the weapon, you had to have an engine. As the shuttle passed to the stern of the ship, the salvage crew of old men could see that the portside engine had already been removed for replacement. When the Star Wolf had limped into dock, she had done so on her damaged starboard engine. Her port unit, having taken so much damage, it was determined that it would be better to remove the old engine and replace it with a new one.

  The repair dock was still waiting for the new engine unit when the Karduan push had cut the sector off and forced the dock crew to flee. It was for that reason that the station’s personnel had chosen the smaller frigate, Varuan to make hasty repairs to and expedite their escape.

  When Mike was hired to work as an assistant custodial engineer, he had found the job not only tediously boring, but also easy. All he really had to do was run maintenance programs on the station’s repair and janitorial robotic units and log in security checks as he walked the rounds of the station.

  This gave him time for several other pursuits. The first, of which, was making himself familiar with all of the ships in dock. Through the course of the past month, he had spent at least a third of each of his shifts walking through and exploring the various ships.

  During that time, he had made several discoveries, the first of which was that the Star Wolf’s spinal mount seemed to be intact. Unfortunately, her core computer was badly damaged and her remaining starboard fusion and bender drives were still awaiting repairs. That was part of the beauty of her design, in that she had two separate engine units, each with a fusion maneuver drive and bender web drive.

  This was in case even if the ship took a disabling engine hit it could continue with its mission on its second set of drives. This was an ideal design for a ship meant to operate alone and behind enemy lines.

  Mike had also discovered during one of his explorations of the Star Wolf that she had been equipped with a complement of six star fighters and two armored landing crafts. Just forward of the engine room was a belly launch bay capable of launching a single vessel at a time. Normally, there would be four SF-86 star fighters also called - Sabres, which were designed for multi-task operations including fighter-to-fighter and air-to-ground missions. They were named after a first generation jetfighter from just after the Second World War. The original Sabre had seen extensive service in the Korean War and had paved the way for the age of the jetfighter.

  The two additional fighters were SFB-24s and were known as Helldivers. They were made for the primary mission of deliver the powerful star-bore missiles to enemy ships of the line and capital ships. Once they delivered their deadly ordnance, they were agile enough to serve in a secondary fighter-to-fighter role. They, too, had been named after a previous and highly successful airplane, the Curtiss SB2C Helldiver, which was a single engine prop-driven dive-bomber.

  The Helldiver SB2C had seen action in World War Two in the Pacific against the Japanese Imperial Forces. It had joined the fleet late in 1943 and was responsible for the destruction of more enemy targets than any other aircraft. It was a fitting name for the SFB-24 to carry, one which it upheld with honor and continued success.

  When Mike had found the hangar, he was initially surprised and excited, but his excitement had turned to disappointment. The SFB-24 Helldivers were missing -- probably destroyed in combat. One of the two armored landing grav-crafts was still present and in surprisingly decent shape. Of the allotted, four SF-86 Sabre fighters, only three of them had been left onboard and they were in terrible condition.

  It was then, that he decided to try his hand at aerospace mechanics. For the last month, he had spent a third of each shift taking parts from the worst of the three fighters and making repairs on t
he better of the remaining two. It was slow going, but he thought that in another two weeks, he might have one of the Sabres ready for a test flight; of course, he knew he was kidding himself because there was nowhere to go. Still, it was an interesting diversion from his normally boring day.

  As the transport shuttle approached the docking bay and airlock, Mike could see the last third of his normal day waiting for him. Standing by the airlock’s inner door was the station’s only other full-time employee. He was tall and stood erect with the bearing of the military man that he once was. Gray hair and a marred face with deep lines from countless years and untold battles etched his face, but his broad smile made any onlooker immediately at ease.

  He was dressed in a one-piece jumpsuit like the ones the salvage workers wore, except his was blue in color and had the word “security” embroidered over a cheap Plastex badge on the upper right side of his chest. Around his waist was an old web belt with a stun baton and a holstered automatic pistol. The gun was an old slug-thrower chambered for 8mm caseless rounds. It was so old that it hadn’t originally been made for caseless ammunition, but use to eject spent metal casing after each shot.

  “Mike, good to see you made it,” the security officer said in jest. He was referring back to Collin’s first day on the job in which he missed the transport shuttle by five minutes.

  The young man frowned back at him for a moment and then smiled. “And it is good to see that you could get those old tired bones out of bed this morning, Gunny,” he replied, referring to the day the old fellow had called in sick. His real name was Jack Masters. Gunny was the older man’s former military rank, having served for thirty-five years split between American, United Nation’s, and Confederation Colonial Marine Forces.

  After forced military retirement, he had then served for ten years as a police officer in the CCF, or Colonial Constabulary Force. Forced into retirement for a second time by a mandatory age restriction, he resorted to working as a security officer, which he had been doing for the last two years. What surprised Collins the most was that he had actually requested assignment to the station after the Confederation crew had departed.

  “What brings you here to greet me? I would have thought that you would be just starting your second cup of coffee.”

  The old marine grimaced with the thought of his missed cup of Joe. “Unfortunately, I’m here to show the salvage crew where to start.”

  Mike nodded with a frown matching that of his friend’s. In the past month of working with the older man, the two had formed a solid friendship and often spent their hours of solitude working out or practicing shooting with the Gunny’s old pistol in a cargo bay. Not only was the Gunny an excellent shot, but he also knew a few unarmed combat moves that only an experienced combat veteran would know.

  The young man had also gained the old warrior’s respect with not only his own military background, but with his martial prowess. He was not only an expert with both a pistol and a sword, but thanks to his father’s tutelage, he was highly skilled in the martial arts. Since he was a small boy, he had taken lessons in fencing, both Eastern and European, as well as karate and judo. It was no wonder that he had done so well in certain subjects when he had attended Harpers Military Academy.

  “Not the Wolf?” Mike asked, fearful for the damaged cruiser, even though he knew there was nothing he could do to prevent it.

  The Gunny shook his neatly cut gray head. “No, they are to finish off the Surprise first.”

  “I’m going to run a maintenance check on the repair robots and I’ll meet you back at your office,” Mike said, heading for the maintenance shop.

  The Gunny called after him, “Have the chessboard ready, and don’t mess with my coffee pot!”

  Mike waved back to him as he ran to the station’s mini maglev shuttle train. The maglev train, or magnetically levitated train worked by floating on a series of electronically magnetic pads. It propelled itself by the use of opposite magnetic polarity, which both pushes and pulls the vehicle along the guide-way. The technology had been around for decades; so much so, that the station even had a mini service train of its own that ran from one end of the station to the other.

  The trip only took a few minutes, and he hurried to his workroom where the station’s forty cleaning and repair robots were stored. Each day, he would check on their work logs and, if needed, update their repairs duties. It really only took ten of the robots to handle the upkeep of the station; the rest were normally used to augment human workers on ship repairs. No work order had come down to him to help the salvage crew, so he just updated the normal ten robots and sent them on their merry way.

  With that chore done, he headed back to the Gunny’s office. Reaching the office door, he entered without knocking, which was what he normally did. As the door slid open, he saw Gunny Masters and one of the red-suited workers leaning over a station’s computer terminal.

  “But how will we be able to run something that normally takes two hundred men with only forty-five?” the salvage boss asked as the door slid open.

  Gunny’s head snapped to the door and held up a hand, cutting off the other man’s protest. “You’ll just have to make due,” he said with a tone of dismissal.

  The old and balding worker shook his head, frowning as he gathered his palm pad and computer crystals memory sticks. He then turned and left. As he passed by Collins, the old man’s frown turned to a polite smile, and his right hand started to move oddly before it abruptly stopped. Mike spotted the motion and thought he recognized the movement. He could have sworn that the old worker was going to salute him. He just shook his head, summing it all up to the old fellow, having been in the service at one time. Maybe he was even friendly mocking him for having been until recently an academy midshipman.

  Shrugging it off, he moved to the table with the chessboard and sat down in his usual seat. Gunny Masters switched off the table’s computer with a simple off command, as he grabbed two cups and filled them from a dark, steaming pot. Moving to the table, he set the cups down and took a seat across from Mike. “Ready to lose again, Mister Collins?” he asked with an evil grin.

  Mike ignored him as he took hold of the steaming cup, enjoying the warmth and the aroma of the dark liquid. “Losing my patience waiting for you to make a move, you mean.”

  “Humph, maybe we should switch to poker,” Masters said with his crooked smile as his old brown eyes scanned the board. “After all, I could use the money!”

  Mike took a sip from his cup, swallowing the hot coffee as he forced himself to keep from laughing. “A little Texas Hold’em, now that would be fun,” he replied a moment after he swallowed. “By the way, the salvage boss didn’t seem to be having too much fun when he left here.”

  The old marine glanced up from the board, his eyes squinting for a moment in displeasure. “He has manpower issues that have nothing to do with us.”

  He nodded, understanding what he meant. “I haven’t received any orders to reprogram the station’s repair robots to assist them in taking the ships apart.”

  Masters shrugged his shoulders as he moved his king side pawn to knight’s four, a classic opening move for him.

  Young Mister Collins paused, watching the board and his older friend’s face before he made his next move. “I could reprogram the robots to make their job harder and delay the destruction of the ships,” he said, almost holding his breath as he watched the Gunny’s face for a reaction.

  “No, I think that would only get you in trouble, and wouldn’t really do anything in the long run, but it was a nice thought,” Masters said, not taking his eye from the board. Mike let out a sigh of disappointment and lowered his head as he thought about his next move.

  Chapter Two

  Another month had passed, and things had been pretty much the same. Mike had spent the better part of his twelve-hour day at work. His friendship with the old gunny and his restoration project of the Sabre fighter had made the time bearable. His evenings were spent either sleeping
in his one-room efficiently apartment or meeting with some of his friends from the academy.

  In the current senior class, which used to be his junior underclassmen, he had several good friends among their ranks. When he had time to meet with them, their talk was always of the war and the changing conditions at the school. The news of the war wasn’t good; the Confederation was severely hurt with the loss of Web Sector Twelve. What made things worse was that the cut-off sections of the star-web that hadn’t been occupied had not only signed a treaty with the enemy, but had formed a new interstellar government to replace the United Confederation of Earth.

  Their new union was called the Federal Alliance of Sovereign States. It sort of reminded him of a cross between the ancient Greek Delian League, the European Union, and the American Continental Congress from Revolutionary War fame: an assembly of representatives filled with a whole lot of talk, but very little cooperation or power to act.

  It seemed that the worlds, which had joined did so out of the idea of a greater good, but out of fear of being singled out. They felt alienated and threatened not only by the Karduans, but also by the other breakaway or cut-off worlds. Even the worlds that didn’t want to join or were still, in their hearts, loyal to the Confederation and their beloved Emperor found that they had little choice if they wanted to survive.

  His friends among the senior class included Alister Dover, a rich kid from old England who’s clipped, upper class accent seemed to work magic with the local Austro girls. Rufo Cappilo was of Italian decent and had come from a colony world that had been settled by a group sponsored by the Roman Catholic Church. His brown eyes and warm smile made everyone like him.