There was no way he was leaving while they still had a man trapped on the planet. It was a risk that he was willing to take, but not one that he’d ask others to share or try to talk him out of because it was too dangerous. Cutting across the campus by taking a dirt utility road that only the maintenance staff was allowed to use, he headed directly for the Commandant’s house. This time he would not be denied.
The stone mansion appeared dark and only the lamppost along the drive was still lit. Not too surprising considering the hour, but it wasn’t that late. Cutting the truck’s headlights halfway down the lane, he coasted to a stop short of the house.
Not for the first time, he cursed the old truck for not having a Red-star light enhancement system built into its windshield. With a Red-star, he could have dialed in infrared, ultraviolet, or just starlight to illuminate the area and allow him to see any waiting guards.
As it was, he would just have to take his chances. Drawing his Krager, he opened the door and walked briskly toward the front door, holding his pistol down by his side. With each step, he half expect to be shot or at least assaulted in some manner, but nothing happened. Reaching the wide oaken door, he turned the traditional old-style knob and found the home to be unlocked.
Pushing open the door on the right side with the barrel of his Krager, he found the entryway dark and apparently empty. The only light he could see was coming from under the door to his left, which led to the commandant’s library study. Moving cautiously to the library door, he saw that it was already open a crack and was obviously not locked.
He tried to peer through the gap as he listened for any evidence that someone was within the room. Unfortunately, the opening was so narrow that he couldn’t see much, and there was no sound that he could perceive.
Resigning himself to his task, he pushed open the door with the tip of his boot. The room’s light was coming from the desk where its tipped-over desk lamp was lying on its side. The room looked similar to the state it was in when he was last here just a week ago. The big difference was that there was no one there. The captain’s chair behind the great desk had fallen over onto its side and the desk was still a mess, but there was no Captain Hope to be found.
Moving to the desk, Mike picked up the chair and noticed a pool of drying blood on the surface of the desk as well as blood on the chair and floor. Scanning the room, he failed to find a body lying about. “Damn it!” he swore under his breath and turned to check the rest of the house. He had to admit that his hopes of finding the commandant alive were now quickly fading. The poor old fellow was left to a miserable and dishearten pit of despair and probably took his own life.
Stepping out into the entry hall, he looked left just in time to see someone leap down at him from the staircase. Snapping off a shot, he was knocked down by the weight of his attacker. Rolling the shocked and unconscious man off of him, Mike pulled himself to his feet.
The man was dressed in a chef’s white uniform, and in his hand he clutched a long knife. Unlike the expected butcher knife, this one was a modern fighting knife. Stepping on his wrist, Collins knelt down and took the blade from his hand. It was a match to the Randal Model Ten polycarbon-fighting knife that he carried. Slipping the chef’s knife into own his boot top, he was about to search his attacker for other weapons when he was abruptly interrupted.
“Don’t move!” a voice commanded from the dining room.
Looking up, he saw the steward, still in his black dress coat and gold vest as he stepped into the limited light coming from the study. He was holding a pistol in his right hand and a comm. unit in his left. “Drop the Krager, Ensign Collins,” he said. “And don’t try anything funny.”
“Where is Captain Hope?” he asked as he slowly lowered his gauss pistol to the floor.
“Gone!” was his only reply as he intently watched him and his pistol. Once the Krager was resting on the floor, Mike stood up and noticed that the man had visibly relaxed a little. The steward then brought his handheld comm. unit to his mouth to make a report or to call for assistance. It was at that moment that Mike made his move.
Falling backward, he reached to his hip and his holstered 8mm starburst gyro pistol. The fall itself was something he had learned when he was just a tyke. It was called ushiro akami, or backward break fall. Practiced in most martial arts, it allowed a thrown or tripped person a means to keep from getting hurt and control his landing. Here, Mike used it to surprise his adversary, getting out of the line of fire and at the same time aligning the barrel of his caseless starburst at his opponent. Without drawing the pistol, he fired through the bottom of the holster as his leg came up from the fall.
It wasn’t something he would have normally recommended as the gyro pistol’s starburst recoil system vented. It scorched his leg as he almost shot his own calf off, but this time, he was lucky. The 8mm round took the startled steward in the chest, knocking him backward and to the ground.
Rolling to his feet, Mike drew his gyro pistol, leveling it at the steward as he picked up his Krager with his left hand and then crossed to the downed man. As he expected, the valet was not dead, but moaning in pain. Holstering the gyro, he picked up the man’s fallen Browning gauss pistol. Funny, it was the same model as the one Weaver had carried. The fellow was now swearing like the proverbial drunken sailor, and had torn open his golden vest to get to the body armor that he wore underneath his clothes.
“What happened to Captain Hope?” he demanded, aiming the Krager at the man’s unarmored head.
The fellow glared at him and spat, “Fuck you!”
“Fine,” Mike murmured and shot a shock dart into his open mouth. “Foul-mouthed bugger,” he commented as he heard a noise from outside.
Moving to the doors he saw that an Austro Planetary Police grav car had pulled into the drive and had parked next to the Gunny’s pickup. The car was an ultra-modern gravity car capable of managing the planet’s high and sometimes unpredictable winds. Just getting out of their patrol car were two uniformed officers. The one closest to the pickup moved to look inside the truck while his partner glanced toward the mansion.
Gripping the Krager in his right hand and the Browning in his left, he paused, unsure of what to do next. He didn’t want to shoot it out with the police, yet he had no means of escape other than the truck, and his time was quickly running out. Slipping the Browning into his greatcoat’s left pocket, he took the Krager in a two-handed combat grip.
It was the most effective shooter’s grip with his primary hand gripping the butt of the pistol while the second hand wrapped around the first, interlocking at the thumbs. The Krager also gave him the nonlethal option, which the Browning failed to possess. His only chance now was to surprise them and try to get a headshot using shock darts. A torso shot would probably be met with failure, as the officers were most assuredly wearing body armor.
Fortunately, they had left their helmets off, not expecting much of a problem. Taking a deep breath, Mike said a quick prayer and stepped out and onto the landing of the doorway.
Not using the weapon’s auto-imaging system, he relied on the standard hard sights. He didn’t want to waste even a fraction of a second between targets, and though the targeting system improved accuracy, he felt it slowed him down. His first shot took the lead officer in the face just under his left eye. The dart worked its magic and he fell even as Collins switched targets.
The second officer was also surprised, but he reacted true to his training and had his pistol out of its holster as his partner went down. Ducking behind the pickup, the officer raised his pistol and then suddenly fell down. This was unexpected, as Mike hadn’t had an opportunity to get a clear shot and had held his fire.
Out of the darkness, a dark figure approached from behind the fallen officer’s position. “Hold your fire, Mister Collins,” a familiar voice called out.
Mike shook his head in disbelief. “What the hell are you doing here?” he asked as Commander Hutton walked over to the officer he hit with a shock da
rt from behind.
The commander was dressed much the same as he was, with a greatcoat and uniform on underneath. He had even taken the time to change into a Confederation standard duty uniform. He was carrying a Colt Assault Needle Rifle in his hands and a pistol belt was buckled around his waist. The rifle was similar to a gauss pistol, but had a longer range and heavier knock down power.
His rifle was set up with a folding stock and an all-weather imaging system. The Colt was also equipped with a shock dart function for silent sentry elimination. It was the preferred weapon of the Confederation Special Commando Forces. His pistol belt was fully stocked with magazine pouches, an auto medical kit, mini grenades, and surprisingly, a Krager pistol.
“I was leaving for the rally point when I saw this patrol car come screaming onto campus and figured that it was headed here,” he said, leaning down and checking the pulse of the officer he had stunned. Hutton then relieved him of his pistol and pistol belt. “Check that other officer and then grab his gear.”
“Right,” he replied, and knelt down next to the officer he shot. The guy was breathing normally and his pulse was strong. Mike then unfastened his equipment belt and looked up to see that Hutton had opened the patrol car’s trunk. The commander was grabbling a pair of rifles, which he slung over his shoulder and then pulled out a small chest of supplies that were standard in every police vehicle.
“Let’s get Captain Hope and get moving,” he said, heading for the front door.
“Sorry, sir, but the Commandant isn’t home; in fact, from the blood inside, I’d say that he is probably dead.”
Hutton’s classic face frowned. “Okay, Mister Collins, shoot their car’s comm. unit and let’s get the heck out of Dodge!”
Mike flipped him a thumbs up, walked over to the open passenger’s side door, and fired a burst of gauss needles into the vehicle’s radio. Looking back to Hutton, he saw that he had momentarily disappeared only to pull up in a dark blue Chevrolet sedan-style grav car. It was an expensive vehicle that was even capable of breakaway speeds and limited in-system space flight.
“Get in,” he said from the driver’s side, letting it hover effortlessly about a foot off the ground.
Mike didn’t need to be told twice and hurriedly jumped in. In another second, the car was airborne and streaking across the night’s sky.
Chapter Seven
“Where the hell is he?” Gunny demanded as his group of midshipmen busily unloaded the truck and transferred the cargo to the terminal’s transport shuttle a.k.a the Sky Train. The other teams had already loaded and transferred their cargo to the station, but the midshipmen had refused to board without having the other members of their teams accounted for.
Now that the final team had showed up, they were almost finished loading, and were planning to leave shortly. On top of that, the shuttle was going to be commandeered as well, and would not be sent back to the terminal, but loaded directly to the Wolf’s shuttle bay.
Misters Dover, Cappilo, and Daley were gathered around him and didn’t look very happy. They were also worried for their friend and wanted to go back and find him. “What could he have been thinking?” Rufo asked, shaking his head in disbelief.
“He wanted to save the Captain,” Dover said, completely understanding his friend’s motives.
At that moment, a midshipman approached them and snapped a weapons’ salute from a position of attention. “Sirs, the shuttle is loaded and all personnel are accounted for.”
“Very good, Mister Rabb, but we seem to be missing Ensign Collins,” Dover replied, returning his salute.
“Sir, I volunteer to go back for him,” Rabb said, holding his old M-21 caseless assault rifle at the ready.
Dover looked at the junior’s face, let out a sigh, and shook his head. “No, he wouldn’t want that, and we don’t have the time. The academy will be crawling with police by now,” he said, sounding out his thoughts almost as if he was convincing himself as well as the others around him.
It was a tough choice, but he was now the ranking officer present, and he had to make a command decision even if he didn’t like it. “Load the shuttle and prepare for immediate take off!” he ordered to a sea of frowning faces.
Mister Rabb nodded, said “Yes, sir”, turned about smartly, and ordered everyone to get onboard. Cappilo and Daley understood the call; if they didn’t get space-born soon, they may be grounded as word of their defection spread to the military. Gunny was also frowning, and was about to stay behind when Dover looked him in the eyes. “Gunny, could you help with the men?” he asked with concern in his voice. “If they see you at the front of the shuttle, it will calm them down and help reassure them.”
The old marine nodded, turned, and walked briskly to the shuttle. “Well done, Alister,” Martin commented, also sensing that they were about to lose the gunnery sergeant.
“Let’s go,” Dover said, feeling a knot in his throat and the taste of bile in his mouth.
Cappilo was about to argue that Mike would never leave one of them behind, but a frown and shake of Martin’s head cut off his argument before it started. “Let’s go,” he whispered, knowing that the good of the mission and the safety of the men were of paramount importance.
In another moment, the shuttle was sealed and taking off for the orbiting repair dock and the waiting ISS Star Wolf. The three seniors each felt the burden of command, and in that instant as the shuttle left, they no longer were as young and innocent as they had been just a few hours earlier.
The terminal’s shuttle docked at the upper docking bay, housed behind the bridge and between the massive aft particle-cannon turret. It was used as the ship’s boat bay, but the Austro Government had long since sold the original shuttle at auction. The immense Sky Train just managed to fit into the small docking birth. As its doors opened, a loud cheer of welcome greeted the midshipmen. The landing platform was crowded, as most of the crew’s veterans had turned out to meet the younger volunteers.
In response, the midshipmen marched out, sharply turned as one, and saluted the men who had already served their people as well as those who had tirelessly made their escape possible. The veterans fell silent for moment as the Padre called them to attention and they returned the solemn honor. Another cheer of joy followed as the two groups surged forward and mingled in greeting.
After a few minutes of handshakes and backslapping, the Padre held up his arms and called them to silence. “We need to get the shuttle unloaded and the new additions to our crew to their stations and after we are safely underway to their quarters.”
Mister Dover stepped forward and read off the pre-designated duty assignments as the assembled men, both young and old, scrambled to get to their sections.
After the men had left, the Padre turned to the grief-stricken seniors and gunny sergeant. “We seem to be a man short,” he commented in a calm and normal voice.
“Mister Collins stayed behind to try and rescue the Commandant,” Cappilo answered sadly, but with pride.
Martin reached out and grasped the chief’s forearm. “He won’t be joining us.”
The Padre frowned for a moment, but then smiled, which almost earned him a punch in the mouth, and from of all people, the ever-proper Mister Dover.
Seeing their anger, he quickly explained. “Mister Collins and a Commander Hutton are landing at the lower fighter bay even as we speak.”
The four men broke into laughter and smiles as the Chief continued. “It seems that the Commander’s grav car is capable of high altitude flight and escape velocity.”
“Let’s go meet them,” Rufo suggested, anxious to hear what happened and find out the fate of Captain Hope.
“They are going to meet us at the repair dock’s landing platform. We have another major problem, which I’ll explain as we go,” the Padre replied as he led them to the lift.
“What’s the emergency?” Mike inquired, having rushed to get to the landing platform where the transport shuttle would normally have docked. Comma
nder Hutton was right behind him, having just gotten off of the lift. The three senior classmen with Gunny and Padre ran forward to shake the Commander’s hand. He was an unexpected but most welcomed surprise, one that made them feel all the better. With such a skilled and respected officer with them, what could go wrong?
“Everything has gone wrong!” Padre declared, after looking around to make sure that no one other than the immediate command staff was nearby.
Mike was the first to ask. “So what’s the problem?”
“The Karduan destroyer and her escort ships are in geo-stationary orbit just off of the civilian space station.”
“That’s not too bad,” he returned, as the civilian station was on the other side of the planet. “They could be right off our bow.”
Padre held up a hand to cut off any further comments. “True, but they are sending over a shuttle, and it should be here in less than twenty minutes.”
This got their attention. “Who’s coming to visit?” Hutton inquired, drawing closer.
“It’s the Karduan ambassador and her security team, as well as the Austro Government’s Minster of the Interior, his staff, and the Commander of the Planetary Defense Force.”
Rufo let out a whistle, recognizing the importance of their imminent guests.
“Where are the Austro cutters?” Dover asked, trying to get a complete picture of the situation.
“Two are with the Karduan ships, and the other two have moved towards the star’s gravity well.”
Mike looked down to his wrist chronometer. “Well, we don’t have much time to plan a party, but I’m sure we can come up with something,” he said, glancing at them as he smiled. It was funny how a simple smile could reduce their anxiety and instill a positive mood.
The Log of the Gray Wolf (Star Wolf Squadron Book 1) Page 10
