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

by Shane VanAulen

  Instead they wore standard space suits with body armor. One major benefit they now had was that Doc Beilor had given each of them an automated medical unit. These kits attached under their spacesuits at the base of their spines. The small unit would monitor their vital functions and would inject them with Heal-X battle drugs if its miniature computer detected an injury.

  Gunny Masters also issued grenades - both flash bangs and concussion as well as breeching explosives.

  “Better safe than sorry,” he said with a devilish grin.

  Besides Martin, Mister Cappilo, Chief Watts and Mister Rabb filled out the command staff. Rufo manned the co-pilot’s position as they accelerated through the various floating wreckage to the Alamo.

  Mike would have liked to have docked at the spot where the enemy’s ram shuttle had struck, but he felt it was too dangerous. Instead he opted to pass under the frigate’s belly and dock at the lower rear airlock. It was an exterior port in which he could just pull along side and let the magnetic clamp do all the work.

  With a familiar thud, the boarding party knew that they had docked and Gunny Masters immediately started the airlock sequence. Martin worked the power controls and fed energy from the Carronade to the frigate. The small shuttle engines along with the auxiliary power unit would allow them to work the sealed door that luckily seemed undamaged. It would also give them a shot at restoring some sort of environment gravity and life support onto the broken ship.

  “Listen up, we don’t know how bad the interior is so be careful,” Lt. Collin started, “We’ll break into four teams of six men each. Lt. Cappilo’s team will take engineering. See what shape the power plant and engines are in. Also check if there is any power left in the emergency batteries. See if you can get life support online. Chief Watts and Mister Rabb’s teams will start unloading the emergency hull patches and get to work on any breeches. Gunny take your team to the forward torpedo launchers and see if there are any viable munitions onboard.”

  “What about you and Lt. Daley, sir?” Chief Watts asked, sounding a little accusatory, but then quickly added, “I mean, just the two of you on the bridge may not be enough hands.”

  Mike smiled and slapped him on the shoulder.

  “Don’t worry if we need help I’ll give you a shout,” he said with a smile. “And that goes for everyone. If you find you’re in over your heads or need a extra hand give a holler and help comes a running.”

  Everyone give an “Aye, Aye sir,” in reply.

  Gunny Masters stepped up and ran them through a weapon’s check.

  “Remember children and granddads that this ship was boarded and taken by the enemy. The Alamo’s crew or even the Kardies could have left booby-traps behind for the curious so take no chances and no fuck ups!”

  Mike gave them all a thumb’s up and the teams headed off on their separate missions. He felt confident in the boarding teams and knew that they do their best. He and Gunny had been working with them since they stole the cruiser training them in weapons, explosives and hand-to-hand combat. They had all received additional training in damage control, and ship repairs as well as in their primary duties sections.

  Collins was sure that despite their youth or great age, his men were the best and could handle anything thrown at them. He was still thinking that when he got his first call.

  “Mike, I mean Lt. Collins sir, we got a little problem down here in engineering,” Rufo said with an exasperated sigh.

  “Well, that took a whole five minutes,” Collins said to himself before he answered, “What’s the nature of the problem?”

  “Ah, you really got to see it for yourself,” was the young officer’s answer.

  Now it was Mike’s turn to let out a sigh, “Roger, on my way.”

  He shrugged his shoulders as he and Daley headed down the corridor. Low-level emergency lighting had been restored from the power link from their shuttle, but they relied on their suit’s red-star vision enhancement system to make their environment seem as bright as day.

  Turning down an interior corridor to the main engineering room they found Cappilo’s party leaning up against a wall where a wall shouldn’t have been. It took him a moment to realize that the wall was an entire block of ice.

  “Holy Shit!” he exclaimed.

  Martin rushed forward and examined the frozen obstruction, “Did a coolant line rupture or a fuel line?”

  Cappilo shrugged, “No way to tell until we get into the engine room. In fact the whole engine room could be filled with ice. If this was a leak from the fusion plant’s hydrogen tanks it is very dangerous and we could all go boom but I’m pretty sure that it is just water and should be safe.”

  “So how the hell do we get rid of it?” Mike asked, thinking that explosives were definitely not the answer.

  “The best way is to get the hull sealed in this area and then use the auxiliary power unit to restore life support in this section. With a little heat this will melt and we can vent the water out into space,” the young Italian engineer said with a smile.

  “That or break out our swimming trunks,” Martin joked straight-faced.

  Mike chuckled despite the situation.

  “All right, lets get Mister Rabb’s team down here to help with sealing the hull and to act as lifeguards.”

  Turning to leave he and Martin continued towards the bridge passing Rabb and his team already on their way down to engineering. Climbing up two decks they found the corridor to the bridge and followed it to the command center.

  Along the way they saw weapon’s damage from bullets, gauss rounds and energy discharges, but only a few bodies - all of which were Confederation. The corridor led them past the hole made by the Karduan ram shuttle, which was still open to space. Fortunately, their space suit’s gravity boots kept them from drifting out and into space as they passed the vast opening.

  The bridge’s bulkhead door had been sealed when the battle had begun and was still shut tight when the enemy boarding party had broken through to their hull. What the Kardies did next was plain to see. The bulkhead had been blown open with either a portable energy cannon possibly fusion based or a small demolitions pack.

  The result was a jagged opening where the heavy door had once been. The bridge looked no better and the bodies of most of the bridge crew were still present, floating in the limited space of the command center.

  Martin ignored the bodies and headed right for the ship’s computer as Mike took another call.

  “Lieutenant Collins, we haven’t found a single missile or torpedo anywhere onboard,” Gunny Master reported, “In fact we haven’t even found a pea shooter!”

  “Same with us, the bridge crew went down shooting, but there aren’t any weapons here. The Kardies must have stripped the ship of all its goodies. Get down to engineering and help with emergency repairs,” he ordered as Masters acknowledged his command with a “Roger that!” and then shut off the signal with a quick “Out here!”

  “Damn it!” Martin swore as he worked on the computer. He had connected a small power cell to the board and was hovering over the console blocking Collins’ view.

  “Did it take a hit?” Mike asked, seeing that in the firefight several panels were damaged.

  Daley awkwardly shook his helmeted head, “No, they wiped the computer’s core when they were boarded.”

  “Standard procedure when being boarded,” he replied and then looked to the captain’s floating lifeless body and thought, “good for you,” in silent tribute.

  Martin continued to work on the system finally bringing the entire console to life.

  “The computer is in good shape and I’ve started to reboot the system and download a new operating program.”

  “And we will have a working computer in?”

  “In about five minutes.”

  Mike nodded, but failed to smile. The ship was in bad shape, but if the engine room team was able to get the drives online they could use the emergency bridge controls from the engineering section’s co
ntrol room to try and limp the ship out of here.

  “Timber Wolf One to Momma Wolf,” Mike called switching his suit command channel to the Star Wolf’s.

  “Go ahead Timber Wolf One,” Chief Parkers voice replied.

  He had opted for an audio only communications link even though his suit’s helmet had two-way video capabilities. He felt it was less distracting than watching the digital crystal screen in the upper left hand corner of his helmet’s faceplate.

  “Sorry, but we are a bust on weapons and on the computer download. The Kardies took everything that wasn’t nailed down and the Alamo’s crew wiped their computer core. There is also an ice obstruction blocking access to the engine room. We are working on getting partial life support up on the lower decks and Mister Daley is confident that the ship’s computer is salvageable.”

  “We copy that and have been monitoring your situation,” Parker said, indicating that they had been listening in on their comm. chatter and have been letting him call all the shots without interference. “Hold one for Papa Wolf Two.”

  A second later Commander Richards’ voice came over the link.

  “Round up your people Timber Wolf and get back to the ship ASAP,” he said, sounding as if he wasn’t telling him everything.

  “Roger your orders sir,” Mike said and then signaled out. He then sent out the recall signal, ordering all of the boarding parties back to the Carronade. He and Martin quickly left the bridge and made their way to their docked shuttle two decks below. Climbing down the last few rungs of the emergency access ladder they received a panicked call from the engineering team.

  “Mike, get down to engineering,” Rufo called, forgetting his rank and title and reverting to the use of his first name.

  This didn’t bother him beings they were friends, but it told him that something important must be up.

  “What’s the problem? You and your team should be heading for the shuttle.”

  “We restored life support to the corridor and the ice has been melting and draining off. After a half hour we were about a third of the way through when we picked up some strange readings while scanning for explosives.”

  Collins was proud that his team was thorough enough to check for booby-traps, but was curious as to what they had found that was so important.

  “What’d you find?”

  “Ah … life signs,” he said still in a bit of shock.

  “Holy Shit! I’m on my way,” he returned, hoping that the Star Wolf had copied that message.

  Running down the hall he found half his boarding party gathered at the corridor to the engineering section.

  “All right, I want everyone but Mister Cappilo’s team to get back to the Carronade,” he ordered, trying to carryout his orders in case they had to get out of here fast. “Mister Rabb, get a headcount and prep the shuttle for take off.”

  Passing through the men as they made their way to the shuttle, Mike and Martin reached Rufo who was intently looked down at the palm pad scanner in his hands. Looking up he saw Collins approach and passed him the small computer.

  “Here, see for yourself.”

  Taking the palm pad, he repeated the scan and was surprised to see the readings. The pad indicated that there were at least a dozen or more faint life signs on the other side of the ice wall.

  “Are we sure this isn’t some kind of signal reflection from the surface of the ice?”

  Martin had his pad out and shook his head, “No, I don’t think so and I don’t think it’s a glitch with his pad, I’m getting the same readings on mine.”

  Mike let out a breath of frustration, “Ok turn up the heat and get the laser welder and the plasma torch from the shuttle and see if we can speed this up.”

  As the men rushed to get the equipment he called to the ship.

  “Momma Wolf, have you been following our developing situation?”

  “Roger that, Timber Wolf One, Papa Wolf One agrees with your call, but urges all due haste.”

  He didn’t like the sound of that, “Is there a threat?”

  “Negative, but we want to clear out of the area as soon as possible,” Parker relayed. As he finished speaking the sound of alarms blared in the background and then the signal was cut off.

  “Shit, shit and fucking shit!” Mike exclaimed as he rushed to the shuttle to check its sensors.

  “What do you mean by strange?” Captain Hope asked as he watched the Carronade launch to go the damaged frigate.

  Richards let out a shallow breath as he stared down at the data.

  “There seems to be a lack of emergency signals. I’m only finding twenty-five fighter signals, but the Lexington carried forty-eight fighters. Also there doesn’t seem to be any escape pod readings at all.”

  “The enemy may have picked them up or possibly our own ships may have rescued them,” Mister Dover suggested, being the acting second officer on the bridge he felt it was his duty to suggest possible scenarios and options.

  Hope nodded, “Probably the former rather than the latter,” he said knowing that this was a defeat for the Confederation Defense Fleet.

  “Sir, I’m also seeing that this field’s debris has the profile of dozens of ships. The parts and wreckage are from both Karduan and Confederation ships, but there are only six badly damaged ships floating around out there,” the first officer explained.

  Dover quickly made the connection that the XO was suggesting, “They have recovered or repaired the better ships and have left the junk behind.”

  The captain nodded in agreement; after all it was exactly what the Confederation would do if they had won the day. Repair the ships that could be brought to operational standards and then recover ships that needed a repair dock or a shipyard.

  “The question gentlemen is - are we expecting guests for dinner?”

  The room was dead quiet as they contemplated that question. “Should we recall the shuttle and the fighters?” Richards asked.

  “No, lets continue on our current course, but let the freighters know what we suspect and advise them to be ready in case we have to get out of here fast.”

  An hour and half went by as reports from the ship’s sensors, the recon fighters and the boarding parties rolled in. A detailed scan of the system indicated that no planet or moon could support human life and that none of the lifeboats or escape pods had reached them. The debris field did indeed have the ship markings on their wreckage of at least twenty-seven ships.

  Commander Hutton suggested using the Sky Train shuttle to start recover operations of the damaged SF-18 Hornet star fighters. His recommendation was noted and the two SF-86 Saber star fighters were recalled back to the Wolf. The boarding party’s reports were less than encouraging with no ship’s munitions, weapons or existing computer logs available.

  Mister Collins seem hopeful that they might be able to get the Alamo’s power restored, but to the old hawk the young always seemed overly optimistic.

  Shaking his head, the Wolf’s captain decided that it was time to get the hell out of Dodge.

  “Recall the shuttle and the boarding party. Make preparations to get underway and prepare to bend once we get to the gravity well.”

  The recall order was relayed to the boarding party as the bridge crew jumped to life. Work began in earnest as they turned the ship back towards the gravity well and started pre-bend system’s checks and preparations.

  Twenty minutes later the attack cruiser was turned about, the fighters had been recovered and the boarding party had reported they would be leaving within five minutes. At that time Chief Parker relayed that there was a problem on the Alamo. It seemed that the engineering team had detected life signs coming from the ice encased engine room. The Wolf immediately scanned the old frigate, but its heavily armored aft section refused to give a confirmation to their readings.

  Hope approved of Mister Collins’ plan and had his agreement relayed to him. If there was a chance at all that anyone was still alive over there, then they had to check it out.
/>
  “Sir, we got company,” Mister Lewis sang out, “Four, no six, no seven ships coming out of the far gravity well.”

  Hope sighed softly and said in an even voice, “Red alert! Have all battle stations report their status.”

  “Type and size of ships?” Richards said calmly.

  Lewis looked and then looked again causing the first officer to cross to him.

  “Ah … two Karduan destroyer escorts, two full destroyers, a battle destroyer and a repair tender.”

  “Unless my math has gone bad that’s only six,” Hope remarked, taking a sip from a fresh cup of coffee that his steward had just brought him.

  Richards answered for him, “Sir, it is a Confederation Behemoth Class Recovery Ship.”

  He then looked down to the flustered midshipmen, “Don’t sweat it, the recovery ship is relatively new and not in the computer’s identification data base.”

  “Thank you, sir, its identification beacon is reading it as the ISS Mammoth,” Lewis said, grateful for the senior officer’s understanding.

  “Bloody hell!” Dover declared as the ships came up on the main viewer.

  It was no wonder at his language; the Behemoth Class of starships was designed for one purpose, the recovery of damaged ships unable to return to port. It was five times the size of the Star Wolf and could easily have taken the attack cruiser and another just like her within the gigantic ship’s bowels.

  “Well said Mister Dover,” Hope commented, “Prepare to come about and bring all weapons to bear. Spinal cannon, make ready to fire, load all torpedo bays.”

  “Sir, the destroyers and the battle destroyer are accelerating towards us,” the maser station reported.

  The aft section of the Wolf lacked the full sensor masking that the rest of the ship had. If they had been facing the second gravity well instead of heading the other way they could have sat there waiting for them to walk into a trap.

  Richards moved to his own station as he monitored Mister Dover who was bringing the bow of the ship around.