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

by Shane VanAulen

  Even its name denoted the past decadence of that 16th century Scottish court of the long dead queen and not her tragic ending and beheading at the hands of her own cousin the Virgin Queen, Elizabeth I of England.

  The liner was as big as the Mammoth’s and that alone was saying a lot though the recovery ship’s space was allotted for ships, parts and weapons and had very little creature comforts. The liner’s engines were as huge as the ship itself and her system’s drives were said to be the fastest in the civilian cruise line’s fleet. It had no weapons or military value yet it was a very rich prize.

  Looking at the main viewer he saw their location just as Martin said, “They are refueling at the gas giant and have given no sign of detecting us.”

  “All right, keep us at battle stations until they leave and let’s keep a close eye on them,” Collins ordered as he crossed to the comm. station. “Patch me through to the repair deck.”

  A moment later the young enlisted man, looked up to him.

  “I have Chief Wineburg, sir,” he said trying not to look scared.

  Looking down at the monitor he could see that the chief warrant was sitting in a missile fire-control center. Even though the system was automated it had a human backup firing system.

  “Chief, get your repair crews from battle stations and get back to work on the Java. Put all your droids on it if you have to, but get that frigate battle capable ASAP.”

  The gruff older man’s voice called back to him across the line, “Give me five hours and she’ll fight. I’m just having trouble with that damn light cruiser turret.”

  “I’ll send Mister Cappilo to give you a hand, Collins out.” Mike then told the comm. operator to summon Lt. Cappilo to the repair deck.

  Returning to the captain’s chair he stood there watching the main viewer feeling helpless.

  “They have too much fire power for us, so we’ll just pass this one by,” he said, answering Daley’s unspoken questions. His friend’s face had said it all, do we attack and if we do what are our chance?

  For the next four hours they watched and waited as the three ships refueled and then moved back to the gravity well. With a big sigh of relief from the bridge crew they watched as the enemy ships opened a bend and disappeared.

  “Stand down from battle station’s,” Mike ordered and turned to Martin. “Lets make ready to bend, its time for us to get out of here and try to get home.”

  “How soon do you want to leave?”

  “As soon as the Java has a shake down run. In the meantime, I’m taking the fighters out for a training session,” he informed, realizing that they needed a little more practice. Worrying would either make him old or keep them alive, maybe both.

  An hour later he and his fighter wing were running another set of two on four drills when the Java launched from the recovery ship’s bowels. Mike had taken each middy in turn as his wingman and ran them against the other four fighters. It was one of the drills he had learned from Commander Hutton’s playbook. The Kardies liked to fly in groups of three. Some people thought that they wanted to have an edge on the more experienced and better-trained human pilots.

  The problem was that during a high-speed turn it was hard if not impossible for the third wingman to keep up with the lead two fighters. Furthermore, if the human pilots hit them head-on or to either corner, the third enemy fighter’s field of fire would be severely reduced. It was also hard for three fighters to cover each other evenly with minimal coordination. Pilots often knew their wingman as well as they knew their own spouse if not better. In battle being able to predict what they were going to do could save your life. With three fighters it made it just that much harder.

  Mike was feeling better about the novice pilots. Give them a battle or two for some experience and they’d do just fine.

  “Lone Star One, this is Java One,” Cappilo’s voice sounded in Mike’s headset. Lone Star was the name they decided on for their fighter group. It referred back to the Alamo’s name and history, also being the nickname for the state and one-time Republic of Texas.

  “Go ahead Java.”

  Could you and your flight run some battle runs on us for practice?”

  “Good idea Java One,” Collins answered, thinking that he should have thought of that.

  They then spent the next hour strafing and critiquing attack runs on the frigate. Mike then turned the fighter command over to Mister Rabb and returned to the ship. He went directly to the Alamo and ordered its immediate launch.

  Kelly had double duty as both engineering officer and as the ship’s first officer, a role she was surprisingly good at. Once the Alamo had launched it joined in on the training simulation and after a few minutes the Mammoth was calling to join in as well.

  Two more hours of frigates, fighters and recovery ship mock battles left the crews tired, but smiling. They were learning to fight together and just the sight of two frigates, six fighters and the recover ship working together made them feel good. It was a hell of a long way from six days ago.

  Mike ordered all ships to reload on the Mammoth and to stand down from battle stations. He then decided to give them a break informing them that they would leaving in nine hours or as it were by mid-morning.

  Returning to his quarter’s young Mister Collins was exhausted and ready for bed, but when he opened his door he saw that someone was laying in his bed waiting for him.

  Angelique was sitting up reading an old style paper bound book. Her robe was partial open and he could just see a single pert breast peeking out. He suddenly felt wide-awake as he shut the door and crossed to the bed. Two hours later the couple finally did get to sleep.

  Their first bend went well and they found that the system they had entered was devoid of ships. After refueling they returned to the gravity well and left without incident. Mike and his command staff, Martin, Rufo and Gunny figured that they could make it back in four bends with a little luck.

  The Mammoth was so large and used so much fuel especially when fully loaded that they decided to refuel every chance they could get. The recovery ship was capable of multiple bends, but you never know when you’re going to have to do several in a row and find yourself empty.

  The next bend put them in an occupied system where a Karduan task force was performing training operations. The fleet consisted of a dozen ships of which the largest was a super destroyer. The Mammoth didn’t even hesitate a moment, but went immediately back into the well and bended to safety. Whether they were detected no one really knew all they cared about was that they had escaped without having to fight.

  Mike noted, from his captain’s chair on the Alamo that the Karduans didn’t seem to be setting out security at gravity wells like they should be. That’s how the Wolf was able to single-handedly defeat an entire squadron, saving one lucky vanguard sloop. When he had time he’d have to get with Bre-Nan and try to find out if they have a different doctrine for operating within their own space from that of enemy territory.

  The third bend took them to a lifeless system that had an over abundance of gas giants and gaseous worlds. The nearest planet to the old white star was a victim of an out of control greenhouse effect. Its thick atmosphere of carbon dioxide effectively trapped the heat from escaping making for an ever increase planetary temperatures.

  The combination of heavy clouds, planet-wide hurricane force winds and the absence of planet life to produce oxygen condemned the planet to the category of hell worlds. The whole system seemed like that including worlds of ammonia, helium, carbon dioxide, sulfur dioxide and nitrogen oxide.

  At first they didn’t read any ships within the system and entered to refuel. With so many highly charged, gaseous and mineral rich worlds it made it hard for the recovery ship’s limited sensors to pick up any activity. Collins was thinking that this system would be ideal place for an ambush when the Mammoth reported a sensor contact.

  “Sir, we’re reading weapons fire from the vicinity of the fourth planet.” The maser operator reported and
then added, “A ship is coming out of the ammonium atmosphere of the third world.”

  Lt. Daley was sitting in the Mammoth’s center chair even though Collins, who was decks below him, was making all of the big calls. He had four days to get his command in shape and was comfortable with the idea of being in charge. It was after all what Captain Hope had spent the last four years getting him ready for. His own recent experiences during the last three months had given him a world of deeper understanding. Hell, he even felt older.

  “Type?” he asked.

  Ensign Stevens was his first officer and had moved to the scope even as he asked.

  “I’m reading a mid-size armored freighter with twelve additional weapons turrets including four missile, four gauss anti missile, three fusion and one small Karduan twin cannon particle turret.”

  This was in addition to its normal two missile and four gauss defensive weapon’s turrets. In other words, it had the firepower of a frigate if not the speed or armor.

  “Sir, we are being hailed,” the comm. station reported, “the ship is identifying itself as the Armed Privateer Chaos.”

  Martin’s eyes grew wide as he realized that this was one of the privateers the Wolf had crippled a couple of months back when they had escaped Austro Prime.

  “Mike, did you copy that?”

  “Yes, its one of Commander Richards’ friends. Find out what he wants and don’t let on that we know who they are.”

  He was frankly surprised that the two pirate ships were once more out hunting. The Wolf had slammed them pretty good and it must have taken the repair station at Austro Prime a good two months to fix them.

  Before Daley could make a command the maser station reported in again.

  “Sir, we’re still detecting weapons fire beyond the fourth world, whatever is going on someone is slugging it out.”

  “Open a channel,” Martin ordered.

  He had decided to allow the video as well as the audio. If this ship was hostile them letting them see his youth might make them attack, but it would also give him an element of surprise, as they would underestimate him.

  “This is Lt. Martin Daley, commanding the Imperial Star Ship Mammoth.”

  The picture was of an old looking, but clearly middle-aged man wearing a battered black space suit without a helmet. He had dark unfriendly eyes even though he was smiling and had a jagged scar across his chin.

  “Greetings Mammoth, if I may ask, what the hell are you doing out here? You know you’re behind enemy lines don’t you?” he said as the sound of laughter could be heard from his crew.

  Martin forced a smile in return.

  “Thank God we ran into another human ship. We’ve been hiding from Karduan squadrons ever since the Battle at Jericho Six. We had to make a run for it and we got separated from the rest of the surviving ships. Could you escort us to Austro Prime or another Confederation world? I’m sure we could make it worth your while.”

  “Sure we could, we’re heading back there any way. Just come along side with us, we’ll refuel and head out,” the pirate said, still smiling insincerely.

  Martin could just see the scum’s greedy little mind calculating the price they’d fetch for the massive recovery ship.

  “That’s great!” He then pressed an off switch on his chair’s command panel. “All weapons passive lock on the freighter and prepare to fire.”

  Collins was listening to the interplay and cut in when he heard Martin’s order.

  “Hold your fire if you can until we find out about the weapons fire. Remember the last time we saw these bastards they had a captured Karduan destroyer escort.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll wait a little bit,” Daley replied, thinking that he’d prefer to blast the pirate scum now.

  Approaching the planet with a hydrogen atmosphere for refueling, their sensors picked up the ending of the firefight. The former Karduan destroyer escort, Anarchy had just passed an immobile Confederation frigate firing a volley into the frigate’s hull section.

  It was obvious that the pirate ship was trying to force the frigate into surrendering. The two pirates had managed to disable the frigate’s engines and fire control, yet they didn’t want to inflict much more damage to their critical systems.

  Whoever the captain of the Imperial ship was, he must have continued to refuse to surrender. The pirates were now trying to force them to submit or hull them so much that little of their crew could survive or be able to resist a boarding attempt. The pirates were careful not to hit the bridge or the engines section after all that would make it more difficult to salvage.

  Mike didn’t wait any longer and said, “Do it!”

  “Fire!” Martin commanded a second later.

  The Mammoth was a rear echelon ship not meant for front line action, but even so she did have a bite. At this close of range it was a big bite. Her two forward fusion cannons fired as her ten missile turrets and two torpedo tubes let lose with a full volley. The Blitz Krieg torpedoes hit the armed freighter aft as twenty missiles slammed a mid-ship and the fusion turret’s energy crashed into the bridge’s hull armor.

  Martin’s second volley was limited to just fusion fire as they were detecting that the armed freighter was now powerless. They then moved to full impulse and headed straight for the former Karduan destroyer escort.

  The Anarchy left the frigate for dead and changed course to intercept the recovery ship. It was a rich prize and would be worth the fight.

  Pirate Captain Peter Alexander couldn’t believe that a glorified freighter had devastated his armored privateer. It was suppose to have gone the other way with the Chaos leading the Confederation ship into a trap with their destroyer escort just as they had done to the frigate.

  Caught by surprise and between their two ships the frigate had been disabled them before they realized they had been betrayed. They had run this scenario several times against merchant ships from both sides with great success.

  Since the Karduan break through they had been helping to hunt down Confederation ships and sell them to either the Kardies or to the breakaway worlds depending on where they were, the ship and of course the price.

  Now their complete victory over the frigate had been ruined by what was basically a tow truck. Not since that runaway attack cruiser had crippled them had they been so badly damaged and surprised.

  “Captain, you’re not going to believe this, but that fucking recovery ship is coming right at us,” his sensor operator called out.

  The enemy should have been running. Other than their missiles and torpedoes that they could shoot down, the recovery ship didn’t have any long-range weapons.

  “Bring us about, all gauss cannons prepare for incoming missile attack. Particle turret, prepare to fire as soon as they are in range. We’ll just sit back lads and pepper her hide until she is spent,” he said, explaining himself to his always-skeptical crew.

  The huge box like ship again surprised him by not firing any of her missile or torpedoes. Perhaps she was trying to wait until she was closer and had a better chance of scoring a hit.

  “Sir …” the sensor operator started and then paused, “I’m reading something weird?”

  “What is it?” Alexander the Great demanded, turning his chair towards the station. A second later he didn’t need to ask as the images showed up on his main view screen. It was clear that next to the recovery ship was now six star fighters and two frigates.

  “What the fuck?”

  The Anarchy’s bridge crew showed their lack of discipline and broke out into a throng of comments and questions.

  “Shut the fuck up!” Alexander screamed, standing up from his captain’s chair and drawing his 8mm gyro pistol.

  The threat was clear that the next man that spoke would be shot. They had seen their young hothead of a captain do much worse and no man would lightly cross his path. They also had confidence that their gaudy commander could also fight or at least think them out of almost any trouble.

  “It could be a
sensor trick to get us to panic,” suggested one of his men.

  He ran a hand through his dirty blond hair, its short curly locks had knotted and he had to pull to get his fingers free.

  A second later the Anarchy was rocked as the two frigates scored hits with their particle turrets.

  “No, they’re real fucking ships,” he declared, his eyes locked on the viewer. “Full Reverse!”

  “Impossible! We’re out of their range!” his first mate announced.

  “Sir, the sensors report that the frigates have been upgraded and have cruiser size main guns.”

  The tall multiracial pirate sat down in his captain’s chair.

  “Get us the fuck out of here,” he ordered as his ship took another hit. “Set a course for the fourth planet, now!”

  Mike was duly impressed with the Alamo’s repairs and Mister Cappilo’s modifications. The ship handled like she was new and the light cruiser turret not only was working well, but gave them a punch. At this range they shouldn’t have been able to hit with anything except missiles and torpedoes. With this added range and firepower he and the Java could stand off and pound the destroyer escort without getting close enough for the enemy to strike back.

  Watching his main viewer, he saw the Anarchy break and run towards the fourth world. Clearly Alexander must have had thought the same thing and made the only choice left to him. There was no way he was going to get by the frigates and fighters to reach the bend point. He couldn’t fight the upgraded frigates and hope to win so that left his last and only option - he turned tail and ran.

  The pirate ship rushed towards the planet and quickly disappeared into the thick ammonium atmosphere. The gasses helped to obscure sensor readings, but staying within the gas clouds would, over a prolonged time, damage the destroyer escort’s hull. It was his only move and one that Collins clearly understood.