Starwolf

by Warren Graffeo

Sub-Commander Jarn D’Arl has lived with a dream since he was twelve years old. Service aboard Star Wolf, the most famous battle cruiser in the Union fleet, and her equally legendary commander Captain, Dav Tolber. Unaware that Star Wolf has a deep secret, he eagerly awaits his arrival. In transit he meets a Malageon woman, Elera, who excites him, but bound by the rule of non-fraternization between Crew and officers, he must put aside his feelings. He soon finds himself in the middle of the kind of battle he has sought throughout his meteoric rise in the fleet. Battles like the kind that won Star Wolf her status as the greatest war ship in the fleet. Faced with overwhelming Gryll force, a crippled Star Wolf prepares to make a last stand while Jarn and Elera are ordered to make a suicidal dash through the Gryll ranks to warn the fleet.

978-1-61386-112-7

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Science Fiction/suspense

Arrival

"Look for a hole in the stars."

Jarn jerked away from the view-port. "What did you say?"

His eyes lighted on the smiling face of an attractive petite girl in Crew uniform. Emerald green eyes, framed by contrasting colorful strawberry-blonde hair and porcelain skin, sparkled in amused interest.

She was obviously a Malageon. Those features stamped her such as clearly as would a DNA print.

"I said, look for a hole in the stars. That's the only way you'll find the Wolf visually. Her skin absorbs all radiation including light, so there's no reflection to see." The amused twinkle remained in the girl's eyes, orange pinpoints of light glittering in a pool of startling green clarity.

Bridling at the Crewie's casual familiarity, Jarn's initial surprise gave way to an undefined sense of embarrassment at being startled, then irritation at the girl's impertinent smile. "Do you usually speak to officers in such a familiar manner? And, what makes you think I'm looking for the Wolf?" He garnered a small satisfaction from the startled look that quickly crossed her face. "And I know about the radiation absorbent qualities of the Wolf's skin."

She snapped into an insolent caricature of attention. "Sorry, Sub-commander." The eyes glinted with pinpoints of fire belying the assumed servility. "But things are different out here. No one stands on protocol in transit." Her face turned impish as the grin spread. "Besides, we outcasts should stick together."

"Outcasts?" Jarn snapped, "I don't know what you're talking about, Crewman."

"Leading Com-tech Elera, Sir." She looked at him curiously. "Haven't you noticed how everyone avoids you on this tub?" She looked directly into his eyes. A cold bitter laugh escaped her. "It's because they know you're assigned to the Wolf. That makes you an outcast and an untouchable to regular Service personnel." She turned her head toward the view port.

Casting a glance over her shoulder, she looked directly at him. A note of sadness touched her smile when she saw his confusion. "Here, come see." She rotated a control on the man-high view port. A magnifying lens rotated until it reached an intermediate power of 200 magnifications. She stopped the rotation there and pointed to a smudge of black in the upper left-hand corner. "Like I said, look for a hole in the stars."

Jarn hesitated, torn between curiosity and protocol. Curiosity won out. He went to the port and looked where her slender finger pointed. In the almost solid star field, a wedge of darkness covered some of the millions of stars in the galactic center. As he watched, the shadow slowly eclipsed more stars. The black shape grew slightly in the view port.

"That's it? That's the Wolf?" He couldn't fully suppress a thrill of excitement in his voice.

It was Elera's turn for surprise. "You sound as if you want to be here." She chuckled. "Sub-commander, no one wants to be assigned to the Wolf. Except maybe Tolber and Harzig." She looked into his eyes again. He deflected her gaze by turning his head. "There's something about you. You're not like anyone else I've seen draw this assignment. Most officers reporting aboard have only one thought in mind; how quickly they can find a way to another assignment."

Jarn forgot he was addressing a Crewie. He explained, "It took five years to get this assignment. My request was refused twice before they gave it to me." He turned to look at her again. "Yes, it is something I want. Something I've wanted most of my life." He returned attention to the view port and watched the darkness grow incrementally larger by the moment.

Elera approached him. She ran a finger lightly over the crossed-meteor badge on his tunic breast. "You were a Captain? You had your own command and gave that up for the Wolf?" Those wide green eyes stared at him, questioning, disbelieving. But it must be true. Had he been transferred for disciplinary reasons, like most of the crew, his active captain's rank would have been rescinded and he would not be allowed to wear the insignia.

The eyes drew him in, exerting a magnetic influence. He found himself explaining something to this stranger never before admitted to a living soul. "I was twelve years old when the battle of Cygna 4 happened, but it's as fresh in my memory as though it happened yesterday. The Wolf was new then. It was her first battle tour, and she took on a whole Gryll task force single-handed and beat them, saving the people of Cygna 4 and an entire Union battle group in the process.

"Wolf and Tolber became heroes and household names. I followed everything published about them. I kept a record of all Wolf's exploits from that time, all the way through the academy." He chuckled. "It's become quite a file. I still carry it with me." He turned to look at the view port once more. He spoke as though explaining something to himself. "Ever since I first learned of Cygna 4, I dreamed of serving on the Wolf. That became the goal in my life; to join the fleet and be assigned to the Wolf." He chuckled. "It took a bit longer than I anticipated." He turned back to face her. "It's the only fleet assignment worth having."

Elera had to avert her gaze. The sparkle in her eyes faded, to be replaced by a bright pool of liquid. The naked emotion and hope in his voice wrenched at her heart. She watched him looking out the view port. No, he couldn't know and feel the way he did.

Before she could reply, the I-Com sounded a three-tone attention signal. "All BC 471 personnel will assemble for departure at gang-port three, starboard, in fifteen cens." Pointing to the audio device, bitterness returned to her voice when she commented, "They can't even bring themselves to mention her name, just a number." Before he could question the remark, she said. "Well Sub-commander, that's us. We are the BC 471 personnel." She headed for the observation deck exit. As the portal whooshed open, she said, "I have to collect my things. I guess I'll see you on board, Sir."

Jarn's head snapped up at the brusque correctness of her tone. She was gone, disappeared into the transport's bowels. He sighed. A last glance at the view port, now almost completely dark, filled with the Wolf's black profile, and he too left to gather his already-packed belongings prior to debarkation.

Jarn stepped from the shuttle's air lock to the Wolf's quarterdeck and saluted the deck officer. "Sub-commander D'arl reporting for duty." He handed the junior officer his I-disk. The officer inserted the disk in a reader and punched an entry code. The disk popped out in seconds. The officer returned Jarn's disk, snapped to attention and saluted. "Welcome aboard, Commander. The captain will see you in his day cabin. I'll have someone take your bags and escort you to your room and the captain's cabin."

Jarn returned the salute and picked up his travel pack.

"Have that case delivered to my cabin. I'll take this. And, Tente, I won't require escort. I know the way." He took leave of the quarterdeck and entered the main companionway, a wide corridor traversing the length of the ship.

The journey down the ship's spine was the first step of a long awaited adventure. Jarn smiled. He inhaled odors of electronic equipment, scrubbed and sanitized air, and a faint scent of musk. He touched the smooth, non-reflecting, Dura-last textured wall partitions, slick enough that dust could not adhere to the mirror-smooth surface. He moved slowly, looking at passageways and compartments long committed to memory from pictures, diagrams and schematics.

A crewie passed carrying his main case. "By your leave, sir." Jarn motioned the man past him. The crewie hurried down the passageway, turning right two compartments along the companionway.

Jarn reached the same point where the crewie had disappeared. Here the mid-main passageway intersected the central companionway. He turned into the passageway and stopped before a large panel fastened to the bulkhead. He looked at it and ran the palm of his hand over its glossy surface. The panel held two columns of names. To the left was a list of the Wolf's battles and actions. The panel's smooth surface contained nearly a hundred places and zones etched into its eterna-last finish. To the right, another list, twice as long, displayed the names of officers and crewmembers killed in action.

Wolf, the only one of her kind. The only major warship in the entire Union fleet capable of operating in atmosphere. A legend in the Fleet and in the Union, no other battle cruiser could match her in reputation, performance and glory. No other ship in the fleet could boast her war record, and none had survived as long.

Wrapped up in wonder and joy at being aboard, he failed to notice an unnatural quiet and lack of activity. The few crew he passed along the way were silent and unsmiling. The bantering and playful taunting common to ratings serving aboard a war ship was totally absent. The six hundred men and women of the Wolf's crew were virtually invisible.

Jarn continued his journey until he reached a cabin whose door placard read; Chief Nav Officer. He smiled, tracing the letters with a finger. A blank space just under the title would hold another small placard with his name. The door opened almost instantly and nearly soundlessly in response to a pass of his hand over the tell eye. Everything on the Wolf was unnaturally quiet. He stepped into the room and drew in a deep breath. Familiar scents of new leather and wood reached his olfactory senses, although such scarce materials had been replaced more than three-thousand- years ago by polymers designed to look, feel and smell like the original. He drew in another deep breath and sighed. He was home at last.

Setting the travel pack on the bunk, Jarn opened his main case. The crewie had placed it neatly at the foot of the bunk bed. He took out a set of shipboard grays and quickly discarded his travel blues. He changed uniforms and inspected his appearance in a mirror set above the small lavatory located next to the wet shower stall. He moistened two fingers to wet a cow-lick of hair that defied all efforts to conform it to regulations. A brush restored his blond hair to something nearly acceptable. He tugged the short uniform jacket and smoothed it across his chest. One last look in the mirror and he left the cabin for his appointment with the legendary Captain Tolber. Tolber of Cygna, Tolber of the Wolf.