The Wolf Between Stars

By Randy M Schilling

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Chapter 1

Marek Voss stepped through the cryo-hold’s inner seal and let the hatch close behind him. The thin mechanical hum of the corridor disappeared, leaving only the sound of his breathing inside his helmet. Frost covered the vault in geometric whorls, and red emergency lights glowed above rows of stasis pods, most of them dark. Marek wiped the viewport of the nearest pod and found a pale figure beneath the glass.

“Juno, I’m counting twenty-three pods down here.” He angled his wrist toward the control panel. “Most of them show long-term stasis failure. No vital signs.”

Her voice crackled through his comm. “Then make it quick. The hull has maybe four hours before the tidal stress starts pulling it apart, and I’m not towing a coffin.”

Marek moved deeper into the vault, checking each display as he passed. Dead monitors reflected the red emergency lights, and frost had swallowed several viewports completely. Near the end of the second row, a single green indicator shone among the darkened controls. He crossed to the pod, cleared the glass with his glove, and found a man staring back at him through the frost. The stranger lay perfectly still, but his molten amber eyes followed Marek with an alertness that made it clear he was not asleep.

“Juno.” Marek checked the readings twice before trusting them. “I found a live one.”

Silence held on the channel for several seconds. “Define live.”

“Alive and awake.”

“That pod has been sealed for two hundred years.”

“The occupant doesn’t seem impressed.”

Marek studied the control panel. The automatic release had failed, but the manual latches were intact. He disengaged them one at a time.

“Marek,” Juno said, “we don’t know what is in there.”

“There’s a man in there.”

“You know what I mean.”

A faded military insignia marked the base of the pod, and although most of the identifying text had worn away, the AstroGen name remained visible beneath the frost. That alone gave Marek reason to hesitate, but he had already released most of the manual latches. Whatever AstroGen had placed inside the chamber, leaving a conscious man trapped aboard a failing ship was not an option.

He pulled the final latch, and the pod opened with a groan as frozen vapor spilled across the floor. The man remained prone while the air cleared, revealing scars across his bare chest and shoulders. His breathing was slow but steady. When Marek reached for the medical lead attached to the stranger’s arm, the man surged upright and caught his wrist before he could pull away. The movement was so fast that Marek registered it only after powerful fingers had locked around his suit.

“Did we win?”

The question emerged in a voice roughened by disuse. Marek remained still, aware that the hand around his wrist could probably break bone through the suit if he made the wrong move.

“Win what?”

“The war.”

Marek glanced at the faded military insignia before answering. “What year do you think it is?”

“Answer me.”

“That war ended centuries ago, and this ship is a derelict my crew came to salvage.” Marek kept his voice calm as the pressure around his wrist eased. “My name is Marek Voss.”

The man released him and surveyed the cryo-vault from inside the open pod. Whatever he had expected to find after waking, it had not been rows of failed stasis chambers beneath the emergency lights of a dying ship.

“You’re also naked.” Marek removed the emergency blanket from his belt and offered it to him. “You might want this.”

The man accepted the blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders before testing the movement of his arms and legs. His body had survived two centuries in stasis, but it had not yet remembered how to move without effort.

“I am Dorian. Designation Vanguard Unit Seven.”

“Then I’ll call you Dorian.” Marek crouched beside the pod while leaving enough space between them to avoid making either of them feel cornered. “Were you a soldier?”

“I was made for the war.”

The pod continued its awakening sequence while they spoke, adjusting its internal temperature and disconnecting the systems that had sustained Dorian through stasis. Once his vital signs stabilized, a new message appeared on the control panel.

STASIS TERMINATED. VANGUARD TELEMETRY ACTIVE.

Marek reached for the controls, but the system rejected his attempt to disable the transmission. Whatever telemetry had activated was not responding to the pod’s manual interface. The control panel registered an encrypted signal leaving through the derelict’s communications array.

A carrier tone sounded before Marek could determine what had been transmitted. Static filled the vault for several seconds, followed by a man’s voice coming through the speakers.

“Salvage vessel, you have opened a restricted AstroGen asset. You are ordered to stand down and await retrieval.”

Marek recognized Director Thorne immediately. His voice appeared in corporate warnings, disputed salvage claims, and enough cautionary stories that few captains in the Helios system could mistake it.

“This vessel was registered as an abandoned military transport,” Marek said.

“The status of the vessel is irrelevant. The pod and its contents remain AstroGen property. Return the unit to stasis, and we will discuss your compensation.”

Beside him, Dorian drew the blanket closer around his shoulders.

“He’s awake.”

“That does not alter his legal status. He is a Vanguard combat unit, and you possess neither the authority nor the training required to manage him.”

Marek had dealt with enough corporate salvage representatives to recognize language designed to make theft sound like procedure. “I’m not putting him back in the pod.”

“You are making a costly mistake, Captain Voss.”

“Send me an invoice.”

Marek severed the transmission before Thorne could answer.

“You do not know what I am,” Dorian said.

“I know Thorne called you property.”

“He was correct when he called me a combat unit. AstroGen created us for the war.” Dorian looked toward the surrounding pods. “We entered stasis during transport to the next front. We were supposed to wake when the ship reached its destination.”

Marek opened the pod’s emergency compartment and found a sealed package containing thermal pants and a work jacket. As he removed them, he read the final records preserved on the control panel. The last transit entry reported an emergency jump termination, followed by the loss of navigation and long-range communications. The transport had never completed its journey and had drifted unnoticed while its systems failed around the sleeping soldiers.

“You didn’t know the ship was lost,” Marek said.

“I was already in stasis when we departed.”

As far as Dorian had known, the war was still being fought and another battlefield waited beyond the pod.

Marek handed him the clothing. “The ship has been adrift for approximately two hundred years. We need to leave before what remains of its power gives out.”

Dorian dressed. The jacket fit poorly across his shoulders, but it would keep him warm on the way back to Marek’s ship.

Before they left, Dorian approached the nearest occupied pod and cleared the frost from its viewport. “What are their readings?”

Marek checked the display even though he already knew what it would show. The stasis system had failed decades earlier, and the same pattern appeared on every darkened pod in the vault.

“They’re dead. The pods lost power one by one while the ship was adrift.”

Dorian looked along the rows that held the rest of his unit. “They were my brothers. We entered stasis together because we were supposed to wake and fight together.” He rested one hand against the frosted glass. “They never knew the war ended.”

“No,” Marek said. “But you can remember them.”

Dorian remained beside the pod for several moments before lowering his hand. “I will.”

The corridor outside the vault had deteriorated since Marek passed through it on his way down. Emergency panels flickered along the walls, and sections of the ceiling had begun to sag as the transport’s failing stabilizers lost their hold on the surrounding structure.

“How far is your ship?” Dorian asked.

“Two decks above us. We have to cross the cargo hold and reach the docking seal, but it should only take ten minutes.”

A tremor rolled through the deck before Marek could lead him farther. The lights went dark, leaving them in the glow of Marek’s suit display until emergency power restored them at half their previous strength.

Juno came over the comm as soon as the shaking subsided. “Opening the pod reactivated systems throughout the transport, including the communications array. The power surge overloaded what remained of the stabilizing grid.”

Marek examined a widening gap between two wall panels. “How much time do we have?”

“Twelve minutes if the central spine holds. Less if the structural failures reach it first.”

“That’s a considerable change from four hours.”

“That estimate was made before you reactivated a two-century-old military network.”

A metallic groan traveled through the corridor, followed by the hiss of escaping air as a seam opened along the wall. Vapor gathered around the breach.

Marek reconsidered the route he had taken to reach the vault and dismissed it almost immediately. The main access corridor crossed the transport’s central spine, which was now taking the brunt of the structural failures.

“We won’t make it back the way I came. Do you know another route?”

“Military transports of this class had an emergency passage running parallel to the spine,” Dorian said. “If it survived the modifications, it should lead toward the docking section.”

Dorian searched the wall until he located a recessed catch beneath a broken conduit. Age had stiffened the mechanism, but it yielded when he forced it down, allowing a narrow maintenance hatch to open. The passage beyond was barely wide enough for his shoulders, with exposed pipes overhead and stagnant water covering sections of the deck. Marek followed him through drifting dust, past burned insulation and the scorched remnants of an old electrical fire.

They passed two junctions before a sealed blast door blocked the passage. Dorian examined its edges and the dead control panel mounted beside it.

“This door was added after my unit boarded the transport.”

“Can you open it?”

“The electronic controls are dead, but there should be a mechanical release behind the access panel.”

The deck lurched before Marek could respond. He reached for an overhead pipe to keep his footing, but its corroded mounting tore away beneath his weight. The length of metal dropped with him, striking his right thigh and pinning his leg against the deck. Pain spread from his hip to his knee as he tried to push the pipe aside, but he could not gain enough leverage in the confined passage.

Dorian knelt beside him. “Is the bone broken?”

“I don’t think so, but I can’t move this by myself.”

Dorian braced both hands beneath the pipe. His fingers thickened around the metal as the bones beneath his skin shifted to support the strain, and dark claws extended from his fingertips to find purchase against the smooth surface.

“Pull your leg free when I lift.”

Marek positioned his hands against the deck and waited until Dorian raised the pipe. The movement was controlled despite the weight, giving Marek enough room to drag his injured leg clear and roll onto his side. Dorian held the metal until he was safely out of the way, then lowered it back to the deck before his hands returned to their previous shape.

He offered Marek his arm and helped him stand. Pain throbbed through Marek’s thigh when he tested his weight, but the leg held.

“You could have mentioned the claws,” Marek said.

“You did not ask.”

“I’ll prepare a more thorough questionnaire when the ship stops falling apart.”

Another tremor passed through the walls before Dorian could answer. He drew a slow breath through his nose and turned toward the sealed door.

“Your docking seal is close. I can smell fresh polymer and recycled air moving through the ventilation system.”

“You can separate that from everything else in here?” Marek asked.

“Yes.”

“The door is still in our way.”

Dorian removed the damaged cover beside the control panel and found the release beneath it. The mechanism had rusted in place, forcing him to use both hands before it began to move. Once he disengaged the lock, he pulled the blast door far enough open for them to pass.

Beyond it, the maintenance corridor curved around the damaged central spine and opened into a larger service bay. Marek’s salvage ship waited on the other side, forty meters away, with its running lights shining through the docking hatch. As they approached, a wall-mounted comm activated and carried Juno’s voice across the bay.

“Marek, you have ninety seconds before I pull away. This transport is starting to break around the docking seal.”

“We’re at the hatch. Open the airlock.”

“I will after I hear from the man with you.” Juno addressed Dorian through the speaker before Marek could argue. “Dorian, do you want to board this ship?”

“Yes,” Dorian said. “I do.”

The docking hatch unlocked, allowing warm air to enter the service bay. Marek crossed into the airlock and leaned against the inner bulkhead to relieve the pressure on his injured leg.

Dorian remained outside long enough to look back toward the corridor leading to the cryo-vault. The remaining emergency lights flickered across the service bay as another tremor moved through the transport. Marek waited without calling to him. A few seconds later, Dorian turned from the dying ship and crossed into the airlock.

“Seal the hatch,” Marek said.

The outer door closed behind Dorian, and the airlock had barely finished cycling when the engines engaged. With the airlock confirming a breathable atmosphere, Marek removed his helmet and caught the familiar smells of grease, hot circuitry, and Juno’s burned coffee.

Marek braced himself against the bulkhead as the salvage ship pulled away from the transport. Through the viewport, he watched the derelict collapse along its central spine while sections of hull separated and drifted into the surrounding debris. The cryo-vault disappeared inside the wreckage, leaving no visible trace of the soldiers still entombed within it.

Dorian remained at the viewport until the transport vanished behind a widening cloud of metal and ice. Once the ship had cleared the expanding debris field, Juno set a stable escape course and descended the access ladder to meet them.

“Was one survivor worth abandoning half our salvage?” she asked.

“His name is Dorian.”

“Dorian, then.” Juno turned to him. “I’m Juno, and I’m responsible for keeping this ship flying. Before we go any farther, I need to scan you for contaminants, weapons, or active military technology. The scanner will not touch you, and I won’t use it without your permission.”

“You may proceed,” Dorian said.

Juno activated the scanner and moved it along Dorian’s arms and torso before circling behind him. The readings remained within acceptable limits until the device passed over the base of his neck and produced a warning tone. She repeated the scan at a narrower setting, then enlarged the resulting image on the display.

“What did you find?” Marek asked.

A small metallic object appeared between two of Dorian’s vertebrae, close enough to the spinal cord that fine connections extended into the surrounding nerves. Its identification signal carried the same AstroGen encryption as the transmission from the derelict.

“There’s an active locator embedded beside his spine,” Juno said. “It must have remained dormant during stasis and resumed transmitting when the pod released him.”

The message from the awakening sequence returned to Marek.

VANGUARD TELEMETRY ACTIVE.

The telemetry had not been coming from the pod. AstroGen had placed the transmitter inside Dorian.

The proximity alarm interrupted them as a vessel appeared at the edge of the sensor field and adjusted its course to intercept. Juno checked its drive signature against the signal captured from the derelict, then brought up the ship’s recorded trajectory.

“It’s an AstroGen retrieval ship,” she said. “It was already patrolling the outer debris region when Dorian’s telemetry activated. That ship relayed the signal to Thorne, and now it’s coming for us.”

Marek looked toward the tactical display as the distance between the two vessels began to close.

End of Chapter 1

The Wolf Between Stars releases March 10, 2027. Get release updates.