Director Staroko
09:00 CST
November 2, 2030
SkyTeam Headquarters
Cedar Rapids, IA
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I ripped the phone off my desk and hurled it straight through the glass wall of my office. The glass shattered into a thousand pieces, and the phone lodged itself halfway into the side of a cubicle. Jackson poked his head out, wide-eyed, glancing between me and the now-impaled phone. When he saw the look on my face, he wisely ducked back out of sight.
“KATRINA!” I roared, my voice rattling the office walls.
A moment later, Katrina appeared, her lab coat flapping as she rushed in. She skidded to a stop when she saw the destruction, staring between me and the devastation with that look—half shock, half bracing for impact.
“Stephan?” she asked, voice soft. “What happened?”
I turned my back, gripping the edge of my desk to keep from shifting. We were on the brink of a massive breakthrough, and yet, here I was dealing with this insanity. Our illustrious leader wanted the entire pack—every last one of us—to pack up and haul off to Knoxville for a Thanksgiving celebration. My eye began to twitch.
“Stephan?” Katrina tried again, placing a gentle hand on my back.
I took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “Dr. Zaraki wants us to go to Knoxville. For Thanksgiving.”
“Alright… it’s not the first time we’ve traveled for a holiday,” she said, clearly trying to calm me down, though her confusion was obvious.
“Oh no,” I ground out, “I mean the entire pack.”
She froze, her hand going still. “Come again?”
“Dr. Zaraki and the President have ordered the pack to Knoxville, Tennessee, for some sort of Thanksgiving spectacle,” I clarified, my words dripping with irritation.
Katrina stared at me, unmoving. I glanced over my shoulder, catching her expression—a perfect mix of shock and confusion.
“You must have misheard him. He’d never ask for the whole pack to leave Cedar Rapids,” she said, searching for logic where there was none.
“Oh, I heard him loud and clear. He said the entire pack. And he wants us there by next Tuesday.”
“But Thanksgiving is four weeks away! Why would we need to be there so early?” she asked, clearly baffled.
“They want to celebrate early to avoid conflicting with civilians’ plans,” I muttered.
Katrina finally moved, making her way to my desk chair, sinking down as she drummed her fingers on the edge, deep in thought.
“How many wolves are we talking?” she asked finally.
“All of them,” I grumbled.
She took a sharp breath. “Holy Luna, has he lost his mind? Leaving the compound defenseless like that? The pack isn’t just our research team; they’re our security force. And what about the wolves who aren’t exactly… stable?” She gestured emphatically, her incredulity clear.
“I’m well aware,” I said through clenched teeth. “Oh, and Zaraki wants us to use the two brand-new Aurora Class airships as glorified freighters to transport supplies for the event.”
Katrina let out a low groan, removing her glasses and rubbing her face. She only did that when things were well past reason. I took a steadying breath, mentally trying to map out some sort of plan. Taking the entire pack wasn’t just unwise; it was impossible. We were talking about over a hundred wolves—and that wasn’t even counting their families.
This was beyond impossible. I needed an inventory of what we were supposed to bring. Were we bringing the turkeys? The pies? Were we supposed to cook them ourselves? I needed answers, and I needed them now.
I reached for my phone, then remembered it was currently embedded in Jackson’s cubicle wall. Grumbling, I made my way over to him, glass crunching underfoot as I crossed the office. Leaning around the wall, I found Jackson typing as if his life depended on it, eyes glued to his monitor, still wide with alarm. Gently, I pried my office phone out of the cubicle wall before tapping his shoulder to get his attention.
“I’m sorry, Jackson,” I said, trying for a calm tone. “You weren’t the target of my temper. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Understood, Alpha,” he replied, looking up, though the tension in his face didn’t exactly scream ‘reassured.’
I bit the inside of my cheek, feeling the weight of my misstep. “Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? I’ll make sure you’re paid in full for today.”
He looked up, clearly shocked. “But sir, we need all hands with the projects in progress—”
“I know. But you didn’t deserve that. I overreacted.” I ran a hand through my hair, sighing.
“Alpha, may I… may I ask what has you so upset?” he asked, hesitating as though not quite sure he wanted to know the answer.
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“Dr. Zaraki,” I muttered, glaring off to the side as if he could feel my disdain.
“Oh,” was all Jackson managed before promptly redirecting his focus to his computer.
“Mind if I borrow your phone?” I asked, trying to keep it light. He pushed his phone toward me without looking up. Deciding not to press him on taking the rest of the day, I punched in a number from memory. It rang five times before a familiar deep Scottish voice answered.
“What can I do for you, Jackson?” Finley barked.
“Finley, it’s me,” I replied, trying to keep the frustration from seeping into my tone.
There was a pause. “Why the hell are you calling me from Jackson’s phone?” he demanded, his voice booming through the receiver.
“Long story,” I muttered. “Can you come up to my office? I need your opinion on something.”
“Uh… sure. Everything alright?” he asked, his tone suspicious.
“No.” With that, I hung up and returned to my office.
Katrina was still seated in my desk chair, gazing out at the airfield through the massive windows. I followed her line of sight, spotting the two newly completed airships—the first prototypes of the Aurora Class, designed specifically for the FS military. Built as light reconnaissance cruisers, they were engineered to be fast, maneuverable, and versatile, with a minimum crew size of fifteen and a max capacity of fifty. These two ships were built to bridge the gap between conventional large aircraft and the larger airships currently in use.
It was ironic, really. This wasn’t the first time we’d been tasked with creating a platform to fill this niche. But the last time, we’d only managed to build four of them. I could still remember the endless headaches we’d gone through with the U.S. military to create the Titan platform, only to have them constantly meddling with the design, trying to make it fit far too many roles. In the end, only four were ever built, and to this day, only one remains.
Speaking of which, the Chaos Reckoning was just about due for maintenance. I’d need to reach out to Cayro about that. If there was one ship that embodied everything SkyTeam stood for, it was that airship. The Chaos Reckoning had stood the test of time, its Titan-class airframe enduring endless upgrades, modifications, and battles. Captain Edwards had fought tooth and nail to keep her in service after the Twilight Battle, and with a few tricks from me and my team, we’d managed to bring the Chaos Reckoning up to par with, and in some ways beyond, the Crescent Moon.
In all reality, for an airframe that dated back to the Titan days, the Chaos Reckoning was more formidable than its sleeker, newer counterparts. On paper, it was still classified as a Stealth Dreadnought, but in truth, it was so much more. It was a ghost in the night skies, an airship that thrived in the shadows. The Chaos Reckoning could dish out more firepower in one strike than any active vessel, yet remain nearly invisible until it was too late. Between me, Captain Edwards, and Cayro, we’d transformed the Chaos Reckoning into a flying fortress—an unseen vanguard of the 102nd, prowling the night and ensuring that no enemy ever saw the dawn.
The crunch of glass snapped me out of my thoughts. I turned to see Finley Balfour standing in what had once been my office wall, surveying the shards scattered across the floor with a pensive look. His gaze shifted to the hole in Jackson’s cubicle wall before he looked back at me.
“Looks like something went flying, and I’m guessing there were some casualties,” he said with a chuckle.
“Stephan threw his phone,” Katrina supplied, spinning my chair around to face him with a bemused expression.
Finley straightened up, giving me a surprised look. “And what in the world would make you throw your phone, Alpha?”
“Zaraki,” I grumbled, crossing my arms, “wants the entire pack to join him in Knoxville, Tennessee, for a huge Thanksgiving celebration.”
“Oh!” Finley’s deep voice rumbled with a mix of surprise and amusement. He stepped fully into my office, his kilt swaying as he crossed the room and settled himself onto the couch by my desk.
“Yeah… I’m at a complete loss here. The pack isn’t stable enough to travel to Knoxville. And, as if that wasn’t enough, we’ve also been ordered to handle logistics.” I leaned against my desk, looking him in the eye. “You’re my Beta, and right now, I need advice.”
Finley snorted, then broke into a hearty laugh. “After all these years, you’re finally asking me for advice? You, the great Wolf King who used to have an answer for everything?”
I shot him a glare, feeling my irritation flare up, though I knew he was right. I usually had a plan, a solution. But right now, I was stuck. These wolves were my priority—their health, their stability, their safety. I wasn’t about to jeopardize that just because Zaraki had decided we were due for a field trip.
“Finley, please, let’s not bring up my past. I’m trying to make things right now. I genuinely don’t know what to do.”
“Aye, Sire, I won’t remind the Rogue King of his past,” he replied, his tone dripping with mock reverence.
I rolled my eyes, gritting my teeth. I hated that title, yet I couldn’t deny it fit me all too well. The Rogue King. It had dual meanings—both painfully true. I was the King who had once abandoned his people, and now, as Alpha of the world’s largest rogue pack, the name had stuck. That damned pixie prophet had seen to it, branding me with the title nearly seventeen hundred years ago. And here I was, still trying to outrun it.
With a sigh, I met Finley’s steady gaze. “I don’t want to order the pack to go. Forcing them into this… it just wouldn’t be right.”
Finley tilted his head, rocking it side to side as he mulled it over. “Make it voluntary, then. Let them decide for themselves. We’ve established that we’re not a traditional pack, so why do things the traditional way?”
He had a point, as usual. If we didn’t show up as a complete pack, Zaraki could fire me for all I cared. Though, if he tried, SkyTeam would walk with me—and that would be his headache to sort out. I nodded, standing and moving behind my desk, gently nudging Katrina aside so I could pull up my computer. With a few swift keystrokes, I drafted an email to the entire company, explaining Zaraki’s… “request” and making it clear that participation was voluntary.
I turned the screen toward Katrina for her to review. She scanned it, then made a few tweaks, adding that families were welcome to join and framing the trip as a chance for the pack to show the Free States who we were. I hadn’t even considered that angle. Satisfied, I hit “send,” and a moment later, the familiar ping of incoming emails echoed through the office as the message landed in everyone’s inbox.
Within minutes, the quiet hum of the office turned to excited chatter. Judging by the rising enthusiasm, this was about to become an entire pack affair.
Later that night, I found myself on the couch with the TV murmuring softly in the background, Katrina stretched out beside me, her head resting in my lap. As she watched TV, I scrolled through my email, watching it explode with messages from every wolf in the pack volunteering to go. Each notification seemed to pull me further into a vortex of logistics. We were about to transport over a hundred wolves and their families from Cedar Rapids to Knoxville. Housing, feeding, and looking after all of them was going to be a logistical nightmare. Not to mention paying everyone, even during the company’s shutdown. The last time SkyTeam shut down entirely was years ago, right after the attack.
With a deep sigh, I put my tablet down and stared at the ceiling, wondering if I’d lost my mind.
“Stephan, relax. Finley’s handling the transportation,” Katrina murmured, looking up at me with a reassuring smile.
“We’re talking about a complete shutdown and moving the entire pack across multiple states. There are so many things that could go wrong,” I replied, still staring upward.
“Honey, we’ve done the impossible before. We’ve got this,” she said, her voice warm and steady.
“I know,” I murmured, finally looking down at her. “It’s just… a massive undertaking.”