Dr. Katrina Volkova
13:07 CST
November 3, 2030
SkyTeam Aerospace Foundation
Cedar Rapids, IA
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I stared at the towering stacks of pies filling the cargo holds of the two prototype ships we’d recently completed for the Free States military. Pecans, apples, pumpkins, sweet potatoes—enough pies to feed an entire platoon for weeks. If I didn’t know any better, someone had gone completely overboard on the dessert requisition. The second ship’s hold was even more ridiculous, loaded with two massive refrigeration units crammed full of ice cream in every flavor imaginable. After verifying the inventory—because apparently, I had nothing better to do—I watched as members of the SkyTeam Pack began boarding each ship and locating their assigned rooms.
Fortunately, most of the larger families had opted out of this cross-country trek, preferring to avoid the mayhem of transporting pups across state lines. The smaller families were at least reasonable, understanding our limited capacity and sharing quarters without complaint. But the single wolves? That was a logistical nightmare all its own, requiring careful room assignments to avoid any dominance showdowns en route. Just what we needed—over ninety adult wolves, cooped up in tight quarters on a gas-loaded airship, ready to throw down over bunks.
Stephan had been hopeful that only half the pack would volunteer for this national Thanksgiving ordeal. Yet somehow, nearly three-quarters of the pack signed up. The logistics were pushing the limits of sanity, and the next time I saw Dr. Zaraki, I was going to give him an earful about this brilliant plan of his.
Sighing, I headed to the main corridor only to spot two wolves—Ash and Tate—already bickering. Just perfect. Narrowing my eyes, I stomped over to figure out what had their tails tangled.
"Alright, Ash and Tate, what’s the issue?" I demanded, my patience already wearing thin.
“Ash took my bunk after I already claimed and scented it,” Tate muttered, his ears flattened.
Suppressing an eye roll, I turned to Ash. “And why, pray tell, did you take his bunk?”
Without a word, Ash pointed down to his leg, wrapped in a fresh cast. I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply, then looked back at Tate. “Did you claim the lower bunk?”
“Yes,” he replied, sheepish.
“So let me get this straight—you want a packmate with a broken leg to climb to the top bunk because of your own issue with heights?” I said, my tone edging into a growl. He swallowed, ears flattening further in shame.
“Fine. Either get over it, or you can stay here in Cedar Rapids. Ash gets the lower bunk, no exceptions.”
“Yes, Luna,” he muttered, slinking back to relocate his things.
I gave Ash a quick nod as he stepped into the room behind Tate, offering me a look of gratitude. The two of them had been nearly inseparable lately, and I had a feeling that pairing them was the right choice. It was well-known among the pack that they were on the brink of bonding. Ash was one of the most patient beta wolves I’d ever met, while Tate, a rare Omega, had the unusual ability to shift between submissive and dominant behaviors. Every so often, Tate’s dominant side would show itself—particularly when something triggered a deep-seated fear, like his aversion to heights when he slept. It made him a fascinating contradiction and one of the more complex personalities in our ranks.
Satisfied they’d work it out, I left the room and headed for the bridge. Finley and a few others were bustling around, running the final checks and preparing the ship for takeoff. Finley, of course, would captain this ship and keep the wolves in line while Stephan and I took the helm of the other.
“How’s everything looking, Finley?” I asked as I reached his side, eyeing the diagnostics he was scanning.
“Looks like we’re good to go, Katrina. We should be ready to lift off within the hour,” he replied in that unmistakable, deep Scottish accent that somehow made everything sound both reassuring and slightly exasperated.
“Perfect. Stephan wants this trip to count as part of the ship’s trials, so make sure everything—no matter how mundane—gets logged,” I reminded him, glancing over some data on the helm’s display.
He let out a chuckle. “Aye, he already mentioned it. The crew’s logging every flicker and beep. By the time we’re back, we’ll have more data than we’ll know what to do with.”
“Good. I’ll be heading over to the other ship now. If anything comes up, just radio me there,” I said, turning to leave.
Finley nodded, taking a clipboard from another wolf and flipping through it with practiced efficiency. I made my way off the ship and crossed the tarmac toward the second vessel. The brisk air whipped around, causing my lab coat to flutter behind me as I walked. Just then, my cell phone buzzed in my pocket. For Luna’s sake, who needed me now? Pulling it out, I saw Stephan’s name flash on the caller ID.
“I’m on my way, Stephan. Don’t get your tail in a twist,” I growled, answering the call.
“Katrina, that’s not the issue. Look north!” he half-shouted.
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Frowning, I stopped in my tracks and turned to face north, spotting a dark shape approaching in the distance. “Stephan, what am I looking at?” I asked, my pulse quickening.
“It’s the Chaos Reckoning. We’ve just received an emergency request from the 102nd Airborne Division. The ship’s having major technical issues they can’t seem to fix,” he said, frustration clear in his voice.
“You have got to be fluffing kidding me!” I nearly yelled into the phone, earning some glances from a few passing pack members.
“Believe me, I wish I was,” Stephan grumbled. “I need Finley and his best team on this, ready to hit the ground running as soon as that ship lands.”
Groaning, I spun on my heel and marched back onto the first ship. Luck was on my side for once—Finley was still on the bridge, reviewing a diagnostic display. I spotted his phone resting on the arm of the captain’s chair, lighting up with no less than six missed calls from Stephan.
“Finley!” I barked, marching over to him.
Finley spun around, his ice-blue eyes flashing with irritation that softened only slightly when he saw it was me. “Yes, Katrina,” he said, his tone clipped, sharper than he likely intended.
“Finley, gather your best repair team—the Chaos Reckoning will be here in about ten minutes. We’ve got an emergency request from the 102nd. Something’s seriously wrong with their stealth dreadnaught,” I said, pointing out the window at the hulking shadow approaching.
Finley whipped around to look out the massive window. “Ach, ya’ve got tae be kiddin’ me! Last bloody minute? Ye think I can just pull supplies oot o’ thin air? Nae chance!” His frustration spilled over into a thickened accent, his normally crisp tones now laced with the unmistakable burr of a Scot pushed to his limits. He stomped over to the coms panel and jammed the button with a vehemence that sent a few nearby wolves scrambling to clear his path.
“All hands!” he barked over the coms, his voice resonating through the ship. “Ye best be listenin’ close now! I need every able body in repairs and maintenance tae the dock! The Chaos Reckoning’s inbound, an’ she’s in a state fit tae make an engineer weep! Get yer arses in gear, grab what tools ye can find, an’ don’t ye dawdle—we’ve nae got a second tae spare! If ye’re part o’ my best team, ye better be movin’ faster than a hare at a hunt! Finley out!”
He released the coms button with a snarl, muttering to himself as he paced. “This damn crew best be ready tae pull a miracle oot o’ thin air, or we’ll be here till the bloody wee hours fixin' her up!”
With a final glare at anyone daring to cross his path, he stormed off the bridge, still grumbling in a low growl. A few wolves had the misfortune of blocking his way and quickly scattered like leaves in the wind as he barreled past, muttering curses under his breath. When Finley was on a tear, it was universally agreed that the safest place to be was out of his line of sight.
Leaving the bridge for the second time in what felt like minutes, I made my way off the ship, heading directly to the adjacent open landing pad. As I approached, I spotted Stephan striding towards me with the kind of determined focus that only came when something had gone terribly wrong. His jaw was clenched, and his long, purposeful strides suggested that he was as thrilled as I was by this sudden complication.
We’d been set to lift off in under an hour, and now this so-called “emergency” had thrown a wrench in everything. How…perfectly timed. It was almost as if the Great Luna herself had decided to keep us grounded.
When Stephan drew close enough, I raised an eyebrow and muttered, “Why do I feel like the Great Luna’s pulling a fast one on us?”
He huffed, his gaze fixed on the approaching shadow of the Chaos Reckoning. “I have a distinct feeling it’s not the Great Luna causing us a headache this time,” he replied, hands sliding into his pockets, his jaw tight as he watched the ship draw nearer.
The Chaos Reckoning was more than just another ship to Stephan—it was a labor of love, a project he’d poured heart and soul into. He’d outfitted it with the best tech and poured every ounce of expertise into making it nearly unbreakable. That the crew couldn’t handle a repair onboard was a hit to his pride, and I could see that in the tight set of his shoulders.
As the Chaos Reckoning touched down, the ship groaned and creaked ominously, sounding like it might collapse under the weight of whatever was stashed within. Motorized tool carts surrounded the ship in seconds, wolves and engineers flooding out, led by Finley, who looked as though he was ready to deliver a reckoning of his own if he found that the crew was responsible for this disaster.
Inside, Captain Edwards greeted us, his stance seasoned and stern. I’d met him before, a man so devoted to this ship that he’d threatened to retire if it was ever decommissioned—a bold move, but the Free States Military couldn’t afford to lose him. As we moved through the cold corridors, it quickly became clear something was very wrong.
“Why is it so cold in here?” I asked, my breath puffing out in visible fog.
“That’s why we’re here,” Captain Edwards replied grimly. “For reasons we can’t figure out, the environmental system refuses to heat the ship. My engineers have torn it apart looking for the problem, but we’re stuck freezing.”
We walked into the hangar bay, and I stopped dead in my tracks, staring at the unexpected sight before us. Towering stacks of crates, each labeled with big block letters: Potatoes.
“What on earth…” I muttered, eyes wide.
Captain Edwards grimaced. “Before you ask, yes, this is what we were ordered to pick up. It was supposed to be part of the Thanksgiving celebration haul. I’m beginning to think the ship’s struggling under the weight.”
“Oh, you think?” Stephan shot back, eyebrows raised.
Edwards huffed, his irritation clear. “Someone in logistics must’ve gone overboard. Now my crew and I are stuck hauling a dreadnaught full of potatoes to Knoxville.”
Stephan mulled it over for a moment. “We’ve got some spare cargo room on the other ships. If we spread the load out, we might prevent an accident.”
I nodded. “Good idea. Let’s use the downtime from repairs to redistribute everything, so we’re not risking catastrophe on the way to Knoxville.”
“Oh, so SkyTeam’s going to Knoxville, too?” Captain Edwards asked.
“Yep,” Stephan confirmed. “Dr. Zaraki roped us into some sort of parade. He wasn’t overly detailed.”
Edwards raised an eyebrow. “Well then, let’s convoy there together. It’ll be safer anyway.”
And just then, Finley came barreling into the hangar, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of the potato-laden cargo bay. He skidded to a halt, his mouth hanging open, momentarily struck speechless.
“Ach! What in the name o’ all that’s holy… Potatoes? Bloody mountains o’ tatties! Who in their right mind loads a stealth dreadnaught with enough spuds to feed an army?” He let out a half-laugh, half-sigh, rubbing his temples as though the sight itself was giving him a migraine. “This is nae logistics, lads—this is lunacy! I swear, whoever ordered this must’ve been takin' the piss. A dreadnaught overloaded wi' bloody tatties!”
He shook his head, muttering to himself as he processed the sheer absurdity of it all. “I’ve handled some fool requests in my day, but a spud-laden ship teeterin’ on the edge o’ collapse? Ach, that takes the cake… or, I suppose, the tattie!”
Finley shot a long-suffering look at Captain Edwards and Stephan, his voice practically dripping with exasperation. “Right, then. Let’s sort out this disaster afore I lose what precious patience I’ve left.”