Standoff on Oulu: Stories of the Orphan Corps, #3

By Earl T. Roske

VetTech Pagnotto is about to find out if he has what it takes to be a Hospitaller.

 

Oulu is Pagnotto's first mission off Hephaestia as a Wutenigel handler. He and the Wutenigel he's named Thumb have come with Ascalon company to Oulu as a supernumerary. Thumb can identify and name every scent it encounters. With Pagnotto and Thumb as part of Ascalon company, the Hospitallers hope to find the source of recent terrorist-style bombings.

 

An attack on a Texarkanian community pulls the Hospitallers deeper into the global conflict. Uncovering secrets puts the entire company at risk of total annihilation.

Can Pagnotto and Thumb survive long enough to do their part in the mission? Can they survive a world seemingly hell-bent on their destruction?

 

Standoff on Oulu is the third book in the Stories of the Orphan Corps series. Just like Rescue on Gimhae and Deceit on Panchala, Standoff on Oulu is a self-contained story full of martial adventure, political intrigue, moral dilemma, and an abundance of destruction.

 

Get Standoff on Oulu now and be part of the Stories of the Orphan Corps universe.

 

It's the next best thing to being there. (And less dangerous.)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Earl T. Roske
• Release date: Feb 29, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224175444

Earl T. Roske

Earl T. Roske is a San Francisco Bay area writer. He lives with his wife, daughter, a silly poodle, and two neurotic cats.

Book preview

​Standoff on Oulu

​by

​Earl T. Roske

​Stories of the Orphan Corps:  Book 3

​A stand-alone story in the Orphan Corps Universe

© 2018 Earl T. Roske

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions contact:

[e-mail]

Cover by BetiBup.

Also by Earl T. Roske

Dewey Tyler, Orphan Corps

Secrets on Wenshen

Abandoned on Juracan

Forgotten in Kaggen

Fortanach Outfitting Stories

The Stowaway Corpse: A Spaceship Fortanach Mystery

The Airlocked Corpse

Orphan Corps Shepherds, Lost Sheep

Diversion in Raziel

Reckoning in Samael

Liberated in Ikenga

Seasons of War on Abira

Midwinter at Bhisho

Wintertide at Knynsa

Spring at Nongoma

Summer at Xawela

Autumn at Gauteng

Stories of the Orphan Corps

Rescue on Gimhae

Deceit on Panchala

Standoff on Oulu

Counter Offensive on Arda

Defiance on Vargo

The Last Wave Series

Last Wave

Last Dance

Standalone

Reluctant Symbiosis

Novjaro

The Founders' Day Omnibus

Tale of the Music-Thief

Founders' Day Omnibus, 2018*-2024

Watch for more at Earl T. Roske’s site.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Also By Earl T. Roske

Standoff on Oulu (Stories of the Orphan Corps, #3)

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Also By Earl T. Roske

Thank You:

Nicole, Andrew, Tim, & Wendy

––––––––

For my wife and daughter.

01

Veterinarian Technician Grade Four Estaban Pagnotto could see the stares even as he sought to not see them. It was difficult not to notice when every other Hospitaller on the cutter was looking at the same spot. He understood the reason, but that did not make it any easier. But then, the Wutenigel strapped into the jump seat next to him had been under his charge since it was a whelp.

Still not looking, Pagnotto put up a hand and stroked the top of the Wutenigel’s head. The broad, flat hairs were smooth, as long as he pushed with the grain. The other way, he’d be rewarded with a palm striated with cuts and scratches. That was something he’d learned early in his burgeoning days as a Wutenigel handler.

The Wutenigel, who Pagnotto had named Thumb, leaned into the caress. It made a chuffing noise, similar to a feline prior to regurgitating a hairball.

That thing going to throw up?

Pagnotto looked forward. The cargomaster, Sgt Brewer, had a concerned look on his face.

It’s purring. Pagnotto kept his grin tucked behind his teeth. He knew that Thumb’s ‘purring’ was disconcerting to anyone who hadn’t worked with Wutenigels. He’d felt the same way.

That’s purring? asked a private first class sitting in a jump seat opposite Pagnotto. If it is, I don’t think I want to hear it angry.

You’d be surprised, Pagnotto said. He gave Thumb’s snout a gentle tap. Guard.

The broad, flat hairs on Thumb’s neck stood, like a wreath of death. Thumb’s eyes narrowed, and then it began to chirp, like a robin on a spring morning.

The silence elsewhere in the bay of the cutter was as unusual as Thumb’s warning sounds.

Wait, that’s supposed to scare someone off? A corporal, one of the last to board, was leaning forward as he spoke.

Still, said Pagnotto. Thumb went silent, its hackles flattened. Pagnotto rewarded the Wutenigel with a sticky biscuit the size of his palm. It’ll scare someone off if they know anything about a Wutenigel.

Thumb opened its mouth to eat the biscuit, revealing more than a hundred sharp, pale-red, needle-pointed teeth.

I’m scared now, said a Hospitaller who’d had the look of someone with the unfortunate luck of having to sit on the other side of a Wutenigel. The simple gray shoulder cord meant she was a buck private. Likely on her first deployment. She took a sideways look at the Wutenigel and then asked, How can something be so scary and be called ‘Thumb’?

Pagnotto returned to stroking Thumbs head, eliciting the chuffing sound of happiness.

When Thumb was a whelp, it used to try and suckle on my thumb.

Oh, okay, the private said. She held out a hand. May I?

Sure. Just do it like I’m doing it, so you don’t hurt yourself.

With some trepidation, the private put her hand on Thumb’s head and stroked with the grain. Thumb’s chuffing noise increased. The private paused.

Is that a good sign?

Pagnotto smiled. It is.

Wait, said the private first class on the opposite side. You put your thumb in that mouth? With those teeth? Let me see your thumbs. You have thumbs, right?

Some good-natured chuckling among those strapped in for the journey from spaceship to spaceship began to bring life back to the unusually quiet hold.

Pagnotto gave two thumbs-up and said, When they’re whelps, they don’t have teeth. And even after that, they grow in slowly, so it can get used to its own teeth.

Why do you say it? the private stroking Thumb’s head asked.

Because Thumb isn’t male or female, not yet. Two more years and Thumb will decide.

Everyone paused as the tone of the cutter’s engines shifted. They were maneuvering to dock with the carrier ship Gastone.

Even though it was temporary, this was Pagnotto’s first time assigned to a unit on a carrier. In fact, this was the first time he’d ever been assigned to a different unit since he went to Hephaestia to train with the Wutenigels.

Hey, what’s he doing? The private next to Thumb was leaning away from the Wutenigel.

Thumb had its nose pointed in the private’s direction and was making a series of grunts and low whistles, backed by a pulsing hum.

Pagnotto laughed and touched Thumb’s head. The Wutenigel stopped the sounds. Sorry for laughing, Pagnotto said. Thumb was naming you.

Naming me? The private pointed at her chest. I have a name.

We all do, said someone on the other side of the bay.

A rough vibration rumbled through the cutter.

Preparing to dock, said Sgt Brewer.

After the sergeant gave his explanation, Pagnotto gave his.

Wutenigels identify everything by smell. Then they give that smell a name. The sounds you heard, Private, are the sounds of your namesong. Fifty years from now you could cross his path, and he’d still remember you and your namesong.

Pagnotto could see a lot of amazed looks on the faces of the Hospitallers around him. What they didn’t also know was that he had been chosen to work with the Wutenigel because he had an eidetic memory primarily focused on sound. He had not yet forgotten a single namesong that Thumb had shared with him. Likely, he never would.

A loud thunk reverberated through the cutter as the carrier’s docking clamps latched onto the aft end of the carrier. The bright red interior lights flickered, replaced by a crisp white. Whatever attention had been focused on Pagnotto and Thumb, shifted to exiting the cutter and moving onto the loading deck of the Gastone.

Pagnotto had already unlocked his restraints and was undoing Thumb’s when someone tapped his shoulder. Before he could turn to see who it was, Thumb began emitting a namesong. It was new and easy to recognize.

Private, Pagnotto said.

Hi. I just wanted to thank you for introducing me to your Wutenigel. And to tell you my name isn’t ‘Private,’ it’s Lamb. Pvt Debbie Lamb.

She held out her hand. Pagnotto shook it with his.

VetTech Pagnotto.

Who are you attached to? Pvt Lamb asked. It wasn’t a line like someone would use in a bar. It was the kind of question any Hospitaller, any soldier, would ask another. It was on par to asking what orphanage a Hospitaller came from.

Ascalon Company, Italia Langue, said Pagnotto.

Pvt Lamb grinned. Me, too.

Pagnotto, Pvt Lamb, a second private, and a sergeant were met by Cpl Barber, Ascalon Company clerk. He checked their identification and names against a roster on his tablet, shook hands with everyone but Thumb, and started them on the extended walk down to the Italia Langue deck of the Gastone.

Along the way, Pagnotto learned that the other private’s name was Garza, also on his first assignment, and Sgt Washington, who had signed for another six and was coming over from Anglo-Bavaria Langue on the drop-ship carrier Garnier. He was filling the position of squad leader that opened after Ascalon Company’s last deployment.

At the company offices, Sgt Washington, as senior of the four new transfers, went into Maj Bass’s office first. He came out a few minutes later and nodded to Pagnotto and the two privates before exiting.

The major asked to see you last, Pagnotto, said Cpl Barber. Hope you don’t mind.

No, said Pagnotto. As if he could contest the major’s request.

Pvt Lamb gave him a sympathetic smile before entering the office with Pvt Garza. They were inside the office a little longer than Sgt Washington and left as efficiently.

Okay, Barber said. It’s your turn, Pagnotto.

Barber stepped back away from the hatch, his eyes more on Thumb than Pagnotto.

Pagnotto stepped over the hatch threshold. Thumb bounded over right behind him.

VetTech-4 Pagnotto reporting for duty, Maj Bass, Pagnotto said. He’d come to a halt on the customary position, making his right turn and saluting. Thumb had followed close behind and sat to Pagnotto’s right as Pagnotto reported in.

The major nodded and Pagnotto dropped his salute. Who’s this? asked Maj Bass. He leaned forward, over his desk, his attention on Thumb.

Pagnotto pointed with a hand at Thumb. Thumb responded by pushing its head against the tips of Pagnotto’s fingers. This is Thumb, Major. A Wutenigel.

The major nodded and sat back. At ease, Pagnotto. I’ve never seen a Wutenigel in real life. Just images and vids and I have to say, they look less terrifying there than in person. How dangerous is he? She? No, wait. They choose their sex after some years. I read that. I think. That right, Pagnotto?

Yes, Major. Two more standardized years and Thumb will be of age.

Anyone know how they decide?

Population, they think, Pagnotto said. More turn female if the population is low, more males if the population is high. Some stay neutral.

Especially if they are off Hephaestia, Maj Bass said. That was in the brief I read, too. Is the brief correct, Pagnotto?

I’m told the same thing, Major.

Great. Maj Bass stood. Mind if I let Thumb smell me?

No, Major. Please go ahead.

Maj Bass came around his desk. As he approached Thumb, the Wutenigel began making the chuffing noise at the back of its throat. The major paused.

That’s a happy sound?

Yes, Major.

I’d been told that if you think of sounds oppositely, you can better understand a Wutenigel’s emotions. So if Thumb starts sounding friendly to my ears, I should back off?

It’s not likely to happen, Maj Bass, but yes, that would be the wisest action.

Great. The major smiled at Pagnotto and then focused on Thumb, slowly extending his hand.

Thumb looked at Pagnotto, who nodded permission. Thumb leaned forward on its front paws and sniffed at the major’s hand. A repeating combination of clicks, throaty whines, and whistles came from deep inside