Jefferson’s amiable manner moved to formal mode. “Captain, understood. I look forward to welcoming chief O’Connor onto my Bridge and to adding his Marines to our ship’s complement. I’m sure our Weapons Deck people will enjoy their company.”
“No doubt,” Jacob said, moving his attention away from the destroyer captain and over to Daisy’s side of the table. But his gaze was not on her. “Lori, how goes the Science Deck work on creating a pheromone-transmitting radio?”
“Not well,” her Russian friend said. She laid down her chopsticks. “Lieutenant Branstead made it our top priority. But our linguists and digital signaling folks insist it is impossible to fabricate a pheromone signaler until we know what the receiving device is like. As in how the incoming radio signal is converted to produce various types of pheromones.”
Jacob frowned. “Well, can’t the signal folks figure out a way to emit a signal for sweat? Or for the human sex pheromones that folks always give off?”
The slim, black-haired woman sat back in her chair, her expression frustrated. “Human pheromones are not the same as insect pheromones. We know a lot about the pheromones emitted by wasps, butterflies, ants and other social insects. But the chemical signatures for each Earth insect pheromone are delicate and not very stable. How do we know that an Earth wasp pheromone that means ‘attack’ is the same as an alien wasp pheromone that says ‘attack’?”
Jacob pursed his lips. “So capturing a wasp signaling device is vital for us to communicate with the wasps in their own language?”
“Yes, it is vital.”
Jacob nodded, then looked over to Jefferson. “Joy, do whatever it takes to capture some wasp signaling devices. Video cartoons can express simple concepts. And Lieutenant Branstead is working on a new cartoon that proposes wasps and humans cooperate on something. But we need to be able to speak to the wasps in their own language.”
“Exactly so,” commented Mehta from the end of the table. “These aliens may not be used to encrypting radio and neutrino communications. If we can learn their way of talking, we could gain a tactical advantage. Might allow us to disrupt their battle formations.”
Daisy felt surprise at the comment from the captain of the Salamis. Then again, the man had run the Science Deck on his destroyer. Clearly he thought beyond basic science functions.
Jacob gave Mehta a thumbs-up. “Chatur, that is an excellent point. There will be another battle with the wasps. Otherwise, why did they leave a ship here to watch us?” Her boyfriend looked away and then around the table. “Everyone, think over the several space battles we’ve had. If any of you can come up with new tactics, new approaches, I am ready to listen. Also, all of you have more experience in space than I do. I’m willing to learn from each of you.” He turned to Sunderland. “Joan, your Aldertag fought well. I’m glad there was no punch through on your hull. Beyond that, you’ve served at each of our star colonies. That’s seven alien worlds, each with its own biosphere. I welcome any insights you may have.”
The older woman put down her can of beer. Her blue eyes looked to Daisy’s boss. “Jacob, the battle formations you adopted in Kepler 22 were very good, considering you faced an alien enemy whom no human has ever met in battle. I’m studying those vids and our records from the fight here. I’ll let you know if anything comes to me.”
The entry slidedoor opened and Kenji walked in with two large trays filled with barbecue ribs, sweet and sour pork, and veggie burgers for those who might prefer a meatless meal. His arrival broke the tense feel of the recent reports and discussions. She grabbed a bowl of rice and spooned in some sweet and sour pork cubes. Using her chopsticks, she remembered her Mom’s ease with the utensils and did her best to look at ease with them. Around her other people did the same, seeming to welcome the shift from the future attack by the Philippine Sea against the wasp ship that now approached the system’s Kuiper Belt of comets and ice rocks. She had no doubt Joy Jefferson would find the enemy ship. Nor any doubt that Richard and his Marines would board the wasp ship. She hoped the price for gaining alien pheromone signalers would not be more human lives. Her memory of historical war vids at the Stellar Academy and the recent violence as gas and proton laser beams crisscrossed through black space told her it was a vain hope. She took brief comfort in knowing how daring and fast-moving was the destroyer captained by Joy. The woman, like Jacob, seemed to have the gods of luck riding on her shoulders.
CHAPTER THREE
Richard O’Connor watched the front wallscreen of the Philippine Sea as the destroyer moved toward the comet that held the hidden shape of the wounded wasp ship. To his left sat Captain Joy Jefferson the straw blond, while beyond her sat a redheaded woman from Wales with the exotic name of Aelwen Rhydderch. She was the ship’s XO. Shortly after boarding with his Marines he had practiced saying the Welsh name. The young woman had been talkative, friendly and upbeat about her captain. His observation of Jefferson’s ship command during the space battles in Kepler 22 and Kepler 10 had led him to feel she might be a younger version of himself. Someone born to fight. Her quick pursuit after the wasp ship, and locating of it despite its hideaway inside the dirty white ice of a large comet, had impressed him.
“Tactical, what’s the range to the comet?” Jefferson said in a sharp soprano that echoed over his vacsuit’s comlink.
“Four thousand kilometers,” called the black man at the Bridge’s Tactical station.
“Engines, slow to a hundred klicks a minute,” she called to the Chinese woman who controlled the destroyer’s two fusion pulse thrusters.
“Slowing. Speed reduced,” responded the middle-aged woman who hailed from Taiwan.
“Weapons, launch two missiles. Put them on a parallel track with us,” Jefferson said quickly.
“Missiles launching,” called a black-haired woman from Louisiana in a musical voice that hinted at the woman’s Cajun ancestry.
Richard approved of Jefferson’s creation of a threat beyond the destroyer’s single proton laser at its nose, two CO2 gas lasers at its tail and the plasma battery on the ship’s spine. At 300 meters long the Philippine Sea was a large ship. The 113 crew on it worked in three shifts and even then they all kept busy. Including his fifteen Marines, who volunteered to help in the ship’s Life Support and Weapons decks. Their work was on top of his boarding simulations. Despite the busy workloads, his people had complained at his order to put in eight hours of sleep when the ship was two-thirds of the way out to the system’s Kuiper Belt. He had followed his own order. They all needed to be fresh and alert for the upcoming boarding of the wasp ship. Assuming they could find a way to access it if it stayed inside the comet. Tactical’s sensors had shown the alien ship to be nested in a silo cut into the solid ice of the 300 kilometer wide comet. Spectroscope readings had documented the presence of metal at the top of the silo, presumably scopes and sensors that spoke to the aliens in their weird pheromone language. The ship’s Communications chief had suggested capturing the sensor devices and then leaving. Fortunately, Jefferson had insisted on a ship entry. She’d made the point Richard would have, that such sensors were likely hard-wired to the wasp ship, and might not be reliable pheromone signalers. Anyway, Jacob wanted live captives. That would only happen when his Marines boarded the ship.
“Navigation, how close is this comet to the exit point of the other wasp ships?” the captain said.
“It’s ten degrees radial off the exit point for the retreating wasp ships and two AU shy of the magnetosphere edge,” responded an Australian man whom Richard had shared a few beers with. Young Garret had done service in his nation’s special forces unit before attending the Stellar Academy and joining the destroyer’s crew three years ago. He hailed from Adelaide. His parents and sister were alive and well, Garret had said, leaving unsaid any indication of a girlfriend. Or a wife. Which was just fine with Richard.
Jefferson nodded slowly. “And how close is this site to the entry point of the wasp fleet when it arrived here?”
“S
ame data,” Garret said. “The original entry point is the same as the later exit point for the surviving wasp ships.”
“Good to know,” Jefferson said, her tone musing. “Communications, open a neutrino link to Captain Jacob Renselaer on the Lepanto.”
“Establishing encrypted neutrino comlink,” replied a young man who hailed from the Bronx section of New York City.
The front wallscreen’s image of the dirty white comet floating against black space and a sprinkle of white star dots now showed an inset square at the top of the wallscreen. Filling the square was Jacob and his XO Daisy. They were two youngsters Richard had come to both like and respect. The fleet’s captain lifted bushy black eyebrows.
“Captain Jefferson, how goes things?”
Joy recounted the data they had all just heard. “Captain Renselaer, this ship is at Alert Combat Ready. We will move to Alert Hostile Enemy shortly. We are ready to fight the wasp ship and make a forced boarding with our Darts and Marines. I will have our AI and Com chief maintain a continuous vidcom feed to you.”
“Just right,” answered the young man who had not hesitated to call Richard up to serve as his tactical officer. Jacob tapped his armrest. “The Chesapeake is undergoing repairs. It will be another few days before the Lepanto can move in for her own repairs. Stay safe.”
Jefferson smiled quickly. “Will do.” She looked up. “Chatterbox, maintain this neutrino comlink vid feed to the Lepanto. All the humans on this Bridge are shortly going to be very busy.”
“Accepted, Captain Jefferson,” said the ship’s AI in a tone that sounded briskly British. “How do you think these aliens procreate? They are different from you mammals.”
Richard winced. Now this ship’s AI was acting nearly as weird as the AI on the Lepanto. Was this an effect of long-term service in space? It couldn’t be. Both ships, and both AIs, had already spent years in space flying to other star systems. So maybe it reflected the imitation module in each AI that sought to match its voice and tone to the person who commanded its ship. Which gave him much to think about whenever he was having a few beers. He dismissed the thought as Jefferson turned to him.
“Chief O’Connor, do you have an opinion?”
“Hardly. I aim to kill the wasps, not fuck ‘em.”
Jefferson smiled. Laughter sounded from the five function post people and from the captain’s XO. Jefferson looked up to the ceiling. “Chatterbox, why don’t you ask that question of the aliens after we capture a few? Or watch their behavior. Maybe there will be both genders among the captives.”
“Such a task is likely to be tedious,” the AI said in a musing tone. “My observation of you mammals when you engage in procreative activities suggests a simple behavior pattern that rarely changes. Are mammal hormones lacking in creative impulses?”
Now he grinned. Ever since he’d come onboard the Lepanto he’d been aware that the ship’s AI watched every human on the ship at all times, whether on duty or in their quarters. When he had inquired, he’d been told the AI did not make a vidrecord of its observations of non-duty behavior. However, he had a hard time believing that, in view of the intrusive questions of both AIs.
“Chatterbox, human hormones work just fine,” Jefferson said as her XO buried her face in her hands in an effort to not laugh out loud. “It is AI algorithms that make me wonder whether you and other ship AIs have any concept of privacy.”
“What is the point of privacy? Or pretending to privacy when I and other AIs constantly monitor all human behavior on each ship?”
“Discontinue this line of inquiry,” the captain said bluntly.
“But why? Curiosity is programmed—”
“Captain!” called Tactical. “Enemy ship is activating its remaining thruster. It could be getting ready to exit the comet!”
At last. What he had waited fifty-two hours to do.
Jefferson turned and looked at him through the clear flexible plexi of her vacsuit helmet. Her blue eyes were bright. “Chief, looks like it’s time for you and your Darts to head out.”
“Agreed.” He unsnapped the straps that held him into his seat and stood up. “Heading for the midbody airlock. I will be on Dart Two. Good luck with your fire control.”
“My Weapons people are fine sharpshooters,” Jefferson said as he ran for the exit slidedoor. “Grab us some wasps and some signalers.”
“Will do.”
Richard exited the destroyer’s Bridge, turned right and headed down the left side hallway that would take him to the entry hatch for the midbody airlock. His Marines had been aboard their Darts for the last two hours as the destroyer drew close to the hidden wasp ship. He’d stayed on the Bridge only long enough to get a record for his personal tablet of the sensor readings by the ship’s Tactical man. He did not know the man’s name, nor that of the other function post people beyond Garret. He did know the names, likes and dislikes, and specialist training of every Marine under his command. While he had hoped to take all four Darts into this attack, he understood Jacob’s reason for keeping it on the Lepanto. A real battlefield commander never closed off all his options. A lesson that young Renselaer had understood early on. He had been surprised at the youth’s quick move to take command of the Lepanto, followed by the launching of the Cloud Skimmer. But clearly the tall, lanky young man had inherited his father’s daring, ruthlessness and ability to make decisions outside of the normal track. That ability had kept most ships of the battle group intact and alive despite multiple wasp attacks. Now came his part. He tapped his vacsuit comlink to the frequency for Dart Two.
“Howard, I’m heading your way. I will board fully outfitted. Once I do, launch free of this ship.”
“Chief, we are hot and loaded here,” called a man thirty years younger than Richard. “I’m watching the vid feed from the Bridge. Our systems are up and cross-linked to the destroyer. And to the other Darts.”
“Good. See you soon.”
Richard tapped open the pressure hatch that gave him entry to the midbody airlock. On the far wall was the outer airlock hatch. He headed for the white bulk of his combat hard shell. The black visor on its metal helmet was open. He swung the hard shell out from its rack, touched the spine opening slot and shucked off his simple vacsuit. Clothes followed. Naked, he stepped into the legs and body of the combat exoskeleton. Pushing his head up he looked out through the open visor. At last!
“Jerry, close my visor and power up!”
“Hey guy, powering up!”
The simple AI that ran all the systems of his combat hard shell could make basic chitchat. Which only he heard. But it had no awareness, unlike the ship AIs. No matter. The inner fabric of the hard shell pressed against his skin everywhere as the suit when Red Active. On his back the spine entry closed. The air module just above his kidneys pumped cool air into his face. The modular backpack clanked as its rocket launcher moved a short range rocket into launch position. On his right arm the long tube and globular gas tank of his flamethrower jerked as the fuel pump activated. It showed Ready on the HUD display of his visor. On his left arm a similar jerk told him the 12 gauge shotgun attached to his arm was ready to pump out solid slugs and steel buckshot from a feed line that linked to his backpack. On his belly he felt a buzz as the carbon dioxide laser activated and moved its snout outward from the dome that contained a treasure of solid state microelectronics that could change the laser’s frequency to whatever he needed, whether it be metal punch through or soft body burn. On his right and left hips were a taser handgun and a .45 revolver, both decent for close-up combat. If they were knocked from his gloved hands they went dead so they couldn’t be used against him. What he wore, he recalled, was called a Mark XIV Shinshoni Hard Shell by the Pentagon. He called it Jerry.
“Who do we kill?” called Jerry over the speaker that fit flush against his left ear.
“Wasp-like aliens,” he said, tonguing a chin control. “Here’s the vidcam feed from the place where they killed our top officers.”
“Inter
esting,” Jerry said, his bright tone never varying. “Their two wings look to be a weak point.”
Richard had thought the same. It was one of the hit points he’d discussed with his Marines during the simulation training on the Lepanto. Which had lasted too short a time. At least the 52 hours it had taken the Philippine Sea to reach the comet hiding place had given him and his guys and gals some time to go over the vidcam record of the meeting site, noting how the aliens walked, moved about and sat on long benches. They’d even seen two flying in from the second shuttle that had carried the plasma bomb. Which later rose up to decimate the meeting site. The death of the fleet’s senior people was something that still bugged him. If it had been up to him, he would never have ordered every ship’s captain and XO down to the meeting site. But Rear Admiral Johanson had given that order. And the admiral was in command of both the Lepanto and the other battle group ships. So each ship’s line officers had obeyed. They had followed the admiral to their death. Now, he was eager for payback. While he and his Marines would use their taser handguns to capture a few wasps, he looked forward to killing plenty of them. His backpack rockets carried napalm and cluster bomb warheads, which did a fine job of clearing a room or a deck. The aliens had discovered that killing human leaders did not prevent other humans from rising to lead in the fight between ships. Now, they were about to discover how deadly humans could be in person.
♦ ♦ ♦
Support Hunter Seven watched the front perception imager that relayed color images from the remotely located eye tools. In images of ultraviolet, orange and white-yellow he saw the approaching Soft Skin nest. It had slowed its approach as it neared their ice ball hideout. Clearly they had been discovered. He focused his two major eyes on the details of the nest’s hard shell. Attached to it were three small shapes. Earlier images of Soft Skin nests of this shape and length had shown only a smooth outer skin, excepting for stinger bulbs. This flying nest did not match the earlier images. The small shapes resembled the air bubbles his Swarmers used to enter the air of a colony world. Were the three shapes separate flying nests? He put the matter to his backmind. It was time to fight these intruding Soft Skins.
Battlegroup (StarFight Series Book 2) Page 4
