Feeling nervous, she again scanned the situational holo. Every ship of the StarFight fleet was there. Chesapeake, Tsushima Strait and the Salamis orbited above the station. Ahead in orbit was the cluster of the cruiser Hampton Roads and the frigates St. Mihiel and Aldertag. Between the Battlestar and the station was the Philippine Sea. And the Lepanto made eight ships total. Eight fighting ships were all that stood between the 71,000 people on Valhalla and a deadly enemy that had attacked, attacked again and even followed them to Kepler 10 in order to attack once more. Would allowing the wasp ship to orbit above planet three cause the wasps to change? She didn’t know. She just knew that the future was uncertain, more wasp ships could appear at any time and the hoped-for relief fleet from Earth would not arrive for at least another 30 days.
♦ ♦ ♦
Jacob walked into his quarters, past the furniture in the relaxation room and turned left through the bedroom’s open archway. On the queen size bed in the middle of the room lay Daisy, asleep, her head resting on her left arm as she slept. The room’s lighting was a low green from a few wall spots that allowed one to see the entrance to the bath and toilet alcove. His metal worktable stuck out from the left side wall. Like every worktable in officer’s quarters on the ship, it closed up against the wall when not in use. The small table partly filled the space between the wall and the bed. Daisy had not closed it up. Instead, after changing into a sheer white negligee, she had gone down the right side of the bed and slipped beneath the purple sheets. Kicking off his soft shoes, Jacob dropped his camo pants, pulled off his shirt, then slowly sat on his side of the bed, facing the worktable’s wall opening. The three shelves in the opening held a few sea shells, his comp pad and an old-fashioned ink pen and small paper tablet. All were gifts from his Mom. Stuck above the shelves were two flat digital pictures he had brought from home.
His Mom’s photo showed her smiling at him from within their kitchen. Her long brown hair was full of curls and she was smiling happily at him. That day she had worn a flowered spring dress of green and yellow, with a white cook’s smock hanging from her neck. She loved to bake fresh bread. He loved to eat it. Next to her image was a flat pic of the old barn in the back of their property. His mom’s gelding horse was standing in front of the barn, his reins tied to a post. The brown and white Appaloosa horse had been the first large animal Jacob had ever seen or spent time with. The gelding had seemed to like him. Next to the gelding was his Mom’s Arabian stallion, Butch, hitched to another pole.
Below the images was the worktable. Sitting on the table was a holo cube. It showed him just as he posed for his father, right after his graduation from the academy. Two admirals, a captain and two Army colonels stood near Jacob. They were friends of his father. Would one of those admirals be leading the relief fleet when it arrived? He shook his head and focused on the green forested mountains that rose in the background of the graduation field. That day had been a Southwest blue sky day, touched with puffy white clouds. The forested mountain image reminded him why he kept the holo cube. Nature had always called to him. It still did, every time he looked at the image of Valhalla’s northern continent that partly filled the wallscreen on the Bridge.
He looked down at his hands as they rested on his bare knees. They weren’t shaking. Had he finally adjusted to being in command? To being responsible for the lives of thousands of people on Valhalla, and the crews on every ship in the fleet? He hoped so. Whoever led the relief fleet from Earth would surely outrank him. The video report carried by the Ofira’s captain Arman Mansour would surely surprise and upset Earth Command. Their upset meant whatever ships came to Kepler 10 would be led by a one or two star rear admiral, maybe even a three star vice admiral. After all, this was humanity’s first encounter with an intelligent alien species. That encounter had already claimed too many lives on the frigates Britain and Marianas when they died, and on the Chesapeake, Tsushima Strait and the St. Mihiel during the last space battle. Those ghosts included the civies who had died during the lightning bombing of Stockholm. He had felt those ghosts hovering behind him, watching him, every time he made a command decision that put people at risk.
Closing his eyes he lay down on his side of the bed, moving slowly so as to not wake Daisy. The pillow supported his head. He did not open his eyes. The bedroom’s ceiling was boring to look at, whether in the dark or when awakening to the automated alarm light. He told himself that in 30 or so days, the burden of commanding the StarFight fleet would be lifted from his shoulders. Someone else would assume overall command. Hopefully the new fleet commander would leave him in command of the Lepanto. He had grown to like the ship, like its many decks, like the homemade food cooked by Kenji and his fellow line cooks, and also its wild nature areas in the Forest Room and the Park Room. He had even grown to like being a fleet commander. The other ship captains, new as him to the job, had fought well, had supported him against the machinations of Bannerjee, and seemed ready to join him in defending Valhalla from future wasp attack. Maybe those feelings were why he dreaded the arrival of the relief fleet. It meant the arrival of one more unknown. An unknown that would affect the lives of every human in the Kepler 10 star system. He hoped he could follow regs and do the right thing by accepting a new fleet commander. After all, he and his people had fought and defeated the wasps. No one in the relief fleet knew what he and his people knew. But would that make a difference to some Earth Command admiral pulled from flying a mahogany desk?
♦ ♦ ♦
Daisy opened her eyes once she heard Jacob snoring softly. His entry into the bedroom had awakened her. She had always been a light sleeper. And once her father had left her Mom and herself behind, heading off to an overseas job that did not include them, she had always awakened to the soft sound of her Mom walking down the hallway of their condo apartment in Chicago. It had served her well during school. No one, guy or gal, was ever able to sneak up on her from behind and grab her breasts, like some jerk guys tried to do in middle school. Later, on the long walk from her school to her home, she’d been aware anytime someone stood in an alley, opened a door across the street, or began following her after she crossed an intersection. The first time she heard a man following her had been the last. After going down the alley, around a corner and then up the outside ladder to the roof of a nearby tenement, she had made sure to always walk home as part of a crowd of three other gals from school. Walking together had become mutual security for the four of them. She had good memories of them. But none of them loved to fly and none of them had ever sought entry into the Stellar Academy.
She turned over and looked right. Jacob’s bare chest rose and fell slowly as he breathed in a low rumble. His black chest hairs were barely visible in the pale green light of the room. She liked his hairy chest. His strong nose. His broad shoulders. His gray eyes. And his shy smile had been the first thing about him to cause her to pay extra attention, at the Earth orbital station just before they boarded the Lepanto. The fact that he was a good chess player, knew and practiced Okinawan karate and was a sensitive lover had all been nice additions to the person she had found hiding inside a somewhat formal manner. Jacob had opened up to her, Lori, Carlos, Kenji and Quincy. He’d even shared stories about his mother Sarah. He’d talked about riding the Appaloosa horse owned by his Mom. To her, riding a horse that was bigger than any human was very daring. Maybe riding horses with his Mom was how he’d learned the daring he’d shown in Kepler 22 and Kepler 10. Perhaps his focus on facts and on being ruthless was something he’d learned from his father, Gordon Renselaer. Or maybe inherited from the man’ genes. She didn’t know. She just knew she loved him, trusted him as the ship captain and felt certain that Jacob would always fulfill his duty the best way he saw fit.
Closing her eyes, she tried to push away her memory of a recent order he’d given her. That was to work with Weapons Deck chief John Bannister to enlarge the magfield containment reservoir for the ship’s antimatter cannon. The factory-built reservoir had room for four shots o
f antimatter. Jacob had wanted the reservoir size increased to handle eight shots, before the particle accelerator that wrapped around the ship’s nose was spun up to produce new antimatter. Doing what he wanted had meant a change in the cannon room on Weapons Deck, along with the fabrication of more magfield coils, all while making sure the added reservoir capacity did not destroy the weapon’s ability to work. She had borrowed a few electrical and mechanical engineers from Engines Deck, and some algorithm geeks from Science Deck. Fortunately, Lori had known people who could help her in the design of the addition. And Alicia had loaned those people to her for this project, which would be completed while the ship was locked into the Star Navy station for hull repairs.
Breathing deep she focused on her memory of her Mom. Tall, with muscular arms, determination in her walk and loving eyes, filling her mind with the image and warmth of her Mom might help her push away work. The first stages of the antimatter project had been dealt with already. New stages would happen tomorrow. It would take a good week, maybe longer to expand the cannon’s room, then build new capacity onto the existing reservoir chamber. Biting her lip, she told herself for the tenth time to forget about work and to instead think of her Mom, and of Jacob. Maybe he would like her Mom’s omelet recipe that included some spicy additions. In the morning, she would find out. Finally, thinking of her Mom and omelets and their home in Chicago finally allowed her to drift away.
CHAPTER TEN
Hunter Seven’s five eyes took in the daylight image of the third world as it slowly moved below him and his nest. It had taken three full light and rest cycles to reach this world, but it was worth it. The image of dense green lands that lay below him reminded him of the view of Nest he’d seen as their Colony cluster of flying nests had gathered before heading for the sky light that covered the world of Warmth in warm white light. There were three primary land groups, each bearing the mark of mountains thrust up from deep below. The land groups were separated by dark blue waters of great expanse, an expanse too great for any Swarmer to fly across solely on wing power. There were pale blue rivers, lakes and open land where large animals moved in great numbers. An enlarged view of those animals now filled one perception imager in the Flight Chamber. The imager showed the animals had six limbs, as was proper for all life. And where such animals lived, smaller land and air animals would live, along with trees carrying fruits rich in sweetness. It was clear there would be plenty of food for the larvae, once a Colony cluster arrived, their nests filled with Pods of larvae.
“Alert!” cried the elderly male in charge of monitoring external space. “The Soft Skin nest has released a flying tube filled with particle disruption seeds!”
Seven inhaled the mix of alarm, signal and territorial pheromones, understanding the Swarmer feared for the world below and for his fellow Swarmers. They were half the number they had been before the attack by the white-shelled Soft Skins. A third of his flying nest’s chambers were open to cold dark space. While their flight path to the new colony world had been without danger, still, the Soft Skin nest had followed behind them, clearly on the watch for any movement toward the fourth world where Soft Skins lived and flew up to Soft Skin nests that hovered above that world. Time to reassure the Swarmers in his chamber and in every warm space of his nest.
“Be strong!” he scent case in a mix of signal, food trail and sex pheromones, supported by command pheromones unique to his Hunter caste. “Our losses are rewarded by the world below! Studies of it must be made before Hunter One returns with more nests and his Colony nest! Those who do well in repairing the space cold chambers will be rewarded with trips in air bubbles to the world below,” he scent cast, adding a touch of releaser pheromones to signal his expectation of a change in behavior.
“Hunter,” scent cast the young male Servant in charge of his single ring of surviving sky light and sky bolt weapons. “The particle disruption seeds emitted by the Soft Skin nest hover above us, but do not chase us. Shall we first destroy these seeds before we send bubbles down to the world below?”
“Stinger Servant, do not bite the seeds,” he scent cast in a mix of reassurance and territorial pheromones. “It is clear the Soft Skins wish us to remain here. See, their nest departs now, leaving this world to us. If we try to leave for the Soft Skin world, those seeds will attack us. Let us wait until Hunter One returns before we bite dead those seeds!”
To his left the wings of his new Fighter Leader flapped quickly. “Hunter Seven! Shall I send Fighters along with the Servants and Workers who visit the world below? There could be dangerous animals, or large flying predators down below. Our flight path on the new colony world must be cautious.”
He was tired of the frequent worries expressed by the new Fighter Leader. He much preferred the old one. But he had died in the attack on the Soft Skin nest that had penetrated the middle of his nest’s hard shell. Leaving him with someone anxious to always do what seemed right.
“Fighter, we Swarmers do not bite all the time. Our Servants study the sky, the world below and all the life thereon. They are careful in how they move. But yes, send along two Fighters to protect each bubble visit,” he said in a flow of irritation, signal and trail pheromones. Then he looked away to the young female in charge of handling his nest’s propulsive devices.
“Servant, have you been able to repair the dead propulsive device?”
“With regrets most deep, it is not possible,” she scent cast in a mix of signal, alarm and curiosity pheromones, supported by a strong aggregation scent. Clearly she wished him to know she was loyal despite her failure. “Our working propulsive device did well on the flight path to this new colony world. It can move us about this sky light’s large domain. But our flight speed is half what it once was. Only a return to Nest can provide us with a new propulsive device.”
“So it seems,” he said in a calm flow of command pheromones. “Speaker To All,” he called to the older male in charge of signals sent to other nests. “Send my words of reward to every chamber of our nest. We must make every effort to close the holes in our hard shell, then to visit the world below and study all there is to be learned.”
“Sending your words to all chambers of our nest,” the Servant replied quickly, his tone carrying an overlay of fear pheromone.
Seven ground his mandibles together. He yearned to bite the neck of someone. But he had no Swarmers suitable for wasteful action. It would take every living Swarmer to conduct flight views of the world below, to document the types and number of small flyers, and to see if any life similar to the Swarm now existed on this world. While the Swarm had never found life similar to themselves on the ten worlds it had colonized, the appearance of the deadly Soft Skins said such was always possible on a new world. And his nest had much work to do. Repairs were vital. But also vital was learning about the world below.
Perhaps, when Hunter One returned, he could use his nest’s studies as a tool to claim control of the returning Colony flight. He had not forgotten the Soft Skin imagery signal. It had proposed both peoples, Swarmers and Soft Skins, stay on their own colony worlds and meet in cold dark space to trade for items each needed. Such had never been done on the worlds colonized by the Swarm. But then, the Swarm had never before met a lifeform able to fight as well as the Swarm. And while the Soft Skin imagery signal had not shown it, he understood well just how deadly the particle disruption seeds could be to the world below. If his ship moved toward the Soft Skin world, the seeds would attack his nest. Other Soft Skin nests would fly fast to the third world and destroy the world below. Losing this world as a future eleventh colony for the Swarm was not acceptable. Somehow, some way, he and other Swarmers must find a way to colonize this world while dealing with the deadly Soft Skins. But could two space-traveling lifeforms share the same sky light? It was a flight question worth considering.
♦ ♦ ♦
Richard stood beside Jane Diego just inside the entrance to the Forest Room. They both wore Shinshoni hard shells. Between them stood Sci
ence Deck chief Alicia Branstead and her exobiologist Lori Antonova. The younger woman held a modified pheromone signaling block. Science’s study of the four wasps during the two weeks since he had brought them back from the wasp ship had resulted in a basic identification of pheromones with certain concepts or actions. The pheromone talking among the wasps had been intensely studied, thanks to scent trackers that had been installed close to the fibrous nest the aliens had built in the hole they’d excavated in the meadow. Particular scents had been matched to particular actions as seen in the 24/7 video monitoring of the wasps. Alicia’s xenolinguist had created a basic vocabulary of a hundred word concepts.
Now, not long after sunrise according to wasp time as set by the leader of the wasp group, the four of them had arrived to conduct a first test of the retrofitted signaler. While he wished Lori and Alicia wore Shinshoni suits, they did wear heavy duty vacsuits of the type used during hull repairs. Still, the deadly stingers on the wasp butts could likely penetrate the fabric of the vacsuits. Which was why he and Jane flanked the two women. He and Jane lifted their arms, each aiming their flamethrower and shotgun tubes at the hovering cluster of four wasps. The wasps had emerged from their honeycomb home the second the slidedoor had opened. Now, they hovered above their residence hole, their heads facing Richard and his people. Their wings did not blur, thanks to the half gee gravity in the room. But they did flap quickly. It made him appreciate the fast metabolism the wasps had to have in order to support flight. That explained their love for honey and sweet, soft fruits. But the unblinking stare of four sets of black eyes set atop a black and red-striped yellow body was unnerving.
Battlegroup (StarFight Series Book 2) Page 13
