Jacob nodded slowly. “So, this means the wasps will act as a group, both in attacking and in falling back, like they just did?”
“Yes,” Lori said. She frowned. “Again using Earth wasps and alien colony insects as examples, it means each wasp spaceship has at least one primary leader who determines what everyone else does. Kind of the way a captain runs her ship.” She blinked, looked back, saw her audience of Bridge crew, then looked back to him. “One thing about Earth wasps. When they fight off invaders, or when they found a new wasp colony, they swarm. That means they all gather together and act to achieve a single objective.”
“Which means,” Daisy said from below. “That their killing of our admiral and the captains and XOs was meant to make us vulnerable to their later attack.”
Lori nodded, then focused on Jacob. Her expression was intense. “Acting captain, my guess is these alien insects intended to attack us from the beginning. The meeting on the planet was just a ruse to gather our leaders together for a chance to kill them all. Their pursuit of us now is the function of their leadership leading a swarm against an invader.”
“But we weren’t invading!” Carlos said, sounding angry. “We were just exploring this system cause we knew it had planets in its liquid water habitable zone.”
Lori shook her head. “Our purpose in coming here is irrelevant. What matters to these wasp-like insects is how we appear to them. They see us as an invader coming to take over the site of their new colony, their new nest site. They swarmed to its defense. Recall how early on each of their ships fired at whomever they could target? Those are the actions of a swarm of angry wasps going on the offensive.”
“Then later,” Daisy murmured, “they began combining their laser and lightning bolt fire against singleton ships. Guess that means there is an overall coordinator of this attack. An alien admiral, you think?”
“I do,” Lori said.
Jacob felt deep worry. There had been no real attempt at communication with the wasps, or by them with humans. His battle group’s mere presence branded them as an enemy. So the wasps had attacked.
“Antonova, will the alien insects keep attacking us?”
“Yes,” she said briefly. “They will keep attacking us until we leave this star system.”
“What about later?” interrupted Rosemary from her Tactical post.
Jacob wondered how a real captain would handle such an interruption. Then again, it was a question he too had been thinking. “Antonova, what will they do when we go into Alcubierre space-time?”
The slim, young woman lifted both hands in a Who Knows? gesture. “They could ignore us. They might follow us, figuring we are heading for a system with a habitable planet. A planet they could take away from us for their own use.”
He grit his teeth. “Antonova, you make these aliens sound like unthinking insects who react completely by instinct. But they are not unthinking people. They have tech, they have starships, they plant colonies like us, they do more than just follow their instincts.”
She gave him a grim look. “Have we not reacted instinctively? They attacked, we defended. We counter-attacked. For good cause, yes. Of course these aliens act on more than instinct. But in social insects, instinct is very powerful. My guess is these alien insects, with their compound eyes, warning colors of red, black and yellow, and their three body sections will indeed react much like predatory Earth insects. But they have tech. So think of yellow jackets from hell.”
“But what do we do when they next attack?” Daisy asked. “What do we do if they follow us to Kepler 10?”
Those were exactly the questions he had had at the beginning of this brain picking. “What else is different about these aliens when compared to us humans? Anything else that might help us defend ourselves? Defend a colony world?”
Lori closed her eyes. She looked tired and worn. Which was exactly how Jacob felt. With a sigh, she opened her sky blue eyes. “Acting captain, most social insects on Earth, and the insects on five of the seven colony worlds, communicate by way of pheromones. These are hormone-like scents that convey distinct messages. As in, this is our territory, this is the action you must take, this is the way to food, and so forth.” She looked aside to watchful Daisy, over to a thoughtful O’Connor, next to pensive Carlos, then up to Jacob. “Communication by pheromones can make a group very cohesive in their actions. Which means we should prepare for a very coordinated future attack. Our bigger ships will need to do as you did. Move in front of any ship that is being hit by all the enemy beams in order to prevent punch through of that ship’s hull. Our cruisers and the Battlestar are best-suited for that defensive role.”
Jacob nodded. “Fine for defense. What about offense? What could most discourage these alien wasps?”
Her eyes fixed on him in a way that went beyond friendship. Was she seeing him as their leader? As the leader of the entire battle group? “Acting Captain Renselaer, our best weapon is the antimatter cannon, which only this ship possesses. The enemy knows its range is 4,000 kilometers. They will likely stay well beyond that range when attacking. You need to . . . we need to find a way to get close to the big mother ship and either kill it with antimatter, or wound it badly. The loss of single ships has not made them pull back. If their chief leader is located on their biggest ship, attacking it by any means available will be the only way to discourage future attack.”
Jacob sat back in his seat, his stomach feeling uneasy and unsettled. Food might settle it. Something not spicy. But could he take a break from the Bridge?
“Acting captain,” spoke O’Connor from below. “I agree with Ensign Antonova. We have to attack their giant ship. My Darts are able to penetrate a thick hull. That’s why they have solid titanium nose cones. If you give us covering fire, I’m willing to lead them.”
Jacob felt surprise, then deep appreciation that the single person with repeated deadly combat experience was willing to sacrifice himself and his Marines for the benefit of the battle group. Could he do any less?
“Chief Warrant Officer O’Connor, thank you for that offer. I will consider it.” He looked beyond Lori and Carlos to those watching from their function stations. “Weapons, we did well with combined fire targeting by groups of four ships. Next time, let’s have all our ships combine their fire! Eight on one, that one being the giant wasp ship, might make a difference.” A memory hit him. “When our proton beam hit the top of that ship’s nose, it lifted up a bit to prevent penetration. That was just before they replaced their hull plates with gravity plates and went black hole. We have five ships with proton lasers. The Lepanto, the two cruisers and the two destroyers. I think it will be useful for us five to combine our proton beams on that giant ship, while everyone’s lasers hit a second spot on the ship. Maybe we can punch through in two spots!”
Oliver looked thoughtful, then gave him a thumbs-up. “Acting captain, that is an outstanding idea! Our proton beams hit with greater penetrating force than our gas lasers. And our imagery did show the spot we hit was melting into a deep hole. Whatever that metal is, we can cut through it.”
Willard raised his hand from Science. “Acting captain, my spectroscope sensor readings from that last battle say the hull of the giant wasp ship is extra resistant to heat. Besides the titanium, nickel and steel we knew made up the hulls of the wasp shuttles at the meeting site, my sensors report the presence of iridium, chrome, tungsten and molybdenum in that ship’s hull. And also in the hulls of the other wasp ships.”
“So it will take multiple beams to make a penetration?” Jacob asked.
“It will,” Willard said firmly.
Milky-skinned Rosemary stood up. Her red hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She wore her vacsuit as if it were normal dress. Her green eyes fixed on him. “Acting captain, may I suggest that during the next attack, when you take the Battlestar close to the giant wasp ship, the rest of the battle group should assume an outer post above the enemy ships? That will allow the cruisers and destroyers to shield the three f
rigates, while combining their beams in a single attack on the wasp mother ship.”
Jacob thought fast. She was proposing a variation on the formation known as Alpha Squeeze, which was a basic pincer movement. “Tactical, that is a very good suggestion. I will consider your proposal, and the idea of CWO O’Connor.”
“Captain!” called Louise from Navigation. “My system plot shows the Salamis is turning back! They are reversing course and heading for us.”
That was a surprise. “Melody, establish a neutrino comlink with Captain Mehta on the Salamis. Share the incoming signal and my responses with our other ships and with all decks.”
“Link established. Imagery shared on All Ship vidcom and with seven other ships,” the AI said, now sounding moody.
Interesting. One could never tell what an AI’s algorithms would come up with to match the current behavior of humans. He looked to the front wallscreen that was filled with stars, black space and distant galaxies. A swirling spot at the top of the wallscreen became a round image. Filling it was the long black hair, dark brown skin and brooding eyes of Chatur Mehta.
“Captain Mehta, you have reversed course. What do you intend?”
The man sat in the captain’s seat on the smaller bridge of the destroyer. Behind him were a line of empty observer seats. None of his crew were visible. And the XO seat next to him was empty. His expression was sour.
“My XO reminded me that whenever any member of Star Navy is being attacked, all nearby Star Navy ships must respond to aid that ship. I am responding. We have a full load of missiles. My observation of the first battles with the wasp aliens indicates we could be of help to you. Some of your ships are damaged.”
Would wonders never cease? “I agree. Thank you, Captain Mehta.” He looked aside at his situational holo. “It appears you will rendezvous with us in two hours, maybe less.”
The man blinked black eyes. “Less. My Engines chief received the fusion pulse magfield settings you broadcast to the other ships. We are heading your way at eleven percent of lightspeed.”
“I thank you,” Jacob said. What else was needed? Here was a rebel who had turned back and proposed to lend his firepower to the next battle. “I will have my Tactical station send you our future formation details after I consult with the other ship captains. I’m also sending you the last few minutes of alien behavior analysis and future attack options presented to me by my staff. Perhaps the data will interest you.”
“Perhaps,” the man said, his tone still sour. “In accordance with Star Navy regulations, the destroyer Salamis is coming to your aid. Further contact will happen once we are in range to assist.”
Ahhh. The rebel captain was concerned how his recorded actions and statements might appear to Earth Command now that human ships had been attacked. He had left when there had been no ship-to-ship fighting, just the absence of senior officers. Clearly, Mehta was concerned for his future career. Well, Jacob was not about to turn down the chance to have nine ships face off against seven alien ships.
“Understood. Thank you Captain Mehta. Link out.”
The man’s image vanished. But in Jacob’s situational holo, the green icon of the destroyer now appeared at the top end of the holo, which marked the outer end of the vector track they were now on. Below, Daisy looked up to Jacob. Her brown eyes were bright, though her expression was neutral.
“Our chances have just improved,” she said. “I like that his XO had the guts to remind him of his duty.”
“Me too,” Jacob said. “Which is exactly what I expect of you, and of every crew person on the Bridge. And also from the chiefs of each deck. I may have the ship status change code, but I do not have all the answers.”
She smiled, then turned back to focus on her holos.
Jacob released his seat straps and stood up. “Now, I am heading aft to my quarters for a necessities break and to get a snack. I suspect we have more fighting to do in future hours.” He stepped down to the lower level of the command pedestal, then further down to the deck’s floor. He turned and faced Daisy.
“Executive Officer Stewart, I relinquish command to you until my return.”
She released her straps, stood up quickly and saluted him. “Change of command accepted.”
Jacob saluted her, then turned away and headed aft for the exit hatch. There would be no one present in the Command Deck hallway, a fact that pleased him. Maintaining his formal command appearance was a strain that he needed a break from. The reality of commanding a spaceship with 321 people onboard, each as real and vital and hopeful of life as himself, was far different than anything he had studied at the Stellar Academy. Knowing that hundreds more on eight other ships also relied on him for their survival, for guidance, for a clear sense of what they should do, well, that was just the boulder on top of the mountain that sat atop his shoulders. Escape he must. But for no more than an hour. He could not allow himself more than that when everyone else was on combat alert, ready to defend his ship with their best efforts. And with their lives. He had seventy-one ghosts riding him already. More he did not need. Briefly he wondered how many ghosts rode on his father, the five star admiral. The man had led the defeat of the rebel miners during the Callisto Conflict. People and ships had died then. Was that why his father always focused first on what Jacob should do, versus how he should feel?
CHAPTER EIGHT
Jacob’s quarters were small but adequate. They consisted of the entry slidedoor, a long room that served as an office with a fold-down sleep rack on one wall, his fold-down comp desk on the other wall, then the entry to the toilet and shower space. Two rooms. It was enough. The hard wall felt good as he sat on his bed rack, his vacsuit pulled off, his hands on his lap, his legs in the aisle that ran down the room’s middle. He stared at the images that were hidden by his desk when it was folded up against the opposite wall. Now, it was lowered.
His Mom’s flat photo showed her smiling at him from within their home’s partly automated kitchen. She wore 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. He remembered that day, back when he’d been 14 and had just started attending Binghampton high. After a day spent ignoring the hall bullies, then defending his tablet from a nasty classmate who had chosen him for her target of the day, he had walked home after being dropped off by the school’s airbus. When he’d walked into the house and headed for the kitchen, he’d seen her there. His tablet still in his hands, he lifted it up and snapped the photo.
Beside her image was a flat pic of the old barn in the back of their property. A brown gelding horse was standing in front of the barn, his reins tied to a lonely post. The horse had been the first large animal he had ever seen or spent time with. The gelding had seemed to like him. And it had not insisted on changing from a trot to a fast run. Riding a horse while it ran fast over the land was something he had felt only once. It had scared him. That had happened while he rode with his mom on her Arabian stallion, Butch.
Below the images was the fold-down metal desk plate. His comp pad sat on it, closed for the moment. Sitting atop the comp pad 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. The man had shown him off to them. He had kept the holo cube because of the green forested Rocky Mountains that rose in the background of the graduation field. That day had been Southwest blue sky touched with puffy white clouds. He’d always loved being in nature, and the Rockies near to Colorado Springs were a totally different kind of nature from what he’d seen near Binghampton. Now, inside his quarters, he felt alone, distant from what mattered to him. The fact he had five friends on the Lepanto, friends who had accepted his choice to take command, friends who had stood with him in the face of death, that felt good. He should remember that whenever he sat in the admiral’s seat under the vidcom eye of the ship’s AI. A series of bings came
from above his slidedoor.
“Jacob, you in there?” called Kenji’s voice. “Can I come in?”
What was he doing here now? Jacob glanced at his finger watch. It said the time was noon. His friend should be back in the Mess Hall, providing hot food to the ten percent of the crew who were now able to take a quick break before heading back to their posts so another ten percent could eat. Or whatever they needed to do.
“Sure. Door, admit Kenji Watanabe.”
The slidedoor swished open.
Kenji stood there, dressed in a vacsuit with helmet pushed onto his back, both hands supporting a food tray. On it, uncovered, were plates with brown croissants, jam, three link sausages, some green grapes, a slab of cheddar cheese and a glass, real glass, that held brown liquid. Likely the ice tea his friend knew he liked. His stomach rumbled.
“Hey,” Kenji said as he strode in. “Looked for you at the admiral’s quarters, then the captain’s place, then the XO’s. No reply at any place. So I tried here.” The tall, slim, black-haired young man pushed the holo cube to one side and put down the tray on top of his comp pad. Then he stood back and eyed him. “Jacob, you gotta eat. Can’t be any good to the rest of us if you starve yourself. Low blood sugar and all that, remember?”
Jacob recalled the story his friend had told of how his mother had had diabetes for 30 years and how she had to eat frequent small meals to keep up her blood sugar. He’d met the woman in the orbiting shipyard when she had come up to stay goodbye as her son the line cook headed off into deep space. The woman had treated Jacob as if he were just another young ensign whom her son had befriended. It was a good memory. He smiled, then gestured at the tray.
StarFight 1: Battlestar Page 12
