StarFight 1: Battlestar

by T. Jackson King

  Jacob nodded slowly. “What did you think of the lightning bolt strikes?”

  “Weirded me out!” Quincy said. “I recall lightning strikes from when my parents took me out to the countryside south of London. Saw bolts then during thunderstorms. Never expected to see 10,000 kilometer long lightning strikes in space!” He paused, noticed Branstead was watching him closely, then continued. “The enemy bolts did take out several hundred square meters of adaptive-optics lenses on our outrigger, though.”

  Branstead nodded and looked to Jacob. “Acting captain, the damage to the right side outrigger pod, to the ship’s nose and to its belly and the belly plasma battery are things we need to repair. As best we can.”

  Jacob set down his can of beer. “Agreed. But we can’t allow folks out in EVA right now. Not with the enemy still close to us. Can we repair the deep hull breaches on the nose and belly? The ones that caused us to lose the water between the outer and inner hulls in those spots? I know we have spare water. But can we seal up those breaches so we can inject water into those hull segments?”

  Branstead frowned, then reached up to push brown bangs out of her eyes. “Well, we do have good repair robots that can handle vacuum. And the Engines Deck has some fine teleoperator engineers. Put the engineers to work managing the repair bots, along with some hull plates, and we should be able to cover those two breaches. But the ship will need the services of a full spacedock to restore the outer hull to its two meters of armor.”

  Jacob winced, then nodded. “No spacedock at Kepler 10. Guess we will have to wait for that until we get back to Earth, or to a colony with a spacedock.” He fixed on the Science Deck chief. “Lieutenant Branstead, will you work with the Engines Deck chief on those repairs? I’ve only met Chief Warrant Officer Billy Chang once, during the boarding tour for new crew. You’ve served with him for years.”

  Branstead gave a quick smile. “You are learning too many of the tricks of a good manager. Combine a delegation of work with a compliment. Yes, I will coordinate with Billy. And share with him my feelings about Kepler 10, and how you should remain as our captain.”

  Jacob’s expression looked briefly hopeful, then the emotion shut down. Daisy wondered at that. Had Jacob learned that shutting down his emotions was the only way he could survive the fame of his father’s name?

  “Captain, uh, Jacob,” called Lori from her left. “I’m pretty sure everyone on Navigation Deck will support you. Short of the chief. Who has no friends. Even the two ensigns who are his chief fix-it people do not care for his company.” Like Quincy, she now became aware of being the center of attention. She flushed, her light brown skin darkening as her blue eyes looked down.

  “Lori, thank you,” Jacob said, his gaze moving from her to the other people at the table. “Quincy, thank you for that weapons input. Carlos, thank you for your help earlier in figuring out we can head for Kepler 10.” His gray eyes now rested a moment on her. “Daisy, you took to being XO the way a young duck takes to water. Thank you!” He grinned suddenly. “Now, a surprise for you folks from me. As I shared with Lieutenant Branstead, I consider you folks to be my brain trust, besides being my friends. I need you all close by. So,” he looked to Daisy, “Lieutenant Stewart, please move your things into the XO’s quarters on Command Deck. Lori, Quincy and Carlos, I want you three to also move to Command Deck. Take up the empty ensign quarters. The personal items of the former residents should be delivered to Chief Warrant Officer Cheryl Zhang on Supplies Deck. Agreed?”

  Her friends all agreed. Branstead looked surprised at the news Lori would be leaving her quarters on Science Deck. Daisy caught Jacob’s attention. “Acting captain, I’m happy to leave my space on Navigation Deck. Like some people, I have not enjoyed the company of chief Bannerjee. But . . . if we four are moving up here, well, you should occupy the captain’s cabin. It’s bigger than a standard ensign’s quarters, and anyway, that will allow Kenji to find you the next time he has a meal to deliver!”

  Jacob looked shocked, then he smiled big. “I accept the suggestion of my Executive Officer,” he said, his tone bemused. He looked around, then fixed on Branstead. “Lieutenant, many thanks for coming, for your advice and for your support.”

  Branstead put down her can. She gave Jacob a relaxed smile. “Good beer. I’ll let you know when the new cartoon video is ready. And I will work on alerting the other deck chiefs to the need for unity once we arrive at Kepler 10.”

  Her friend nodded slowly. “Looking forward to seeing the video. And yes, we do need all decks on board when we arrive at Kepler 10.” Jacob looked her way. “Everyone, time to break up this meeting and get back to our posts on the Bridge.”

  Daisy stood up, but stepped back to put her shoulders against the wall of the large room. Lori, Carlos and Quincy passed her by as they followed Branstead out of the room and into the hallway. At the hiss of the slidedoor closing, Jacob looked to her, his thick eyebrows lifting. “Daisy?”

  She stepped toward him, stopping a half meter back. Just on the edge of his personal space. She looked up a bit. Her friend was a few inches taller than she was.

  “Jacob, we will be safe once we enter Alcubierre space-time, right?”

  “Right.” Puzzlement showed on his lightly tanned face.

  “Well,” she said, allowing a half smile to show. “The weekly Dance Night will happen at the end of the first day in Alcubierre flight. Jacob, will you go dancing with me?”

  Surprise filled his face. His eyes opened wide. His two strong hands lifted halfway up. Then he froze all movement, only his eyes moving as they scanned her. Was he seeing all of her, for the first time? Was he seeing beyond her mixed-race appearance? Did he realize she liked him? Did he—

  “Sure thing,” Jacob said, a big grin coming over his face. “Took lessons in swing, square and other dance forms back in Binghampton. Danced a bit at the senior prom there. Not much since. You may have to give me some guidance.”

  She grinned back. “Well, guiding a good guy into being a neat guy is something we women have lots of experience with. You show up at my slidedoor an hour before the dance starts and I’ll be ready!”

  Jacob nodded, his grin easing to a happy-looking smile. Not looking away, he reached down and grabbed his tablet from the top of the table. “Shall we head back to the Bridge?”

  “Sure,” she said, her heart beating faster as she turned and headed for the slidedoor. Already she was wondering how his arms would feel around her, how close he would allow himself to come, and how open in his emotions and feelings would he be? Clearly her young man had learned to assume a certain persona in the company of other adults. And before military superiors. But he had grown beyond that personal history, as she had seen in the last half day. Surely he would continue to grow, both as their commander and as someone she would enjoy spending time with.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Support Hunter Seven entered the Practice Chamber of Hunter One’s large flying nest. As instinct told him to do, he skittered to one side as his five eyes took in the chamber’s high ceiling, the white-yellow illumination strips that made the room feel like Nest, and the crowd of other Swarmers gathered atop stone perches to his left side. His sound membranes heard desultory rasping of limbs against their hard shells as a few Servants, Worker Leaders and some Fighter Leaders left the pheromone emission to Hunter One. Who rested above them on a stone perch that stuck out from what appeared to be a natural group of boulders. A Matron perched atop a boulder to one side, while the four other Support Hunters perched nearby, on top of a separate group of boulders. Each flying nest was represented here.

  Elsewhere in the chamber were some of the green-barked trees of Nest, their purple leaves swaying in the artificial wind created by dead contrivances. A small blue pond lay at some distance. His foot pads felt the softness of green tendrils that covered the soil, with a scatter here and there of yellow flowers full of nectar. Clearly this chamber, like the similar one in his nest, was meant to provide food, drink and the se
nse of flying free under the sky light of home. It also served as a chamber where young Swarmers practiced their flight moves as they learned to fly in a group, like every cohort did on Nest. A strong scent flowed to him from Hunter One. It was a mix of signal, territorial and trail pheromones.

  “The Challenger arrives!” his opponent scent cast. “Do you wish to die soon, or after pretending to attack many times?”

  Insults always began any Challenge.

  “Why is the Responder hiding atop a high perch? Do you need the support of Servants below you in order to feel powerful? Come to my level so we may converse, mandible to mandible.”

  Hunter One lifted his brown wings and fluttered them a bit, but stayed at his perch. “You guide your nest poorly. It suffered damage to one side during your failed attack on the large Soft Skin nest.”

  That response told him all Swarmers everywhere on the nest were perceiving their Challenge by way of both perception imagers and scent repeaters. It also told him Hunter One had need to reassure the Swarmers in his nest. As well he should.

  “This nest suffered far greater damage! You lead our nests like a Swarmer who has sucked in too many sips from the Blurry Flower,” he scent cast back in a mix of alarm and signal pheromones. “How else could we lose a six-group of nests to these miserable Soft Skins? Was the attack against the meeting site your thought, or the thoughts of a Fighter Leader elsewhere? The deadliness of that attack was lost in your later leadership of our nests!”

  Hunter One’s two black antennae rose up sharply. Clearly he did not like the suggestion he was of blurred vision and mind when he had led the two attacks against the Soft Skins. The nectar of the Blurry Flower on Nest was well-known as a producer of a confused mind and false eye visions. The Swarmer’s mandibles opened to either side, then clacked together.

  A scent of excitement came from many of the other Swarmers. Mixed among the pheromones was a scent of aggregation from Support Hunter Four, who perched with the other Support Hunters from the other three flying nests. That group included at least one Support Hunter who was known to be a cohort relative of Hunter One, and therefore bound to support him. The other two gave no scent of any reaction to the Challenge and Response pheromones cast by him and One. Clearly they awaited the result of this Challenge battle.

  “I claimed leadership of this colonizing flight in the cold dark spaces above Nest,” One scent cast in a massive flow of territorial pheromones. “We found a good new land nest for our larvae. Each flying nest has deposited Pods on the new land. Each nest contributed Servants, Worker Leaders and Workers to raise the new Swarmers. That is the success of the Swarm!” He paused, then a scent of frustration came forth. “Then arrived the strange Soft Skins, who did not become incoherent and weak of mind from the loss of their leaders. On Nest, we control such Soft Skins. Such must be the case here, in this new sky light home for Swarmers. Therefore I led our attack! We destroyed one Soft Skin nest and badly damaged three other nests. Even now they flee from us!”

  Seven moved on his footpads to be near a cluster of green bark trees. He leaned back, then whipped his wings strongly, rising up like a particle disruption seed newly launched.

  “Responder! Meet me in open air the way our ancestors once battled each other!”

  Hunter One seemed startled by his quick rise to a level equal with him. “Challenger, now you die!”

  Pheromones of signal, alarm, excitement and trail now filled the air between him and One. He canted his flight to one side, then back to the opposite side, repeating the ancestral flight pattern known to every Swarmer. One did the same, matching his movements with an ease that belied the slight age fading of his hard shell colors.

  First attack was always up to the Challenger. Seven lifted up higher, his wing beats blurring, then he bent forward and dropped toward the red and black stripes of One’s back.

  Empty air met his attack.

  Footpads kicked at his belly as One flew upside down below him, his tail stinger already lifting to pierce Seven’s abdomen. The bottom of the abdomen was the softest spot on any Swarmer’s exoskeleton. Aside from the head, which was nearly impossible to reach.

  Seven twisted to the left, dropped lower than One, then beat his wings fast to rise up toward the back of his enemy. With a twist in mid-air he shifted his flight form so his stinger was aimed at the head and antennae of Hunter One.

  “Youthful arrogance does not win a Challenge!” scent cast One as the creature turned over and lifted his stinger upward toward Seven’s stinger.

  A twist of his body barely allowed Seven to avoid impaling his abdomen on One’s stinger. Beating his wings into a blur, he rose up sharply, then dove down toward the exposed thorax of One.

  “Taste your death!” he scent cast harshly.

  One shifted sideways, avoided Seven’s downward plunge, then swept low, wings nearly touching Seven’s wings as they fell side by side toward the green covered soil below.

  “You prolong your death. Turn over and present your—”

  Seven twisted to the right, turning his abdomen up, then flew sideways to be just under the abdomen of One. But instead of feeling the satisfying thrust of his stinger and the pumping of venom into his enemy, he felt only the sudden impact of One’s thorax and abdomen against his. Their stingers clashed against each other, unable to reach a soft spot. One’s foot pads gripped his hard shell. Seven did the same in return. He opened his mandibles and reached for the narrow nerve cord that connected One’s head to his thorax.

  One did the same.

  Their mandibles met in a loud clacking.

  “Surrender!” scent cast One in a strong flow of releaser pheromones. “You are below me. You are defeated.”

  A fast beat of his wings to one side reversed their positions, with Seven atop One even as his opponent’s wing beats pushed him up against Seven’s abdomen.

  Seven beat his wings harder, but was unable to counter the strong counter wing beat of One.

  They hovered in mid-air, mandibles biting each other’s lower head, neither achieving a death bite due to the hardness of each other’s hard shell.

  “You surrender!” Seven scent cast in an equally strong blast of releaser pheromones. “You are below me!”

  They reversed positions in the air seven more times, hurling scent insults even as they gripped each other tight and their stingers tried and tried to find a soft spot on the tail of each other.

  “Swarmers stop fighting!” came a primer pheromone from the Matron below. “Stop biting! Let go. Move to separate perches!”

  Shock filled Seven.

  Never before had a Matron interfered with a Challenge fight. While a flying nest’s Matron was the reason for any Swarmer cohort to found a new nest, to defend an existing nest, or to fly out to other sky lights to spread the larvae of the Swarm, they were also the final authority on any nest. For they laid the eggs that became larvae who became the new generation of Swarmers. All Hunters were male. Neither he nor One could give forth new eggs. Only the Matron could do that. Which was why a Matron resided in the Flight Chamber of every flying nest. They were reputed to be wise in the ways of the Swarm. Must he give up this Challenge?

  “Separate!” came an incredibly strong primer pheromone.

  Primer pheromones are the scents that force an egg to become a larva. They cause more than a change in behavior. They cause a change in emotions, feelings and even the inner gut of a Swarmer. When emitted as strongly as now, there was nothing Seven or One could do but obey.

  Seven stopped his stinger striking. He let go of his foot pad hold on One. He felt One do the same, at almost the same moment. They separated, their wings beating rapidly, their eye clusters fixed on each other, their antennae lifted stiffly high. Each gasped for air through the pumping of their spiracles. Each hovered above the green tendriled soil below.

  “Go to separate perches!”

  With a shudder, Seven slowed his wing beat, dropped lower and then flew swiftly to an empty perch amon
g the group of other Support Hunters. His friend Four made room for him, then put his left wing over the back of Seven. It was meant to comfort. It shocked Seven as much as the sight of One lowering down onto his high perch. More shock came.

  The large, heavy form of the Matron now beat her brown wings strongly, lifting her large mass up from her solitary perch atop a boulder. She rose up, slowly, to a height equal to that of One. A blast of signal, releaser, territorial and trail pheromones flowed from her, flowed outward to envelop the three groups of Swarmers.

  “Hunters! Our colony flight is half the size it was when we left Nest,” she scent cast. “We have but six nests still flying. Most nests have need of repairs to their outer shells. Most seriously, we cannot afford to lose the talent and battle energy of any Hunter!” She paused, her hovering flight an amazement to Seven, who had never seen a Matron take flight. “This Challenge has become a blocked fight. Neither Challenger nor Responder prevailed. Each Hunter is as strong as the other Hunter. Which told me we Swarmers must preserve both Hunters!” Her five eyes glistened with wetness. Her mid-air hover changed as she swung about to look directly at Seven and the other Support Hunters, over to the gathering of Servants, Workers and Fighter Leaders, then up to One. “Hunter One, I command you to work with Support Hunter Seven, and with all our still living Support Hunters. Find a means of defeating these Soft Skins! Let us follow them wherever they fly in the cold dark sky! Let us battle them again when our nests are repaired. We must know more about these Soft Skins. Where did they come from? Are there more who would arrive at our new colony sky light? What can we Swarmers do to discourage the Soft Skins from ever again visiting any Swarmer sky light?”