StarFight 1: Battlestar

by T. Jackson King

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Jacob stood in front of the gray metal slidedoor that gave access to Daisy’s quarters. The rooms had been the place where Commander Anderson once lived. They were the same layout as in his captain’s quarters, based on his recollection from visiting the man in company with Admiral Johanson. Now, she lived there. Did she feel the ghost of the dead man? He shrugged and focused on her. When he’d first met Daisy on the orbital shipyard, high above the blue oceans and white clouds of Earth, he’d liked her looks and her manner. Just shy of six feet, she was almost as tall as Jacob. Her oval face was framed by a thick halo of blue-black curls. Her brown eyes were lively, constantly looking here and there during the holo cube shoot setup.

  Afterwards, she had treated him like any other ensign. That had made him pay closer attention to her. She was nice-looking, even if her full breasts were hidden by the formal jacket, white blouse and pantsuit that was required clothing for all Star Navy women. Her dark brown skin was a lovely mix of her Anglo father and Black mother. Tall, trim and lively, that was her physical manner. Later on that day he’d joined her, Carlos, Quincy, Kenji, Lori and other freshly graduated ensigns in drinking pale ale beers at a saloon. The place, though orbiting 400 kilometers high, was done up in an imitation Wild West motif, with swinging wooden half doors, a long wooden bar, racy paintings on the wall behind the bar and with images of famous Star Navy captains and commanders adorning the metal walls. The saloon’s owner walked through the bolted down tables, holding his Russian wolfhound on a metal chain. Lori had loved the animal. Jacob had been uneasy at first, then had enjoyed petting the animal’s well-formed head. Daisy had been boisterously loud as she played Rock, Paper and Scissors with some guys at the table. None of them were able to outguess her. That was her mental manner and her natural persona. Smart, lively, boisterous and willing to hang with anyone so long as they didn’t bore her, Daisy had struck him as someone well worth knowing.

  He could not put it off any longer. He spoke.

  “Acting Captain Renselaer requests admission to the quarters of Executive Officer Stewart,” he said firmly, putting his hands behind his back in parade rest mode. It was a silly stance considering they flew in a bubble of space-time that traveled faster than the speed of light. But it was the best he could do.

  “Door, admit Acting Captain Renselaer,” came Daisy’s warm mezzo-soprano voice.

  The door moved sideways into the wall. Standing in the middle of her relaxation room was Daisy. He couldn’t help himself. He gave her a whistle.

  “You look beautiful!”

  She smiled big, then turned around slowly, letting him see the back of the green Spring dress filled with flower images. The dress hung from her right shoulder, with a slanting neckline that went down and under her left arm. The bodice clung tightly from her waist up. The lower folds of the dress flared out from her hips, stopping just at her knees. She wore pale green hose that ended in black leather loafers. He noted that her two silver-bar lieutenant rank was clipped to her right shoulder. He had insisted on the field promotion since he’d appointed her to the job of Executive Officer. XOs were almost always lieutenants or higher in rank.

  While Dance Night dress rules emphasized casual, civilian wear, it was required that all officers, CPOs and CWOs, and Spacers wear their rank or rating insignia on some part of their clothing. That was in case of an emergency while in space. Knowing he would be the center of attention for more than a hundred Lepanto crew, he’d chosen to wear his Service Dress Blue coat, white shirt, four-in-hand necktie and pants, with four gold stripes sewn onto the end of each coat sleeve, while similar boards adorned each shoulder. His captain’s eagle was on his upper left chest, with the single ribbon of the Lepanto’s current mission Operation StarFight. He didn’t like the white combo hat, but it was part of the standard uniform. At least it was not a Full Dress Navy Blue uniform that required white gloves and a sword hanging on one hip!

  Daisy stopped and faced him. A happy smile had replaced the grin. “You look good too! You ready to go dancing?”

  He turned and held out his left arm. “Yes! May I escort you to the Dance Night?”

  “For sure,” she said, her voice warm and friendly. She walked up, put her right arm through the loop of his elbow and they both headed for the closed slidedoor. “Door, open.”

  They stepped out into the hallway of the Command Deck. A hiss made them look toward the end of the hallway. Carlos stepped out, looked left and saw them.

  “Wow! What a couple. I’m jealous,” Carlos said loudly.

  “Thank you, Carlos,” Daisy said.

  He and Daisy walked toward their friend. A second hiss sounded and beyond his friend there emerged Lori, wearing a beautiful Russian peasant’s dress that made her look like someone stepping out of a French dress salon. She turned, looked their way and smiled easily. Her pale brown face held Slavic cheekbones that framed wonderfully attractive blue eyes. Or so Jacob had thought until he spent time with Daisy.

  “Hey!” his dance partner called, jerking on his left arm. “That’s enough attention paid to the other belle of the ball!”

  He and Carlos both laughed. Then his friend from East LA, wearing a dress blue outfit like Jacob’s, turned and walked toward Lori, holding out his left arm. “May I escort the other beautiful belle of the ball?”

  “Da,” she said, her Russian spoken in what Lori had informed him was the Novgorod dialect of standard Russian. “Did you bring the Stolichnaya Red Label vodka?”

  Carlos laughed. “Yes, my sweet. It’s hidden inside this hideous formal jacket!”

  As Jacob and Daisy joined the couple, he felt happy that the two hetero folks had found each other. He had spent plenty of time playing chess with Carlos and sharing news about their very different hometowns. The man’s ability with algorithms and knowledge of stellar navigation had astounded Jacob. His friend had only once mentioned Jacob’s father the famous admiral, then they’d fallen to talking about the different breeds of horses and which were most fun to ride. He looked back along the hallway but did not see either Kenji or Quincy. While both Spacers had been surprised by his orders to move to the place where officers lived on Command Deck, they had complied. It pleased Jacob. They might be a laser gunner’s mate and a line cook, but they were his friends. And they were part of the brain trust he relied on to keep him stable in his unique situation. As he, Daisy, Carlos and Lori stopped in front of the between decks grav lift, he guessed they must have gone early to the Dance Night room on Habitation Deck.

  A big slidedoor opened. He followed his friends into the gray metal box. Knowing what was expected, he spoke. “Melody, deliver us to Habitation Deck.”

  “Moving your compartment,” the AI replied as it told the metal box’s gravity plates to reduce their repulsion so they dropped down a level to Habitation Deck.

  As they dropped slowly, Daisy’s bare hand moved down to hold his hand. It felt nice. And the smell of her lavender perfume filled him with desire. Mentally shaking himself, he sought refuge in a memory of the ship’s layout of decks. There were actually seven levels or decks. The central deck was a combination of Command in the front half of the Lepanto, with the Engines section taking up the rear half. Below Command were Habitation, Science and Supplies decks. Above Command were Life Support, Navigation and Weapons. The grav lift box stopped moving. The large slidedoor opened. They walked out into the main hallway of Habitation, saw clusters of people on their left all heading toward the Exercise Chamber that doubled once a week as Dance Night hangout, and followed after the other singles, couples and groups. As he walked, he hoped the crews on the other ships of the battle group were enjoying their own Dance Nights. When you mixed up both genders, multiple sex orientations, and different ranks and ratings inside a big metal tube for a long time, opportunities for relaxation and escape from the normal rigidity of military service became vital. Daisy squeezed his hand.

  “Jacob, what are you thinking?”

  An easy que
stion. He told her. “Do you think the other crews are having fun?”

  “Are we?” she said, turning her smiling face to him. Her black eyebrows lifted.

  “Most definitely!” he said, pulling her a bit closer as they followed after their friends and other people making their way through a wide opening.

  The Dance Hall resembled an old style high school gymnasium, in that its floor was fake wood parquet, with bench seating along the four walls of the long rectangle that made up the chamber. Overhead, real drop lights hung from the high ceiling, their yellow glow filling every corner of the room. On the left side, up against the wall, were three long tables filled with food platters, soft and hard drinks and tasty sweets from twenty nations. On the right side were the alcoves that gave admission to the restrooms. In front of them, standing on an elevated platform set against the far wall, was a band of violins, drums, electric guitars, a few cellos, some brass horn players and two flute players. Live music that resembled Country Western came from them.

  Carlos looked his way. “Jacob, you gonna join that band? I recall you saying you had once played a coronet.”

  He shook his head. “Never! The only music I know is what I had to study in high school or at the academy. But I do like live music. And dancing.” Jacob turned to face Daisy. “May I have this dance?”

  “Oh yes!” She smiled easily, her eyes bright. Daisy moved closer to him, put her right arm out to hold his left hand, then laid her left arm over his shoulder.

  It all felt very very good. And she smelled delightful. He gave thanks the music was slow and suitable to a waltz type step. He drew her sideways. Daisy matched every step he took. Keeping his attention on her lovely face, he pulled her closer. “You like this?”

  “Very much so.” She moved closer and laid her chin on his right shoulder. “You dance better than most guys I’ve met.”

  Putting aside an immediate wonderment about how many young men she had dated and danced with, Jacob looked outward and enjoyed the movement of other couples as they moved to the rhythm of the band.

  He saw Quincy dancing with a slightly shorter man close to his age. They made a nice gay couple. Looking past them, he caught sight of Kenji dancing with a Korean gal from Science that his friend knew from visiting with Lori during the long Alcubierre flight out to Kepler 22. Like most of the 321 people on the Lepanto, they were hetero. Beyond them he caught sight of red-haired Louise dancing with swarthy Oliver. Her file said she was married. Oliver was standard hetero and single. It seemed they were enjoying each other’s company. As he and Daisy circled through the middle of the dance floor, he caught sight of Maggie dancing with Akira. Their files said both were lesbians. Some of the best instructors at the academy had been tough as nails lesbians. He hoped they found time to develop a relationship. Or continue one that may have started earlier. Another swing about and he caught sight of Alicia Swanson dancing with Leonard Schwartz, the chief of Habitation Deck. Elsewhere the other deck chiefs talked, danced or drank. Drinking was what Richard O’Connor was doing, now wearing white Marine formal dress, as he talked with the four fellow Marines who were pilots of the Lepanto’s four Darts.

  “Jacob, why are you ignoring me?”

  He started, then looked down to Daisy’s face. Which had a look of concern. Lies would not do. Not with her. “I’m really attracted to you. I really like you. You were the first person in the shipyard to treat me normal, rather than the son of a world-famous admiral. And it’s been a long time since I felt this close with any woman.”

  Her eyebrows lifted. Her expression changed to one of empathy. “You don’t like feeling vulnerable, do you?”

  Jacob took in a sharp breath. Then told himself Daisy was as smart as he, more talented in some areas and came from Chicago. There was likely nothing she did not know when it came to relationships among people. Including being raised by a single mom after her father divorced that mom.

  “No, I don’t. My father told me to hide all evidence of weakness if I was to grow up and be a commander of men. And women. When my mom died, it got worse. Think of being on guard duty 24 hours a day.”

  She grimaced. Her soft lips opened a bit. “Sounds goddess awful.” Daisy pulled back a little, looked him over, then resumed being close, her breasts pressing against his chest. “Well, you are now off duty! So enjoy yourself. And pay attention to me, rather than being on the watch for everyone else!”

  He chuckled and pulled her closer. “A wonder you are!”

  The band music changed to a foxtrot and they separated, except for brief hand grips as they danced in parallel form, their legs moving in synchrony with the music.

  As Daisy moved, her green flowery dress swirled and swirled, making the curve of her hips visible and her stockinged legs nicely viewable. His arousal was strong enough that he briefly worried about the next time they would be close. Then he dismissed it. No one in the room had sought him out to solve a problem. No one had laughed and called him a fake captain who was just an ensign. And no one spoke of the Britain and its ghosts. He told himself to put aside that memory and to treat Daisy as she deserved.

  “Now you’re hopping!” she said happily.

  They danced and danced. They got drinks and sweet snacks. She allowed him to feed her a tortolino and he allowed her to stuff a blueberry muffin into his mouth. They stayed with drinking beer, in the interest of remaining vertical. It went on like that, her smiling, him laughing now and then, until the music stopped. He had not realized it was midnight until the overhead lights dimmed and the baritone at the bandstand announced the end of Dance Night. Daisy took his left arm and guided him toward the exit, which was crowded with dozens of other late revelers.

  “Jacob, this was fun! You’re fun.”

  He smiled, marveled at how earlier she had pulled him close and kissed him, and now hugged his arm close to her side. “You’re more than fun. You inspire me. Never knew I could do a samba!”

  She laughed as they went down the hallway of the Habitation Deck, other couples and groups ahead of and behind them. “Well, your foxtrot was pretty decent.” She paused as they stopped before the grav lift, sharing the space with four other couples, none of whom he knew and all of whom were not the slightest bit interested in the fact the ship’s captain stood among them. Daisy looked up to him, her warm brown eyes fixing on him. “You wanna have a drink in my place? Got a nice pinot noir bottle that my mom gave me as a graduation present.”

  Would this invite lead to something more? Did he want more? Silly questions the mind poses. “Sure! Would love to taste your red wine. And hear about your mom the super scientist!”

  She laughed, followed him into the grav lift, then laid her head against his left shoulder as the metal box rose slowly. “She really is a wonder. Got me my first flying lessons. Stood by on the runway when I soloed. And took a backseat ride with me in the jet trainer that I qualified on. Plus she taught me to play chess early on.”

  Jacob had heard some of these details during their flight out to Kepler 22. It was clear that Daisy’s mom was both her role model for achievement and the sole family link she had. “I am very very glad she got you those piloting lessons. Otherwise, we might not have met each other since you were originally assigned to Navigation Deck.”

  She squeezed his arm, then walked close to him as they stepped out onto the hallway of Command Deck. The grav lift’s door hissed shut behind them. No one else was present in the hallway. She turned and looked up to him.

  “Kiss me.”

  Bending down a bit and pulling her closer, he kissed Daisy Stewart with all his heart, all his hopes and all his wishes that they would survive the future. Being the master of a Battlestar starship was fine, but except for the crazy AI Melody, there was no emotional return in doing his duty. Being with Daisy was so much better than sitting atop a seat in the middle of the Bridge and being at target center for all the worries, problems and crises that came with being a ship’s captain.

  “Let’s have some of t
hat wine,” he whispered to her as his lips separated from hers.

  Her face showed caring and kindness and . . . was that love? Perhaps too soon for that. But Daisy was showing him a side of her that was beyond special. She was inviting him into her heart.

  “Wine sounds good. Along with other nice things. Follow me,” she said, turning and pulling him along after her as they headed for her quarters.

  Jacob followed willingly.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Daisy watched the holos in front of her XO seat, waiting for the front wallscreen’s color to change from gray to black filled with white sparkles, and maybe the yellow dot of Kepler 10’s star. That should happen in eleven minutes, according to the time clock notation in the corner of her situational holo. Her ship cross-section holo showed everyone at their combat duty posts, ready to fight the second after their arrival if needed. She had listened to Jacob’s comment earlier, on the neutrino link with the group’s other ships and captains, as her friend said there was a possibility the wasp alien stardrive might get them to Kepler 10 before they arrived. Willard at Science kept quiet, but she knew the man did not believe that was possible. More likely, according to Lieutenant Branstead, was an arrival of the wasps some hours, or even a day after their arrival. Branstead, or Alicia as Daisy now thought of her, had shared this with Jacob during an all deck chiefs video conference. Alicia was convinced it would take the wasps some hours to convert their triangulation readings into an exact vector track. The wasps would easily see, early on, that the nearest G-type yellow star was Kepler 10. But they would have to discuss whether the Lepanto was headed there, or to another G-type star further along that vector track. Behind her the slidedoor that gave access to the Bridge hissed open.