Good news, all in all. The knocked-out devices could be repaired or replaced. What mattered was all four ships still had their full array of offensive energy weapons, and the Aldertag was still mobile and combat effective. Which brought him to more immediate issues.
“All ships, close in on that fragment of Seven’s ship. Let’s see if there are any survivors in it.” Jacob looked aside to where Hunter One now hovered above his support bench. Clearly the rapid beating of the alien’s brown wings showed its anxiety over the future. “Once that is done, we will reverse course and chase down the manta ray ship fragments. There have to be bodies in some of the larger frags. I want to see what kind of alien cost us three good people.”
Acknowledgements came from the other three captains.
Jacob looked down at Daisy. “XO, you interested in taking your Berlin out to inspect that fragment of Seven’s ship? There might be survivors in it.”
She shook her head, tight black curls rustling within her helmet. “No sir,” came her soprano over his vacsuit’s comlink. “I’ll save my LCA for the invader ship fragments. Chief O’Connor has asked me to pilot him and some of his Marines out to one of the manta ray wing fragments. Sir.”
Her statement did not surprise him. Daisy had been missing flight time in her LCA. The rescue flights down to Valhalla had happened too long ago. She was a pilot. And a fighter. While she was willing to organize and manage the Battlestar for him as the ship’s XO, still, she yearned to fly. And if she had to fly, there was no one he trusted more to keep her safe, or at least free of harm, than Richard O’Connor.
“Chief O’Connor, launch one of your Darts to inspect the Seven ship fragment once we come within range of it.”
“Yes sir, captain,” the man said, his deep bass voice echoing through the Bridge. “The Chapultepec can handle it. Howard’s a fine pilot and Auggie’s a great team leader. They will punch through the hull and find anyone still alive. Shall they go out in Shinshoni hard shells?’
“Definitely,” Jacob said. “Those suits will protect your men from more than combat fire. That wasp fragment is its engine section. Who knows what kind of live power cables are lying around? Or nasty gases?”
The man who had once been a colonel of Marines nodded agreement.
“Fleet captain,” called Rebecca from above the wallscreen.
Jacob looked up. Her tight-clenched jaw was still tense. Clearly the end of combat had not made her the usually amiable woman he had known ever since taking command of the Lepanto. Her dark brown eyes were bright. She looked impatient.
“Commander Swanson, speak.”
“May I send out our LCA to assist in the search of the wasp ship fragment? You know, buddy team with your Dart.”
There was more here than she was saying. What was on the woman’s mind? She seemed very focused on participating in the salvage actions. Why? Did she not trust his judgment? Or was it something else? Something connected to the death of her lover Jason during the last battles in Kepler 10? Whatever her inner motivation, her proposal made sense.
“Yes, of course your LCA may assist our Dart in the boarding of the wasp ship fragment. That should happen in a half hour. Is there anything else the Lepanto can assist you with? Do you need parts for fixing your ship damage?”
“Sir, no sir,” Rebecca said, her jaw muscles still tense. “The Chesapeake has the replacement parts for the sensor array and plasma battery electronics. We are fully combat operational. My suggestion came from my concern over dealing with unknown conditions on the wasp ship fragment. My LCA will include my Marine chief and several of his Marines. Just in case. Is that acceptable?”
“Very acceptable, commander.” Jacob gave her a nod and a smile that he hoped was encouraging. “Your ship fought well. Please convey my congratulations to your Tactical person and to your entire crew. You got off multiple missile salvos. They made the difference in the ball intercepts. As did your Smart Rock barrages. And your laser strikes took out the ejector port of the upper enemy ship. The heavy cruiser Chesapeake is deserving of recognition by Earth Command.”
Finally, her jaw muscles relaxed. The tenseness in her posture eased. She gave him a nod, then a half-smile. “Thank you, fleet captain. My people are as dedicated to the Star Navy as your people. And as are the crews of the Philippine Sea and the Aldertag. I’m glad all our ships survived our first encounter with those black ball bastards!”
Her profanity surprised Jacob. Rebecca was a no-nonsense woman of propriety. While her crew was well-aware of her romance with Jason, no one on her ship had ever said a thing to anyone on the Lepanto about it. Her crew’s loyalty was outstanding. He appreciated that. As he appreciated the combat effectiveness of Joy and Joan. But now, they had work to do before they reversed course and chased down the manta ray ship fragments.
“Commander, I agree. I value your crew and the crews of the other ships. Every one of you proved themselves to be deadly adversaries in Kepler 22, in Kepler 10 and now against these unknown aliens.” Jacob paused, wondering what else was on the woman’s mind. “After we recover any survivors from the wasp fragment, please join me and the other captains here on the Lepanto. We need to review the records of this battle, understand what worked, what didn’t, and prepare for whatever we might encounter when we enter the manta ray ship fragments.” He smiled and gave a relaxed wave. “My friend Kenji knows how to serve a fine meal, as you may recall from earlier visits to my conference room. Please join me.”
“I will do so,” Rebecca said, raising her hand to salute him. “Sir, I need to check the status of my ship’s armory stores and spend time with my crew. May I have your leave?”
“You have leave to tend to your ship.”
“Thank you. XO, you are now in command.”
The stocky woman stood up from her captain’s seat, turned and headed for the hallway exit from her bridge. Her vacsuited XO stayed behind. Which reminded him of one more item to remedy. Jacob reached up, touched his helmet neckring control and released the helmet lock. He pushed it up and to the rear.
“Melody, change ship status to Alert Hostile Enemy. All ships, crew may release from vacuum readiness.” He looked down at Daisy. “XO, please join me in my conference room. Chief O’Connor, you have command of the Bridge.”
“Command accepted, sir.”
And with that Jacob stepped down from the command pedestal, feeling relief at the end of the battle, feeling sadness at the loss of three crew on the Aldertag and feeling puzzlement at Rebecca’s tense manner. Clearly there was something on her mind. Hopefully it would come out during the dinner meal conference.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Daisy followed Jacob into the former admiral’s large conference room and headed for the long table with its bolted down chairs. It was a place she knew well, since Jacob had moved into it. The private bedroom that lay off to one side of the room had been the site of wonderful loveplay during their trip out from Kepler 10. Jacob stopped by the seat at the end of the table, waved her to a nearby seat, then turned and grabbed a pitcher of ice tea and two glasses from the Food Alcove. He walked over, put the tray down between the two of them and sat. She sat then, her training in Colorado Springs still refusing to let go of the formality that required a junior officer to sit after a senior officer sat. It was silly in a way. But the shoulder tab on her Type I blue and gray camos carried only the two silver bars of a lieutenant. Which put her at O-3 rank in the Star Navy. Jacob’s shoulders carried the silver eagle of a captain. Or O-6 rank. She might be his lover but her training kept her tied to the traditions of rank.
“Sir?” she said, hoping to help him relax after the sudden deadliness of the battle against the two manta ray ships.
Jacob leaned forward and laid his arms on the table. He looked down at the swirling grain pattern of the thick oak table. His fingers followed the curves. His black hair showed a little curl above his forehead. As usual he was clean-shaven, a detail Daisy liked. While some Star Navy crew and officers wore bea
rds or mustaches or both, she preferred seeing someone’s entire face. Like now. Jacob’s lightly tanned face looked relaxed, not tense. But she knew better. Her lover enjoyed amateur acting. He was able to show most any emotion and to change expressions at the snap of a finger. Or so she had seen during a play rehearsal as they traveled from Kepler 10 out here to Kepler 22. Was he hiding something from her now?
He looked up, his eyes a pale shade of gray. They fixed on her. His eyebrows lifted.
“What’s your read on the battle we just fought? Good, bad, complicated. Give me your assessment.”
Ahhh. He was choosing official mode over private mode. That was a choice she understood. Being half White and half Black, early on in her life she had learned the necessity of hiding her private self, presenting only the dedicated, competent, super pilot side of herself that she had cultivated at the Stellar Academy. And earlier, in high school in Chicago. And when she had earned her first pilot’s license at fourteen. Being too personally open often led to pain. Or disrespect from folks in her neighborhood who considered her Mom a traitor for having married a White guy. It had hurt to hear street talk about her Dad, especially after he had left the family when she was ten. But her Mom had been a wonderful mother, pursuing her own career in astrophysics while being a confidant and support to Daisy. And paying for her pilot lessons. Now, it was time to follow her example and be the competent staffer Jacob needed.
“We beat them. All our ships survived. But it turns out those antimatter balls have a range of at least 4,000 klicks, not the 3,090 kilometers we computed from the wasp battle video. The good news is how well the lasers and proton beams penetrated the alien hulls. Also, it seems these invaders do not use lasers, leastwise as weapons. They clearly understand coherent directed energy weapons as shown by their graser fire.” She paused, wondering what he really needed. “The cross-linking of Tactical targeting among the four ships was excellent, as usual. Rosemary was great. As was Howard Jones on the Chesapeake. They both deserve promotions for the exactness, timing and coordination of their targeting.”
“Agreed. What else?”
Did that mean he was going to approve a promotion for Howard? Or wait until they got to the wasp colony world? Jacob was good at making decisions. He was better at thinking outside the box of conventional formations. He was not so good at making friends, or being socially at ease. He had improved since she had first met him in orbit above Earth, before the Lepanto had left for Kepler 22, long months ago. Still . . .
“You are uncertain how to deal with Rebecca’s moods.”
Jacob winced. “You know me too well. Was I that easy to read on the Bridge?”
She shook her head, glad to be rid of the vacsuit. “No. Honest. But one of my holos displays everyone on the Bridge. Including you. I could see your puzzlement at her tenseness during the discussion of her offer to send her LCA to help Richard’s Dart.”
Jacob grabbed the ice tea pitcher, poured golden brown liquid in his glass, then her glass, set it down, and took a sip. “What else have you deduced from the battle?”
“You are a natural born leader. Guess you got that from your papa.”
His face became distant. He sighed. “He never let up on pushing me to join the Star Navy and attend the academy. He apologized to me, back in my first meeting with him on the Midway.” Jacob sat back, put his hands below the table edge and stared intently. “Maybe it’s also genetics. Doesn’t matter. I did what I had to do. And it all happened because of your concern over not being able to contact Admiral Johanson or anyone else.” He pulled out his own tablet from a pocket of his camos. He put it on the table and tapped it. Then he lifted it and showed it to her. There was the image of a middle-aged brunette woman. She recognized his mother Sarah. It matched the pitcher of her and him that always sat on his comp table in the side bedroom.
“But my Mom understood me and loved me for who I was. She never made fun of my interest in anthropology. She paid for my lessons in Okinawan karate.” He gave a half smile. “She even played chess with me, tho I know she preferred bridge. I miss her.”
Why was Jacob revisiting old family history? Was he feeling uncertain? Or was Rebecca’s mood change bringing out his own uncertainty about moving up the ranks from ensign to captain? “What bothers you about Rebecca’s mood today?” she said, feeling it best to move from family memories to what they both had to focus on first, by way of duty and oath.
“Her tenseness. I’m used to her no-nonsense, focus-on-the-job manner. It’s one of her talents. And it helps her manage that big cruiser. But today she seemed almost ready to . . . yell at me. That is not normal for her. What’s your take on her mood?”
Daisy had been surprised at Rebecca’s tenseness. And judging by the neutral look on Aelwen’s face, the woman’s XO had also been surprised. Or unsettled. She pulled out her own tablet, tapped the Chesapeake icon, tapped the Crew app and read down aways. She looked up, meeting Jacob’s gaze.
“Her ship crew is 210 people. She has known all of them for the five years she’s been the Navigation Deck chief. She’s smart. She is highly competent. And she knows stellar navigation as well as the Singapore woman who replaced Bannerjee as our Nav deck chief. But she is also vulnerable. Or feeling that way now.” Daisy paused as the image of a crew-cut, middle-aged Anglo guy appeared in the Crew listing. Below the image was the name Jason Steinman. “In Kepler 10 she hid her feelings over the death of Jason, her lover. He was the right flank proton beamer CPO. But during the three days it took to get to this system, my guess is she really began feeling his loss. Along with the loss of the other fourteen crew from the wasp attack that killed the proton node. Having to integrate the fifteen new replacements from the admiral’s crew did not help. Especially when one of them took over as node chief petty officer.”
Jacob pursed his lips, his manner thoughtful. “Losing people goes with being an officer in the Star Navy. Or so I learned. I’ve been fortunate. Never lost anyone directly under my command that I knew personally. Your point?”
Daisy picked up the ice tea glass, sipped, and put it down. “But we lost the Marianas, the Britain, the St. Mihiel and the Ofira. That had to have hurt you.”
He breathed deep, then sat back, his broad shoulders tight under his blue and gray camos. “Yes, it hurt. Metz, Wilson, Lorenz and Mansour were good people, good acting captains. Eating a few meals with them here on the Lepanto made them very real to me.” He blinked. “But the only thing I’ve lost in my life that I really cared for, deeply cared for, was my Mom. And my horse Snickers. The Apaloosa. She’s in that photo with my Mom. Again, your point?”
“Jacob, you’ve been fortunate in your life,” Daisy said. “Where I lived in Chicago it was common to see street people dead from overdoses. My mother’s brother died when there was a shootout at the bank he worked at.” The memory of the tall Black man, his head shaven so it gleamed, still hurt. Jerry had played baseball with Daisy, teaching her how to swing the bat. And he had never called her a half-breed, unlike some in the neighborhood. “Bottom line, I suspect Rebecca is fearful of losing more people. She’s lost her lover and fourteen crew whom she knew as well as I knew my uncle. And moments after we arrive in this system, you commit to going into battle again, against a new enemy and on behalf of a species that destroyed those four ships of our battle group. Recall her early suggestion about going back into Alcubierre to report back to the admiral about this new alien enemy?”
“I do.” Jacob’s jaw muscles tightened. Then he licked his lips, looked down at the oak table surface, then up. His expression was so vulnerable she almost cried out. “I don’t know if I could cope with losing you. You are . . . too precious to me. Yes, it’s love as best I understand that. But it’s more. You . . . you give me internal balance. Did you know that?”
Daisy blinked. She blinked again, telling herself she was not going to tear up. Jacob needed her now. Needed her for what she understood about other people, people very different from the rich crowd he had
grown up with in Binghampton. She breathed deep, then met his gaze. “Yes, I know that. It’s special to me.” She resisted the urge to reach out and squeeze his hand. Babying was not what he needed now. “And Rebecca likely lost the man who gave her internal balance for the last five years. She needs someone at her side who understands her. She brought up Andrei Doshensky because he was her first assistant on Navigation Deck. Just like you brought up me and Lori and Carlos and Quincy and Kenji to Command Deck. Dealing with ship captains is more than dealing with just them. It involves understanding who is important to them, who they need, and their feelings about the unknowns we face. Operation StarFight is no longer about finding new colony worlds. It is about dealing with two deadly alien species we are still figuring out. You are not the only person coping with stress, uncertainty and the danger of making a wrong decision.”
He turned thoughtful. “Wonder if Joan is feeling . . . personal loss from those three missiliers who died from the black ball hit?”
“Of course she is,” Daisy said. “But she’s been a ship captain longer than any of us. She managed Callisto after the miner rebellion. She then was posted as primary Star Navy liaison to each of our seven colonies, moving from one to a new one, until she ended up at Kepler 10. She’s probably lost people under her command. She certainly saw dead bodies during the Callisto cleanup. The loss of her missiliers likely hurts, but I doubt it is having the effect on her that it is on Rebecca. Or would have on Joy. Or on you. Remember, you and them are all new ship captains. Losing people in theory is one thing. Losing them when they have been at your side month after month, that is different.”
Jacob nodded quickly. “I hear you. My guess is that when Rebecca shows up for the captains’ meal, my duty is to listen to what she says and not react defensively. Right?”
StarFight 3: Battlecry Page 9
