Battlegroup (StarFight Series Book 2)

by T. Jackson King

  He reached out and grabbed a bottle of tequila. Unscrewing its lid, he poured some of the liquid into the glass that sat before him on the table that swung out from his Food Alcove counter. He walked back to the overstuffed chair in his relaxation room and sat. Staring at the wall image of the holy city of Varanasi, he pondered his options. Failing to cooperate with the orders of Renselaer would put him on the official record as being an obstructionist. But talking to the other ship captains, and to some of their deck chiefs, might result in favorable attitudes to him, once the new Earth fleet arrived. Aarhant swallowed half the glass, accepting the burning sensation as it slid down his throat. The discomfort was welcome. It reminded him of the pain he felt every time he saw a vidscreen image of the young whelp, or heard his voice on the All Ship announcer. Well, his ancestral Hindus had learned patience while under the rule of the British Raj. In time, they had thrown off that rule and taken back control of Mother India. In time, he would do the same on the Lepanto.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Daisy sat to the right of Jacob in the conference room of admiral Johanson’s old quarters. To her right sat Lori, Carlos and Quincy. Like her they wore NWU woodland camo uniforms. Silvery sparkles on their collars reminded her of the promotions Jacob had handed out after the last battle. Lori and Carlos were jumped from ensign to Lieutenant JG, entitling them to wear a single silver bar on the points of their collars. Quincy had been promoted to Petty Officer second class, two steps up from Spacer. How did they feel about the wartime promotions? She still felt ill at ease with her own jump to a full lieutenant, as warranted by her new XO status. Wearing double silver bars on her shirt collar was nice. But it felt strange. Most Star Navy officers spent three or four years before they moved from ensign to JG. Longer to get to full lieutenant. She and her friends had gained their promotions in less than a year.

  “XO, have the other ship captains arrived?”

  She looked to Jacob. While his curly black hair had no gray in it, his face looked tense. As it had most of the time since they’d seen the devastated meeting site where the fleet’s senior line officers had all been killed. He’d been that way except for Dance Night and the night they’d spent together. Their time in Alcubierre transit had been a badly needed respite from the shock of first combat. Now, his gray eyes were bright, as if he was looking forward to the upcoming meeting. His broad shoulders, clean looks and sensitive manner were just some of the reasons she loved him. More important was how he listened to her, treating what she shared as important and vital. Being cared for that way was something she had missed after her father left home. Course, her Mom was beyond wonderful and supportive. It was due to her that Daisy had become a pilot, first in the air and now in space. She glanced down at her personal tablet, tapped the ship status app and saw what she needed to see.

  “Yes, Captain, all seven captains have arrived at Hangar Three. They’re heading for gravlifts to bring them down to Command Deck.”

  Jacob gave her a wink, then looked down at his own tablet. He tapped on it. “Kenji, the other brass are on their way. Time to bring us that fancy dinner you and your buddies put together.”

  “Will do, captain,” replied the other member of her boyfriend’s ‘brain trust’.

  She pondered how Jacob had chosen to include a line cook from the Mess Hall as one of the group of people he listened to. While non-standard, she liked his decision. But it felt strange to now live in quarters on the Command Deck, rather than the Navigation Deck that was normal for a pilot. Still, it made sense. Keeping her, Lori, Carlos, Quincy and Kenji close by to Jacob’s quarters in the old captain’s cabin allowed him quick in-person access to any of them. While tablets and the All Ship com system allowed anyone anywhere on the Lepanto to be in video and voice contact with anyone else, it was clear Jacob preferred live, in-person discussions. Which must be why he had ordered the other battle group captains to report to the conference room. Holo and wallscreen images were the normal way people on other ships stayed in touch. Jacob did that, of course, but it was clear he wished to be personally accessible to the people he worked with and relied on. She liked that. It reminded her of some of the better instructors at the Stellar Academy. The hallway door slid open with a low hiss.

  “Drinks first!” called Kenji as the young Japanese walked in carrying a big platter filled with pitchers, cans and bottles.

  “This end first!” called Lori, her Russian-accented English sounding nice to Daisy.

  “Anyone else want some tequila?” called Carlos. Her friend from east Los Angeles gave Kenji a big smile as he reached for the bottle of Herradura tequila.

  Daisy pushed out her own shot glass. “Me too.”

  She watched as Carlos poured the pale brown liquid first into Lori’s glass, then into her glass. It had taken her several tries to get used to the beverage made from the blue agave plants grown in Mexico’s Jalisco state, but she’d grown to like it. While she preferred a good pale ale craft beer for casual socializing, she much liked the fast buzz from a shot of tequila. As did Lori and Quincy. But Quincy also grabbed a can of dark Irish pub beer. Jacob reached out and plucked a can of Blue Moon pale ale. The brand was very popular on the Stellar Academy campus. Briefly she wondered what kind of booze his father, the famous five star admiral, most liked. She refrained from asking. While her lover was always willing to share about his mother Sarah, chatter about his famous father was nearly non-existent. Still, from the open media reports about his famous dad and things he’d done after retirement, Daisy felt certain the man had had a big influence on Jacob. She had seen plenty of evidence that the man’s daring, ruthlessness and willingness to make surprise moves were talents Jacob had inherited.

  “Captain, do I bring the first course in now, or wait for the arrival of the other captains?”

  Daisy looked up as Kenji stood on the other side of Jacob. The tall, slim, black-haired guy had a manner that said ‘American’, even though he was native Japanese. Going to school on a US base near to Yokohama had given her friend excellent English and the ability to blend into any American cultural scene. She hoped the Korean girl she had seen him with on Dance Night would bring out his private side. She liked Kenji. He deserved more than being taken for granted as a ‘cook’ in the Mess Hall.

  Jacob looked up. “Bring in the first course now. The rest of our guests will be here very soon. Oh, and bring another tray of drinks, including ice tea. This table is big enough.”

  “Captain, will do,” Kenji said, almost saluting, then stopping as he realized the conference room gathering was intended to be informal.

  Jacob smiled. “Hey, Kenji, no sweat. I’m looking forward to the sushi first course!”

  “I’ll be back soon!” Kenji turned away and headed for the room’s exit.

  The five of them fell to drinking and easing into the relaxed chatter normal for a group of young ensigns and spacers new to a ship. That was how they had related to each during the 25 days of their trip out from Earth to Kepler 22. They had been new to the Lepanto when they’d boarded at the spacedock. After nearly a month together in the gray nothingness of Alcubierre space-time, Daisy and her friends had been accepted by the other spacers and staff officers of the Battlestar. The weekly Dance Nights had done wonders to integrate them and allow them a chance to rub elbows with folks close to their age. Most of the deck officers also showed up on Dance Nights, showing a side of them that was informal and amiable. A hum came from the speaker above the slidedoor that gave access to the hallway.

  “Captain Renselaer, permission to enter?” called a woman’s voice that she recognized. “The other captains are with me.”

  Jacob looked up from his tablet, his expression turning serious. “Door, admit Lieutenant Commander Swanson and other ship captains.”

  The slidedoor hissed open.

  Daisy watched as the seven of them walked into the admiral’s large conference room and headed for the long table and bolted down chairs. Leading the pack was Rebecca Swanson, followed
by George Wilcox of Britain, Douglas Zhang of China, Chatur Mehta, Joy Jefferson, Dekker Lorenz of Germany and Joan Sunderland. All except Joan were former deck staff officers who had claimed the captain’s seat on their ship, back in the Kepler 22 system. Each of them had fought their ship hard, and some had lost crew. Each of them looked serious and thoughtful as they gave a nod to Jacob, then found a seat. Swanson took the seat on Jacob’s left, with the other captains sitting in chairs that faced Daisy’s side of the table. A few chairs lay empty beyond Quincy.

  “Welcome all,” Jacob said calmly, sounding casual. He waved at the large platter of drinks in the middle of the table. “Grab the drink of your choice. Dinner’s first course will arrive shortly.”

  Swanson’s black face moved from serious to amiable. She looked over Daisy, Lori, Carlos and Quincy, then back to Jacob. Like him she wore a brown Service Khaki uniform, as did the other captains. And like the rest of them she had left her vacsuit on her shuttle. Her black eyebrows lifted.

  “Captain, thank you. Uh, is this meeting first name informal? Or should I have saluted upon entry?”

  Jacob chuckled, amazing Daisy by his quick move to humor. “First name informal! We all know each other, thanks to the battles we fought, out there and here. I see no reason to stand on formalities.” He looked up at the ceiling. “AI Melody, continue recording this meeting for the record.” Jacob looked back to the stocky, middle-aged woman. “Rebecca, please accept my condolences at your loss of fifteen crew on the Chesapeake in the destruction of your proton beam node.” He looked past Swanson to the other six captains. “Douglas, I regret your loss of three crew on the Tsushima Strait when your spine plasma battery was zapped. Dekker, I am equally sorry for your loss of four crew when the wasp lightning beam punched through the cargohold of the St. Mihiel.” Jacob paused, his gaze resting briefly on each captain. “Each of you fought well in the battles in both systems. Please tell your crews that I have the highest confidence in their ability to defend the battle group and to protect Valhalla.”

  Swanson nodded slowly. She reached out, grabbed a can of beer, flipped it open and took a swig. Her amiable look did not hide the pain in her eyes. “Jacob, thank you. Those fifteen included people I’ve known for many years, while serving as Navigation Deck commander. You are lucky the Lepanto did not lose people in those deep punch throughs on your ship’s nose and belly.”

  Jacob winced. His expression turned as serious as everyone else at the table. “You are right that we on the Lepanto were lucky. Thank god the water layer vaporization defused follow-on beams, or we would have had pressure loss in some ship rooms. With a chance for folks being sucked out into space.”

  Zhang’s pale lips grimaced. “We had bad luck. The takeout of our topside plasma battery broke open several plasma canisters enroute to the battery. The resulting plasma burst cut through the hull armor and killed three crew in that part of our Weapons Deck. Vacsuits cannot stop plasma.”

  “Similar story for us,” Lorenz said, looking around the table, then fixing back on Jacob. “My frigate crew are outstanding people, but the beam’s punch through to our midbody cargohold fried four Spacers. I put their bodies into stasis.”

  Jacob nodded slowly. “Dekker, your frigate fought well. Please send me the names of your dead. Same for the rest of you.” Her boyfriend paused, looked down at his tablet, then up. “Rebecca, George, how are the civie casualties in your Med Halls? Any fatalities since they arrived?”

  Daisy listened as the captains for the Chesapeake and the Hampton Roads shared the news on the civilian casualties brought up by their LCAs. Piloting her own Landing Craft Assault down into the harsh winds, dust devils and wreckage of the Salonika neighborhood had been daunting. But seeing the broken bones, red bleeding lacerations and haunted looks of the survivors when she landed had made her immensely glad her ship could reach areas blocked to ground transport. The few aircars and copters possessed by the Stockholm first responders were overloaded by the scale of destruction to three city blocks scattered over the western edge of the city. She just wished she could wipe from her mind the images of crumpled bodies, lonely hands sticking out from collapsed concrete rubble piles and children’s toys that had been scattered by the plasma bomb bursts. Creating a lightning rainstorm just after the decimation of the plasma bursts had made it hard for anyone to reach survivors. At the time she thought gathering up a dozen badly wounded survivors had been too little. But the thankful looks of family members and friends as they carried people into her LCA’s cargohold was the other side of the memories she now recalled as the two cruiser captains filled Jacob in on the treatment status of the civies brought up by their LCAs. The entry door hissed open.

  “First course!” called Kenji as he entered holding a platter in each hand.

  Daisy watched as her friend deftly laid down the platters. They held stacked plates, ohashi chopsticks, big plates filled with a dozen types of seaweed-wrapped sushi, and more cans of beer. Plus a pitcher of tea, which she knew other folks liked in addition to Jacob. Kenji brought a plate and chopsticks over to Jacob while the other captains and her friends helped themselves to settings and food. She did the same, her ears alert to the casual chatter that briefly passed as people from other ships interacted with each other and with her friends. She noticed that Chatur Mehta, the Hindu-American lieutenant commander of the destroyer Salamis who had defied Jacob’s order to be part of the battle group, said almost nothing and put only an egg roll and a single sushi tube onto his plate. He was drinking ice tea. Did the man not like booze? Or did he still feel as if he was in ‘prove yourself’ mode in view of his late arrival to help during the wasp attacks in Kepler 22? Similarly quiet was blond-haired Joan Sunderland from the frigate Aldertag. The fiftyish Anglo woman projected a seriousness that seemed less uncertain than the manners of the new ship captains. Daisy understood the woman had been involved in the occupation of Callisto after the miner rebellion, then her ship had been assigned duty at the first human star colony. Her ship was the only defense the planet of Valhalla possessed, until the battle group’s arrival. Followed by too many wasp ships. Had she lost friends in the lightning bomb attacks on the capital of Stockholm? And as a longtime line officer and captain rank leader of her ship and its people, what did she think of Jacob’s sudden rise to leadership on the Lepanto?

  “Captain, uh Jacob,” called Joy Jefferson from her side of the table. “The Philippine Sea is docked at Hangar Two of the base. The engineers have been working on it for awhile. The last attachment points for the Darts should be affixed within three hours. Do I leave to chase after the wasp ship as soon as the welding is done?”

  Jacob looked away from listening to George opine about how stupid it was for the wasps to always try englobing the fleet. His clean-shaven face moved from amiable to thoughtful. “Joy, you leave as soon as chief O’Connor has moved over his people and his three Darts to lock-on with your ship’s hull.” He looked to Daisy. “XO, when will the gravity plate attachment to the hulls of the Darts be completed? I gather that chief Pilotti is working with chief Chang to get it done.”

  For this she did not have to look at her tablet. Coordinating the work of Cassandra from Gravity on the Bridge with the engineers who worked for Engines Deck chief Billy Chang was something she’d worked on while Jacob took his much-needed afternoon nap. She gave him a nod. “Captain, Cassandra pulled six gravity plates from Supplies Deck and got them delivered to chief Chang. The chief tells me his engineers have been welding the gravplates to the belly hulls of each Dart for the last two hours. Once done, the Darts will move out through Silo Eight and head for the Philippine Sea.” She looked to the blue-eyed young woman who had been chief of the Weapons Deck on her destroyer. “Captain Jefferson, the Darts will be ready to lock onto the new attachment points once the base releases your ship.”

  Jefferson lifted a blond eyebrow, then grinned. “Super! And call me Joy.” She looked to Jacob. “Captain, that means we can leave for our wasp hunt within thr
ee hours. Uh, do I coordinate with chief O’Connor about his people coming over?”

  Jacob gave a quick nod. “Do just that. Everything does not have to flow through me and the Lepanto. Joy, I trust your judgment. Give me a call when your ship is about to leave orbit. Beyond that, all other arrangements are up to you.”

  The hard-charging young woman smiled big. “Outstanding! My XO has billets set up for chief O’Connor’s Marines. Uh, will the chief be coming along with his Darts and Marines?”

  Daisy looked quickly to Jacob. When she had gone to wake him for the dinner conference, he had mentioned the long talk he’d had with Richard just before heading to his quarters. The Marine was someone she’d worked to know during the Alcubierre transit to Kepler 10. He had shared how he had three grown children back on Earth, one spunky granddaughter and then made clear his opinion that marriage did not work well with active duty soldiers subject to long overseas assignments. Her review of his personnel file had told her Richard was divorced for the last ten years. The divorce had happened right after he retired from leading a battalion of Marines. His new service with the Star Navy had begun five years ago, when the Lepanto had been commissioned for service as Earth’s fifth and last Battlestar. The man’s arrival on board as a senior chief warrant officer had seemed to her to be a demotion from his earlier rank of colonel. But now, after watching him for the last nine days, she understood the man hungered for real combat. The chance to lead his Marines into deadly action was clearly what the man was married to.

  “He will,” Jacob said. “I do not like losing my combat advisor, but you and your ship will be back here well before the Earth ships arrive. If the wasps arrive sooner, you head back here ASAP.” Her boyfriend’s casual tone had gone almost formal as he dealt with a command issue. “Also, Richard insisted his presence was needed to provide you with advice on the deployment of his Darts, and I try to accept his suggestions. The man will be an asset to your ship and your crew.”