♦ ♦ ♦
Support Hunter Seven inhaled the scent of the Pods release order from Hunter One’s Matron. It was the only good scent news he had sensed in many rest cycles. At last, Hunter One was doing what they had been sent to do. Colonize the nest world below them. That effort had been interrupted by the arrival of diseased Soft Skins. Rather than attack immediately as was Swarm tradition, Hunter One had arranged the deception of the meeting site. He gave brief credit to the colonizing leader. The deception had allowed for the killing of Soft Skin leaders. And a Soft Skin flying nest had already departed in an early sign of chaos and confusion. Soon, their two six-groups of flying nests would attack the intruding Soft Skins. Perhaps in the attack, Hunter One would be injured or killed. He hoped so. However, he guarded his feelings least he emit any sign of disloyalty. Pheromones were the natural way of speech. Thought gave way to pheromones which conveyed one’s feelings, one’s emotions and one’s words to anyone close enough to smell them. The invention of remote pheromone signaling devices meant he smelled every pheromone released on the nest of Hunter One, just as that leader smelled every scent released on his ship. With an effort he released an aggregation pheromone, signaling loyalty to the orders of Hunter One.
“Matron, release our Pods,” he scent cast to the female resting behind him in his Flight Chamber.
“Release scent emitted,” rasped the older female.
There was only a single Matron on each flying nest of the Swarm’s colonizing flight. Which made them both unique and valuable. Eventually his Matron would join the Matrons on other Swarmer nests in descending to the world of Warmth, there to give guidance to the new generation of Swarmers. That was for later. Now, it was time for the attack.
“Servant,” he called to the Swarmer in charge of directing Fighter Leaders and Fighters. “Tell our Fighters to move to their sky bolt devices. Also send some Fighters to our sky light weapons. Make sure our mindless particle disruption seeds are ready for launch. And warn the defender Fighters to prepare for Soft Skin attack on our outer hard shell.”
Alarm and releaser pheromones filled the Flight Chamber.
Inside, in his mind, Support Hunter Seven planned for the day when he would lead the other flying nests. Hunter One could not make perfect scent casts all the time. A moment of error would come. When that happened, he would lead his flying nest to take control of the colonizing effort. Being in charge of what mattered was a long tradition in the cohort of Hunters.
♦ ♦ ♦
Aarhant Bannerjee listened with anger and frustration as the young whelp Renselaer took command of the Lepanto and the battle group. He was alone in his office on Navigation Deck. Up to an hour ago, he had been asleep in his personal quarters. That period of rest had stolen from him the opportunity to appear on the Command Deck, announce he was taking command of the Lepanto as the most senior officer still alive on the ship, and then be the one ordering the Cloud Skimmer launch and garnering the allegiance of the other ships in the group. At least his culture mate Mehta had had the sense to defy the young ensign who had seized command. No doubt Renselaer’s presence on the Lepanto had come about so he could seize control of one of Earth’s Battlestars for the glory of his father. Well, his people had a long history of battling invaders. American he might be by birth, but Hindu he was by the grace of the Lord Shiva and by the influence of his parents, who occupied high posts in Earth Command. Surely they would support his elevation to command of the Lepanto, once the battle group left this accursed system and made contact with the Star Navy base in Kepler 10. Gritting his teeth he wished for the miracle of FTL communications with Earth. Such did not exist. Orders came from Earth only by way of a traveling starship. News came to Earth the same way. Well, the sly French had a word for what he planned to achieve. It was called fait accompli.
But for the moment he must pretend allegiance to the young whelp. If the wasp aliens really did attack, the only way he would survive was for the Lepanto to survive. He would work to ensure that. And to ensure they soon made their way to Kepler 10. That was the single comment he’d heard Renselaer make which made sense in view of the disaster at the meeting site. Maybe the officers on site had insulted the aliens. Maybe a lowly ensign had shown disrespect, as was common among the American lower classes. Perhaps the aliens had a right to this world. Although humans could live well on a world with a half gee gravity, it was healthier living on an Earth-like world with stronger gravity. Sadly, planet three was twice the size of Earth, had nearly twice its gravity, and the inner two worlds were analogues of Venus and Mercury. Which meant humans either took control of planet four, or they left for another star system.
“Lieutenant Commander,” spoke his tablet as it lay on the surface of his fold-down desk. “This is CPO Louise Slaughter on the Bridge. Have you been following the surprises here?”
He tapped the tablet to voice active. “I have. Provide Acting Captain Renselaer with the coordinates and vector track for Kepler 10. We can only hope we can depart this system before we are attacked.”
“Sir?” the woman said, her tone puzzled. “The aliens attacked our captains and XOs and ensigns. That is an act of war. Why should we retreat?”
Louise, Louise, how blind you are to class reality. “It is not a retreat to warn Earth of the presence of deadly and dangerous aliens. They are the first space-going aliens we have met.” What should he say to sound properly loyal? “Our first duty is to warn Earth. Which we can do by heading for Kepler 10. On our arrival there we can send a frigate to Earth with word of these aliens. The frigate can leave before the aliens arrive, if they are able to plot our vector track and deduce the star we are headed for. Understood?”
“Understood, sir. I will provide Acting Captain Renselaer with the coordinates and vector track to Kepler 10. Sir, do you plan to visit the Bridge?”
Ah. A sneaky fem this woman is. Has she already slept with the Renselaer youth? “There is no need for my presence on the Bridge. I will monitor the All Ship transmissions from the Bridge in case my assistance is needed. Carry out your duties.”
“Thank you, lieutenant commander,” Slaughter said, her tone sounding relieved. “Good day sir.”
“Good day to you, Chief Petty Officer Slaughter.”
The tablet went silent. The image of Slaughter disappeared.
Well, that should keep the bitch out of his hair. Meanwhile, he must sound out the other officers, CPOs and CWOs who ran the other decks. Were any of them as bothered by the arrogance of Ensign Renselaer as he was?
♦ ♦ ♦
Jacob watched the holo in front of him that depicted the twelve wasp ships. They were arranged in two groups of six. Holding a fixed orbit above the meeting site, none of the ships had done anything since the lightning storm, the end of tablet contact, his launch of the Cloud Skimmer and his assumption of command of the Lepanto and the battle group. The spysat that O’Hara had sent up toward those ships now passed within 10,000 kilometers of the largest wasp ship. Nothing happened. Surely they were aware of the spysat’s approach. What did the lack of action mean?
“Acting Captain,” O’Hara called from her function post. “Spysat imagery in normal light, ultraviolet, infrared and radio waves now going up on the wallscreen.”
He watched as a series of different colored views of the 12 ships took shape alongside the images of the wasp ships. The local star’s white-yellow light was strong at 1.1 AU out. It gave the wasp ships a silvery look, leastwise on the sides that faced the star. Being at geosync meant the wasp ships were out of the shadow cast by the planet below. His battle group ships lay on the opposite side of the world, with the star behind them as they viewed the daylight side of the world below. Their geosync orbit had allowed them to maintain position directly opposite the alien ships.
“Captain!” called Oliver from his Weapons post. “The wasp ships are ejecting little pods! Dozens of them. Each ship is ejecting them. Uh, the pods appear to be on a freefall trajectory down toward the planet.�
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His heart slowed its fast beating. This was not an attack on the spysat, but something else. What? These pods were half the size of the transports that had landed at the meeting site. Which meant they could only carry ten or so wasp people. Surely the wasps were not bombarding the planet. Were these colonizing ships? Earth’s shuttles that carried down colonists were the size of frigates. Seventy people could fit inside one of those colonizing shuttles. But who said the wasps had to send down colonists the way humans did it?
“Chief Warrant Officer Diego y Silva, thank you for that information. I do not see any cause for alarm in these pods.” He looked over to O’Hara at Tactical. The woman controlled all sensors on the spysats and comsats that orbited on the far side of the world below. “Chief Petty Officer O’Hara, what do your sensors say about those pods?”
The woman looked down at her control pillar, then up at her tactical graphic hologram that depicted their ships, the planet below, the wasp ships on the far side, every spysat and comsat launched by humans or wasps, and nearby space out to a hundred thousand kilometers. “Acting Captain, infrared says each pod is warm. Warm enough for people to be inside. Ultraviolet says there are chemical rockets on the nose of the pods. Maybe for attitude control. Each pod resembles a metal cone with its rounded base aimed toward the planet. The bases may be re-entry heat shields. There are radio emissions passing among the pods. They are not visual imagery signals. Uh, I would guess there are wasp people inside the pods and that the pods plan on landing on the continent below them.”
Jacob nodded, thinking hard. “Weapons, can you tell anything about those tubes on the wasp ships from the multi-spectral imagery coming in from the spysat?”
“Very little,” the man said, his Brazilian accent almost non-existent. “They show warm in infrared. There are ultraviolent glows about them. Energy emissions are localized at the base of each tube. They are—”
Bright yellow light filled the true space holo that showed the ship nearest the spysat. The crooked light beam came straight at the imager eye of the spysat. Then the image went blank. Other spysats watching from a lower orbit showed an expanding yellow glow where the spysat had once been.
“Spysat destroyed,” O’Hara said sharply.
Jacob knew that. The imagery was clear about what had happened. “Tactical, Weapons, do either of you have any idea what kind of weapon that yellow bolt was?”
“A lightning bolt,” muttered Osashi from his Communications post, surprising Jacob.
Ignoring the sudden comment from the warrant officer, he looked to O’Hara and Diego y Silva.
“Sir,” called the Weapons chief, “it does indeed resemble a lightning bolt. My sensors report an extremely powerful electrical emission from the tube that emitted the bolt.”
“Same data from my spysat sensors,” O’Hara said quickly.
He looked to the Navigation post. “CPO Slaughter, what was the distance from the spysat to the ship that blasted it?”
The Navigation chief jumped in her seat at his words, then bent forward to check her control pillar. “My nav sensors compute the distance as being just shy of 4,000 kilometers.”
“Thank you.”
Jacob thought that was a hell of a range for a non-coherent beam weapon. Then again, their antimatter beam reached that far out, thanks to magnetic lensing of the emitted antimatter. Maybe a similar electromag lens had controlled the lightning bolt beam.
“Weapons, share your data with the Weapons stations on our other ships. Tactical, do the same for your sensor feeds with other ship Tactical posts,” he said, racking his mind for what else he should do or say or realize.
“Captain!” cried Slaughter at Navigation. “The wasp ships are moving!”
He saw now what the Nav chief reported. His separate holo that depicted the twelve wasp ships now showed yellow-orange flares coming from the rear of each ship. Sensor datafiles said they were fusion pulse exhausts. The same as the normal space drives possessed by every battle group ship. As best he could tell from the spysat imagery, the twelve ships were angling down toward the planet, but aiming for its north pole. His academy courses in astrophysics and orbital mechanics told him what was happening.
“Melody, activate the All Ship vidcom. And transmit what I say and my image to all other ships.”
“Activating. Transmitting.”
“All personnel. The alien wasp ships are leaving geosync orbit,” Jacob said, doing his best to make his tone sound firm, determined and confident. “They are moving to a lower orbit and aiming for the planet’s north pole. Which will give them an increase in speed. That means they will arrive on our side of the world within 40 minutes. Or less if they keep thrusting. Prepare for combat. Melody, change ship status to Alert Hostile Enemy.”
“Ship status changed to Alert Hostile Enemy,” the AI said, her tone a mix of excitement and worry.
Jacob reached up and pulled his helmet down over his head. It sealed with a snap-click. The vacsuit’s enviro controls started up with a blast of oxy-nitrogen. Telltale status lights appeared in a chin-up position just below his nose. His seat vibrated as automatic straps moved out and over his chest in an x-pattern. Pairs of straps went over his legs. The straps were a backup to the inertial damper field that covered the entire ship. Above, purple lights blinked from the ceiling and a whirring siren that sounded like an old-style fire engine filled the Bridge and echoed over his helmet’s comlink speaker.
“Crew, prepare for combat. Battle group, crosslink your Weapons Deck targeting with the targeting sensors of other ships.” He paused, then realized what else he needed to say. “We will prevail!”
CHAPTER FOUR
Thirty-three minutes later, the wasp ships were rising up to Jacob’s geosync orbit. Electro-optical scope imagery on the front wallscreen showed the enemy still maintaining its two six-ship clusters as yellow-orange fusion flames pushed them toward Jacob and his battle group. Carlos and Lori were still seated in the observer seats behind him. Quincy had left for his combat post at the right pod laser node. Daisy sat in the XO seat below him. Filling the seat formerly occupied by the ship’s captain, at Daisy’s right, was the man he had called up to the Bridge right after the declaration of Alert Hostile Enemy. The timer on his left armrest said the enemy would reach the range of their CO2 and proton lasers within nine minutes. Time enough.
“Chief Warrant Officer Richard O’Connor, what do you make of the enemy formation?”
The man in command of the twenty Marine boarders on the Lepanto wore a vacsuit and helmet and was strapped in just like Jacob, Daisy and everyone else. Keeping his attention on the front wallscreen, with its sensor listings on the right and left sides of the true space image, the man spoke.
“I think their maintenance of the two six-ship formation means their commander is wedded to traditional attack formations,” the man said, his deep bass voice sounding thoughtful. “Which means our fleet movements may surprise him. Or her. Or it.”
Jacob almost smiled. He didn’t. Everything that now happened on the Bridge and on every other deck of the Lepanto was being recorded by the ship’s AI. It would be subject to review by Earth Command. And perhaps by the captain in charge of the Star Base at Kepler 10. He was not about to show amusement when lives were at stake. The reality of his first combat had been the reason he had called O’Connor up to the Bridge. The man was the only officer on the Lepanto with true experience at deadly combat. He’d led a Marine battalion in the invasion of the island Mauritius after its elected leaders were overthrown by a Muslim jihadist group. While the Islamic State was dead and old history, the extreme fringes of Islam still tried to recreate the caliphate of ancient times. America and other nations had moved to end the newest safe haven for religious fanatics. O’Connor’s battalion, assisted by Darts and F-37 jets, had reduced the jihadist stronghold in the island’s capital. Then had come the ground attack. The fighting had been bloody, without mercy, and the man carried a scar on his left cheek from that fightin
g. That had been twelve years ago. His presence on the Lepanto showed his superiors had confidence in his judgment. Which was a second reason Jacob had called him to the Bridge. The man might understand enemy actions that Jacob didn’t.
“Good,” he replied. He looked up. “Melody, activate our neutrino audiovid link with the other ships.”
“Encrypted link activated.”
Jacob stared straight ahead, but his mind was already visualizing three dimensional maneuvers. “All battle group ships, change your orbital orientation by 90 degrees. Point your noses downplanet and toward the oncoming enemy.”
Compliance responses came from the two cruisers, two destroyers and four frigates that surrounded the Lepanto.
“All ships, move to the Alpha Ring formation,” he said, giving thanks he had paid attention to the academy class that covered standard spaceship battle formations. “Cruiser Chesapeake, move to directly above the Lepanto. Cruiser Hampton Roads, move to directly below the Lepanto. Destroyer Tsushima Strait, move to the right side of us. Destroyer Philippines Sea, move to the left of us. Frigates St. Mihiel, Marianas, Britain and Ofira, move to the 45 degree spots between the four majors.”
StarFight 1: Battlestar Page 6