StarFight 1: Battlestar (11 page)

A bright star suddenly glowed in his left side holo. The one that held the images of all battle group ships. Sadness filled him.

“The
Britain
is gone, sir,” called O’Hara. “The wasp ships concentrated their beams on the frigate. She rotated but there was still punch through.”

Seventy-three lives gone.

He had never wanted to feel what he now felt.

♦   ♦   ♦

Hunter felt intense dismay that was only slightly improved by word of the death of a Soft Skin flying nest. How could any nest escape the teeth of the Pull Down device? How! Then he recalled his feeling of impatience at the loss of three Swarmer nests. In reaction to that he had ordered the activation of the Pull Down device just after the Soft Skin nest came within the device’s reach. Perhaps if he had waited and allowed the large nest to be closer when he activated, it would not have escaped. Briefly he recalled the elder Servant who managed the device telling him that the Pull Down bite of the device increased twice for each unit of distance a target came closer to their nest. That meant the device’s bite was far weaker than if it had become active when the Soft Skin was well inside its bite range. Well, sometimes a target escaped the bite of a Swarmer. But escape could not last forever.

“Pull Down Servant, deactivate the device. It is time for us to add our stingers to the efforts of other Swarmers,” he scent cast in a strong primer pheromone.

“Deactivating device,” said the elder male in a mix of signal and releaser pheromones.

The perception imagers on the walls of the Flight Chamber suddenly came alive, filling with the images of cold dark space, distant sky lights and the varied appearances of the Soft Skin nests as their radiations betrayed them to the scent sensors on the hard shell of their nest.

“Alarm!” signaled the elder female Servant who monitored external space. “The eight Soft Skin nests are moving up and away from Warmth. They move at speed. Perhaps they seek to escape the final bite,” she said in a rush of territorial pheromones.

Hunter saw the change in Soft Skin formation. The largest nest now led the group of seven remaining nests. Each Soft Skin nest fired green sky light beams and red stinger beams at the surrounding nests of his Swarmer allies. Many of the Soft Skin nests had also shot out particle disruption seeds, nearly all of which were destroyed by Swarmer sky light beams. The few that exploded sent a strange radiation at nearby Swarmer nests.

“Servant!” he signaled to the male who monitored radiations from cold space. “What are the strange radiations cast by the Soft Skin seeds?”

The male Swarmer flared his two wings. “The radiations are similar to those emitted by sky lights and by our own particle disruption seeds. But these radiations are tightly bound, like our sky light beams. They pose harm to any Stinger who suffers their touch,” the Servant cast in a mix of alarm and signal pheromones.

“Be strong!” Hunter scent cast with a mix of aggregation and territorial pheromones. “The hard shells of our flying nests protect us against external radiations. Is that not true?”

“They do,” the Servant signal replied. “However, these radiations could make sick any Swarmer who is touched by them.”

More strange stingers from the Soft Skins. It was bad enough that their particle seeds used the combination process to create energy blasts versus the disruption process used by Swarmer seeds. But it seemed the Soft Skins had found a way to cause such radiations to all fly in a single direction. Aware of how his worry might smell to his cohort and to Swarmers on other nests, he emitted a strong victory pheromone that reminded all Swarmers of larvae newly hatched from eggs. Recalling the words of the Pull Down Servant, he realized there was an answer to this new threat.

“Flight Servant, signal our fellow nests to move away from the Soft Skin nests,” he said by way of a sharp primer pheromone. “Let them increase the distance to the outer edge of the range of our sky light and sky bolt weapons.”

“Signaling fellow Flight Servants,” the male Swarmer scent cast in a strong mix of territorial and aggregation pheromones.

Hunter cast all five eyes on the older Servant who monitored their propulsion units. “Servant,” he scent cast just to that Swarmer. “Increase our propulsion to match the flight speed of the Soft Skins. We must stay close to them in order to sting.”

The Servant looked back to Hunter, his red and black-striped head swiveling so all five eyes met Hunter’s. “Leader, increasing the radiation emissions of our propulsive devices to match the Soft Skin flight speed is dangerous. It goes beyond their normal range.”

Was this defiance? “Obey!” he said, using the strongest aggregation pheromone he knew how to emit. “We are Swarmers! No attacker ever escapes us. We always pursue and destroy any who invade our lands and our nests!”

The Servant’s two black antennae pulled back. The older male lowered his head to touch the upper end of his thorax. “Apologies, Hunter One. I obey.”

Brief satisfaction filled Hunter. Then he dismissed the emotion. No other group of Colony Nests had ever lost so many flying nests. Would he face a challenge from one of the Support Hunters? Perhaps not while they still fought and stung, but perhaps later, when they returned to the world of Warmth? He must stay alert to the low scents emitted by other flying nests. Hiding one’s true feelings was nearly impossible for any Swarmer, no matter the caste or cohort. While those born to each caste were fated to perform the duties of Hunter, Servant, Fighter, Fighter Leader, Worker, Worker Leader and Matron, still, the emotions among each Swarmer were not identical even if their caste design was the same. He had become Hunter One of this colonizing group by pretending loyalty to the Swarmer Hunter who had assembled the flying nests into their group of twelve. He had deposed that Hunter before their departure from Nest. Any of the remaining Support Hunters might attempt to do the same to him, in view of Swarmer nest losses. Well, victory in attack was the cure for any hidden rebellion. Turning his attention to the perception imagers that displayed the Soft Skin flying nests, he gave deep thought to how he could destroy them, either in this sky light system or at another. He was a true Swarmer. He never gave up an attack until the opponent was dead or added to his cohort. For these Soft Skins, only death would do.

♦   ♦   ♦

Aarhant Bannerjee sat among his two co-leaders of the Navigation Deck, their presence in the deck’s control center a normal event during combat. It was a Star Navy regulation that every chief of a deck be alert and present in that chief’s control center for their deck, the better to respond to orders given by the Command Deck. Soon enough, once they reached the edge of this system’s magnetosphere, he would confirm the vector track coordinates for Kepler 10. Those numbers had been given to his Bridge representative by young Carlos Mendoza. The man was a talented programmer, able to conjure unique algorithms suitable to unusual stellar events. But escaping from an artificial black hole was not a normal stellar event. He felt amazement the young whelp Renselaer had had the guts to risk explosion of the fusion reactors or the loss of magfield containment in the three primary thrusters. Both groups of complex devices had maintained their integrity. That further amazed him. The quick loyalty of the other battle group captains displeased him. The whelp was building links with the new captains on the other ships. He had even brought forward the Marine in charge of their boarding team, seating him in a spot on the Bridge. That was unheard of. Just as bad was the disinterest of the chiefs of the other six decks when he had complained about the ensign’s bypassing of him, the most senior officer still alive on the
Lepanto
. The Science Deck woman had even scolded him for raising the issue! Well, he could be patient. Eventually he would claim control of the Battlestar, either here or in Kepler 10.

♦   ♦   ♦

Daisy scanned the holo that depicted her ship’s various decks and weapons stations, then shifted to the situational holo that depicted the nine wasp ships, their positions relative to battle group ships, the nearby planet and the thermonuke carrying missiles that the destroyers, frigates and cruisers were firing at the wasp ships. Most missiles were killed by wasp lasers and lightning bolts. Four managed to disperse their warheads, which exploded and sent x-ray laser beams at wasp ships W2 and W5. They had been damaged earlier. Four of their ships now combined their CO
2
and proton fire, hitting W2. Four other ships, including the
Lepanto
, fired at W5. The wasp ships were jinking as madly as a bee defending its honeycomb, but the Weapons chiefs on their eight ships were very good. Their beam energy strikes mostly stayed on target. This coordination happened even as the nine enemy ships now concentrated their beams on the
Hampton Roads
. Who would be the first to die?

“Navigation, move us to between the
Hampton Roads
and most of the incoming enemy beams,” Jacob said from behind Daisy.

“Shifting vector track,” Louise said quickly, her red hair long and stringy within her helmet. “We are both at eleven percent of lightspeed. We are nearing the range of
Hampton’s
plasma batteries. Sir?”

“Understood. Communications, open a signal to that ship.”

“Signal sent. Response incoming,” the older Japanese-American said tightly.

Daisy looked up to the front wallscreen. The middle of the screen carried the true space images of the wasp ships, green, red and yellow beams from both groups of ships crisscrossing black space, and the silvery sparkle of ships reflecting the yellow light of the local star. At the top of the wallscreen there appeared the face and shoulders of George Wilcox. The man’s bald head had a sheen of sweat under his helmet. Worry showed on his face.

“Renselaer! What now?”

“Captain, I will not allow you to absorb all the enemy beams,” Jacob said firmly. “We are moving in front of you. Our hull can handle those beams. It’s thicker than your hull. Disable the auto function on your plasma batteries.”

“Disabled!” Wilcox said, quick relief showing on his shaven face. The man’s blue eyes looked at them. “Captain of the battle group, your ship also has damage. Is this wise?”

“It is most wise,” Jacob said. “Continue your beam strikes on wasp ships W2 and W5. Maybe if we kill another one of them, these bastards will back off.”

“We can hope. Thank you, and Wilcox out.”

Her ship deck holo began showing red spots indicating hits on their outer hull. Her feet felt a small vibration as the topside railguns shot out Smart Rocks to the right and left of the
Lepanto
, their onboard sensors picking up the IFF signals of the battle group ships and ignoring them as tiny jets on the rocks shifted their trajectory toward wasp ships. All of which now lay at 9,987 kilometers out. The enemy ships had moved outward after the x-ray lasers had hit W2 and W5. Had the x-rays hurt anyone on those ships?

“Acting captain, W2 is barely jinking!” called Rosemary from Tactical.

“Same for W5,” called Oliver from Weapons.

Her armrest screen that showed Jacob and the other Bridge crew had him leaning forward, his gloved hands gripping the ends of his armrests. “Pour on the proton laser fire! Aim for that midbody spot on W2 where the lasers are hitting. That’s the same spot where we had punch through on the last wasp ship that died.”

Daisy bit her lip as she did her XO duty of monitoring incoming laser and lightning bolt strikes on the lower hull of the
Lepanto
, even as the ship’s belly proton laser fired again at W2. In the holo of the ship decks, red glows on the hull became blue alerts of water loss as three spots lost two meters of metal to the ferocious wasp strikes. The inner hull integrity was still good. But they would have to start spinning soon if they were to continue blocking strikes at the
Hampton Roads
. Which, she now saw in the other holo, was venting air and water from near its rear thrusters. But the cruiser was maintaining full maneuverability from its two thrusters. Like the other battle group ships, it was making eleven percent of lightspeed. Which the wasp ships had matched after a brief delay. No ship was accelerating, but stern flares showed as ships maneuvered.

A star flare grew yellow-white in the situational holo.

“Yes!” cried Rosemary. “W2 is going up. Punch through at its midbody. The fusion plasma is spreading to its tail and nose.”

“Captain,” Daisy called over her helmet comlink. “We have hull penetrations at three spots. We are venting water. Time to spin.”

The image of the man frowned, then nodded quickly. “Louise! Spin us.”

She felt brief surprise at his use of the woman’s first name. Jacob had always given orders by using each person’s function post title or their last name. Maybe he was feeling the strain of this running battle. Or maybe he was finally relaxing enough to see the Bridge crew as his friends. And his allies.

“Spinning,” the chief petty officer said.

Another star light flared.

“That was W5,” Rosemary said from her Tactical station. Looking up front, Daisy saw the woman look back to Jacob and give him a V-for-victory sign.