StarFight 1: Battlestar (19 page)

Her friends all agreed. Branstead looked surprised at the news Lori would be leaving her quarters on Science Deck. Daisy caught Jacob’s attention. “Acting captain, I’m happy to leave my space on Navigation Deck. Like some people, I have not enjoyed the company of chief Bannerjee. But . . . if we four are moving up here, well,
you
should occupy the captain’s cabin. It’s bigger than a standard ensign’s quarters, and anyway, that will allow Kenji to find you the next time he has a meal to deliver!”

Jacob looked shocked, then he smiled big. “I accept the suggestion of my Executive Officer,” he said, his tone bemused. He looked around, then fixed on Branstead. “Lieutenant, many thanks for coming, for your advice and for your support.”

Branstead put down her can. She gave Jacob a relaxed smile. “Good beer. I’ll let you know when the new cartoon video is ready. And I will work on alerting the other deck chiefs to the need for unity once we arrive at Kepler 10.”

Her friend nodded slowly. “Looking forward to seeing the video. And yes, we do need all decks on board when we arrive at Kepler 10.” Jacob looked her way. “Everyone, time to break up this meeting and get back to our posts on the Bridge.”

Daisy stood up, but stepped back to put her shoulders against the wall of the large room. Lori, Carlos and Quincy passed her by as they followed Branstead out of the room and into the hallway. At the hiss of the slidedoor closing, Jacob looked to her, his thick eyebrows lifting. “Daisy?”

She stepped toward him, stopping a half meter back. Just on the edge of his personal space. She looked up a bit. Her friend was a few inches taller than she was.

“Jacob, we will be safe once we enter Alcubierre space-time, right?”

“Right.” Puzzlement showed on his lightly tanned face.

“Well,” she said, allowing a half smile to show. “The weekly Dance Night will happen at the end of the first day in Alcubierre flight. Jacob, will you go dancing with me?”

Surprise filled his face. His eyes opened wide. His two strong hands lifted halfway up. Then he froze all movement, only his eyes moving as they scanned her. Was he seeing all of her, for the first time? Was he seeing beyond her mixed-race appearance? Did he realize she liked him? Did he—

“Sure thing,” Jacob said, a big grin coming over his face. “Took lessons in swing, square and other dance forms back in Binghampton. Danced a bit at the senior prom there. Not much since. You may have to give me some guidance.”

She grinned back. “Well, guiding a good guy into being a neat guy is something we women have lots of experience with. You show up at my slidedoor an hour before the dance starts and I’ll be ready!”

Jacob nodded, his grin easing to a happy-looking smile. Not looking away, he reached down and grabbed his tablet from the top of the table. “Shall we head back to the Bridge?”

“Sure,” she said, her heart beating faster as she turned and headed for the slidedoor. Already she was wondering how his arms would feel around her, how close he would allow himself to come, and how open in his emotions and feelings would he be? Clearly her young man had learned to assume a certain persona in the company of other adults. And before military superiors. But he had grown beyond that personal history, as she had seen in the last half day. Surely he would continue to grow, both as their commander and as someone she would enjoy spending time with.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Support Hunter Seven entered the Practice Chamber of Hunter One’s large flying nest. As instinct told him to do, he skittered to one side as his five eyes took in the chamber’s high ceiling, the white-yellow illumination strips that made the room feel like Nest, and the crowd of other Swarmers gathered atop stone perches to his left side. His sound membranes heard desultory rasping of limbs against their hard shells as a few Servants, Worker Leaders and some Fighter Leaders left the pheromone emission to Hunter One. Who rested above them on a stone perch that stuck out from what appeared to be a natural group of boulders. A Matron perched atop a boulder to one side, while the four other Support Hunters perched nearby, on top of a separate group of boulders. Each flying nest was represented here.

Elsewhere in the chamber were some of the green-barked trees of Nest, their purple leaves swaying in the artificial wind created by dead contrivances. A small blue pond lay at some distance. His foot pads felt the softness of green tendrils that covered the soil, with a scatter here and there of yellow flowers full of nectar. Clearly this chamber, like the similar one in his nest, was meant to provide food, drink and the sense of flying free under the sky light of home. It also served as a chamber where young Swarmers practiced their flight moves as they learned to fly in a group, like every cohort did on Nest. A strong scent flowed to him from Hunter One. It was a mix of signal, territorial and trail pheromones.

“The Challenger arrives!” his opponent scent cast. “Do you wish to die soon, or after pretending to attack many times?”

Insults always began any Challenge.

“Why is the Responder hiding atop a high perch? Do you need the support of Servants below you in order to feel powerful? Come to my level so we may converse, mandible to mandible.”

Hunter One lifted his brown wings and fluttered them a bit, but stayed at his perch. “You guide your nest poorly. It suffered damage to one side during your failed attack on the large Soft Skin nest.”

That response told him all Swarmers everywhere on the nest were perceiving their Challenge by way of both perception imagers and scent repeaters. It also told him Hunter One had need to reassure the Swarmers in his nest. As well he should.

“This nest suffered far greater damage! You lead our nests like a Swarmer who has sucked in too many sips from the Blurry Flower,” he scent cast back in a mix of alarm and signal pheromones. “How else could we lose a six-group of nests to these miserable Soft Skins? Was the attack against the meeting site your thought, or the thoughts of a Fighter Leader elsewhere? The deadliness of that attack was lost in your later leadership of our nests!”

Hunter One’s two black antennae rose up sharply. Clearly he did not like the suggestion he was of blurred vision and mind when he had led the two attacks against the Soft Skins. The nectar of the Blurry Flower on Nest was well-known as a producer of a confused mind and false eye visions. The Swarmer’s mandibles opened to either side, then clacked together.

A scent of excitement came from many of the other Swarmers. Mixed among the pheromones was a scent of aggregation from Support Hunter Four, who perched with the other Support Hunters from the other three flying nests. That group included at least one Support Hunter who was known to be a cohort relative of Hunter One, and therefore bound to support him. The other two gave no scent of any reaction to the Challenge and Response pheromones cast by him and One. Clearly they awaited the result of this Challenge battle.

“I claimed leadership of this colonizing flight in the cold dark spaces above Nest,” One scent cast in a massive flow of territorial pheromones. “We found a good new land nest for our larvae. Each flying nest has deposited Pods on the new land. Each nest contributed Servants, Worker Leaders and Workers to raise the new Swarmers. That is the success of the Swarm!” He paused, then a scent of frustration came forth. “Then arrived the strange Soft Skins, who did not become incoherent and weak of mind from the loss of their leaders. On Nest, we control such Soft Skins. Such must be the case here, in this new sky light home for Swarmers. Therefore I led our attack! We destroyed one Soft Skin nest and badly damaged three other nests. Even now they flee from us!”

Seven moved on his footpads to be near a cluster of green bark trees. He leaned back, then whipped his wings strongly, rising up like a particle disruption seed newly launched.

“Responder! Meet me in open air the way our ancestors once battled each other!”

Hunter One seemed startled by his quick rise to a level equal with him. “Challenger, now you die!”

Pheromones of signal, alarm, excitement and trail now filled the air between him and One. He canted his flight to one side, then back to the opposite side, repeating the ancestral flight pattern known to every Swarmer. One did the same, matching his movements with an ease that belied the slight age fading of his hard shell colors.

First attack was always up to the Challenger. Seven lifted up higher, his wing beats blurring, then he bent forward and dropped toward the red and black stripes of One’s back.

Empty air met his attack.

Footpads kicked at his belly as One flew upside down below him, his tail stinger already lifting to pierce Seven’s abdomen. The bottom of the abdomen was the softest spot on any Swarmer’s exoskeleton. Aside from the head, which was nearly impossible to reach.

Seven twisted to the left, dropped lower than One, then beat his wings fast to rise up toward the back of his enemy. With a twist in mid-air he shifted his flight form so his stinger was aimed at the head and antennae of Hunter One.

“Youthful arrogance does not win a Challenge!” scent cast One as the creature turned over and lifted his stinger upward toward Seven’s stinger.

A twist of his body barely allowed Seven to avoid impaling his abdomen on One’s stinger. Beating his wings into a blur, he rose up sharply, then dove down toward the exposed thorax of One.

“Taste your death!” he scent cast harshly.

One shifted sideways, avoided Seven’s downward plunge, then swept low, wings nearly touching Seven’s wings as they fell side by side toward the green covered soil below.

“You prolong your death. Turn over and present your—”

Seven twisted to the right, turning his abdomen up, then flew sideways to be just under the abdomen of One. But instead of feeling the satisfying thrust of his stinger and the pumping of venom into his enemy, he felt only the sudden impact of One’s thorax and abdomen against his. Their stingers clashed against each other, unable to reach a soft spot. One’s foot pads gripped his hard shell. Seven did the same in return. He opened his mandibles and reached for the narrow nerve cord that connected One’s head to his thorax.

One did the same.

Their mandibles met in a loud clacking.

“Surrender!” scent cast One in a strong flow of releaser pheromones. “You are below me. You are defeated.”

A fast beat of his wings to one side reversed their positions, with Seven atop One even as his opponent’s wing beats pushed him up against Seven’s abdomen.

Seven beat his wings harder, but was unable to counter the strong counter wing beat of One.

They hovered in mid-air, mandibles biting each other’s lower head, neither achieving a death bite due to the hardness of each other’s hard shell.

“You surrender!” Seven scent cast in an equally strong blast of releaser pheromones. “You are below me!”

They reversed positions in the air seven more times, hurling scent insults even as they gripped each other tight and their stingers tried and tried to find a soft spot on the tail of each other.

“Swarmers stop fighting!” came a primer pheromone from the Matron below. “Stop biting! Let go. Move to separate perches!”

Shock filled Seven.

Never before had a Matron interfered with a Challenge fight. While a flying nest’s Matron was the reason for any Swarmer cohort to found a new nest, to defend an existing nest, or to fly out to other sky lights to spread the larvae of the Swarm, they were also the final authority on any nest. For they laid the eggs that became larvae who became the new generation of Swarmers. All Hunters were male. Neither he nor One could give forth new eggs. Only the Matron could do that. Which was why a Matron resided in the Flight Chamber of every flying nest. They were reputed to be wise in the ways of the Swarm. Must he give up this Challenge?

“Separate!” came an incredibly strong primer pheromone.

Primer pheromones are the scents that force an egg to become a larva. They cause more than a change in behavior. They cause a change in emotions, feelings and even the inner gut of a Swarmer. When emitted as strongly as now, there was nothing Seven or One could do but obey.

Seven stopped his stinger striking. He let go of his foot pad hold on One. He felt One do the same, at almost the same moment. They separated, their wings beating rapidly, their eye clusters fixed on each other, their antennae lifted stiffly high. Each gasped for air through the pumping of their spiracles. Each hovered above the green tendriled soil below.

“Go to separate perches!”

With a shudder, Seven slowed his wing beat, dropped lower and then flew swiftly to an empty perch among the group of other Support Hunters. His friend Four made room for him, then put his left wing over the back of Seven. It was meant to comfort. It shocked Seven as much as the sight of One lowering down onto his high perch. More shock came.

The large, heavy form of the Matron now beat her brown wings strongly, lifting her large mass up from her solitary perch atop a boulder. She rose up, slowly, to a height equal to that of One. A blast of signal, releaser, territorial and trail pheromones flowed from her, flowed outward to envelop the three groups of Swarmers.

“Hunters! Our colony flight is half the size it was when we left Nest,” she scent cast. “We have but six nests still flying. Most nests have need of repairs to their outer shells. Most seriously, we cannot afford to lose the talent and battle energy of any Hunter!” She paused, her hovering flight an amazement to Seven, who had never seen a Matron take flight. “This Challenge has become a blocked fight. Neither Challenger nor Responder prevailed. Each Hunter is as strong as the other Hunter. Which told me we Swarmers must preserve both Hunters!” Her five eyes glistened with wetness. Her mid-air hover changed as she swung about to look directly at Seven and the other Support Hunters, over to the gathering of Servants, Workers and Fighter Leaders, then up to One. “Hunter One, I command you to work with Support Hunter Seven, and with all our still living Support Hunters. Find a means of defeating these Soft Skins! Let us follow them wherever they fly in the cold dark sky! Let us battle them again when our nests are repaired. We must know more about these Soft Skins. Where did they come from? Are there more who would arrive at our new colony sky light? What can we Swarmers do to discourage the Soft Skins from ever again visiting any Swarmer sky light?”

“Your scent I will obey,” One finally said, his stance atop his perch stiff and formal and not showing the exhaustion Seven now felt.

Seven lifted up his head and angled his antennae toward the hovering Matron. “Source of our lives, I will obey you. My flying nest will work with Hunter One and with our other nests to defeat these Soft Skins!”

The Matron lowered her flight slowly, finally touching down atop her boulder. “Defeating these new Soft Skins is just one task we face. Before we kill them all, we must learn the answers to my questions. Set your Servants to work learning from the behavior of these Soft Skins. The way any life behaves is the silent scent that tells other life what that life intends. Learn from these Soft Skins! Then consult with me and our other Matrons before making any attack!”

One beat his wings quickly but stayed on his roost. “Your scents carry wisdom. I will lead our six-group out to the edge of this sky light’s magnetic field, then we will cast all eyes on the flight track the Soft Skins take to another sky light. We will follow them. At the new sky light there will be time for another attack flight!”

Seven breathed deep. He still lived. And the failure of his Challenge was made a non-event, thanks to the interference of the Matron. He would return in an air bubble to his nest and resume his leadership of that nest. He would cooperate with One in their pursuit of the Soft Skins. But somehow, someway, in the future he would replace Hunter One!

♦   ♦   ♦

Hunter One hid his shock at the Matron’s interference behind the scent of cooperation and consent. This Matron was the highly fertile female he had chosen over two other Matrons with a higher status in the cohort. Now, she betrayed him! Or had she saved him? The fight with Seven had gone on longer than he had expected. The youth’s strength in flight, his nimbleness and his persistence had been greater than One had expected. He’d taken his high perch with the expectation of diving down against the shocked Challenger and driving his stinger into the head of Seven. Instead, the youth had risen to meet him. In open air there are too many flight paths one can take. Just as in cold dark space there are angles of attack and retreat more numerous than on the ground.