StarFight 1: Battlestar (23 page)

The flows of excitement pheromones reached a peak. Hunter One soaked in those scents and knew he still led the Swarm.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Aarhant Bannerjee sat in his private quarters on Navigation Deck, running through his mind the options before him. The young whelp had been lucky. The wasp aliens had not again attacked the battle group. Did the luck of the youth’s father even reach out to affect aliens? He did not understand how the young whelp had been able to make the right action choices when faced with unpredictable and violent aliens, even as junior officers on other ships figured out how to fly and fight their ships. The loss of the frigate
Britain
was sad, but Aarhant had expected much greater losses. Now, they were headed for Kepler 10. At least it had a Star Navy base that orbited the fourth planet of the system. A Command level captain was in charge of the base, according to his check of routine Star Navy assignments for colonial star systems. Surely the captain at the base would recognize his right to command the Battlestar!

“Lieutenant Commander Bannerjee, there is an incoming neutrino signal from the
Salamis
. Its captain responds to your earlier signal to him,” the mouthy AI said, her tone a melody he did not care for.

At last!
He’d put in the private signal call not long after they entered Alcubierre. It was two hours later and only now had Mehta seen fit to respond. He took a deep breath and worked to school the expression on his face. Unlike many on the Battlestar he did not have a beard that could hide his facial expressions. There was no way he was going to antagonize Mehta.

“Put through his vidcom signal to this room’s wallscreen.”

“Linking signal to your wallscreen,” the AI murmured tunefully.

The flat screen that covered part of one wall of his relaxation room now filled with the long black hair, dark brown skin and brooding eyes of Chatur Mehta. The man was not on his ship’s Bridge. Instead, he appeared to be in his own captain’s quarters, judging by the spaciousness of the relaxation room where he now sat on a red leather seat.

“Bannerjee, I’m responding to your call. Only now could I leave the Bridge to my XO. What do you want?”

Aarhant restrained his first impulse. Which was to tell the man to speak more respectfully to him. That he could not do. Mehta was a lieutenant commander just like him. Equal ranks meant careful conversation.

“To be blunt, I should be commanding the
Lepanto
,” he said, deciding to credit the man for a basic awareness of staffing on the Battlestar. “You may know I now command the Navigation Deck. I am the senior surviving officer on this ship. I plan to make my case for taking command shortly after we arrive in Kepler 10.” He paused, breathed deep and made sure to show no sign of nervousness. “What are your thoughts? Would you accept me as the commander of the battle group once I gain command of the Battlestar?”

Mehta pursed his lips sourly. “Did you see and hear my comments to Renselaer, before the aliens attacked? That I felt it my duty to leave and warn Earth Command?”

“I did. The young whelp continues to defy Command tradition by feeding all our decks a continuous vidcom of his chatter with other ship captains and with his Bridge people.”

Mehta lifted a thick black eyebrow. “So I am aware. It is a primary reason why I turned back to help fight off the wasp aliens. Star Navy regulations required that I do so, as perhaps you heard. Once we arrive at Kepler 10, I had planned to leave for Earth before the aliens arrive.”

“You think they will follow us to Kepler 10?” Aarhant said, his heart beating too fast. “That seems improbable to me.”

Mehta squinted. “It is in keeping with their actions to date. They attacked our meeting site. They attacked the battle group twice. They paralleled our course out to Kepler 22’s magnetosphere. They are competent star travelers. I am certain they will follow us, once they confirm the presence of a nearby G-type star on our outbound track.”

The man’s statement made his plans more complicated. “If the aliens follow us, this Battlestar needs the experience of a senior ranking officer. Myself. Will you support me?”

The man blinked black eyes. “If the Star Navy base captain puts you in command of the Battlestar and of the battle group, yes, I will accept that change of command.”

Aarhant detected a distinct lack of enthusiasm in the man’s deep voice. “Will you signal the base captain on my behalf? Will you support my assumption of command of the Battlestar?”

“No,” Mehta said, reaching to one side to grab a bottle of what looked like spring water. “Your ship is your issue, not mine. Unlike some at Earth Command, I do not care for politics. Nor do I care for it in the battle group when we are in a state of armed combat.” He took a sip from the bottle. “While early on I doubted Renselaer’s right to command the Battlestar, he has done better with it and with the battle group than some senior officers I know.” The clean-shaven man let his words linger, causing Aarhant to wonder if the last comment was aimed at him. “I will comply with any order given by the Star Navy base captain. If the aliens arrive and attack us, or the colony on the fourth planet, I will do my duty and lead the
Salamis
in fighting the aggressors. Beyond that, I will not play at musical chairs.”

The reference to an ancient American past-time game shocked Aarhant. He had thought Mehta was a loyal follower of ancient Hindu culture. The castes of India had worked well to lead the people of Earth’s second largest population. Now, this man was refusing to endorse him and his argument for following tradition on the
Lepanto
. One potential ally lost. Perhaps there would be others.

“Captain Mehta, I thank you for this conversation. It has clarified my thinking on these issues. Good day.”

The black eyes of Mehta scanned him, his face neutral. “You are welcome. Good day.”

Mehta’s image vanished. The wallscreen returned to the three dee depiction of Nepal and the Himalayan Mountains that were the ancestral home of the Bannerjee clan.

He sat in his own black leather seat, drumming his fingers on the arms of the overstuffed seat. First, Swanson had refused him. Now, Mehta had done the same. Who else could he bring to his side in the two and a half days that remained before they arrived at Kepler 10? The Marine leader was out. He had spent hours on the Bridge, assisting the whelp. Were there other deck chiefs who might support him? Time to find out.

♦   ♦   ♦

Jacob stood in front of the gray metal slidedoor that gave access to Daisy’s quarters. The rooms had been the place where Commander Anderson once lived. They were the same layout as in his captain’s quarters, based on his recollection from visiting the man in company with Admiral Johanson. Now,
she
lived there. Did she feel the ghost of the dead man? He shrugged and focused on her. When he’d first met Daisy on the orbital shipyard, high above the blue oceans and white clouds of Earth, he’d liked her looks and her manner. Just shy of six feet, she was almost as tall as Jacob. Her oval face was framed by a thick halo of blue-black curls. Her brown eyes were lively, constantly looking here and there during the holo cube shoot setup.

Afterwards, she had treated him like any other ensign. That had made him pay closer attention to her. She was nice-looking, even if her full breasts were hidden by the formal jacket, white blouse and pantsuit that was required clothing for all Star Navy women. Her dark brown skin was a lovely mix of her Anglo father and Black mother. Tall, trim and lively, that was her physical manner. Later on that day he’d joined her, Carlos, Quincy, Kenji, Lori and other freshly graduated ensigns in drinking pale ale beers at a saloon. The place, though orbiting 400 kilometers high, was done up in an imitation Wild West motif, with swinging wooden half doors, a long wooden bar, racy paintings on the wall behind the bar and with images of famous Star Navy captains and commanders adorning the metal walls. The saloon’s owner walked through the bolted down tables, holding his Russian wolfhound on a metal chain. Lori had loved the animal. Jacob had been uneasy at first, then had enjoyed petting the animal’s well-formed head. Daisy had been boisterously loud as she played Rock, Paper and Scissors with some guys at the table. None of them were able to outguess her. That was her mental manner and her natural persona. Smart, lively, boisterous and willing to hang with anyone so long as they didn’t bore her, Daisy had struck him as someone well worth knowing.

He could not put it off any longer. He spoke.

“Acting Captain Renselaer requests admission to the quarters of Executive Officer Stewart,” he said firmly, putting his hands behind his back in parade rest mode. It was a silly stance considering they flew in a bubble of space-time that traveled faster than the speed of light. But it was the best he could do.

“Door, admit Acting Captain Renselaer,” came Daisy’s warm mezzo-soprano voice.

The door moved sideways into the wall. Standing in the middle of her relaxation room was Daisy. He couldn’t help himself. He gave her a whistle.

“You look beautiful!”

She smiled big, then turned around slowly, letting him see the back of the green Spring dress filled with flower images. The dress hung from her right shoulder, with a slanting neckline that went down and under her left arm. The bodice clung tightly from her waist up. The lower folds of the dress flared out from her hips, stopping just at her knees. She wore pale green hose that ended in black leather loafers. He noted that her two silver-bar lieutenant rank was clipped to her right shoulder. He had insisted on the field promotion since he’d appointed her to the job of Executive Officer. XOs were almost always lieutenants or higher in rank.

While Dance Night dress rules emphasized casual, civilian wear, it was required that all officers, CPOs and CWOs, and Spacers wear their rank or rating insignia on some part of their clothing. That was in case of an emergency while in space. Knowing he would be the center of attention for more than a hundred
Lepanto
crew, he’d chosen to wear his Service Dress Blue coat, white shirt, four-in-hand necktie and pants, with four gold stripes sewn onto the end of each coat sleeve, while similar boards adorned each shoulder. His captain’s eagle was on his upper left chest, with the single ribbon of the
Lepanto’s
current mission Operation StarFight. He didn’t like the white combo hat, but it was part of the standard uniform. At least it was not a Full Dress Navy Blue uniform that required white gloves and a sword hanging on one hip!

Daisy stopped and faced him. A happy smile had replaced the grin. “You look good too! You ready to go dancing?”

He turned and held out his left arm. “Yes! May I escort you to the Dance Night?”

“For sure,” she said, her voice warm and friendly. She walked up, put her right arm through the loop of his elbow and they both headed for the closed slidedoor. “Door, open.”

They stepped out into the hallway of the Command Deck. A hiss made them look toward the end of the hallway. Carlos stepped out, looked left and saw them.

“Wow! What a couple. I’m jealous,” Carlos said loudly.

“Thank you, Carlos,” Daisy said.

He and Daisy walked toward their friend. A second hiss sounded and beyond his friend there emerged Lori, wearing a beautiful Russian peasant’s dress that made her look like someone stepping out of a French dress salon. She turned, looked their way and smiled easily. Her pale brown face held Slavic cheekbones that framed wonderfully attractive blue eyes. Or so Jacob had thought until he spent time with Daisy.

“Hey!” his dance partner called, jerking on his left arm. “That’s enough attention paid to the other belle of the ball!”

He and Carlos both laughed. Then his friend from East LA, wearing a dress blue outfit like Jacob’s, turned and walked toward Lori, holding out his left arm. “May I escort the other beautiful belle of the ball?”

“
Da
,” she said, her Russian spoken in what Lori had informed him was the Novgorod dialect of standard Russian. “Did you bring the Stolichnaya Red Label vodka?”

Carlos laughed. “Yes, my sweet. It’s hidden inside this hideous formal jacket!”

As Jacob and Daisy joined the couple, he felt happy that the two hetero folks had found each other. He had spent plenty of time playing chess with Carlos and sharing news about their very different hometowns. The man’s ability with algorithms and knowledge of stellar navigation had astounded Jacob. His friend had only once mentioned Jacob’s father the famous admiral, then they’d fallen to talking about the different breeds of horses and which were most fun to ride. He looked back along the hallway but did not see either Kenji or Quincy. While both Spacers had been surprised by his orders to move to the place where officers lived on Command Deck, they had complied. It pleased Jacob. They might be a laser gunner’s mate and a line cook, but they were his friends. And they were part of the brain trust he relied on to keep him stable in his unique situation. As he, Daisy, Carlos and Lori stopped in front of the between decks grav lift, he guessed they must have gone early to the Dance Night room on Habitation Deck.

A big slidedoor opened. He followed his friends into the gray metal box. Knowing what was expected, he spoke. “Melody, deliver us to Habitation Deck.”

“Moving your compartment,” the AI replied as it told the metal box’s gravity plates to reduce their repulsion so they dropped down a level to Habitation Deck.

As they dropped slowly, Daisy’s bare hand moved down to hold his hand. It felt nice. And the smell of her lavender perfume filled him with desire. Mentally shaking himself, he sought refuge in a memory of the ship’s layout of decks. There were actually seven levels or decks. The central deck was a combination of Command in the front half of the
Lepanto,
with the Engines section taking up the rear half. Below Command were Habitation, Science and Supplies decks. Above Command were Life Support, Navigation and Weapons. The grav lift box stopped moving. The large slidedoor opened. They walked out into the main hallway of Habitation, saw clusters of people on their left all heading toward the Exercise Chamber that doubled once a week as Dance Night hangout, and followed after the other singles, couples and groups. As he walked, he hoped the crews on the other ships of the battle group were enjoying their own Dance Nights. When you mixed up both genders, multiple sex orientations, and different ranks and ratings inside a big metal tube for a long time, opportunities for relaxation and escape from the normal rigidity of military service became vital. Daisy squeezed his hand.

“Jacob, what are you thinking?”

An easy question. He told her. “Do you think the other crews are having fun?”

“Are
we
?” she said, turning her smiling face to him. Her black eyebrows lifted.

“Most definitely!” he said, pulling her a bit closer as they followed after their friends and other people making their way through a wide opening.

The Dance Hall resembled an old style high school gymnasium, in that its floor was fake wood parquet, with bench seating along the four walls of the long rectangle that made up the chamber. Overhead, real drop lights hung from the high ceiling, their yellow glow filling every corner of the room. On the left side, up against the wall, were three long tables filled with food platters, soft and hard drinks and tasty sweets from twenty nations. On the right side were the alcoves that gave admission to the restrooms. In front of them, standing on an elevated platform set against the far wall, was a band of violins, drums, electric guitars, a few cellos, some brass horn players and two flute players. Live music that resembled Country Western came from them.

Carlos looked his way. “Jacob, you gonna join that band? I recall you saying you had once played a coronet.”

He shook his head. “Never! The only music I know is what I had to study in high school or at the academy. But I do like live music. And dancing.” Jacob turned to face Daisy. “May I have this dance?”

“Oh yes!” She smiled easily, her eyes bright. Daisy moved closer to him, put her right arm out to hold his left hand, then laid her left arm over his shoulder.

It all felt very very good. And she smelled delightful. He gave thanks the music was slow and suitable to a waltz type step. He drew her sideways. Daisy matched every step he took. Keeping his attention on her lovely face, he pulled her closer. “You like this?”

“Very much so.” She moved closer and laid her chin on his right shoulder. “You dance better than most guys I’ve met.”

Putting aside an immediate wonderment about how many young men she had dated and danced with, Jacob looked outward and enjoyed the movement of other couples as they moved to the rhythm of the band.

He saw Quincy dancing with a slightly shorter man close to his age. They made a nice gay couple. Looking past them, he caught sight of Kenji dancing with a Korean gal from Science that his friend knew from visiting with Lori during the long Alcubierre flight out to Kepler 22. Like most of the 321 people on the
Lepanto
, they were hetero. Beyond them he caught sight of red-haired Louise dancing with swarthy Oliver. Her file said she was married. Oliver was standard hetero and single. It seemed they were enjoying each other’s company. As he and Daisy circled through the middle of the dance floor, he caught sight of Maggie dancing with Akira. Their files said both were lesbians. Some of the best instructors at the academy had been tough as nails lesbians. He hoped they found time to develop a relationship. Or continue one that may have started earlier. Another swing about and he caught sight of Alicia Swanson dancing with Leonard Schwartz, the chief of Habitation Deck. Elsewhere the other deck chiefs talked, danced or drank. Drinking was what Richard O’Connor was doing, now wearing white Marine formal dress, as he talked with the four fellow Marines who were pilots of the
Lepanto’s
four Darts.

“Jacob, why are you ignoring me?”

He started, then looked down to Daisy’s face. Which had a look of concern. Lies would not do. Not with her. “I’m really attracted to you. I really like you. You were the first person in the shipyard to treat me normal, rather than the son of a world-famous admiral. And it’s been a long time since I felt this close with any woman.”

Her eyebrows lifted. Her expression changed to one of empathy. “You don’t like feeling vulnerable, do you?”

Jacob took in a sharp breath. Then told himself Daisy was as smart as he, more talented in some areas and came from Chicago. There was likely nothing she did not know when it came to relationships among people. Including being raised by a single mom after her father divorced that mom.

“No, I don’t. My father told me to hide all evidence of weakness if I was to grow up and be a commander of men. And women. When my mom died, it got worse. Think of being on guard duty 24 hours a day.”

She grimaced. Her soft lips opened a bit. “Sounds goddess awful.” Daisy pulled back a little, looked him over, then resumed being close, her breasts pressing against his chest. “Well, you are now off duty! So enjoy yourself. And pay attention to me, rather than being on the watch for everyone else!”

He chuckled and pulled her closer. “A wonder you are!”

The band music changed to a foxtrot and they separated, except for brief hand grips as they danced in parallel form, their legs moving in synchrony with the music.

As Daisy moved, her green flowery dress swirled and swirled, making the curve of her hips visible and her stockinged legs nicely viewable. His arousal was strong enough that he briefly worried about the next time they would be close. Then he dismissed it. No one in the room had sought him out to solve a problem. No one had laughed and called him a fake captain who was just an ensign. And no one spoke of the
Britain
and its ghosts. He told himself to put aside that memory and to treat Daisy as she deserved.