Battlegroup (StarFight Series Book 2) (2 page)

O’Sullivan turned thoughtful. A tanned hand rubbed his bare chin. “We can help. This base is more than an orbital defense station. Yes, we have replacement proton laser units in storage. My chief engineer has twenty folks under him who are good at freefall welding and fixing of stuff on ships.” The man’s voice trailed away. “What else do you need done?”

A good question. Jacob had not yet had a final post-battle consult with the new captains of the other ships in his fleet. But he knew the issues for his ship. “The
Lepanto
has multiple hull punch throughs and damaged areas. We need a new plasma battery up top, a new railgun launcher on our nose, repairs to our belly plasma battery, and new hull plating over deep holes on our nose, belly and tail. Any chance you can vacuum pour armor metal?”

O’Sullivan shook his head. “No on the armor replacement. That takes a true shipyard. But we do have a few plasma battery units. This station has them on its north and south poles. And I think my chief engineer can round up the components to repair or replace your nose railgun. We’ve got the magcoils for that work. What else?”

Jacob felt relief. Below him Daisy held up a fist to signal he’d done good. Up front, Joaquin Garcia at Life Support smiled back at him as Jacob tended to issues the man and his deck chief had dealt with during their exit from Kepler 22. And during their 52 hour transit across Kepler 10 system. He gave O’Sullivan a smile.

“Billy, I’ll let you know what else is needed after I have a confab with our other ship captains,” Jacob said, giving the man a sign of personal appreciation by using his first name. “Your help during the last battle deserves a reward. Maybe a bottle of Chateau Riche
cabernet sauvignon
from 2074?”

The man grinned, as did Mikoto who was seated below the standing captain. “Sounds just fine, Jacob.” Below him, Mikoto tapped at something on his desk’s control panel. Then pointed. O’Sullivan’s easy smile faded. A somber look filled the man’s face. “The governor reports from Stockholm that the final death toll from the plasma lightning bombs is now 343, counting folks who died during surgeries. They are tending to 471 injured survivors at their hospital. Fortunately, an elementary school that was hit in the Salonika neighborhood had been evacuated to the countryside, thanks to your earlier warning of the pending attack.”

More ghosts now joined the ones from the frigates
Britain
and
Marianas
, the fifteen from
Chesapeake
and seven who had died on other ships during the wasp attacks. It was a weight on his shoulders Jacob had first felt in Kepler 22, in the first battle with the wasps. The death of hundreds was something O’Connor had in common with him, due to the man’s bloody experiences in Mauritius and elsewhere. He’d been a colonel then. After retiring from the Marines, he’d come back to duty aboard the
Lepanto
as the chief warrant officer for its boarding team. The deaths reminded him of another duty. Jacob looked down.

“Lieutenant Stewart, how fare the civie casualties you brought up here in your LCA?”

Daisy, who had been watching the images of O’Sullivan and Mikoto on the front wallscreen, turned and looked up to him. Her dark brown face scrunched up. “All twelve are still alive in our Med Hall. The doctor and nurses there are doing surgeries on the worst ones. Two are in stasis until they can be helped. Triage, you know.”

O’Sullivan looked from Daisy up to him. “Jacob, the LCAs from your three ships did wonders in evacing folks from the three neighborhoods hit by the bombs. They landed in spaces our ground cars could not get to. We only have three aircars on the whole planet, and some copters. Thank you for that help.”

Jacob nodded. Visiting Stockholm and seeing some of the people he and his ships had saved was one item on his long To Do list. First things first, though. “Billy, thanks for the info on casualties. Lieutenant Jefferson did her best to zap that attacking wasp ship. But it survived and is now heading out system. There is no indication it will return.”

O’Sullivan showed relief. “Glad to hear that. We’ve been tracking it on our moving neutrino scanner. Do you expect the other four wasp ships to return soon? Or can folks in the shelters head out to their homes and farms?”

“They can head out,” Jacob said, giving thanks for the cluster of his battle group ships that orbited close to the Star Navy space station. “As you know, any new ships that arrive will take 52 hours to get to Valhalla. We’re maintaining our own moving neutrino scanner watch. If new wasp ships arrive before our Earth reinforcements, my fleet will protect you and the folks on Valhalla.”

The man looked tired. O’Sullivan was in charge of the Star Navy base and its 312 enlisted and officers. He’d been awake almost continuously since the
Lepanto
and Jacob’s battle group had arrived in orbit above Valhalla. Awake pills did wonders. But crews could not stay on them indefinitely. The base captain rubbed his eyes, looked aside at some of the wallscreens, then back to Jacob.

“I know you will, Jacob.” He turned thoughtful. “Just wondering about the future. Like you and everyone else. Well, my chief engineer and his folks will start work on the
Chesapeake
as soon as she moves to parking orbit next to our Hanger Two. Keep me posted on your future needs.”

“Will do, Captain O’Sullivan,” Jacob said, moving their casual chat back to the formality expected of officers in a combat zone. “Let me talk to Lieutenant Commander Swanson about moving close to your station. She and the other captains are meeting with me in three hours. We’ll know what’s what soon enough.”

O’Sullivan nodded. “Understood. Star Navy base
Green Hills
out.”

The man’s image disappeared from the curving front wallscreen. The wide expanse of the planet Valhalla now filled it. Green forests, yellow plains, purple mountains and the eastern seacoast where Stockholm was located shone bright in the daylight of Kepler 10. Briefly he wondered if the colonists had given the G-type star a name. Did they call it Odin, the chief god of ancient Scandinavia? He pushed aside the musing. Researching the human colony on Valhalla was another item on his To Do list.

“Captain,” called Osashi. “Incoming neutrino call from Lieutenant Jefferson of the
Philippine Sea
.”

Duty returned to him. “Put it up on the front wallscreen. And share it with everyone by way of the All Ship vidcom. Also share it with our other battle group ships.”

The man who was just five years from full retirement nodded, tapped his control pillar, then spoke. “Going up. Her signal and our response are now being shared with everyone.”

One of Jacob’s first decisions as acting captain had been to share everything that happened on the Bridge with the other decks and personnel of the
Lepanto
. He’d done it thinking his crew and fellow officers needed to know what was happening, in view of the death of most Command Deck officers. A similar reason led him to share most of what he did on the Bridge with the other ships in the battle group. Like the
Lepanto
, each of them was being led by a new captain who had forced open the dead captain’s digital safe, found the ship status change code, and given it to the ship’s AI so they could assume full ship control. His close friends Quincy and Kenji had told him that his sharing had reassured crew folks shocked by the sudden change in command. And by the later attack of the wasp-like aliens. The appearance of Joy Jefferson as an image inset in the middle of the planet’s image drew his attention.

“Lieutenant Jefferson, what’s up?”

The blue-eyed blond looked anxious. She occupied one of the two seats in the middle of her ship’s Bridge. To her left sat a young woman whom Jacob knew came from Wales. His access to the admiral’s personnel files had helped him learn people names, duties and personal histories. The name of Joy’s new XO was Aelwen Rhydderch. But it was the new captain who captured his attention. She scowled.

“Captain, that bastard wasp ship is getting away!” Jefferson said quickly. “We killed one of its engines. Let me finish the job! Please, sir.”

Jacob almost smiled at how the lanky woman had belatedly added ‘please’ to her demand. He had come to appreciate her fight hunger. And the abilities of her destroyer and its crew. Her demand brought back Richard’s issue. “Captain Jefferson, I have decided we will not destroy the departing wasp ship. I have several reasons. But the primary one is it will serve as a test subject for our next cartoon vid effort at opening communications.” He paused, noticed how Rosemary O’Hara at Tactical was playing close attention, and felt renewed amusement. She was another deadly woman. “That ship will take another 40 hours to reach the magnetosphere. Lieutenant Branstead has assured me her algorithm geeks will have a new vid to transmit before then. Be patient.” A thought hit him hard. “Jefferson, if that wasp ship stays in the system, do you think you could track it down?”

The woman’s disappointed expression moved quickly to eagerness. “Yes! Even if they hide inside a comet their reactors will still send out neutrinos. We can find it. Do we kill it then?”

Jacob sighed. Where did this long-limbed straw blond get her energy? Maybe the same place Daisy got hers, thinking back to his girlfriend’s intense curiosity and fanatically perfect piloting abilities. “No, you do not kill it.” He looked up at the room’s gray metal ceiling. Yellow light strips crisscrossed it in checkerboard patterns. “Melody,” he called to his ship’s artificial intelligence. “Does the destroyer
Philippine Sea
have the capability to bring an assault Dart inside its cargohold?”

A low hum now sounded. “Unlikely. The destroyer’s cargohold access hatch is twelve meters long by six high. A Dart measures twenty meters long by seven high. Entry into the cargohold is not physically possible.”

Jacob had known the size of the Dart. It was the details of the destroyer’s airlock hatches and cargohold entry that he’d not known. Still, every destroyer in his battle group was a big starship. They measured 300 meters in length. Half the size of a cruiser and one-third the size of a Battlestar. The excited look of Jefferson and Aelwen told him those people were pumped by his idea. “What about attachment to a destroyer’s outer hull? Is that possible?”

“It is possible,” the AI said, sounding curious as its speech recognition software sought an analogue to Jacob’s voice tone. “The plasma battery on the top of the
Philippine Sea
lies in the middle of the ship’s hull. A Dart could be attached ahead or behind the battery, to the ship’s sides or to its belly.”

The AI’s talkativeness was novel to Jacob. Especially in view of its past history of blaming humans for being redundant in speech. “How long would it take to weld attachment latches onto the ship’s hull? If they were similar to the latches that hold cargo.”

“Four hours, twenty-seven minutes and nine seconds, using repair robots,” the AI said, its tone moving to machine flatness. “However,” it said, its voice becoming almost eager. “Placement of two gravity plates on the belly of the Dart would be desirable. Setting the plates to a two gee pull would further hold the Dart to the destroyer’s hull.”

Below him Richard was looking up, his eyebrows lifted as the man’s curiosity over Jacob’s unfolding plans grew. He gave the Marine a thumbs-up, then looked at the wallscreen. “Lieutenant Jefferson, if I arranged with the Star Navy base engineers to weld on the needed latches, could your ship maneuver decently with three Darts attached to your hull?”

Jefferson’s blue eyes brightened. She clenched her fists. “Yes! Between the latches and the added gravity plates the Darts would be secure during our transit. And our ship’s eco-system can handle the additional fifteen Marines.”

Jacob nodded, then met the gaze of the Marine leader. “Chief O’Connor, it occurs to me that the most direct source of pheromone emitting radios is on this wasp ship. While I hope Lieutenant Branstead’s cartoon video gets a positive response, it seems to me taking further action before wasp reinforcements arrive is worthwhile. What is your opinion?”

“I like it,” the man said, his deep bass voice filling the Bridge. “Do we make multiple hull entries after we arrive?”

Jacob understood the man wanted to know whether all the Darts would be used in the assault on the wasp ship, or just one with two as backups. “Yes. Use all three Darts. We do not know how the wasp ship is arranged internally, other than the obvious presence of weapons rings on its nose, middle and tail, and fusion pulse exhausts at its tail. Three entries give your people three chances to find the right tech, and maybe capture a wasp or two.”

O’Connor’s thin lips curved up. “Outstanding. Shall I work with my Marines on boarding simulations? We can use the true space and sensor records of the ship that attacked Valhalla as the basis for holo simulations.”

Jacob felt good at the man’s reaction. The Marine’s combat experience in person-to-person fighting was greater than that of anyone on the
Lepanto
, or on the other ships. And his skill in handling people was something Jacob had noticed ever since their departure from Earth. He’d done his best, during the space battles with the wasps, to imitate the skills of both O’Connor and his father, hero of the Callisto Conflict and Earth’s only five star fleet admiral. While his father’s constant hectoring of him about space navy traditions, space maneuvers, Earth’s war history and what made for a good commander of ships and people had bugged him, he’d paid attention. And the classes and simulations of the Stellar Academy at Colorado Springs had pounded into him the most recent tactics and battle strategies. Much to his dismay. But he’d learned the value of getting advice and help from people who knew more than he did. Like his friends Daisy, Lori, Carlos, Quincy and Kenji, and other officers like Branstead and O’Connor.