Battlegroup (StarFight Series Book 2) (22 page)

“Engines, bring the thrusters to full power.”

His feet felt a low vibration. It came from the metal pedestal that supported his seat.

“All three thrusters now firing,” called Akira.

“Weapons, stay sharp! Navigation, take us out.”

And with that final order Jacob realized he was no longer following his father’s example, or demand. He was a man, like his father, doing his duty. Both of them had faced danger and survived. Both of them had sworn an oath of service, an oath that Jacob had realized meant more than words during the first battle in Kepler 22. And both of them now moved to place their ships and their lives on the line of combat. With a start he realized that was what the Star Navy of America was all about. Defending those who must be defended and fighting all enemies of life, liberty and freedom. Inside, it felt good.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Daisy munched on her Southwest chicken salad in the Mess Hall, with her friends gathered around her table. Lori sat on her left, Carlos was across from her and Quincy was on her right. Kenji sat next to Carlos as he brought his own plate to the table. All four of them looked expectantly at her. Damn.

“Okay! Jacob is handling the change of command just fine. Believe me!”

“Really?” murmured Lori as she pushed a fork through a pile of spaghetti and meatballs. “He’s gone from running a fleet to just commanding the
Lepanto
. While his takeover of the Battlestar surprised me back in Kepler 22, it was necessary. And I like how he’s run the battle group ever since. He looks out for everyone.”

“That he does,” rumbled Quincy, laying his knife down atop the pork chop he’d been dissecting. “My blokes in the outrigger pod think the world of him.”

“Well, Bannerjee hates him,” Carlos said, his tone dismissive. “Course everyone knows the jerk had always been a ladder climber. He treats his two assistants as if they’re personal gofers. Neither like it. The woman who began sending me Nav assignments almost apologized. I told I could handle double duty.”

Daisy looked to Kenji, whose plate held a pile of Korean
bulgogi
beef. “What do you hear from the Spacers and enlisteds who come for meals?”

Kenji laid down his chopsticks and faced her. The tall, slim Japanese shrugged. “Most everyone likes the All Ship news sharing. We never got that during Admiral Johanson’s command. We were lucky to hear what was happening on Life Support Deck just above us, let alone elsewhere on the ship. And I like the new rules from the admiral. Makes sense to me to put the deck chiefs into the chain of command whenever Command Deck is zapped. And it’s good that any of us can travel to any deck now, not just keep to our own deck.”

Daisy thought the same. The admiral’s orders made official an easy-going policy Jacob had set in place during their Alcubierre transit to Kepler 10. Lori looked her way.

“You like being a full lieutenant?”

Her promotion was something Daisy still felt ill at ease with. “Not really. It goes with being the ship’s XO. But I am glad Jacob promoted Alicia to full commander.”

“Me too,” Lori said quickly. She took a sip of lemonade, then fixed her blue eyes on Daisy. “What do you think the admiral will do with our pheromone talker? We can almost hold a normal conversation now.”

Daisy had been following the frequent visits of Lori and Alicia to the Forest Room, always escorted by one or two of Richard’s Marines in full combat gear. While the four wasps had never tried to hurt any human, still, they were aliens. And just because there was talk possible now, it did not mean the wasps thought and felt the way humans did.

“Have no idea. It’s clear he plans to fight first, talk later, based on his orders to Jacob.” She looked past her friend and noticed the room was nearly full with crew who worked her shift. “But I’m sure Jacob has some ideas. Beyond the unsent cartoon that threatens to nuke planet three and their colony world if the wasps hurt Valhalla.”

Carlos frowned. “That threat may be all that protects our colony if the wasps arrive with thirty or forty ships. And that black hole weapon of theirs worries me. I never thought it was possible to create an artificial black hole. But these wasps did it.”

“That they did,” Quincy said quickly. “But our proton and carbo dioxide lasers can still hurt them. Jacob’s order to combine our laser fire was vital in that first battle. It’s proved critical ever since. At least our antimatter cannon has a longer range than their black hole weapon.”

“Barely longer,” murmured Lori. “And I did study gravitational theory in Moscow. Along with gravity plates and their range inside a ship. Just never thought putting them out on a ship’s hull could create a black hole effect.”

“None of us did,” Daisy said, glad the talk had moved away from Jacob. “Well, Dance Night is tonight. Kenji, Mr. Petty Officer Third Class, you gonna bring your Korean girlfriend to the dance?”

Her friend blushed. “Hey! I didn’t ask to be bumped up from Spacer! Your boyfriend did it to me.”

Daisy smiled. “You avoided my question. Are you bringing her?”

“I am!”

Daisy could tell from his blush and his tone that her friend did not wish his love life to be discussed at the table. Even though he had been the one to bring up hers and Jacob’s romance. She looked down at her plate. Her salad was half gone. And she had loads to do. There was a meeting with all deck chiefs in twenty minutes and she had to prepare for it. Jacob would be there and he relied on her. She liked being his right hand. But she didn’t like how the XO job gave her worry-worry dreams. She slid off her stool and stood up.

“Later, all. See you tonight!”

Her friends said their goodbyes along with one teasing comment from Lori. She ignored it and headed for the exit slidedoor. Lori’s question about the admiral’s intentions toward the wasp captives was something she wanted to work on. The deadly times since their arrival at Kepler 22 had taught her that being prepared saved lives. And kept her out of trouble. Too bad being prepared had never prepared her for falling in love.

♦   ♦   ♦

Aarhant stared at the image of Fleet Admiral Renselaer. The man had awakened him from a sound sleep in his quarters on Habitation Deck. It must be about the video memo he’d sent the man not long ago, right after the admiral had taken command of all Earth ships. He sat up at the edge of his bed and faced the wall vidscreen that was just above his closed worktable. At least he wore a full pajama outfit.

“Admiral! I was off shift and—”

“You were sleeping,” the man rumbled in a low voice that sounded like a baritone, based on his memory of watching one of Miglotti’s operas. The admiral was calling from what looked like his office on the
Midway
. The man still wore his vacsuit over his formal Service Dress Blues. It made Aarhant feel unprepared.

“Yes sir.”

The man’s clean-shaven face showed no expression, other than intense focus. “You sent me a video about the actions of former Ensign Jacob Renselaer. You pointed out several actions of his which you feel were dangerous, ill-advised or wrong. What do you want?”

Aarhant swallowed hard. “Sir, I was hoping you would move me into command of the
Lepanto
. As the senior Lieutenant Commander among all staff officers, tradition and procedure would indicate I should be in command of this Battlestar.”

The admiral, he noted, did not wear the circle of five silver stars that denoted his fleet admiral rank. Though the sleeves of his blue jacket showed the requisite stripes. Not proper for an officer of his rank. Still . . . .

Renselaer slowly shook his head, then fixed Aarhant with a look that almost made him pee in his pajamas.

“Lieutenant Commander, you are one sorry son of a whore. Your record shows you to be an influence peddler and special pleader. Your parents at Earth Command have bailed you out of three compromising relations with subordinates.” The man lifted a white handkerchief and spit into it. “The taste of talking to you is . . . ” The man in charge of any ship in the Star Navy of America took a deep breath. “Earth and America are at war. This is not the time for petty jealousies and complaints. Tend to the proper functioning of your Navigation Deck and don’t
ever
again bother me with this trivia!”

Shock filled Aarhant. He’d never been talked to like this in his entire life.

“But sir! Insults are the wrong way to handle a legitimate—”

“
You
are an illegitimate son of a Mumbai whore!” the admiral growled. “In truth your parents are more competent than you, otherwise they would not still work at Earth Command. Shut your trap, do your duty and do not give me cause to put you in my brig. Your parents would be . . . shocked.”

Aarhant nodded. There was nothing he could say.

The admiral’s image disappeared from his screen.

♦   ♦   ♦

Jacob entered his father’s conference room on the
Midway
, called there by a signal from his XO. He wore his Service Dress Blues uniform and had done his best to present a professional appearance since his arrival on Daisy’s LCA. She had stayed behind on the
Lepanto
, as his designated Bridge commander. As a result, Richard had ordered one of his Marine pilots to fly her Landing Craft Assault across the cold blackness of space that lay twenty-five AU beyond the system’s seventh planet. Hours earlier his battle group had joined up with his father’s battle group. So far, no wasps had shown up. But it was a gamble for him to be here rather than on the Battlestar. Every ship was at Alert Combat Ready status, which was why he wore his transparent vacsuit over his uniform, with helmet pushed back. His father wore his own vacsuit. The man turned away from the open fridge in the Food Alcove and brought over glasses and a pitcher of iced tea.

“You still drink ice tea, don’t you?”

“I do.” He sat in a wood chair on one side of the large conference table.

His father put down two glasses, poured tea into Jacob’s glass and his own, then set the pitcher on the table. He sat down a few chairs from Jacob. The man pulled out his personal tablet and put it on the table. Jacob did the same, pulling his tablet from a pocket of his vacsuit. The man who had dominated him before and after the death of his mother fixed dark brown eyes on him.

“You still hate me, don’t you?”

Was this another passive aggressive move by his father? The man’s face held lines in it that had not been there before. While just 55 years old, his father had gray streaks in his black hair. But his thick hands did not shake like Jacob’s had done after first taking command. He decided to go with his gut.

“Not as much as before. Losing people in battle changed me. I don’t like having ghosts looking over my shoulder.”

Empathy, that strange emotion he had rarely seen from his father, except during his mother’s funeral, now shown forth. “Sending people out to die on your orders does that. I hated it before Callisto. I hated it afterward. It’s one reason I took Reserve Active retirement when I did. How are you handling it?”

“Adequately,” Jacob said, feeling ill at ease with such personal sharing. His father had rarely shown any concern for his feelings. It had always been “Do it this way!” or “Stand up straight!” or “Don’t you realize what it means to be in the Star Navy?” Well, Jacob did now. “Do the ghosts ever go away?”

His father sighed deeply, looked down at the glass of brown ice tea he held in both hands, then looked up. Jacob saw a look he could not remember ever seeing before. It wasn’t empathy. Was it caring?

“No, they don’t.” His father’s new look grew deeper. “You did me proud, son. While I hoped you would find a good career in the Star Navy, the way I did, I never thought you would do the necessary thing at such a terrible time.” The muscles in his father’s face relaxed. “Taking command of the
Lepanto
and then of the battle group was vital. You saved the lives of more than a thousand folks on those ships. And frankly, I don’t give a damn that you jumped from being a butterbar ensign to acting captain. You did what was needed. I’ve told that to my people. My XO really does like your variations on standard battle formations.”

Shock washed through Jacob. This was the most sustained moment of praise he had ever heard from his father. The man who couldn’t bring himself to be a Dad like other fathers now told him the actions he’d taken were right, needed and good. It left him breathless. He took a deep breath.

“Thank you. That means a lot. I had a lot of help from my friends and from Lieutenant Branstead. She rallied the deck chiefs to my support.”

“So I noticed,” his father said, mood changing from sincerity to something strange, something that looked . . . playful? “I hear you and your XO have a romance going. Do you love her?”

Crap. Crap and crap again
. Briefly he wished he could escape out the slidedoor. But that wasn’t how a captain of the Star Navy behaved when speaking with his commanding admiral. “I do. She’s smart, tough, a great pilot and she keeps the decks humming in ways I could never manage. She deserves to be a full commander. But she didn’t like the promotion to lieutenant.”