Battlegroup (StarFight Series Book 2) (29 page)

“Or they may attack Valhalla in the future,” his father said thoughtfully, his gloved hands resting on his lap.

“Exactly,” Jacob said hurriedly. “Fleet admiral, in Kepler 22 these wasps attacked us right after putting down their larvae pods on Kepler’s fourth world. They could do the same here.”

His father fixed on Lori. “Antonova, thank you for that overview. It is clear these flying alien insects have many of the successful and dangerous elements of Earth wasps. And their seeking of colony worlds says to me their home world is overcrowded. So we have something they want. If they give me a top boss hostage, I am willing to keep watch on them and see if this wasp fleet leaves Kepler 22 in peace, after they plant their babies. We’ll see.”

Lori looked to him. Jacob gave a wave. “Lieutenant, Commander, go do the work ordered by the fleet admiral.”

They saluted him and headed aft. Jacob looked up to his father. “Sir, we are eighteen ships and they are fifteen. If these wasps attempt deceit after colonizing three, we should be able to destroy their entire fleet.”

“True,” his father said, his manner going to the Alpha Dog In Charge manner that Jacob knew from when he had been old enough to realize there were other important adults in life than just his father. Like his mother. “But we could lose another four or five ships, now that we do not have the element of surprise. The Unity pollies sent me out here to do two jobs. Defend this colony and find a way to end this war with aliens. Let’s see if the second job is possible.”

Jacob could not disagree with what his father was saying. It was similar to what he and Daisy had hoped when they left Kepler 22, and later when the surviving wasp ships had departed from Kepler 10. Maybe smell talk would achieve what now seemed impossible. One thing he could do if a hostage arrived. Put the wasp hostage in with the Worker wasps and listen in on what they said to each other. The retreat of two wasp ships upon receiving his ship’s pheromone broadcast clearly showed wasp scent talk was not encrypted. Maybe the fleet could benefit from future disruptive broadcasts, as Richard had earlier suggested. It was one tool humans had that no wasp could imitate, since all neutrino signals between Earth ships were encoded according to an encryption key that changed daily. War on Earth had taught the Star Navy and American military leaders a few things about fighting a powerful enemy. He just hoped this new enemy did not have a similar surprise waiting for humanity.

♦   ♦   ♦

Hunter One watched one of his perception imagers as the simple imagery reply from the Soft Skins played out across the imager. It was accompanied by polarized pheromone scents that smelled strange, but were understandable. Had the Soft Skins learned scent casting from the four Swarmers they had taken captive? He had thought their loss was minor, as they were only a Worker Leader and three Workers. But now these Soft Skins were able to talk in simple Swarm scent while his people had no ability to transmit the acoustic signals the Soft Skins had engaged in during the meeting with his defective Servants. It seemed as if Hunter Prime’s pretend imagery had gained them access to the third world. But this scent talk that demanded a Fighter Leader or Hunter to come to them was puzzling. What was the purpose of such a request? He looked to another imager, past the shapes of his Servants who filled the Flight Chamber. Hunter Prime’s body was strong and carried the look of dynamic vitality. So different from earlier, after the loss of so many flying nests. The leader’s antennae leaned forward, then his gaze fixed on One.

“Hunter One, these Soft Skins demand we send a Swarmer of high caste to them before they allow us a flight path inward,” said their leader in a flow of dominance and trail pheromones. “In your prior imagery signals, have these Soft Skins ever demanded such a thing?”

“They never demanded such a matter,” he scent cast in a flow of puzzlement scent crossed with aggregation pheromones. “Even when we sent a simple image asking them to send a Soft Skin from each nest down to Warmth, with imagery of our nests sending single representatives, there was never any imagery of caste level. I hoped the Soft Skins would send each nest’s Hunter to the meeting, while I sent defective Servants. I thought destroying their Hunter leaders would render their nests confused and unable to fight.”

His leader’s wings moved rapidly, lifting him to a hover above his bench. “You made an error in thinking such. Your imagery records show the Soft Skin nests fighting hard and killing more of your nests than you killed of their nests. As has happened here.” The scent flow from Hunter Prime was a mix of alarm, frustration, signal and calming pheromones. “It seems these Soft Skins wish to hold captive a Hunter. The other Hunters in our flight are Support Hunters. You are a high caste Hunter. Your nest is wounded. I will send you to these Soft Skins.”

Dismay filled One. He would lose control of his nest! How could he lead from inside a Soft Skin nest that had a pull down weight twice what Nest held? Would he ever be able to return, if Hunter Prime killed all the flying Soft Skin nests?

“Hunter Prime, I accept your decision.” The leader’s antennae leaned forward. “But, how may I return to lead my nest? My Servants, my Fighters, my Workers, they know my scent. They are used to me. I am used to them.”

“So you are, so they are,” the leader said in a dominant scent flow. “Whatever Soft Skin nest you travel to, I will allow it to live until you are returned. Then I will destroy it. Together we will then destroy the Soft Skin colony on the fourth world!”

It was clear he had no choice. “Accepted is your scent.”

“Your caste will speak of your offspring with pride,” Hunter Prime said quickly. “Now, watch me as I send my image to these Soft Skins, then provide your image as the one to go to them.”

“I attend,” Hunter One said, thinking quickly about which Swarmer he could leave in command of the nest.

The elderly male Servant who studied aberrant social behaviors was the last Swarmer he would trust for such sensitive work. The Flight Servant and the Speaker To All Servant were both needed at their functions, as was the propulsive Servant. He turned to the young female who had shown herself to be a deadly enemy to the Soft Skins.

“Stinger Servant, you will lead the Flight Chamber and our nest down to the new colony world, then join with Hunter Prime in attacking and killing the nests of these Soft Skins,” he said in a strong flow of dominance, trail, territorial and signal pheromones. “Order a Worker Leader to prepare an air bubble for my transport to one of these Soft Skin nests.”

“As you command, my Hunter,” she said, her scent mix betraying surprise, followed by resolve and appreciation.

Hunter One flew up from his bench, twisted in the air and flew to the opening that gave access to the tubeway outside. It would be a short flight to the chamber where air bubbles were stored. The future scent commands of Hunter Prime would be heard by all Swarmers in his nest, thanks to the pheromone signalers that adorned the walls of every chamber. He would perceive every scent emitted by their leader, even aboard the air bubble. Then would come a strange experience. He would arrive among creatures who had too few limbs and who surely had no idea what their scents meant to themselves or to any other lifeform.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Jacob watched the imagery from inside one of the giant wasp ships as its leader now appeared in a live video. The wasp control room resembled a large bubble, with a central platform holding benches on which sat eighteen wasps. In the middle, resting on a larger bench, was the largest wasp he had ever seen. It was easily twice as big as the Worker wasps in his ship’s Forest Room. And this wasp hovered above his bench, two brown wings moving quickly as they supported him in the half gee gravity of his ship. Jacob glanced at the left side wallscreen image that held the situational image and its green and purple dots. It showed both fleets were still far away from the seventh world. The neutrino sensor image on the right side indicated this wasp was calling from a giant wasp ship. It was one of the giant ships that had arrived with other wasp ships. But it was not the giant ship that had attacked his battle group at Kepler 22, that had been confirmed by Rosemary at Tactical based on sensor records. It was a fact he had texted to his father, who now stood before his seat on the Bridge of the
Midway
, ready to negotiate. Alicia and Lori had produced the new video with attached pheromone talk demands in just two hours. They still had plenty of time before the wounded wasp ship got to Valhalla. He and everyone else listened closely.

“Leader of all Soft Skins,” said the English translation of what the large wasp was saying by polarized radio signals. “I am Hunter Prime. We wish a flight path to our new colony world. We fly above our world. You fly above your world. Swarmers and Soft Skins fight no more. Why seek a leader of Swarmers?”

His father’s fists were clenched and he was grimacing. It was an effort at body language that might affect this wasp leader of the species that called themselves the Swarm, with individual members labeled as a Swarmer. That they had known from listening in on the captives. The fact the top leader of the wasps on one of the giant ships was twice the size of other wasps who rested nearby, that had been unknown until now.

“You Swarmers attacked my people when we visited your world of Warmth,” his father replied. “You Swarmers attacked again even after my son led his starships away from your world and here to our colony world,” he said, speaking slowly so the English-to-wasp vocabulary in his father’s Communications console had time to convert English to radio pheromone signals. “One of your ships attacked our colony. Now, you return to hurt our colony world. We demand a leader of Swarmers as proof you will not again attack our colony.”

The three meter long wings of the giant wasp froze a moment, then resumed beating quickly. “What means visit? Intruders your nests were. Our warning device claimed sky light as home to Swarmers. All intruders are attacked. It is way of life.”

“We did not understand your scent warning,” the admiral said. “We understand it now. We allowed one nest to go to, or visit, the third world. Now it flies to our colony. Will it harm our colony?”

The red and black stripes on the yellow exoskeleton body of the leader wasp almost glowed, their colors were so deep. The sharp colors of each Swarmer made Jacob wonder if that was why the other wasps in the control room looked at vidcam images filled with swirls of color mixed with clusters of sharp angular marks. In the image of the leader’s room, a nearby wasp twisted its thorax and somehow said something. The leader rose higher above its bench.

“That nest is led by Support Hunter Seven. It is damaged. No harm to Soft Skin world happens. It flies to watch Soft Skin actions.”

Jacob marveled at how this species used terms from its flying nature to describe actions for which humans used nautical terms. He glanced aside at the situational on the wallscreen. The wounded wasp ship that moved at five psol was about halfway to Valhalla. While it flew at 33.5 million miles an hour, or 53.9 million kilometers an hour, covering 186 million miles took time even at such a fast speed. Transit time from world three to Valhalla at ten psol normally took almost three hours. At half that speed it would take five and a half hours, one way. It was two hours since they had received the wasp proposal to travel inward to the third world. Their reply had gone out minutes ago. Now, a living wasp leader spoke to the admiral, thanks to Alicia’s basic vocabulary and translation software.

His father stopped grimacing. Instead he pulled a black-handled knife from his vacsuit’s tool pocket. He held it up. “But your nest could sting the Soft Skins below. Send me a Hunter as proof you will not sting us.”

Jacob wondered at the difference in speech. They heard fairly simple language from the wasp leader. His father spoke directly but more complexly. Did this wasp hear or smell a simplified version of English?

“I send you Hunter One. He leads other nest that is like mine. Do you allow our flight inward to third world of this sky light?”

“Send Hunter One to my son’s spaceship. It is the other . . . nest like mine. It holds four wasps taken from the . . . nest that flies toward our world,” his father said.

The two large and three small black eyes on the flat yellow face of the giant wasp seemed bright from more than reflection of the white-yellow light that illuminated his control chamber. Its two narrow arms ended in four stick-like fingers. Those stick fingers spread wide.

“Do Soft Skin families give nests to grown larvae?”

Jacob blinked. What the hell was this wasp asking?

“Human starship leaders are chosen for ferocity and for ability, not because they are a leader’s children. My son earned his leadership of the other large starship that is like my . . . home nest. He fought your Hunter One above your colony that flies around the sky light where we first visited.”

“Soft Skins are confusing. You mature ones use your grown larvae in strange ways.” The wasp who called himself Hunter Prime bent his antennae backward. “If Hunter One comes to you, where does he live? Will you feed him?”

“Hunter One will be safe. We will feed him. See the images of how our captive Swarmers now live.” The admiral looked aside. “Captain, send him imagery of the wasps in your Forest Room.”