Battlegroup (StarFight Series Book 2) (30 page)

Jacob nodded. “Communications, send the imagery packet on the same frequency used by the cartoon videos.”

“Transmitting,” called Osashi.

His father looked back to his image of the giant wasp leader. “Hunter One will fly to this room where four Swarmers now live. They have made a home in the ground. They control the gravity and light of this room. We feed them often. We bring sweet liquid and soft fruit and small animals to eat.”

The leader’s stick fingers moved complexly. One narrow arm gestured to another wasp. “Commands sent for Hunter One to travel to your grown larvae’s large nest. Can we fly to our new nest? No biting by Soft Skins?”

“Once Hunter One arrives, you Swarmers may fly to world three,” the admiral said, glancing aside. Perhaps he saw what Jacob saw, which was the departure of a small craft from the damaged giant ship that now headed toward the battle group ships. But it moved no faster than the other wasp ships. Which now flew at ten psol as the human ships also flew at 10 psol, on a vector track for the seventh planet. “We will not attack your nests so long as you do not attack our nests.”

“You slow your nests,” the leader wasp said. “That allows Hunter One to reach your larvae’s nest. We continue but fly aside to our colony world.”

His father licked his lips. “All ships! Maintain Alert Hostile Enemy. But reduce your speed to five percent of lightspeed. Once this Hunter One’s craft enters the
Lepanto
, resume full speed. We will follow these wasps on a parallel track.” The admiral looked toward the image of the giant wasp. “Hunter Prime, our nests are slowing their flight. Do not pass close to the seventh or sixth worlds of this . . . sky light. We humans control them. Fly in empty space to world three.”

“Too cold those worlds are for any Swarmer,” the leader wasp replied. “My nest and all Swarmer nests now make new flight path. To third world we fly. This scent cast ends.”

The image of the wasp leader vanished from Jacob’s wallscreen. It had been an image watched by every captain in the two battle groups, including the
Inchon
, which was slowly making its way toward the third world. He looked to his father’s image which was now in the center of the wallscreen.

“This Hunter One will be here in a few minutes,” Jacob said calmly. “Admiral, what do you make of this wasp leader?”

His father pursed his lips, his manner intent. “If he is anything like you or me, we need to watch him tightly. He excused their attack on the
Lepanto
and your battle group as a normal response to an intruder. But he said nothing about following us to Kepler 10 and attacking you and the colony. This Swarm is an expansive predator species. Maybe even more so than we humans. They are deadly, both in person and in armed starships. Listen in on what this Hunter One says to the wasp captives. Maybe we’ll hear some word of this Hunter Prime’s future plans.”

“Admiral, will do.” Jacob looked down. “Chief O’Connor, grab one of your Marines and escort this Hunter One hostage from Hangar Three to the Forest Room. Take him inside, then leave. But listen on your Shinshoni Hard Shell comlinks to whatever he says to the other wasps. The admiral and I will focus on creating a convoy to follow this wasp fleet.”

The Marine leader looked up. His gray eyes fixed on Jacob. Then he unlocked his seat straps. “Captain, Gunnery Sergeant Diego and I will escort this high value wasp. I’ll make sure the gravity in the hallways we travel is cut back to a half gee. Diego and I will listen in on whatever they say. That is, assuming our ship AI provides us with a wasp-to-English translation.”

Jacob looked up. “Melody, monitor the wasp continuously from the moment it arrives in Hangar Three all the way to the Forest Room. And afterwards. If you have to say something to this wasp, use the retrofitted wasp pheromone block we captured. It’s inside the room. And convey to O’Connor and Diego everything all the wasps say, using the personal IDs given them by Lieutenant Branstead.”

A scratchy whine came from above, then he heard the AI speak.

“Your orders will be followed, handsome live being who commands my home,” the AI said in a musical tone that was almost flirtatious.

So weird this AI had become since he’d taken over the ship. But Jacob knew Science had better things to do than to find a fault in its human response modality chip. “Melody, also maintain your watch over the movements of all wasp ships. Alert me or the acting Bridge commander when there is any change in behavior that is different from a direct vector track to this system’s third world.”

“So you do not wish to hear an alert while you are sexing with your female companion?”

He winced and did not look at his father’s image. “Wrong. If there is any danger to this ship or to other Earth ships, alert me no matter what I am doing! But also alert the person in temporary command on the Bridge.”

“As you wish, handsome human of mine.”

Jacob could not put it off any longer. He looked to the wallscreen and met his father’s gaze. The man’s face looked neutral but he could tell more. A slight crease to one side of his mouth said he was close to smiling. “Admiral, the
Lepanto
will take charge of this wasp hostage and pay close attention to whatever he says to the other wasps.”

His father nodded. “Captain Renselaer, remind me to ask Earth Command to run a diagnostic on your ship AI, once we all get back to Earth.” His expression grew somber. “We’re in for two days of long-haul travel into this system, all the while following an alien enemy who could fire on us at any time. Set your shift rotations. See that you and your shift get some sleep and food. No deck will allow more than ten percent of their staff to be out of their vacsuits at any time. That applies to all battle group ships. We cannot relax until this enemy fleet is gone from Kepler 10.”

“Fleet Admiral Renselaer, will do. We will tend to the hostage wasp and check on what repairs might be needed once we get back to Valhalla.” Jacob paused, thinking quickly about the future steps in this dance with a dangerous enemy. “Admiral, should I peel off a frigate to head for Valhalla so it can keep a watch on the enemy ship, after it arrives?”

His father frowned. “That’s a good idea. I will send off the
Schweinfurt
to Valhalla. Its captain will check in with Captain O’Sullivan and hold orbit close to the wasp ship. It will be a further warning to this Hunter Prime to not try any funny stuff with our colony.”

“Understood.
Lepanto
out, unless you have further commands?”

“Nothing more,” his father said firmly. “But keep my Bridge in your neutrino vidcam sharing with your ship and the other ships. Best for us all to be in instant link with each other.”

Jacob gave his father a thumbs-up gesture. “Will do.”

“
Lepanto
,” called a voice from the wallscreen images that he recognized.

Jacob looked over. It was Rebecca Swanson of the cruiser
Chesapeake
. Like him and everyone else, she wore her vacsuit and was strapped in. The native of Chicago’s black face held a frown. “Yes, Lieutenant Commander? Can I help you?”

“More like how I and George can help you,” she said, her tone musing.

Jacob noticed that all of his battle group ship commanders were paying attention, while the captains who had arrived with his father were speaking to people on their Bridges, ignoring this conversation. “I appreciate your comment. But the
Chesapeake
, the
Hampton Roads
and all other StarFight ships are now under the direct command of Fleet Admiral Renselaer.”

Her expression turned impatient. “Of course. What I mean to say is that George and I think highly of your past practice of rotating our cruisers into the line of fire that aims at our frigates. I want to be sure the
Aldertag
and the
St. Mihiel
close out this fight fully intact.”

In the line of wallscreen images, Sunderland and Lorenz both nodded their heads sharply but said nothing. Mehta, Zhang and Jefferson were watching closely. Each of them gave him a thumbs-up gesture but also said nothing.

Jacob realized Rebecca was trying to say that, in the midst of whatever formation his father might order in the future, he could count on her and George Wilcox to do just what she had said, no matter what the requirements might be of the new formation order. It was not outright insubordination. Rather, it was an expression of continuing allegiance to him personally from the two cruiser commanders. The destroyer and frigate commanders clearly thought the same.

“Lieutenant Commander Swanson and Lieutenant Wilcox,” he said, glancing to George’s bulldog face as the man’s deep blue eyes watched him. “I highly appreciate your comments and support for my efforts to allow all of our ships to survive. I continue to rely on you for that support.
Lepanto
out.”

“
Chesapeake
out.”

“
Hampton Roads
out,” George said in a low growl.

He unstrapped and stepped down to the floor of the Bridge. Jacob faced Daisy, still seated in her vacsuit and strapped in.

“XO, you have the command.”

She saluted him back. “Change of command accepted. Will you be sleeping?”

“No. I’ll be back at the Forest Room. Contact me as needed,” Jacob said as he walked to the rear slidedoor, noticing how quiet Carlos and Lori were as they sat in the seats snugged up against the rear wall. Somehow, somewhen, before the fleet got to the third planet, he wanted to have another brainstorm confab with Lori, Alicia, Daisy and anyone else who might give him more insight into these wasps. Analogies to Earth wasps had limits. His gut was telling him there was more to this sudden wasp stopping of combat and request to go to the third planet. But what? He intended to figure it out. Everyone’s life might depend on whether he could outguess an alien ship commander who had been genetically bred to lead.

Leastwise, that was what Alicia said her monitoring of the captive wasps had led her to believe. The wasp reference to castes meant more than that. Alicia thought each wasp caste was bred to be the best at what they were born to be, whether it be Hunter, Fighter, Worker, Worker Leader or whatever was meant by the Servant caste. That word had appeared just twice in the days of wasp to wasp chatter. What did it mean? And what did the term Hunter Prime mean, when other Hunter wasps were referred to by numbers? He was determined to figure out that answer, and the underlying reason for the sudden peacefulness of the wasps. One thing he knew from bitter experience. Do not trust wasp appearances. Only wasp actions mattered. He was damned certain the current wasp appearance of peacefulness was far from the whole story!

♦   ♦   ♦

Hunter Seven turned away from watching the perception imager that had relayed the strange conversation of Hunter Prime with the leader of the Soft Skin nests. The smells sent by the Soft Skins were similar to normal Swarmer scent, but different. The flavor was not the same as what everyone knew on Nest or on any flying nest. But the meaning of Soft Skin scent signals, combined with the simple imagery sent by one of their large nests, was clear. The Swarm could fly inward to the colony world so long as it did not try to bite the Soft Skins. Hunter One had made clear to him that this was a temporary pause in defense of their colony world. Once every Swarmer nest dropped down their larvae Pods with Workers, Fighters and a few Servants to begin the colony, every Swarmer nest would make a new flight path to the Soft Skin world, there to destroy the space-flying Soft Skins, then later the land-bound ones. He was tempted to toss out some particle seeds to fly high above the Soft Skin world, but Hunter Prime had promised no biting action. So he would fly high above the Soft Skin world, out of reach of the stingers on the Soft Skin globe that had killed most of his earlier seeds. Once the Swarmers left world three and came his way, he would do his best to fight like the Hunter he had been born to be.

“Stinger Servant, put out Workers on the outside of our hard shell. We must reclaim the use of our middle and head rings of stinger tubes,” he sent in a strong flow of dominance and signal pheromones.

The young male who had replaced his first Stinger Servant twisted to look his way. “Support Hunter Seven, I obey. But we have limited numbers of Workers. Some have no knowledge of how to work on the outside of our hard shell.”

He increased his wing flapping until he rose above his bench. “Enough! Every Swarmer has a stinger. Every Swarmer can try to do the job of others now gone. Send them out. Those who survive can train others to do as they learned to do!” he scent cast in a mix of dominance, aggregation and releaser pheromones.

“As you command,” the Stinger Servant replied, though his dismay was clear to scent.

Seven did not care. Either his nest would be made better able to fight these terrible Soft Skins, or they would all die. The memory of his earlier desire to lead the colonization of the third world as the leader of all Swarmers was now a pale memory. The Hunter Prime’s scent overwhelmed any plan of a Swarmer who was not a Prime.

♦   ♦   ♦

Hunter One flew through the strange, square-shaped tubeway through which his escort of hard-shelled Soft Skins now moved. The white-skinned ones did not fly on the jets attached to their movement limbs, unlike what he had seen in the terrible imagery sent his way by Support Hunter Seven. It worried him that fewer than three six-groups of these white-shelled Soft Skins had killed half the Swarmers on Seven’s flying nest. The yellow flames that shot from the right arm of each hard shell was most fearful, although the black rocks that emerged from the left arm were nearly as terrible. Worse yet was the green sky light that emerged from what passed for an abdomen among the Soft Skins. That beam had no limit on its range. He flew slowly and steadily after the deadly female who walked ahead of him, having no doubt her male companion to his rear would envelop him in flame if he made any effort to attack her hard shell. As was clear from deep scratches on it that other Swarmers had tried to do when the female had led one group of intruders into Seven’s nest. These beings might be limited to four limbs and be ground-bound without the aid of their devices. But terrible was their ability to kill, whether singly in the hard shells or as a group on a large flying nest. Ahead, the female in the white hard shell stopped before a rectangle outline in the wall of the strange tubeway. She touched a green patch on the wall. The outline became a piece of metal that slid into the wall, giving access to a white and yellow lighted place. She gestured for him to go through the wall opening. He did as ordered.

She spoke acoustic language that sounded like “This is the home of the four wasps we captured.”

He smelled a phrase that meant “Your new nest is here. Four others is here.”

Such was obvious as he hovered just inside, his five eyes viewing the vegetation and tree filled room. Some distance away lay a large ground hole, from which stuck up the gray fiber of the home built by the three Workers and the Worker Leader. The two males and two females now flew out of the nest and hovered above it, clearly alert to the sound of the entry wall being opened. He inhaled deep all the scents in this place.

“So, you have been sexing rather than biting these Soft Skins,” he said in a flow of disgust, trail and signal pheromones that flowed across the space between him and the four Swarmers.

Behind him a signaler affixed to a wall repeated his comments. The two Soft Skins in white hard shells followed him inside and then closed the entry. They watched from their ground-bound location.

The Worker Leader’s brown wings fluttered faster. He slipped through the chamber’s nicely warm and wet air until he stopped halfway to him.

“Hunter One! So glad are we to see you! And you have about you the scent of a Hunter Prime! Does this mean you and other Hunters are here to free us?”

“Foolish one, of course I have the scent of a Hunter Prime on me. His dominance is akin to my dominance. We both were born to lead, just as you were born to work,” he said in a flow of aggregation, trail and command pheromones. “Many nests have arrived at this sky light. We fly now to the third world to lay down our larvae Pods, just as we did on Warmth! Why are you here? You should have died on Seven’s nest, fighting these terrible Soft Skins!”

The black antennae of the Worker Leader flared back. “We would have died! But as we crossed a tubeway intersection, each of us was struck by wires that carried power flows. The Soft Skins rendered us unaware. We awoke in a small chamber on a Soft Skin flying nest. They later moved us to this larger chamber on a bigger nest. They feed us. They use a signaler to scent cast to us. We thought it best to eat and be healthy for the moment when your nest defeated this nest. Has that happened?”

One felt impatience and irritation. It was clear this Worker Leader had made sex with the two females, who of course would do whatever his scent commanded. Their wings, short yellow hairs and their entire bodies looked healthy and bright under the Nest-normal light of this chamber. Even the air of this place helped them feel good, as it held the prime gas all Swarmers needed to live and work. It was clear the Soft Skin ruler of this flying nest had chosen to create a chamber that closely copied the landscape of Warmth. But why?

“It has not happened. I am here as part of a . . .” He stopped just before he made the scent flow ‘temporary bite stop’. It was clear these Soft Skins behind him were listening to everything he and the four Workers were scent casting. So far he had said nothing not already known to the Soft Skins. Best to keep it that way. “I am here as a guest of the Soft Skin ruler of this flying nest. Soon, you and I will be released to fly through the skies of the third world.”

“Soon? How soon?” scent cast the Worker Leader as the other three Workers flew up and joined him in hovering above a soil area covered in green plant fibers. “Has the Hunter Prime’s Colony nest killed the Soft Skins on the fourth world? Or do they still live? Support Hunter Seven told us that the Soft Skins had proposed each of us stay on their own colony world, with no biting among us.”

“End your scent-casting!” he said in a rush of Hunter dominance pheromones. “I am the Hunter here. You are Workers. You do what I command. You do nothing I do not command. Obey!”

“I obey!” scent cast the Worker Leader in a flow of alarm and trail pheromones. “We all obey. What do you wish of us?”

He flew closer to them, hoping the listening Soft Skins had not understood the reference to Hunter Prime’s flying nest aiming to kill the Soft Skin colony world. “Bring me food. Alert me to the small lifeforms that can be hunted in this chamber. And describe the behaviors of all the Soft Skins who have dealt with you.”

Hunter One listened as the Workers scent cast in a wild flow of many scents. He flew toward a bowl filled with yellow liquid that the Workers said was similar to the tree hole sweetness created on Nest by the small flyers who kept the flowers and fruits on Nest able to reproduce and become many. As he lowered down to sip the yellow liquid, he wondered the same as the Workers. How long must he stay a captive, until Hunter Prime led his damaged nest and Prime’s own nest in an attack on the Soft Skin flying nests?

♦   ♦   ♦

“Chief, did you hear that!” called Jane over their suit comlink. “They plan to attack Valhalla!”

“I heard it,” Richard said, keeping both arms aimed at the five hovering wasps even as his mind raced through the implications of what had been said before the boss wasp shut up the Worker wasps. “It’s clear this new wasp is one of the top bosses, and that he commanded the giant wasp ship that attacked us in Kepler 22. Sounds like this Hunter One went out and recruited a super big Hunter wasp to help him do what he failed to do the last time.”

“This new wasp is larger than the Worker wasps,” Jane said. “He looks to be a third bigger. But not as large as that Hunter Prime wasp we saw talking to the admiral.”

“Agreed. I wonder—”

The slidedoor opened behind him. His helmet’s HUD display showed it was young Renselaer entering, still clad in his basic vacsuit. Giving thanks for his HUD display’s all-around vision ability, he stepped to the right, opening a space between him and Diego.

“Captain, please stand here between me and the Gunny. We can cover you better that way.”

“I’m here,” the captain said in his calm baritone, sounding as curious as Richard felt. “Just heard all that the Hunter One was saying along with what the Workers said. And what your gunnery sergeant observed. What’s your take?”

Richard wondered if everything he said over the Shinshoni’s comlink was being rebroadcast on the All Ship vidcom and even out to the other ships and the admiral. Then he realized that made no sense. While he approved of the open vidcast of Bridge events and neutrino chatter with other ships over the All Ship vidcom, there was no way the captain would allow routine, in-ship chatter to be broadcast outward. Or even to other decks of the
Lepanto
.

“My take is this supposed truce is a temporary thing. It will only last until they put down their baby wasps and adult minders on the third world. Then watch out!”

“That’s what my gut has been telling me,” Jacob said.

He was growing used to calling the captain by his first name. Not common on most ships, whether wet Navy or Star Navy, but it was in keeping with the transparency and amiable openness of the man who had claimed captaincy and then battle group leadership. The arrival of his father the five star admiral had changed things. An admiral was automatically in command of all ships within a fighting unit. Which now numbered eighteen after their losses in both systems. He gave thanks for the nearly fifty days they’d had to make repairs on the
Lepanto
, the
Chesapeake
, the
St. Mihiel
and the
Tsushima Strait
. True, they’d all taken new hammering right after the surprise attack on the incoming wasp ships. But it had been worth it. He liked very much how the admiral had decided to be first on the doorstep into this system, with all guns aimed at the spot where the enemy would arrive. Young Renselaer might yet learn some of his old man’s craftiness.

“I think your gut has the sense of it,” Richard said, still watching the flying antics of the five wasps. “Do you think the wasps will take out the
Inchon
as they pass her on the way to planet three?”

“Doubt it,” Jacob said, sounding distracted. “I think they will not do anything violent until after they put down these pods. They may even wait for us to return to Valhalla before they launch our way. Their ships took some heavy strikes from our proton lasers. Maybe they’ll spend a few days doing hull repairs, like the admiral suggested.”