Battlegroup (StarFight Series Book 2) (36 page)

Nineteen. Fifteen. Seven.

Three small yellow suns flared just above the top hull of the
Midway
.

Had their sensors been set for air burst? If so, that meant the warheads had not been in contact with the Battlestar’s hull. Maybe they’d detonated two or three miles out.

The red plasma haze from the three dets gradually thinned in the vacuum of space.

“They’re alive!” yelled Daisy.

Jacob took a deep breath.

The scope showed the top of the
Midway
was burned down past its black ablative hull layer. Water globules leaked here and there, saying part of the two meters of armor hull had been penetrated. Or maybe fractured. Belatedly he recalled that a 50 kiloton fireball had a radius in air of a mile. Or one point six kilometers. Maybe a bit more in vacuum. That meant the three fireballs had not touched the hull of the
Midway
. They had to have been set for radar detonation as the ground echoed back to the warhead targeting sensor. Which the hull of the
Midway
had imitated, causing vacuum detonations.

He looked up. His father’s face looked back at him.

“We’re alive. All of us,” he said. “Some heavy rads came through. Med Hall has the injections to suck out the rad damage. Valhalla is safe.”

So it was.

“All StarFight ships, look for station evacuees,” Jacob said, giving thanks his last surviving parent still lived. The time his father had taken to talk one-on-one with him, just after Jacob had brought his battle group into rendezvous with the Earth relief fleet, that time still held a warm spot in his heart. Maybe it was time to let the past stay in the past.

“It’s time, Jacob,” said Daisy from below.

Had he said that last sentence out loud?

His father’s grin said he had.

“Don’t like these vacsuit comlinks, sir. They cut in and out and the static does weird stuff. Like make up words.”

Gordon F. Renselaer nodded slowly. “You’re right. My vacsuit has done the same thing in the past.” He paused. “Your Mom would be proud of you. I know I am.”

Jacob suddenly wished his Bridge was not under constant live vidcam observation. It would not do to show tears before the other ship captains. Or his crew watching on the other decks. He gritted his teeth and sat up straight.

“Sir, may I transfer our five wasp captives out to that wasp ship in geosync?” His father looked surprised. “I’m willing to put a carbon-carbon tow line on it, move the
Lepanto
up to planetary escape velocity, and then slingshot the bastard out to the magnetosphere. It can head home to Kepler 22 on its Alcubierre drive.”

“Good idea. Before you do that, let’s rescue some vacsuited people. Then I need to use your pheromone translator to give a message to this Hunter One.”

Jacob couldn’t resist. “What message?”

His father smiled, though it was a pale smile. “I call it MAB. Mutually Assured Benefit. Wanna send that ship off with a cartoon video and pheromone talk that says Let’s Trade. You tell us about any one gee worlds you find in your colony searches. We’ll do the same for half gee worlds. Think they’ll go for it?”

Jacob didn’t know. But he recalled ending this interstellar war had been one of the two jobs assigned to his father by the Unity and by Earth Command.

“They might. Especially if that wasp ship shares its vidrecords of this last battle.” A thought hit him. “Sir, three of Earth’s colonies have half gee worlds lying closer to their sun than we like. Do you mean to suggest we share our colony systems with the wasps?”

The man shrugged. “Maybe yes, maybe no. At the least with MAB they will know we will tell them the locations of future half gee worlds we find that resemble oxy-rich jungles. They’ll do the same for us with any cooler, one gee worlds they find. It’s a start to doing something other than fight.”

Below him Richard spoke. “Greed might be stronger than blood.”

His father looked startled, then thoughtful. “Chief O’Connor, you have a good point. I’ll use it when next I talk to Unity pollies.” Then he looked up. “Captain Renselaer, I think we need to send a ship along with that wasp ship when it heads back to Kepler 22. If more wasp fleets show up there, our ship could give us an early warning here. You got any suggestions for that monitoring ship?”

Jacob looked down to Daisy. She looked up and nodded, her dark brown face somber but hopeful. He looked up.

“Sir, I think the Battlestar
Lepanto
could handle lookout duty at Kepler 22.”

“Good. But don’t be in a rush to leave. That wasp ship will be heading out real slow. Could take them a month or three to get to the magnetosphere. Plenty of time for our fifteen ships to start rebuilding O’Sullivan’s station. And time to head down to Stockholm. Does that place have any good bars?”

Jacob almost laughed. His father was not a heavy drinker, sticking mostly with Scotch and some craft beers. But he had no doubt the Midway’s crew were eager to enjoy a planetside liberty after nearly two months in space to get to Kepler 10, and then fighting two deadly battles against an alien enemy that never gave up.

“Plenty of them,” Jacob said. “There’s one Daisy and I like. Down near its central park. The Valhallans like to do recreations of famous Viking battles in that park. Makes for fun watching when you have a beer or two in hand.”

His father laughed. It was the first laugh he’d heard in too many years. The man who had raised him to be a copy of himself now looked down at his command people. “Marjorie and Thompson both like craft beers. Even colonial stuff. We’ll join you, after we haul in as many vacsuits as we can find.”

Jacob thought of Billy O’Sullivan. The man was a happy drinker of beer and most anything else. He hoped the captain now whizzed above the white clouds of Valhalla, keeping order by vacsuit comlink among his fellow station escapees.

“We’ll join you.
Lepanto
out.”

Jacob looked down to where Daisy sat, still strapped in like all of them. Sweat showed on her dark brown neck. Perhaps sensing his gaze, she looked up. The oval face, brown eyes, sharp nose and happy look were just part of what he loved about her. She looked him over, clearly wondering.

“XO, how about you and I take out your LCA to search for station folks. Chief O’Connor can handle the Bridge. You game?”

“Very much game,” she said, unlocking her straps and standing up.

Jacob did the same. He stepped down from his seat, turned to face Richard, and said what was needed.

“Transferring command of the Battlestar
Lepanto
to you, chief. And bring in your Darts. I wish Aaron and Wayne could also return.”

“Command accepted, Captain Renselaer.” The grizzled, tough man who had taught Jacob much about dealing with the reality of deadly combat gave a sigh. “I wish they could too. Goes with the job. Now get out there and grab some vacsuits.”

“I will. We will.”

And with that Jacob took hold of Daisy’s hand and headed for the Bridge exit.

Lori and Carlos watched them. Those two were also holding hands, perhaps feeling the same relief he and Daisy felt at living through a terrible battle that had claimed too many ships and lives.

“Jacob, the ghosts will rest now,” Daisy said.

He hoped so. “Maybe they will.”

Together in hope, together in love, they walked through the open slidedoor and into a future less deadly than the present.

THE END

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

T. Jackson King (Tom) is a professional archaeologist, journalist and retired Hippie. He learned early on to question authority and find answers for himself, thanks to reading lots of science fiction. He also worked at a radiocarbon dating laboratory at UC Riverside and UCLA. Tom attended college in Paris and Tokyo. He is a graduate of UCLA (M.A. 1976, archaeology) and the University of Tennessee (B.Sc. 1971, journalism). He has worked as an archaeologist in the American Southwest and has traveled widely in Europe, Russia, Japan, Canada, Mexico and the USA. Other jobs have included short order cook, hotel clerk, legal assistant, telephone order taker, investigative reporter and newspaper editor. He also survived the warped speech-talk of local politicians and escaped with his hide intact. Tom writes hard science fiction, anthropological scifi, dark fantasy/horror and contemporary fantasy/magic realism. Tom’s novels are
BATTLESTAR
(2016),
DEFEAT THE ALIENS
(2016),
FIGHT THE ALIENS
(2016),
FIRST CONTACT
(2015),
ESCAPE FROM ALIENS
(2015),
ALIENS VS. HUMANS
(2015),
FREEDOM VS. ALIENS
(2015),
HUMANS VS. ALIENS
(2015),
GENECODE ILLEGAL
(2014),
EARTH VS. ALIENS
(2014),
ALIEN ASSASSIN
(2014),
THE MEMORY SINGER
(2014),
ANARCHATE VIGILANTE
(2014),
GALACTIC VIGILANTE
(2013),
NEBULA VIGILANTE
(2013),
SPEAKER TO ALIENS
(2013),
GALACTIC AVATAR
(2013),
STELLAR ASSASSIN
(2013),
STAR VIGILANTE
(2012),
THE GAEAN
ENCHANTMENT
(2012), 
LITTLE BROTHER’S WORLD
(2010),
ANCESTOR’S WORLD
(1996, with A.C. Crispin), and
RETREAD SHOP
(1988, 2012). His short stories appeared in
JUDGMENT DAY AND OTHER DREAMS
(2009). His poetry appeared in
MOTHER EARTH’S STRETCH MARKS
(2009). Tom lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico, USA with his wife Sue. More information on Tom’s writings can be found at
www.tjacksonking.com/
.

PRAISE FOR T. JACKSON KING’S BOOKS

EARTH VS. ALIENS

“This story is the best space opera I've read in many years. The author knows his Mammalian Behavior. If we’re lucky it’ll become a movie soon. Many of the ideas are BRAND NEW and I loved the adaptability of people in the story line. AWESOME!!”—
Phil W. King,
Amazon

“It’s good space opera. I liked the story and wanted to know what happened next. The characters are interesting and culturally diverse. The underlying theme is that humans are part of nature and nature is red of tooth and claw. Therefore, humans are naturally violent, which fortunately makes them a match for the predators from space.”—
Frank C. Hemingway,
Amazon

STAR VIGILANTE
“For a fast-paced adventure with cool tech, choose
Star Vigilante
. This is the story of three outsiders. Can three outsiders bond together to save Eliana's planet from eco-destruction at the hands of a ruthless mining enterprise?” –
Bonnie Gordon
,
Los Alamos Daily Post

STELLAR ASSASSIN

“T. Jackson King’s
Stellar Assassin
is an ambitious science fiction epic that sings! Filled with totally alien lifeforms, one lonely human, an archaeologist named Al Lancaster must find his way through trade guilds, political maneuvering and indentured servitude, while trying to reconcile his new career as an assassin with his deeply-held belief in the teachings of Buddha. . . This is a huge, colorful, complicated world with complex characters, outstanding dialogue, believable motivations, wonderful high-tech battle sequences and, on occasion, a real heart-stringer . . . This is an almost perfectly edited novel as well, which is a bonus. This is a wonderful novel, written by a wonderful author . . .Bravo! Five Stars!” –
Linell Jeppsen,
Amazon

LITTLE BROTHER’S WORLD

“If you’re sensing a whiff of Andre Norton or Robert A. Heinlein, you’re not mistaken . . . The influence is certainly there, but
Little Brother’s World
is no mere imitation of
Star Man’s Son
or
Citizen of the Galaxy
. Rather, it takes the sensibility of those sorts of books and makes of it something fresh and new. T. Jackson King is doing his part to further the great conversation of science fiction; it’ll be interesting to see where he goes next.”–
Don Sakers,
Analog