Homeworld (Odyssey One) (14 page)

The soldier scowled, raking through his memories as best he could. “We gave those a shot a while back, didn’t we?”

“Yeah. NASA had a project running for a while, but they were never able to get the power requirements down to practical levels,” Eric told him. “Probably some other things too they didn’t understand. I didn’t read into the project much. The Block’s always been a gen or two ahead of us on CM tech, though, so it’s no shock that they’d be the ones to figure it out.”

“If I remember the briefing properly,” Reed said, thinking deeply, “aren’t those the drives the Priminae use?”

“That’s the theory, yeah, but we’ve not confirmed it,” Eric told him. No one wanted to press the Priminae too closely on drive technology since there was no chance in hell that the NAC would surrender any aspect of their own transition systems in return. They didn’t want to open that door even a crack. “The Block ship, the
Weifang
, headed out to Gliese 581 a little over two weeks ago. We don’t know their top speed, just that they’re FTL for sure. When I wrap up here, I’ll be taking the
Odyssey
in that direction for a quiet look-see.”

“A little peek over the shoulder of an old enemy?” Reed asked with a half-smile.

“That, and the fact that the Prim command here actually dispatched a pair of their warships to that area a couple days
ago—well, in the general neighborhood, more or less,” Eric said seriously. “Apparently they picked up some trace that looks like it may be Drasin origin.”

“Damn. Got no love for the Blockheads, but wouldn’t wish that on anyone,” Reed admitted. “They have a chance against the Drasin?”

Eric shrugged. “Hard to say. They couldn’t take hits like the
Odyssey
, and you know just what an eggshell she really is….”

Reed nodded.

The
Odyssey
, while probably the most armored
thing
ever to be built by humans—from Earth, at least—was a fragile toy waiting to be burnt to a crisp by the level of firepower floating around out in Priminae and Drasin space. Only the advanced armor she sported gave her a fighting chance, and even then it was limited in effectiveness if she were outnumbered. He wouldn’t want to be on any ship against a Drasin laser barrage, but anything less than the
Odyssey
was just asking for a quick death.

“Still, have to check on them,” Eric said, “if only to see if the Drasin were really out there and why. Don’t like the idea of them being anywhere
near
Earth.”

“You and me both,” Reed answered with feeling. “How long are you here for, then?”

“Shipping out in a few hours,” Eric said. “This was just a delivery run for you guys. Some mail and orders for the embassy. You know the drill.”

“Right. I’ve got a list of things I’d like to get shipped in next time you swing by,” Reed pointed out.

“Get the requests in before we leave orbit, or it’ll have to wait,” Eric said. “Sorry, but I can’t delay departure this time around. Not with the new intel I picked up from the admiral here.”

“Understood. I’ll get the files transmitted.”

“You do that,” Eric said, taking a drink. “Anything I should know about?”

“Nah. Mostly just a few supplies we burned through quicker than expected,” Reed answered. “The locals are smart. They learn quick. We’ve moved up a few lessons ahead of schedule, that’s all. Could do with some more trainers, though, specialists.”

Eric nodded. He didn’t really know much about Reed’s business, but of course he didn’t really have to. He did know that the job went a lot smoother with people who knew what they were doing and how to teach what they were doing to others. That was actually a pretty rare skillset, but he was sure that the Confederacy would be able to scare someone up.

“What specialties, if I can ask?”

“Honestly? Close air support.” Reed grimaced. “The local pilots rely on computer control
way
too damned much.”

That perked his interest a little, as he’d served pretty much across the board in combat aircraft. His specialty was generally considered to be air-superiority, since he was most well-known for the Archangel assignment, but Eric had spent more than his fair share in other capacities as well.

“You need someone like Jen, then,” he said.

“Jen?”

“Jen Samuels,” Eric answered. “She’s one of our double-A pilots. Came up flying transports and spookies in the war. Put in for a transfer to my squad a half-dozen times toward the end of the war, but by then we were scaling back. I gave her my own bird back on the first trip the
Odyssey
made out this way. She got her own after that, full slot in the squadron now.”

“Can you spare her?” Reed asked. “I normally wouldn’t ask, but honestly some of these guys are starting to scare me, and we need to run some operational drills.”

Eric thought about it for a bit, uncertain. Cutting one pilot loose wasn’t a huge deal, particularly since the
Odyssey
barely rated as a carrier now. The combat losses over the last two missions hadn’t been replaced, and political issues back home kept the Archangels both highly visible and somewhat taboo at the moment.

He knew that the current military establishment didn’t want to step on any land mines, so to speak, and the press would be all over any move to reestablish the squadron. Ironically they were more than willing to overlook the launch of three new carrier-class starships, complete with compliments of “conventional” fighters and full support ships. The Archangels were an infinitesimally smaller combat force, yet their high visibility made them untouchable in the current political atmosphere.

Irony sucks.

“I’ll talk it over with her squadron commander,” Eric offered finally. “He won’t like it, but we may be able to swing something.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Eric grinned, shaking his head. “Steph is about as likely to give up Jen as I would have been when I was in command of the squad. Which is not very.”

“I’ll take what I can get for now,” Reed said. “If your boy won’t let go of her, just put in my request with command. I can wait if I have to. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“
Really
close air support,” Eric said dryly.

Reed grimaced. “Yeah. That.”

NEAR PREVIOUSLY UNCHARTED DYSON OBJECT

IVANTH CAME TO disciplined attention as he entered the office of the Prohuer, waiting in silence to be acknowledged. He stood there for several moments before the man behind the large desk looked up and nodded at him.

“Ivanth,” he said, gesturing to a seat.

Ivanth silently took the offered place. “Prohuer.”

“I’m certain that you’re curious, so I won’t keep you waiting,” the man said, smiling thinly. “We have reports from the drones that interest me.”

“How so, if I might ask?”

“A new ship,” the Prohuer said, his voice deceptively light. “Certainly not of the Priminae.”

“The unknown, then?”

“No, I believe not,” he answered, “though it is difficult to tell with certainty, given that the drones have incredibly primitive capabilities in some areas.”

Ivanth nodded, knowing that to be true. When the People had discovered the drones originally, they had been shadows of their current form, but the cores were effectively identical.
The ancient world they’d unearthed them from had somehow survived an infection, leaving a few scattered examples of the beasts intact.

The mathematics that ruled their so-called minds had been both enlightening and incredibly frustrating.

Whoever had originally created them, and there was no doubt that they had been created, had been a form of life entirely unknown to the People and/or the single, stupidest example of life form ever to have existed.

Given that in millennia of recorded history no one had ever encountered anything that might have been those lost people, nor even worlds with their works entombed, Ivanth personally favored the latter.

The equations that passed for
thought
in the drones were quite simple and insidiously open to interpretation. They identified
life
, according to a remarkably simple set of algorithms, and then proceeded to annihilate it. As weapons went, Ivanth had heard the drones likened to weapons of mass destruction that were equipped with manual triggers. Effective, but they didn’t precisely discriminate when it came to destruction. If you were in their sights, you were a target.

Well, at least they were, until the People got ahold of them and made some core-level alterations to the algorithms. Core-level additions, technically. They hadn’t been able to
change
anything, but adding a few things had been possible.

All that, however, meant that the best you often got when you consulted their scanner feeds was little more than the spectrum analysis of what they were looking at and a kill/no kill order.

“The feeds indicate a ship of low power potential, similar to the unknown. However the combat feed indicates very different weapon systems,” the Prohuer said seriously. “The
drones are in pursuit, but I’ve input instructions to follow from maximum distance. I want to see if it leads us to something
interesting
.”

“The unknown homeworld, I presume?”

“That would be ideal, yes,” the Prohuer admitted.

Since they’d first confirmed the existence of the unknown ship, it had been the subject of intense scrutiny by those in charge of the expeditionary mission. A vessel with no effective power curve that could annihilate drone ships as easily as a vessel of the People might swat brigand ships in the outer worlds?
That
was enough to drive even the sanest to the brink, and honestly Ivanth didn’t know many sane folk who would volunteer for a mission so far beyond the core worlds.

He had observed the data himself, and was as taken by the unknown as anyone. The ship had to be insulated for radiation beyond all sane conventions for the power effect of its drives and weapon systems to be so low.

Like many among the expeditionary forces, he viewed the world that ship came from with both trepidation and intense curiosity. Their greatest fear was that they were not looking at a single world, but an empire in its own right. It seemed unlikely, given that they had only seen one ship confirmed to date, but even a few worlds capable of building ships of that power and sophistication would be a major stumbling block to their mission.