Homeworld (Odyssey One) (33 page)

The admiral herself was seated behind a moderately sized desk, plastic instead of wood or metal because it was cheaper to manufacture goods on site. Plastic was generally a better medium to work in than most. She was best described as statuesque, Eric supposed, as he observed her working on whatever it was that had her attention at the moment.

It only took her a moment to wave him to a seat, not bothering to look up. Eric silently took the offer and settled into
the chair, again a plastic construct probably turned out by the fabrication units installed on the station. It wasn’t particularly comfortable, even though someone had tossed a cushion on it, but he wasn’t going to complain.

He’d been accused of a lot of things in the past, but, despite being a Marine, stupidity wasn’t one of them, which probably meant something given that he’d spent a lot of his career working with Air Force types and they didn’t really much like Marines as a rule.

Gracen finally looked up, scowling.

“Every single time,” she said, “I send you out on a simple mission, and every single time you come back with a crisis in hand worse than the last. There are people in the administration that want your guts for garters, Captain, and I’m starting to wish I’d given you to them.”

Eric winced, but didn’t say anything.

Honestly, what could he say?

“That said,” she went on, pushing her keyboard aside and settling her arms in front of her, “we’re past that option now, and I doubt I can afford to toss you in some deep, dark hole even if we weren’t.”

“I’d like to request a hole in a different solar system, if that’s the direction we’re going to be going….” Eric said dryly.

“Don’t be a smart ass, Captain.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“We’re resupplying your one-hundred-centimeter nuclear-fused shells as we speak,” she said. “I’ve appropriated enough of them to fill your stores to full capacity, and we’ll probably stack in a few pallets on your flight decks as well, unless you object?”

“No, ma’am,” Eric said quickly. After seeing the transition shells in action, he’d willingly sacrifice some room on his
flight deck, especially given that he fully expected to be clearing that room out in a hurry.

“Didn’t think you would, judging from your report,” Gracen said, satisfied. “Between us, and without the official language, how did they really do?”

“Outstanding, ma’am.”

“Good. I’ve had every last one available shipped up to Liberty as well, and the factories dirtside just got one mother of an order for more,” she said. “I understand that the contractors who handle those items are already looking to convert a few of their other factories over to production of the transition shells.”

“Hope it’s not too little, too late, ma’am.”

“You and me both, Captain,” she said. “What are your thoughts on the current situation?”

Eric paused, considering the question for a moment. “Well, Admiral, short-term? We’ll clean their clocks.”

Gracen raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said confidently. “Even Lieutenant Winger’s most pessimistic estimates puts the immediate enemy numbers at no more than another couple dozen Drasin, plus two or more of the unknowns. Between the
Odyssey
and Liberty alone, we can easily thin those ranks down. Add in the
Enterprise
once it gets into knife range, I don’t think we’ll even take any significant losses, barring mishap.”

“Medium- to long-term, then?”

Eric sighed, shaking his head slightly as he became a lot more serious. “Do we have any hits on nice exo-planets to colonize?”

Gracen winced, though she’d been half expecting something along those lines. “That bad?”

“Depends on a few factors, stuff I can’t even guess at.”

“Such as?”

“Well, for one, we don’t know why they’re being so easy on the Priminae,” he answered. “Two, four, even six ships at a time? If they wanted them gone, the Drasin would swarm them and it would be over. Someone is intentionally holding them back.”

“And you don’t know if they’ll do the same for us?”

“Honestly, Admiral?” Eric shook his head. “I’d lay wagers that they won’t. The unknown bandits are using Prim designs. They’ve got a real connection there somehow. I don’t think they have that with us, or if they do, I don’t expect them to know it.”

“I see. So, worst case then?”

“Worst case? A million Drasin drones wade in and soak up everything we throw at them,” Eric answered. “We kill dozens, maybe hundreds depending on how long a lead time they give us, and then we die, ma’am.”

“Do we have any alternatives to avoid that scenario, then Captain?” Gracen asked. Then, after a pause, adding, “In your opinion, of course.”

“Only one possible, but it’s a long shot.”

“Oh?” She looked up curiously. She hadn’t come up with any herself.

“Wipe this group out, to the last ship, and hope they don’t have effective FTL comms.”

“Aahh.”

That had been mentioned more or less, to be honest, but the idea that the enemy didn’t have FTL comms had been discarded as about as likely as them coming in peace for the betterment of all mankind.

Eric read her expression easily enough, “Like I said, Admiral, long shot.”

“If they have any sort of decent leadership, there will be an observer watching from far outside the system anyway.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Eric said. “We considered getting ahead of the
Weifang
and hitting her with pulse torpedoes, try to knock her out of FTL in the hopes of using the Chinese to lead them away, but it doesn’t seem viable. The
Weifang
is leading the merry chase at the moment, and while we can predict more or less where she’ll be, we can’t really be certain to get exactly where we need to be to get that shot. We blew that chance when they were on their last straight haul. Now that they’ve gone into terminal evasion, getting close enough would be a shot in the dark…and, honestly, they’re already too close to Sol as it is.”

“Agreed,” Gracen said. “At best it’d buy us a few days. Weeks maybe, but no more than that.”

“We could try and catch them, now that we’ve delivered the warning,” Eric offered.

“Too late, Captain. Long-range tachyon traps have recorded an inbound bowshock signal. The
Weifang
is coming home.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

P.L.A.S.F.
Weifang

OF ALL THE homecomings he’d expected, what Captain Sun Ang Wen got was about as far from what he’d imagined as was possible.

“Captain!” the panic in his officers’ voices and actions brought him back to the bridge, rocketing recklessly through the corridors like a guided missile.

“We are being targeted, Captain! Confederate AEGIS-X RADAR, LIDAR, and some things I don’t recognize!”

“Ship inbound from behind our position, Captain! Transponder identifies as the N.A.C.S.
Enterprise
!”

“Fighters all around us! Unknown configuration!”

Sun swore as he strapped into his command station. “Give me external comms.”

“Comms open, standard frequencies.”

“This is Captain Sun Ang Wen of the People’s Liberation Army Space Force,” Sun gritted out, eyes on the blips heading his direction. “Why are you targeting my ship?”

There was a long wait, seconds ticking by as Sun waited for the signal to reach the ship that was accelerating hard toward the
Weifang
from just over a light-minute away.

“Prime weapons. Something may have happened between our governments since we left Earth,” Sun ordered quietly after muting the open comm.

“Yes, Captain.”

Finally the comm crackled open in response.

“This is Captain Ethan Carrow of the N.A.C.S.
Enterprise
. Captain Sun, you were followed. Return to Earth for refit and orders from your government,” the voice said, sending a chill through his body and spine.

“Impossible,” Sun whispered to himself. “There were no ships behind us.”

It wasn’t, though, and he knew it. He’d taken every precaution he could, but if the enemy scanners were advanced enough to watch his ship from far enough away, then anything was possible. Sun slumped, thinking about it.

“What have I done?”

“Captain Sun, do you copy?” The voice of the Confederate captain spoke up again.

Sun shakily unmuted his comm, “Yes Captain Carrow, I copy and understand. Barring conflicting orders, the
Weifang
is returning to Earth.”

There was a long silence as the signal bounced between the two ships, then Carrow came back in a calmer voice.

“If it’s any consolation, Captain, this was always coming. You just sped the day a little.”

“It is very little consolation, Captain,” Sun replied. “Very little indeed.
Weifang
out.”

He slumped back in his station, eyes glazed as he considered what was about to happen. He only shook himself from his thoughts a few moments later when he felt an oppressive silence weighing down on him and looked to see all eyes on him.

“Make for Earth, best speed,” he ordered. “We need refit and resupply if we’re to help clean this mess up.”

“Yes, Captain!”

The P.L.A.S.F.
Weifang
began warping space-time to point-eight of light-speed, heading for Earth even as they continued to trail frozen gasses escaping from jury-rigged repairs.

Captain Carrow of the
Enterprise
watched the Chinese ship accelerate toward Earth, noting with just a little jealousy that the
Weifang
’s use of CM space warping gave her a significantly improved acceleration over the
Enterprise
in sub-light.

While the transition drive absolutely destroyed everything else anyone knew of strategically, he really wanted a tactical edge just now, and the Block’s space-warp drive was as close as any he’d seen. The fight that was coming was going to be purely tactical. He was going to be pinned against the gravity well of Sol because it was the one place from which he couldn’t retreat.

It’s the last damn place we want to engage any enemy, let alone a potentially superior force. Just a few more months and we could have dedicated a few ships to keep them well and truly distracted fighting in the Priminae star systems.

Well, that was a moot point now, he supposed.