Odyssey One 5: Warrior King (12 page)

“Stephan! They are attempting a lock!”

The shuttle bucked and twisted as Steph killed the throttle and hit a set of retros, jerking them hard in place as
Eagle One
decelerated rapidly. Then he slammed the throttle stick forward again as he skirted around the heaviest set of signals Milla was using to try to detect any attempts to quantum lock the shuttle. The two were thrown around in their restraints as Steph used every maneuvering system at his disposal to keep them flying.

“Missiles! Vectors, now!”

Milla glanced over, automatically reading out the numbers as they were updated on the screen.

“Seven o’clock, now five degrees negative to our plane. Impact in . . .” She swallowed. “Ten seconds.”

“Only need seven.”

Milla had a sinking sensation that she knew what Steph was attempting. “The missiles will not target the enemy frigate, not even by mistake!”

“Of course they won’t,” Steph said as he tripped the shuttle’s full countermeasure suite and set a program running on the cam-plate controls at the same moment. “Any second-rate IFF system would ensure that.”

“Then what are you—” Milla said, but was cut off as she was physically slammed back into the seat and the shuttle jerked as the entire universe descended into chaos around her.

►►►

► The angel silhouette of countermeasure flares exploded away from
Eagle One
as the vessel accelerated and then banked over, pulling hard along another path. Collision alarms exploded on both the Terran shuttle and the Imperial frigate as
Eagle One
skirted within mere meters of the parasite.

The pursuing missiles, in the process of calculating safe evasion courses to maintain pursuit of their target while not impacting their ally, were scrambled briefly by the blast of countermeasures released by the shuttle. They briefly lost the target, then just as they reacquired it through the confusion, the shuttle vanished entirely from their active scanners.

The lead missiles, the most affected, mistook the countermeasures and loss of positive acquisition for proximity and detonated. The explosion tore through the veil of countermeasures, intangible as they were, and gutted the ventral flank of the Imperial frigate even as the other missiles either evaded or harmlessly hit the frigate’s armor without detonating.

Parasite
Eight
began smoking in the high atmosphere and started losing altitude.

►►►

PC Parasite
Five

► Penae was stricken silent as he stared, unbelieving, at the data.

“That should
not
have worked.”

The silence, punctuated once, stretched on again for a time.

“Uh . . .” His second gulped. “Orders, Subaltern?”

Penae shook his head, trying desperately to clear it of the image of the
impossible
happening. “Status on
Eight
?”

“They can no longer maintain orbital velocities and are descending,” the scanner tech responded.

“Find the enemy craft,” Penae said. “Have
Three
quantum lock
Eight
and pull the parasite out to a stable orbit.”

“As you command, Subaltern. And us?”

“Track the enemy craft, pursuit course,” he growled. “We
will
bring them down.”

CHAPTER 11

AEV
Odysseus

► “Captain, we have light-speed data I think you should see.”

Eric turned from his station and walked over to the scanner displays. “Show me.”

“Aye sir.” Perez pointed to a display. “We’ve intercepted light that shows where the frigates came from.”

Eric watched the display, eyes widening as he saw the smaller pocket destroyers, or maybe frigates, break off from the main ship.

“Well,” he murmured, “they’re not Archangels, but that’s a twist I didn’t see coming.”

“There’s more, sir,” Perez stated, highlighting a point on the display. “This is Commander Michaels and the lieutenant.”

Eric glanced at the plot, but didn’t see anything. “How can you tell?”

“Reverse telemetry. They’re running black at this point, but the tachyon burst lit them up,” Perez told him. “That’s how the bogeys spotted them.”

“Damn.” Eric grimaced. “What happened?”

Perez advanced the plot, running the imagery at several times normal speed. “Three of the pocket destroyers broke off from the main group and pursued the shuttle. It appeared that
Eagle One
made for the planet, and we lost telemetry in the atmosphere. Two of the alien ships and the shuttle went in. So far, we don’t have any imagery of any of them coming out.”

“Lovely,” Eric muttered, worried about Steph and Milla but knowing that there really wasn’t a thing he could do about them just then. “Alright, good work. Keep scouring the incoming data. Let me know if you find anything.”

“Yes sir.”

He walked back to the command station, calling up the imagery of the ships they were currently on course to intercept. Originally, the main ship had largely appeared to be similar to Priminae design, but that was before it launched the pocket destroyers, or whatever they wanted to call those smaller craft.

There was actually a reference in the Priminae database dealing with vessels of this sort. He’d done a search, obviously. Parasite ships. Unfortunately, there were no technical specifications available—not that they’d be up to date at this point.

The distance between the
Odysseus
and the contact was now only a few light-minutes and dropping
fast
. Soon they’d be able to speak without FTL relays.

This assumed that the contact used compatible frequencies, but Eric suspected strongly that wouldn’t be a problem. Whoever these people were, they were clearly linked to the Priminae somehow. And since the
Odysseus
was mostly based on Priminae construction and systems, he expected that they’d all be able to talk—assuming the contact wanted to talk, of course.

Eric watched the numbers fall until they were within two light-minutes and closing. He decided that was enough.

“Give me an open comm,” he ordered. “All Priminae frequencies.”

“Aye Captain. Comm open.”

Eric took a brief moment to still himself before speaking.

“This is Captain Eric Stanton Weston of the AEV
Odysseus
. You have sent vessels to pursue one of my shuttles. Recall your vessels. You are in Priminae Colonial Space without clearance from Ranquil Central Command. Identify yourself. Weston out.”

He chopped his hand across his chest and the signal was cut, leaving them all waiting.

“Helm, give me a one-kilometer slip to starboard,” Eric said as he settled back in his seat. “Adjust forward armor for best deflection against Priminae frequencies . . . the old ones, please, not the ones we gave them.”

“Aye Captain,” Lieutenants Kinder and Sams responded as one.

The
Odysseus
smoothly slid to starboard as the gleaming armor shifted slightly, becoming faintly iridescent in the slight illumination of the distant star.

Eric didn’t expect anyone to actually open fire at that range. Targeting was too finicky to be trustworthy over such distances without a real-time lock, but he figured it wouldn’t hurt to take a few precautions.

I wish I had a couple squadrons of Double As to launch too. Those parasite pocket destroyers are going to be a problem if this turns ugly.

Eric’s eyes floated to where Lieutenant Kinder was sitting in the helm’s wraparound station, waiting for him to order the ship to tactical state. The young woman was one of the few people on the ship who was qualified to use NICS. The neurological link between person and machine allowed people to run aspects of the ship almost like an extension of their own bodies.

The system had originally been incorporated into his own squadron, the Double A team known on Earth as the Archangels. There had never been enough people qualified to use the system, even before they started slipping NICS into personal mechanized combat units and onto his bridge. Now, with the increased demand—and the lean toward larger capital ships—the days of the Archangels were done.

That gutted him, honestly.

Eric had spent a good many years dedicated to the Double A program, enough that it had become his life; the people in it, his family. He’d never expected the Archangels to be considered obsolete in his own lifetime, not while he was still personally in the prime of his career—or, well, close enough at least.

Fighters were force-projection tools, however, and there was nothing in the universe that projected force quite like a Heroic Class starship.

Times changed, much as he hated it, and the universe didn’t stop its motions because one man was growing old and angry at the kids on his lawn.

►►►

IBC
Piar Cohn

► “Captain, signal recording on Oather frequencies.”

Aymes nodded, unsurprised. They were close enough now to make communications reasonable, given the lack of tachyon retransmission emitters in the system.

“Put it on.”

“As you say, Captain.”

The voice and image that appeared on the displays were largely unsurprising. A human male sitting at the center of a rather bright command deck delivering a short and to-the-point message. Aymes mildly approved, actually. No wasted time, no real slips to give away any information.

There was something odd, however. The voice seemed off somehow.

“Analyze the signal,” he ordered. “Something seems odd about the audio.”

“A moment, Captain.”

It took less than that, actually, as his signals officer made a sound of uncertainty.

“Well?” Aymes asked.

“You’re right, Captain. The words don’t match the subject’s jaw or lip motions,” the signals officer offered after a moment. “The voice is artificial. The speaker isn’t communicating in Imperial standard.”

Aymes frowned. “That makes no sense. That ship is an Oather design, using Oather frequencies. Why would they not speak Imperial standard?”

Of course, no one answered, which was just as well because Aymes knew damn well that if he didn’t know, none of his crew did, and he wasn’t in any mood to put up with anyone wasting his time just then.

“Captain?”

“What?” yelled Aymes, looking sharply over at the signals tech, who flinched in return.

“Do we respond?”

Aymes scoffed. “Of course not. Weapons, lock in the target.”

“As you say, Captain.”

“Await my orders to fire.”

“Captain, the target has shifted course slightly.”

Aymes scowled. “New vector?”

“Same, just a very slight shift on gravity scanners.”

Aymes shook his head, wondering what the point of that was. “Recalculate target solutions; be ready to fire.”

“As you say, Captain.”

►►►

AEV
Odysseus

► The numbers slowly fell until the time had passed for a signal to reach the alien ship and return to the
Odysseus
, ratcheting up the tension as those on the bridge waited for
something
to happen.

Eric checked the clock constantly, glancing down every few seconds as he counted down just how long it would take for the target to get the signal, listen to his message, and come to a decision.

Finally, he came to a decision of his own.

“Helm, shift course, one kilometer positive to the elliptic.”

“Aye Captain, shifting course . . . one kilo positive.”

Eric settled back and continued waiting.

Miram leaned in a little closer from where she was stationed. “You expect them to fire?”

“If they’re the ones who leashed, and unleashed, the Drasin . . . then I expect them to be nasty sorts by definition. Nasty sorts like to fire without warning.”

The commander nodded, leaning back. Considering his reasoning, there was little she could argue with.

Another minute passed. Nothing happened. Eric again leaned forward.

“Helm, shift course. Two kilometers negative to the elliptic.”

“Aye, two klicks negative.”

As he again settled back, Eric noticed the curiosity in Miram’s eyes.

“The
Odysseus
isn’t the
Odyssey
,” he said, “and that ship isn’t the Drasin. They seem to have Priminae technology, and that means that they have scanners that are at least our equal. They’ll know we’re changing course, so we need to be sure that we change course
after
they’ve fired.”

“Ah,” Miram said, understanding.
Of course.

►►►

IBC
Piar Cohn

► “Target has shifted course again!”

Aymes was growing tired of the games his opposition was playing. Clearly, his opposite number was looking to drag this conflict down to blade range, and that concerned him greatly. The Oathers were not so bloodthirsty as that. If they had been, they likely wouldn’t have fled the Empire in the first place.

So what was he looking at across the void if not Oathers?

Another species that had captured their technology, or perhaps an offshoot of the Oathers who had a tad more spine?

He supposed it didn’t matter either way, of course. They were in Oather space, in an Oather ship, and they’d seen the
Piar Cohn
. They would have to go.

“Recalculate solutions,” Aymes ordered, checking the range to target.

They were now close enough, he decided.

“Calculations complete.”

“Fire.”

►►►

AEV
Odysseus

► The alarms screamed to life just as Eric was about to order the fifth course change, startling him slightly but only for a split second. Even as others were calling out reports, Eric was rising to his feet.

“Evasive action!” he cried. “Tactical, what happened?”

“Laser strike, forward armor, Captain. Armor deflected eighty percent clear, but the rest burned through three ablative layers and royally screwed our adaptive armor at that point.”

“Did we get a frequency?” Eric asked.

“Aye Captain.”

“Adjust for full deflection,” he said, “but keep an eye on those pocket destroyers. I’d wager that they’re running different frequencies on their laser gear.”

Or they are if they’re smart.

“Aye Captain, armor adapted,” Ensign Sams answered. “Damage-control teams are responding. They’re bringing ablative foam to the damage location.”

Eric glanced over, concerned. “Did they get through the hull?”

“No sir. The crews can inject the foam through the hull in an emergency.”

Eric filed that away, kicking himself for not being fully familiar with the capabilities of the Heroic Class ships. Unfortunately, while most of the Heroic captains had been reading tech manuals, he had been leading the counterstrike against Drasin forces on Earth during the invasion.

He supposed that was a valid reason, but it was certainly no excuse.

“Weapons free,” he ordered, almost snarling. “All safeties are to be considered
off
. Redesignate Bogey One to Bandit One.”

What the hell is it with these people and first strikes? Not that I expect a nice formal declaration of war, but it would be nice if they’d say hi before trying to kill us for once.

“Aye Captain,” Sams responded. “Weapons free. Target Bandit One redesignation completed.”