Odyssey One 5: Warrior King (18 page)

“One moment.”

The screen flickered again, this time going black for almost a minute. When it came back, the admiral was glaring at him.

“What did you
do
?” growled Admiral Gracen. “That ship is one of the most powerful engines of destruction in the known
universe
, and it’s in for repairs? You’ve been in command less than two weeks!”

Eric winced. “In my defense, it’s not a safe galaxy out here, Admiral.”

“If it were a safe galaxy, losing a Heroic wouldn’t be such a big deal.”

“Losing? Now hold on, the
Odysseus
was nowhere
near
lost. Hull damage, minor penetration to the outer sectors of the ship. All sealed up, no loss of life. We could have handled most of it under way, but repair at the Forge is quicker.”

“What happened?”

Eric frowned pensively. “We may have found the trigger men.”

Gracen leaned back, settling into her seat as she steepled her hands and fell silent for a long moment. “You have my attention, Captain.”

“We encountered what appears to be the same group the
Odyssey
scanned at the Drasin hyperconstruct,” he said. “Very similar design to older Priminae ships, different materials science. They seem to be markedly better in weapons technology and drive capability as well.”

“That is not comforting,” Gracen said. “Did you manage to talk to them, either before or after your incurred damage?”

“Not with the command structure, Admiral,” Eric said. “They refused to respond to communication attempts.”

“And other than the command structure?” she asked, reading between the lines.

“We’ve captured fourteen ground troops, no rank, no intelligence as best we can tell,” he said. “However, what little we did get out of them was interesting. Secure report will follow.”

“Understood,” Gracen said. “I’ll run it up the chain. Expect contact within a few days. We have news on our side too.”

“Oh?”

“
Autolycus
hit pay dirt,” Gracen said. “I advise you to redirect to their location to receive details, because they pulsed the code for major event. Maybe Drasin, but they’re not calling for an all-hands strike, so I doubt it.”

“Do we have time for repairs?”

Gracen seemed to consider the question, glancing off screen for a moment before turning back. “Yes. I’m sending a fast courier your way,” she told him. “Maybe more. Wait for them to arrive. The
Auto
can hold on a little longer.”

“Understood. Thank you, ma’am.”

“Don’t thank me yet, Captain,” she told him with half a smirk. “There are plenty here who think you’re turning into a real bad-luck charm.”

“They’re not alone,” Eric said. “Some days, even I wonder.”

The admiral laughed. “Get your ship in order.”

“Aye ma’am.”

“Gracen out.”

Eric exhaled and leaned back in the surprisingly comfortable seat he was occupying.

“Good news?” Admiral Tanner asked, approaching now that he could see Eric was done.

Eric figured that the Priminae had recorded everything anyway—the Confederation certainly would have—but the illusion of privacy was still welcome.

“Not sure,” he said. “News. Let’s leave it at that for the moment.”

Tanner nodded, accepting that. “As you say . . . classified?”

“No, not really,” Eric lied. “Just not clear. Admiral Gracen is sending a fast courier. Hopefully that will clear things up.”

“A courier? Curious. The relays are secure,” Tanner said.

“Just SOP, Admiral,” Eric assured him, “and it’s not like we don’t have time.”

“This is true,” Tanner conceded.

Even with the priority repairs being arranged, the
Odysseus
would have several days—either Terran or Priminae—before she was fully repaired and completely ready for deployment.

►►►

AEV
Odysseus

► The
Odysseus
hurtled through space, warping hard on an interception course with the bandit, lasers slashing out from the emitters even as beams crossed back and raked the flank of the speeding starship.

“Pause playback.”

The imagery stopped, and Steph leaned in to carefully observe the damage as it occurred in the
Odysseus
’ records.

“Frame by frame,” he ordered.

“What frame rate?” the computer inquired blandly.

Steph sighed, tilting his head to the left, and considered his response. “Make it two hundred frames per second.”

The image started forward again. The computer-enhanced imagery of beams lancing in from the black of space and burning into the hull of the
Odysseus
was a little cheesy as special effects went, but it still did the job he needed.

Steph made some other adjustments to the playback and set the computer working on pattern analysis. He was working on new attack programs as well as basic evasion and countermeasures for future encounters. The
Odysseus
wasn’t a fly-by-wire system, not even with NICS allowing him unparalleled access to the ship’s control systems. At the speeds the ship’s systems would be engaging potential targets, no human could possibly keep up, not even interfaced into the computers perfectly—and NICS was far from perfect.

So Steph was coding maneuvering programs with some basic variables he could punch in on the fly, giving him the best possible mix of human intuition and computer precision. A single pass, however, wasn’t a lot of data for him to extrapolate responses from.

He pushed back from the computer and glanced over to where he suspected Milla was doing much the same at the tactical stations.

“Lieutenant Chans,” he called softly.

She turned and looked over. “Yes Commander?”

“These . . . Imperials, they appear to be using systems based on older Priminae designs, correct?” he asked, though he could have simply made the statement. Such an idea was patently obvious, but no one wanted to be too confrontational with the Priminae serving on the
Odysseus
. Those who knew about the encounter with the Imperials were taking it pretty personally, Milla perhaps more than the rest.

“Yes,” she almost hissed out, her lips twisting slightly.

“Do your database files have tactical maneuvers and the like as well?” he asked hopefully.

Milla blinked. “Well of course, but . . .”

She fell silent for a moment, then turned and accessed the Priminae database. “One moment, Commander. I will locate the war files from the historical database. I believe I see what you hope to learn from those. You may be wrong, however . . .”

“It’s more than we have to go on right now,” Steph said lightly, aware that several eyes on the bridge were now focused on him and Milla.

“Very much so,” Milla mumbled. “I’ve found the files. There is . . . less than I would have expected. Tagging them for you. I’ll see if I can locate more.”

Steph turned to his own screen, noting the new files showing up in his priority queue.

“These should do for the moment, Lieutenant,” he said, getting to work. “Thank you.”

Milla was too deep in her own work to bother replying.

►►►

► Commander Heath listened to the conversation between her two subordinates as she worked on her own analysis of the encounter. The direction the two were taking was interesting but a little outside her specialty. She was trying to extrapolate where the Imperial ship had fled to when it left the system.

She didn’t know whether the ship had attempted countermeasures, but had to assume that they had. Still, even the general direction the ship had vanished in might be a lead she could work with.

Since the invasion, the James Webb telescope had been retired in favor of new systems: the Tyson series. The network wasn’t complete yet, but the stellar cartography database was already being filled with more data than Earth had ever recorded.

Along the vectors she was examining there were multiple stars with a reasonable to high probability of inhabitable planets. The problem was that most of the data they had were based off very early observations made from terrestrial observatories. The Tyson series of space-warping observations platforms were barely six months old, and while they provided nearly infinitely more data, there was one massively sized sky to explore. The vector the Imperials had departed on wasn’t one of the early priorities for deep and intensive scanning.

Still, there are several interesting systems in that general direction,
she noted. The Imperial ship had departed the Orion arm and headed deeper into the galaxy toward a quite crowded section along the inner galactic hub.
No radio signals or the like, and no sign of any mega- or hyperconstructs. However, it does appear to be a reasonably rich neighborhood . . . speaking in stellar terms, of course.

Unfortunately, she didn’t know what that meant as far as alien cultural interest went. There just wasn’t enough historical data to draw conclusions. What Earth culture considered rich could have no particular value to another society. Hell, there weren’t
any
historical data on which she could draw, and that meant she was flying blind.

Miram Heath stretched slightly and glanced at the schedule. They’d shortly be breaking orbit and heading to the Forge for repairs.

That would leave them with the better part of a week for everyone to get their pet projects whipped into a shape that might have some value in the very likely event of a rematch with the Imperials.

CHAPTER 17

IBC
Piar Cohn

► The
Piar Cohn
drifted in interstellar space, not even the distant light of the galactic core giving much illumination to its hull as repairs were conducted. On board, Captain Aymes sat at his station, glowering at the black displays that were shut down while extensive sections of power relay were replaced due to combat damage.

In his mind, he was doing what he had been doing on the computers until they were shut down. He was replaying the passing engagement over and over again.

Tactically there was nothing special about their brief encounter. The enemy actions had been competent, but not spectacular or brilliant. Of course, there were limits on how brilliant you could be in open space. The enemy ship used the light-speed limit effectively, maneuvering enough to make effective targeting basically impossible but remaining on the interception course and keeping their own line of light clear.

They waited to open fire until evasion was effectively pointless, which indicated a high level of confidence in both their defenses
and
their weapons.

Confidence that Aymes had to admit appeared well placed.

The lights coming back, along with the displays, brought him from the depths of his thoughts and back to the present.

“Finally,” he yelled. “Do we have access to the Imperial relay network?”

“No Captain. Signal quality is below minimum threshold for contact,” his altern said.

Aymes sighed but nodded as he looked to the navigation displays. “Very well. Make for Maxim Twelve, all available power.”

“As you command, Captain.”

The hum of the
Piar Cohn
’s systems felt comforting to Aymes as the ship was under power once more. Imperial cruisers were equipped with point singularity reactors. When power was off-line, so were the control systems that kept those systems stable. If they tipped too far one way, the singularities would swallow the
Cohn
in a single gulp; too far the other way and he and his crew would quickly freeze to death in the interstellar void. Now that they were under way, they’d be in Imperial space in a few hours.

The Empire claimed all space enclosed within the relay network. If it existed in reach of the Imperial Information Network, it belonged to the Empire.

“Alert me when we have relay access.”

►►►

► The
Cohn
crossed into Imperial space just over three hours later, and the relay system linked up.

“Captain Aymes . . .” Supreme Fleet Lord Kaliba glared down at him from the large display. “You were sent out to locate and secure the remaining drone assets. Please tell me why you’re limping your vessel back into Imperial space in defeat without having even
seen
one of your targets?”

Aymes just managed to keep from wincing at the fleet lord’s tone.

“We encountered an unknown,” he said by way of explanation.

Kaliba made a dismissive grunt. “I’ve seen the recordings from the
Cohn
’s systems, Aymes. You encountered an Oather ship . . . and
lost
. Pathetic.”

Aymes stiffened. “That . . . whatever that was, it was
not
an Oather vessel.”

The fleet lord scoffed. “Tell that to someone who hasn’t seen the records.”

“Then look
again
, My Lord,” Aymes insisted. “We did not launch our assault on the Oather systems without due examination. Compare hull scans, armor, laser efficiency . . . My Lord,
none
of it matches known Oather designs. The only thing that comes close is basic hull geometry, and even that has been altered significantly, My Lord. I am telling you—”

“You are telling
me
?” Kaliba cut in coldly.

Aymes steeled himself, not flinching away. “Yes . . . My Lord. I am. We have new a player.”

Kaliba was silent for a long moment. “Imperial analysts believe that the differences are merely an example of Oather technical innovation. The Drasin shook them up, Captain. Some of them are of better stock than the Oather average. My analysts indicate that the Drasin assault has simply put some of the better stock in charge.”

“With all respect, My Lord, the analysts are
wrong
,” Aymes asserted. “I’ve reviewed all the data many times over, including the scans from my parasites . . .”

“The ones you
lost
?”

“Yes, those.” Aymes just kept himself from snapping at the lord. He was all too aware that he was pushing his luck with the fleet lord, but Imperial politics were a game every line officer knew how to play. He was in too much trouble for respect to dig him out, so if defensive action wouldn’t save him, Aymes would go down fighting.

“Nothing in the response matched Oather profiles. They didn’t even
speak
Imperial standard, My Lord. They used translation systems.”

Kaliba’s expression was serious. “I had noted that. Analysts have no consensus on what that means.”

“It means they have contact with the Oathers, but they are
not
Oathers, my Lord.”

The fleet lord eyed him through the display. “The anomaly.”

“Precisely, My Lord.”

“The consensus of the senate does not match your opinion, Aymes.”

Aymes took a deep breath. “The members are wrong.”

Fleet Lord Kaliba smiled thinly. “Redirect orders. Put your vessel into Kraike. Await orders.”

“Understood.”

The display went dark, leaving Aymes to wonder if he’d won his little gambit or if there would be an inquisitor squad waiting for him and his crew when they arrived.

Ah, well, if my day is come, then so be it.

“Make our course for World Kraike,” he ordered. “All available power to drives.”

“As you command, Captain.”

►►►

AEV
Odysseus
, Forge Slip Nineteen

► “Signal from the Forge systems command, Captain.”

Eric walked across the bridge to the communications station. “Highlights?”

“Fast courier from Earth arrived in system,” the duty officer responded.

Eric nodded. “We were expecting that.”

“Along with three more Heroics and an even half-dozen Rogues.”

Eric froze. “What?”

The young ensign shrugged helplessly. “Those are the numbers, Captain. We’ve not received any updates from Command.”

“This should be interesting,” Eric said. “Inform me when the courier wants to deliver their message.”

“Aye sir.”

►►►

► The Forge was one of the best-defended and, until very recently, most-secret facilities in the Priminae colonies. Few ships, few threats of any kind, could penetrate the corona of a star, and almost no one would think to look for a
planet
deep inside the stellar mass. Even the Priminae hadn’t intended to build any such facility. The Forge’s construction was a happy accident of sorts.

Only less than happy.

Just a few centuries after the Priminae arrived and settled in the Ranquil system, the local star began showing signs of instability. Such signs are easy to dismiss, however, and in the interests of complacency, the council of that era discounted them entirely.

By the time council members admitted that there was indeed a threat, the Colony Prime of Ranquil was doomed.

Or it would have been. Should have been, even.

As the star began to increase in size, its corona steadily closing on the colony world, engineers stepped in where politicians and frightened, complacent fools had failed. The energy screen hadn’t begun as anything special, just a method to reflect heat away from a warming world. But as the heat intensity increased, so did the power of the screen. When the corona of the star crossed the orbit of the colony, almost three millennia later, the screen was a masterpiece of technical innovation. Necessity breeds invention.

The Forge was born in the fires of a star and would live there until the end of its time.

For those who lived in the Forge, fire was life—and death.

For those who were not born in fire, the Forge was amazing, terrifying, impossible.

►►►

Forge Facility Approach, Ranquil System

► “I’ve never seen anything like this, Admiral.”

“I know,” Gracen said, smiling very slightly at the wonder in her companion’s tone. “I remember the feeling.”

They were passing through the corona of the Ranquil star and about to tunnel through the stellar mass. The view was, as one might expect, spectacular.

The captain of the fast courier was staring out at the roiling mass of flame and plasma just meters beyond his ship, both awed and terrified.

“How long will passage take?” he asked nervously.

“A few more minutes,” Gracen responded. “If you think this is something, just wait . . .”

He glanced at her, confused. “More impressive than . . .”

He was cut off, his voice dying in his throat as they suddenly broke through the plasma field and into open space. Ahead of them, there was a blue-green world floating in the midst of hell itself.

“Oh my lord.”

“Make for slip nineteen,” she pointed. “I see my ship, and I want a word with her captain about how he’s treating her.”

“Aye ma’am.”

►►►

AEV
Odysseus
, Forge Slip Nineteen

► “Admiral on deck!”

Marines came to attention as the shuttle settled down on its gear, the loading ramp hitting the floor with a clang that echoed across the deck.

Admiral Gracen stepped off first, eyes sweeping the flight deck briefly before alighting on Captain Weston, who was waiting for her.

“Captain,” she said, coming to a stop in front of him. “As you were.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Eric said, glancing at the small courier ship and then back at her. “That couldn’t have been a comfortable trip.”

“It wasn’t,” she said simply, handing him a secure data chip. “Congratulations.”

“Ma’am?” Eric blinked. “I’m not sure I follow.”

“On your promotion, Commodore,” she said simply.

“I . . . what?”

“Captains do not command squadrons, Commodore,” Gracen told him. “And the situation is getting much more complicated out here. How long until repairs are complete?”

“Another day, ma’am.”

“Good. Your new orders are your old orders,” she said. “Get to Passer and the
Auto
and find out what the hell he’s stumbled into. When you’re done there, go get me more intelligence on this . . . Empire of yours.”

Eric nodded hesitantly, his head still a couple lines back in the conversation.

“Walk with me, Commodore,” she said, acknowledging the Marines as they passed.

“Yes ma’am,” Eric said, subtly signaling to the Marine sergeant major that he could dismiss the honor guard.

“If those are the people who sent the Drasin our way . . . Well, we’ll blow that bridge when we get to it,” she said. “But it’s a safe bet that the Alliance will want to express their . . . displeasure.”

“I’m certain they will, ma’am,” Eric said automatically.

“People want revenge,” she said, “and the politicians want to give it to them. Normally the way this goes is they’ll look around for the closest target they can serve up with minimal fuss, regardless of whether the accused actually had anything to do with the attack or not. I would prefer not to spend the next few decades fighting a war against the wrong people, whether they’re bad guys or not.”

“Been there, ma’am.”

“I know you have,” she said, “which is why I want you to be
sure
this Empire is the right group and, more than that, find out if we have a chance. Revenge will not keep the people we serve alive if we pick a fight with someone willing, eager, and most of all . . . capable of
stepping
on us.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“So recon this situation, Marine,” she ordered.

“Aye ma’am.”

“Listen to me, Commodore.” She stopped, turning to face him. “Don’t get us into a war unless it’s the war we’re
looking
for.”