Odyssey One 5: Warrior King (23 page)

“Hang on,” Samuels interjected. “I thought the systems were designed to keep the singularities ahead of the ship?”

“They are. However, if a singularity becomes too large, then the prow of the vessel might cross the event horizon anyway.”

“I’m assuming that would be as bad as it sounds,” Steph said. “Alright. If we want to get close, what sort of numbers are we talking?”

“That would depend on whether you wanted to avoid a mandatory refit after the maneuver,” Siing said. “Even if we managed to maintain drive stability, at that proximity, the stresses on the hulls will be significant.”

“Okay, so I need numbers from you for maximum ‘safe’ distance,” Steph said, “and numbers for military maneuvering.”

Siing paused for a moment. “I will have those compiled as quickly as possible and sent to your station. Please, Commander, do not try these sorts of maneuvers without close communication with engineering. We will have to compensate
very
quickly for any fluctuations.”

“Wilco, Chief,” Steph said as the other two pilots nodded in agreement.

They were pilots. Crazy was part and parcel of their résumé; stupid wasn’t.

►►►

► “The way I read the situation, Commodore,” Captain Roberts, commanding the
Bellerophon
, said in his wooden way, “is that time is against us, no matter how you slice this. Unless the distress calls are after an accident, we’re going to be riding in late.”

“Agreed,” Eric said. “I’m hoping that we’ll at least be able to track any ships leaving the system if we’re that late, but we might get lucky too.”

Roberts didn’t look happy about that last bit. Luck wasn’t something he wanted to be counting on, but he’d been in the service long enough to know that sometimes that was precisely what things came down to.

Fortune favors the bold.

Not his personal motto, but it did have some merit. You couldn’t get lucky if you didn’t take any chances.

Of course, the reverse is also true. Nothing wards off bad luck like good, solid preparation.
This thought was far closer to Roberts’ personal beliefs.

Unfortunately, he knew his former captain well enough to know that given the option, he was going to take the long shot and do his utmost to make it pay off. For whatever problems Roberts had with Weston, he did respect that in the man. He may be willing to take a chance, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t do everything possible to hedge his bet at the same time.

“Understood, sir,” Roberts said. “The
Bellerophon
stands ready.”

“As does the
Boudicca
, Commodore,” Captain Alexander Dogavich said firmly. “I am concerned about this deep transition you have planned, however.”

“The Por-Que system is relatively barren: few planets, only a single gas giant, and it’s been heavily mined for quite some time,” Eric said. “That’s going to reduce the gravitational variables we have to calculate. We can do this, captains.”

“It is not a question of whether we can, Commodore,” Dogavich replied. “It is a question of whether we
should
. However, that is your call. After this mission, all three of our ships and the Rogues will require fairly extensive refits, you are aware?”

“I am.”

“Very well. Then I have no objections. We do our duty.”

►►►

► Though the crews on every ship in the task force worked feverishly, immersing themselves in tech and crunching numbers as quickly as possible, the small group still took considerable time before they were ready to move. Thankfully, the squadron wouldn’t have to waste any of that time escaping the well of a solar system, though they had taken the opportunity to put significant distance between themselves and the ancient megastructure.

Even given its massive size, the structure didn’t produce anything close to the gravitational field of a star, something future researchers would spend much time on, Eric had little doubt.

Within the hour, however, they were in formation and preparing for transition out of the deep black and back to Priminae space.

“All ships report ready, Captain,” Sams said from his station.

“Very well. Signal transition alert,” Eric said as he tried to settle his stomach.

He honestly wasn’t sure if it was the upcoming transition that was causing his gut to roil violently like a ship at sea or if it was the fear of what they would find on the other side of the jump. He didn’t think they were going to encounter the Drasin again, but even the barest possibility of finding another destroyed world . . .

There were limits to what any man could take, and Eric had no desire to find his. How many times could one look into the face of genocide and walk away with sanity and morality intact? He’d had to physically hold himself while looking at the main Imperial vessel, doing anything he could to keep from calling no quarter and burning the ship down to the quantum level—and he’d only
suspected
what the so-called Empire had done.

He was a Marine, a warrior, and a citizen of a civil nation, and he would
not
fall to their level of depravity.

I will find you,
he thought grimly.
I will prove what you’ve done, and I will see you shot by the numbers . . . but I will not become you.

“All systems stand ready to transition,” Miram announced from her station.

Eric nodded sharply. “Initiate transition on my mark . . .”

He waited a heartbeat, taking a deep breath to settle his stomach. “Mark.”

The
Odysseus
Task Force vanished in a whirling, roiling mass of subatomic particles that leapt across the black in a single instant of chaotic motion.

CHAPTER 22

AEV
Odysseus

►
Don’t throw up. Don’t throw up.

Eric
despised
transition. For all that it was the fastest and most efficient method of FTL travel he knew of, it—for lack of a better word—
sucked
. Pushing his stomach back down where it belonged through force of will and little else, he kept his eyes open and on the telltale displays lighting up around him.

“Space-warp drive coming online—”

“—watch out for the
Boudicca
, she’s drifting our way.”

“—comm center is swamped with distress calls! We’ve got them on every Priminae frequency!”

Eric shook his head clear, focusing on the reports flying around the bridge as many of the people receiving and dispatching said reports were doing the same.

The lifeboat locations were on the screens, a trail strewn across almost a full light-minute of space but slowly drifting together under their own power. The planet beyond still seemed to be intact, which was a good sign even if the light-speed delay meant that the signal was well over an hour old.

Most interesting was the group of gravity signals that matched the Imperial drive specifications they had on file. The cluster of signals was at rest near the red-lit icon of the Priminae cruiser
Heral’c
.

“Fifteen of them,” Eric whispered as he finished the count. “Well, this might just be interesting after all.”

“Rogues transitioning in!”

He glanced at the display that showed the four Rogue Class destroyers appearing behind the screening wall of the three larger Heroic Class cruisers. The smaller ships immediately went dark as their armor shifted to black hole settings, with only their encrypted transponders indicating their locations.

Those quickly blinked out as well, much to Eric’s satisfaction, leaving the Heroics alone in their charge downwell.

“Capitaine, should I establish a real-time lock?” Milla asked from her weapons and tactical station.

“Not yet, Lieutenant,” Eric said. “They’ll know something just happened out here, but it’ll be over an hour before they get imagery to confirm, and I’d rather they were kept guessing just a little longer.”

“Aye Capitaine.”

He noted that the
Odysseus
was being flanked rather closely by the
Boudicca
and the
Bellerophon
, close enough to make him just a little nervous.

“Steph?” he spoke up softly.

“Aye Skipper?” Steph didn’t turn around, as he was already plugged into the NICS controls.

“Are we good at this range to the others?”

“No worries, Skipper. I’ve got this.”

Eric nodded, though his friend couldn’t see it. “Very well, carry on.”

He shot a glance at Miram, who leaned over in his direction.

“We’re going to appear as a single contact at this range, flying this tight,” she said. “Not sure if that’s what you want, sir.”

“I’ll take it.” Eric grinned wryly. “It’s not a huge advantage, but I’m not giving anything up if I can help it.

“Why aren’t we locking them in with the t-cannons, sir? They’ve clearly fired on an ally . . .”

“I know, but I want the Rogues to have time to flank them before we light them up.”

“Ah, understood, sir.”

►►►

IBC
Shion Thon
, Flagship, Third Reconnaissance Squadron

► “Navarch, we have a contact in the outer system. Powerful gravity source.”

Misrem half turned, looking over at her scanner tech with undisguised curiosity. “Where in the outer system?”

“On display, My Lady.”

She examined the screen, her eyes widening as she saw the intensity and location of the contact.

“Abyssal twilight,” she swore. “Why didn’t the scanners pick that up earlier?”

“Unknown.” The tech cringed, not that she blamed him.

Misrem would have the records scoured once they returned to Imperial space, and if the oversight was a failure on the part of the tech, he would be lucky to escape with merely the destruction of his career. For now, however, she didn’t have time for such scrutiny. The game was about to begin anew.

“No scout reported Oather vessels within days of here, so who is this?” She had a sudden suspicion and flipped open the squadron comm, linking to the
Piar Cohn
. “Captain Aymes, is this new contact your anomaly?”

“It does not appear to be, based on gravity analysis, Navarch,” he confessed, seemingly displeased. Again, she didn’t blame him either. If it was not his anomaly, then it was a new one. “Far more powerful gravity field than we detected before . . . impossible to be certain until we get light-speed imagery, of course.”

“Of course,” she whispered, mostly to herself as she cut the link.

“Reorient the squadron,” Misrem ordered. “Stand by for maneuvering orders. It seems we have a new target.”

“As you command, Navarch.”

►►►

► The ships of Third Recon abandoned their waning interest in the stricken and slowly dying Priminae cruiser, pausing only to cut its weapons ports out with carefully placed shots to prevent any last-moment miracle strikes at their back. They left the hull largely intact, however, since their mission
was
to identify and secure any technical advantages the anomaly ship might have had, and the vessel’s armor was interesting.

That would wait for later, however, as they brought their space-warp drives to full power, orienting themselves around the newly arrived contact that shone in the distance like a miniature star to their gravity scanners.

Within moments, Third Recon vessels were accelerating hard and away from the destroyed ship and its helpless crew, warping space and climbing fast out of the stellar gravity well.

►►►

AEV
Odysseus

► “Targets have lit off their drives,” Sams announced, his voice not quite cracking from nerves.

“Thank you, Ensign,” Eric responded. “We’ll give the Rogues another half hour to get into position before we kick off this little party. In the meantime, primary crew . . . stand down, get a cup, grab a bite. We’re going to be at this for a while, and I want you all fresh.”

The replacement shift started taking positions, but Steph waved his alternate off. “I’m good here. Just bring me a cup, will you? Black.”

Eric sighed, walking over. “Are you sure, Steph? It’s going to be a while.”

“Coordinating with engineering and the other ships is tricky. If you want to spell us out, we’ll have to break formation,” Steph said. “We have this, sir.”

“Alright,” Eric said, nodding to the replacement pilot. “Get him the cup, okay?”

“Yes sir.”

He glanced at the plot. The contact time was still about an hour away. First reasonable time for conventional engagement was almost that long away as well, but he had a surprise for the targets that would hopefully set them back on their heels.

Taking his own advice, Eric went down a couple decks and got himself a cup of coffee and a light meal. He’d initiated this personal habit quite some time before, showing himself to his crew when they knew there was a fight brewing. The captain calmly munching on a snack in the cafeteria went a long way to establishing the mood for everyone else.

In his thoughts, though, he was far from calm.

Oh, Eric certainly wasn’t panicking or anything of the sort, but there were issues to consider. The situation they were dealing with was becoming clearer, to be sure, but so much information was still murky as hell.

They now had enough intel to link these Imperial types to the Drasin. Between the scans from the Drasin megastructure and the swarm from Earth’s last encounter, he was pretty sure he could sell that idea to an international court. Now that the Empire had fired first on the
Odysseus
and on the Priminae, who were allies, it didn’t even matter if they had anything to do with the Drasin.

They’d fired the first shots of a war in which he intended to fire the
last
shots.

What was making this complicated was the fact that Eric knew Earth wasn’t ready for a prolonged fight. He’d rather have played shadow games a bit longer while more Heroics and Rogues were put into space and their crews brought up to spec.

Ask me for anything but time,
he mused as he considered the problem.

His personal computer beeped, reminding him of the hour and pulling Eric from his reverie. He finished the last few bites of his snack, drained the coffee down to the grounds, then got to his feet and headed for a refill.

Either way, he had a bad feeling about what he was going to do.

It just wasn’t going to stop him from doing it.

►►►

► Steph couldn’t help but think of himself in terms of his call sign when flying. He felt an itch somewhere along the back of his neck, as though someone were watching him, while he made a minute course adjustment and did his periodic checks. He resisted the urge to look over his shoulder, knowing that while there were people behind him, any such motion would be pointless. He’d already checked several times, and no one was staring at him.

He was almost beginning to feel downright paranoid about the sensation by this point, however, and it was starting to show in his flying. Steph purposely took a few deep breaths, pushing the paranoia away, and saw the rough edges fade from the
Odysseus
’ flight profile.

There was no excuse for unprofessional flying.

He put the feeling down to precombat jitters, though that was a problem he’d not really had in a long time.

Guess I’m still a little unsure about flying this beast.
Steph figured he could admit that much to himself without injuring his pride. He’d never, until the heat death of the universe itself, admit it to anyone else.

Idly, he patted the side of the station he was seated within, whispering to the ship as he had to his fighter many times in the past.

“Don’t you worry—we’ll get through this,” Steph said softly. “Those bastards out there, they’ve got nothing on us.”

He relaxed a little more and noted that his flight profile had smoothed out considerably in response. Steph had rarely felt so deep in the moment, even with NICS connected, as he did just then.

The itch on the back of his neck faded, replaced by an odd feeling of camaraderie, like someone was flying his wings. That feeling was the norm for Steph, and both Burner and Cardsharp
were
flying his wings.

All was right in the universe, for a little while at least.

►►►

► The bridge was a beehive of activity as Eric returned, acknowledging Commander Heath, who’d beat him back.

“Report,” he said simply as he took his station.

“No change,” Miram told him. “We’re still accelerating at one another at impossibly insane velocities. So far they don’t appear ready to blink.”

“Range to contact?” Eric set his fresh coffee down on a magnetic circle that would hold it in place against any of the mild turbulence they were likely to experience either from their close formation flying or a fight.

If they hit anything heavier, the odds were highly in favor of him not caring what happened to his coffee.

“Just under thirty light-minutes,” Miram said. “Contact is t-minus forty and counting. They’ll be compiling visual confirmation from our light anytime now, sir.”

Outwardly, Eric just nodded, but inside he was honestly
shocked
by the bogey’s closing velocities, mostly because of how quickly both sides had become intent on accelerating into one another.

“Well, if they’re that impatient, let’s kick this pig, shall we? Steph, our secret is about to be let out of the box. The first one, at least.”

“Aye sir,” Stephen said from the pilot’s station. His hands were steady on the controls, where’d they’d been since before the task force had transitioned into the system. “We’re ready.”

“Transition cannons, stand by to fire,” Eric said, moving on.