Odyssey One 5: Warrior King (4 page)

“Well, as a once infamous personage back home said, the reports of my demise were greatly exaggerated . . .” He paused, considering his words for a moment, and then shrugged. “Okay . . . not
greatly
in my case. It was a lot closer to accurate than I’d like to admit, but still exaggerated.”

“Indeed,” Tanner said archly. “You will have to tell me that story, in detail, but later. I’ll arrange drinks?”

“Sounds perfect, Admiral.”

“In the meantime . . .” Tanner straightened and looked over the group that had disembarked from the shuttle. “I understand that you’ve brought more specialists?”

“As requested, yes,” Eric confirmed, gesturing to a hulking Samoan officer wearing the colors of Alliance Marines. “This is Major Afano. He’s a combined arms specialist and will be taking over the training program from Colonel Reed now that your forces are approaching the status of military regulars.”

“Of course.” Tanner nodded. “Welcome, Major. I will see you introduced to our own Commander Jehan. He oversees all nonfleet military personnel.”

“I look forward to it, Admiral,” Afano said in nearly flawless Priminae-speak, not using his translator at all.

Tanner pinned him with a gaze for a moment before slowly turning back to Eric. “As usual, you bring interesting people with you.”

“Only the best, Admiral,” Eric said. “And speaking of, this is Lieutenant Lyssa Myriano. She’s my aide and will be handling the majority of my communications and such. If you need to get a message to me, send it through her and she’ll see to it that it comes to my attention immediately.”

“Lieutenant,” Tanner said, inclining his head to her, “a pleasure.”

“Likewise, Admiral,” Lyssa replied. “The captain speaks highly of you.”

“Captain Weston does me too much credit, I suspect,” Tanner said with a self-deprecating air. “But it is very pleasant to hear.”

Eric snorted loudly. “You’re the supreme commander of your entire navy, and you have overarching command of the rest of your military, Admiral. Honestly, I’m continually surprised you have time to meet with me at all.”

Tanner smiled at that but didn’t contest the words as he gestured to his aides. “See everyone to their rooms. We’ll meet later to get down to business. Captain, if you’d like, I’ll show you to your room myself.”

“It would be my honor, sir.”

►►►

► Later, Eric settled back into the surprisingly comfortable seat in the admiral’s office and sipped lightly on the promised drink.

“That’s the story, Admiral,” Eric said, eyes half-lidded as he thought back to what had happened.
More or less.

There were parts of his story that he wasn’t going to share with anyone, from either world. His encounters with the entities he knew as Central and Gaia were not things he put in reports or even whispered about, as a rule. He rather liked not being in a rubber room, for one thing, and some of what he remembered as the
Odyssey
went down was Section Eight material for sure.

“It’s remarkable that you survived,” Tanner said. “You or your world. The Drasin didn’t land in such numbers on any of our worlds.”

“We were armed for bear, Admiral,” Eric said. “Frankly, any invading force would be better off just bombarding us from orbit. Landing on Earth is tantamount to suicide if you’ve got bad intentions. I don’t care how bad you are . . . nine billion pissed-off humans with just as many weapons are going to ruin your day.”

“Perhaps,” Tanner said lightly. “Unfortunately, however, we could not say the same.”

“There are downsides,” Eric said more quietly, “but in cases like this, well, I won’t be complaining.”

“No, I should think not.” The admiral sighed. “I suppose we should move on to more serious business, however. The council wishes me to ask what your government intends now.”

“Those are questions better directed through Ambassador LaFontaine, Admiral.”

Tanner nodded tiredly. “This is what I said to them. They pressed despite my words.”

Eric pursed his lips, not happy with the question but understanding it all the same. In fact, it wouldn’t be uncommon for higher-ranking members of allied military at home to pass information through back channels.

There was a certain art to the process, however, and Tanner clearly didn’t know the protocol.

“You’re not supposed to just out and tell me that, you know,” he said finally as he broke out chuckling.

“I’m not?”

“No, Admiral, you’re supposed to inquire casually about my mission . . . nothing classified, of course,” Eric said, “then maybe I drop a hint or two, and we move from there. Being so blatant is a bit of a faux pas.”

Tanner looked at him quizzically. “I hadn’t realized things were so involved.”

“It comes from dancing through classified minefields,” Eric admitted with a shrug. “Probably not needed out here, not yet anyway, but there you have it.”

“I apologize then,” Tanner said, seemingly getting the joke. “However, the question remains.”

“Primarily, we’re on a deep recon mission this time out,” Eric said after a moment’s deliberation. “Nothing too classified. Earth’s governments want to know more about where the Drasin came from.”

“Understandable,” Tanner conceded.

“I’ll try to keep the
Odysseus
out of the way of your forces, but we’ll start by backtracking the Drasin’s known contact points with Priminae worlds,” Eric said. “After that, we’ll be aiming to see if we can figure out a pattern. We’re obviously concerned with the Drasin, but on a personal level, I’m more interested in the unidentified ships the
Odyssey
encountered on our second mission.”

“Yes, I read that report. That detail was deeply troubling,” Tanner said. “Have you any new information? Did you get any clear images of the ships that we can compare with our files?”

“Nothing,” Eric lied without hesitating. “They stayed in the cloud. Very cagey, I’m afraid.”

Tanner slumped. “Of course. Well, I wish you the best on your mission then.”

Eric watched the smaller man closely, looking for any sign that the admiral either had recognized the lie or knew the truth. He saw nothing, just disappointment in the lack of intelligence. Eric still wasn’t fully sure he could trust his own gut here, but he rather liked the admiral and personally hoped the man, and his people, had nothing to do with what had transpired.

He didn’t believe them to be culpable, not as a whole, but those ships had been very similar to Priminae design. The materials science behind them was markedly different, but the designs were nearly identical.

There
had
to be some sort of connection.

Until he knew what that was, Eric knew better than to entirely trust anyone. Even the Priminae members of his own crew, few though there were, had to be held under some level of suspicion until they were fully cleared.

That was why Earth had, and needed, the Rogue Class destroyers. They were human ships, with human crews, tasked with digging out the truth of the galaxy.

For now, as much as it grated on him, the
Odysseus
was little more than a highly visible decoy.

“Thank you, Admiral,” Eric said after a moment’s contemplation. “That means a lot.”

CHAPTER 4

IBC
Piar Cohn
, Outer System Approach

► “No signs of life or nonnatural motion in the system, Captain.”

Aymes nodded tersely, unsurprised.

“Drasin signs?”

“Yes Captain. Two worlds.”

Aymes suppressed a snort of derision, disgusted by the waste. Two worlds that could have supported Imperial populations, sacrificed on some altar for purposes he couldn’t fathom. What was the point of all those wasted resources?

“Skirt the edge of the system, spiral course. I want scans for any sign of distorted space and time. Look for any sign of ships coming and going.”

“Yes Captain.”

The
Cohn
would spend days circling the system, looking for traces he knew wouldn’t be there, but at this point there was little else he could do. The Drasin were too dangerous to risk any possibility of missed data.

Aymes supposed he should be happy that there was no sign that the drones had backtracked toward the Empire.

They, at least, didn’t screw up that badly.

It was a cold comfort, at best.

►►►

Priminae Capital, Ranquil

► Ambassador LaFontaine greeted Eric as he entered the embassy suite located in the immense pyramidal habitat of the Priminae.

“Captain, so pleased to see that rumors of your death were exaggerated,” she told him, smiling.

“Not so pleased as I am, Ambassador,” Eric said with a chuckle. “And I just had to explain that same turn of phrase to Admiral Tanner.”

“Well, I’m sure he was equally pleased by the news and probably politely confused by the explanation.” LaFontaine laughed. “Come in. I have, of course, received the latest from Earth, but any news you might provide beyond the orders and policy changes would be useful.”

Eric nodded, taking an offered seat and relaxing a little. He rather liked the ambassador, having been her ferryman on her original trip to Ranquil as well as her primary contact with Earth, at least until the Heroics had been constructed.

“Well, rebuilding is underway, naturally,” he said. “China and India took the heaviest casualties during the invasion, simply by virtue of their population size if nothing else. The Confederation was hurt badly too, of course, but I suspect we’ll recover first and strongest.”

“Oh? That’s nice to hear, as a daughter of Canada, but why?” she asked.

“We’ve been using outdated infrastructure for most of the last century, and a lot of it was destroyed in the fighting,” he answered. “So we’re actually rebuilding with new technology rather than replacing antiquated copper lines and the like. The infrastructure damage to China and India wasn’t as severe, because they’ve never really relied on tech to the levels we do, and what little they did rely on was already state of the art. We’ve been lagging behind the Block since before they became the Block, honestly. Hong Kong and Beijing had us beat in many areas since the early twenty-first century. That’s about to change.”

“Interesting. I hadn’t considered it, but you’re right,” LaFontaine said as she thought about old stories. “I wonder why we allowed ourselves to lag behind?”

“Because infrastructure is a public project, and we tend to let private corporations lead the way,” Eric answered easily. “That system is more flexible and tends to be more resilient overall, but corporations don’t like to invest in infrastructure they don’t control entirely. Since we still have antimonopoly laws in place, that slows down development in certain areas. That’s why the fastest access to communications hubs have consistently been in the Block countries, while we tend to get access that’s considered ‘good enough.’”

“It’s almost surprising we won the war, then, if that’s true.”

“We nearly didn’t,” Eric said, “though not because of that. Both systems have strengths, but while some of the best and most modern infrastructure in the world does exist in the Block, they also have large swaths of territory with effectively no infrastructure. We don’t. Rich, poor, or in the middle, if you grew up in the Confederation, you had access to the world economy. More than ninety percent of Block citizens just didn’t. Our system doesn’t hit the peaks theirs does, as a rule, but it doesn’t come anywhere close to the lows either.”

“So why did we win ultimately, in your opinion?” LaFontaine asked, mildly interested in the conversation but more intent on the views of the captain of the Confederation flagship.

“We had momentum.”

That answer wasn’t what she expected, and for a moment she tried to puzzle it out before finally saying, “I’m not sure I understand?”

“By the time the Block War broke out, the United States of America had spent the better part of a full century stockpiling weapons. They were old, obsolete, and considered worthless . . . but they were still lethal,” Eric said. “When we ran out of main battle tanks, we just opened up national guard vaults and rolled out ten thousand more. We had aircraft and tanks wrapped in plastic just rotting out in open fields, waiting for mechanics to roll in and replace all the seals and update the electronics, along with ship hulls from World War Two just waiting to be uncorked and refurbished. The war came down to what would run out first: our men, or their equipment. In the last days of the war, there were Block soldiers in the field who were issued guns they’d captured from Confederation POWs.”

“I’d heard that but never made the connection.”

“We didn’t form the Confederation because we desperately needed minerals from Canada or factories in Mexico,” Eric said, unconsciously thinking in terms of the American citizen he’d grown up as. “We needed every recruit we could pull. India and China alone had us outnumbered over ten to one.”

“I always thought it was the efforts of groups like the Archangel squadron that changed the tides,” LaFontaine said, thinking about the stories she’d heard about the war.

“Oh, we changed the tide of a few battles,” Eric conceded. “Japan was one of the key fights, but we were more a propaganda coup than a truly effective force in the war. The war was won on the ground, like all wars are, by guys coated in mud and blood. The Archangels were more important in keeping everyone’s eyes on the sky instead of buried in the mud than we ever were in terms of real impact on the war itself. We won battles, but our biggest contribution was inspiring the people who won the war.”

LaFontaine sat back, surprised by that last statement. She’d never heard that before in all the reporting on the infamous Double A squadron. But then, while he’d been interviewed many times, she didn’t remember anyone ever asking Eric Weston what he thought had won the war.

How strange,
LaFontaine thought. Eric’s response seemed at odds with conventional logic that the Confederation had beaten the Block with better innovation and more sophisticated weapons and tools.

“Well, that is very interesting, and I wish we could talk more on the subject. I find your point of view on the subject fascinating, Captain, but I suppose we should return to the present,” she said, more than a little sorry to change the subject. “You spent time last night with Admiral Tanner? Did he make any . . . overtures?”

Eric smiled. “The council isn’t terribly subtle, are they?”

“Not in the slightest,” LaFontaine answered tiredly. “I believe that they think I am stonewalling them, but on what, I’m honestly not certain.”

“They’re hiding something,” Eric said with certainty. “What, I’m not certain either. It may not even be something we consider important, but there’s something.”

“Agreed,” the ambassador said, “though I’m inclined to think that it may well be important. Just
how
important remains a mystery.”

“They’re not an easy people to read,” Eric confessed. “I’ve dealt with cultures all over Earth, many of whom I had far less respect for than the Priminae, but none that I had as much trouble understanding.”

“I’ve had a very similar experience,” LaFontaine said. “Since we know they’re hiding something, I’m hoping that you’ll use your reputation and contacts here to sound them out on just what their secrets might be.”

Eric nodded firmly. “I will. Whatever they’re hiding, there’s a good chance it will impact my mission and Earth’s security, so I’ll do what I can.”

“Thank you. Most aspects of the embassy run very smoothly here,” LaFontaine said. “However, our intelligence gathering and analysis departments are almost literally pulling out their hair.”

Grinning, Eric said, “Frankly, Madam Ambassador, that amuses me more than anything else.”

“Amusing perhaps, but it isn’t a joke,” the ambassador said sternly. “Lives will depend on their work.”

Eric held up his hands in surrender. “Message received and understood, ma’am. I’ll see what I can dig up.”

She pinned him with a slight glare for a moment before relaxing. “Good. Most of the bureaucracy has already been dealt with concerning your visit, so we don’t have much to do here.”

Eric knew a dismissal when he heard one and rose to his feet.

“I’ll take my leave then, ma’am, and see what I can find.”

“Good luck, Captain.”

►►►

► There was only one source on Ranquil that Eric figured would know for certain what the Priminae were hiding, but the odds of that source talking to him were fifty-fifty at best. Nonetheless, Eric decided to make the attempt.

Now, if only Central had a phone number.

The annoyingly mysterious entity, sometimes “computer,” that seemed to run the day-to-day business of the Priminae on Ranquil was Eric’s best bet for answers. Likely obscure, murky, and annoying answers, but answers nonetheless.

Unfortunately, just asking the Priminae for access to the chamber that they designated as Central was a nonstarter. For one, it would tip them off that he was up to something, which he really would prefer to avoid since he was . . . well, actually up to something. More to the point, however, Central himself didn’t seem to have any interest in letting most people in on how he had come to exist.

Eric made his way to the shuttle pad, walking past the two Marine guards and up into the craft. He checked and found that the pilot wasn’t inside at the moment, then sealed the doors and locked everyone under his rank out.

Central was, or rather
seemed
to be, far more than a computer. Eric hardly considered himself an expert on whatever it was, but the entity’s own description, as well as his encounter with something very similar on Earth, told him that he wasn’t dealing with a computer.

“Indeed not.”

The world spun around him in a familiar manner, and Eric found himself looking around the interior of the shuttle with an irksome sense that something otherworldly had changed despite not seeing any differences.

“That’s incredibly irritating,” he grumbled, focusing on the nondescript human form now standing a short distance away.

Central struck him as a completely normal human except for the fact that whenever he glanced away, Eric suddenly couldn’t remember him having any particular features to speak of. Eric presumed that normally the entity had some, since not having them would be even stranger than his forgetting, but frankly, he was past trying to figure out these bizarre creatures.

“Creatures? Really?” Central sounded slightly miffed. “That’s hardly polite.”

“Neither is mind reading,” Eric groused.

“I told you once, it’s not something I can help.” Central waved his concern off idly. “Your thoughts
are
my thoughts, as though I thought them myself. You simply
must
convey my compliments and greetings to this
Gaia
of yours, by the way.”

Eric rolled his eyes, knowing that the word “must” was a literal truth. He wouldn’t have any choice in the matter as soon as he returned to Earth. His mind would simply automatically be read by Gaia without recourse.

“Not read,” Central corrected. “Experienced.”

“That’s not any better,” Eric said dryly, sighing. “Look, can we get on with this? I need a drink so I can forget as much of this as practicable.”

“You Terrans are such an interesting conundrum. Violent, aggressive, and almost bestial . . . yet so easily offended in your sensibilities, as though words actually are somehow worse than physical harm.”