Homeworld (Odyssey One) (15 page)

Even a full multi-world empire wouldn’t
stop
them, of course. The drones were self-replicating, geometrically progressive, and entirely unstoppable. Unleashing them with full limitations lifted, they would destroy
anything
in their path.

It would be a potentially significant time investment, however, and that would be problematic given the increased resistance in the core worlds.

More important…,
Ivanth considered grimly and then said, “Have the encoders determined the source of the glitch?”

The Prohuer sighed, clearly bothered by the question.

The Drasin advance on the Priminae world had encountered problems with the implanted algorithmic instructions in the drones. Specifically, the limiters had failed and they’d nearly
destroyed
certain key worlds that the expedition desired intact. If they couldn’t get those under control, employing them against valuable systems was just asking for trouble.

“Unfortunately, no,” he said finally. “That should be immaterial on this mission, however. The unknown ship and its world are not on our lists. Should the world vanish, well, it’s a minor issue.”

Ivanth nodded. “Yes, Prohuer.”

“Take the
Immortal
and the
Demigod
. I want regular reports, and, as you already know, be wary of the drones. Their internal coding is proving less flexible than predicted.”

Ivanth rose to his feet. “I obey, Prohuer.”

“Good. Go,” the man ordered, nodding once.

Ivanth pivoted in place and marched out the door.

CHAPTER FIVE

N.A.C.S.
Odyssey
, Ranquil Orbit

WALKING IN MICROGRAVITY was a bizarre sensation, somewhat akin to standing right on the edge of a building then constantly falling off. Not falling off, hitting the ground, and then climbing back up to do it again. No, it was a sensation of endlessly being right past the point of no return even as you took one step after another.

Eric never really got used to it, though he knew some of his crew reveled in the sensation. Of course, it had been reported that one or two of his crew also reveled in the sensation of the transition drive.

He had crew whose sanity was well beyond questioning.

Using magnetic boots to keep from floating around loose in the cavernous interior of the
Odyssey
’s flight hangar, Eric made his way over to where the small and, to be quite honest, motley group of fighter craft were parked and where he knew he would find his friend, Stephanos.

Commander Steven Michaels was one of the youngest yet most decorated pilots in the double-A wing. He’d been with the squadron through furballs that should have killed them all, and was still around and kicking just like the rest of them.
Stephanos had been Eric’s choice for command of the unit when he’d accepted his captaincy and so far hadn’t disappointed, though Eric also had to admit that the pilot may have gotten the assignment simply for lack of interest from others.

The Archangels were public figures following the war, but the squadron wasn’t a high priority for various reasons. Most of those with seniority over Stephanos had opted for promotions out of the squadron, mostly to flag assignments like Eric’s own. Steph, however, loved the fighters like no one else.

Now the double-A squad was a shadow of its former glory, down to half strength and likely set to be replaced by the new space-superiority fighters with which they were equipping the
Big E
and her sister ships.

Having seen the specs on the new fighters, Eric expected that the double A’s were almost sure to be on the decom lists within the year. He’d keep them active as long as he could and they desired, but it really was the end of an era, and there wasn’t much anyone could do or say about it. The Archangel airframe was dated now. The only thing keeping it ahead of the latest birds to come out of the aerospace industry was the neural link system, and until they developed a NICS system that could be used by a larger subset of the human population, it would never be a priority for designers.

“Steph,” he called out as he clanked to a stop in front of Archangel One, the commander’s own.

“Boss?” Steph sounded confused, his head appearing from inside one of the intake cowlings for the atmospheric ram-scoops. “That you?”

“What the hell are you doing in there?” Eric ignored the dumb question, clanking around the plane so he could see what the younger man was doing.

“Hey boss.” Steph pulled himself completely out and pushed down until he was level with Eric.

He wasn’t wearing magnetic boots, so he just floated there, one hand on his plane for stability and maneuvering. “What’s up?”

“First, answer my question.” Eric looked past him into the intake of the big fighter, now curious as hell.

“Oh, just some tweaks we passed through the sims a few weeks ago,” Steph answered. “Should be able to get an extra twenty percent power out of the system in atmospheric flight and double the pressure to the life-support reserves if we need to tank up on the fly.”

“And it works?”

“In the sim.” He nodded. “Was hoping for permission for an atmospheric pass through Ranquil to test it.”

“Sorry, no can do.” Eric shook his head.

“Come on, boss, won’t even need to go deep. Just skim the upper atmo,” Steph protested.

“Not gonna have time. We’re shipping out within the hour,” Eric said, shrugging. “Maybe a little later, depending on how this conversation goes.”

“Late enough to allow a test?” Steph asked, grinning. “I can make it go anyway you want for that.”

“Oh yeah? Well the Beanie running the training camp on-world needs a close air support trainer. I thought maybe Jen might be cut loose for a while,” Eric suggested, keeping his smile buried. “If she’s going down-well, I guess we might have time while she packed….”

“Oh hell no. Better yet,
fuck
no,” Steph growled. “We’ll test them somewhere else. The squadron is at half strength already. We can’t find pilots to fill out our TO&E and don’t have airframes for them if we could. Jen is double A. She flies with us.”

“The Angels aren’t going to be around much longer, Steph. You’ve got be able to see that coming. You were never the brightest bulb in the socket, but you’re smarter than that,” Eric replied. “The double A’s are about through. You’ve put in your twenty, or close enough. If you want it, you’ll get a ship of your own or another squadron to command. Most of us either have, or will. Jen, she’s new. It’s back to cargo and passengers for her, unless she picks up some recommendations elsewhere.”

That was the crux of the matter for him. He wasn’t sure what the future held, but he couldn’t see any direction that wasn’t downhill for Jennifer Samuels. She made double A, and they were going to take it from her before she really had a chance to make her mark. He’d never commanded her directly, squadron leader to flight mate, but she was still one of his. He had to try and do her one better than what the current politics were going to offer.

“How is training a bunch of off-world pacifists any better than cargo and passengers?” Steph stomped on Eric’s thoughts with cleats. “She wants a combat slot. You know it, I know it.”

“She’s likely enough to get one, being an advisor down here,” Eric countered. It was a warzone after all.

“Not the same thing. Look, you want to do her a favor, I’ll sound her out for you. But I can tell you her answer already,” Steph said seriously, shaking his head. “Double A is the only way. She’ll pick the squad right to the very end.”

“Talk to her, Steph. Give her the offer at least,” Eric said and sighed. “I’m not cutting any orders. This is strictly voluntary.”

“Rule five, Raze.” Steph looked him in the eye. “Don’t volunteer. Ever.”

“Just talk to her, alright?” Eric snarled. “I don’t have time for the damned drama, Steph. Pass along the request, then get yourself squared away. We’re taking the
Odyssey
into contested space. If it’s not the Drasin shooting at us, there’s the damned chance it’ll be the Chinese. We may need you to supplement our point defense if the Block ship launches on us.”

“And you want to drop one of my pilots before the mission?” Steph snorted. “No offense, but are you completely out of your mind?”

“I’m not having this conversation any longer, Steph. One fighter won’t change the odds and you know it. This isn’t about us, it’s about her.”

“Fine. Whatever.” Steph scowled at him, wiping his hands down with a rag he’d pulled from his belt. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, get a new attitude,” Eric told him flatly, “because the only reason I’m not having you sit this one out in the brig is because we’re friends and you weren’t stupid enough to give me this much grief where someone else could see you.”

The younger man had the gall to grin. “I may not be a hotshot Marine aviator like you, Raze, but I’ve been in long enough to know that if you’re gonna lip off to your CO, there’s only two right ways to do it. Either in private where he
might
choose to be generous and ignore it, or in front of God and everyone else where at least you’ll get your money’s worth.”

“One of these days, Steph”—Eric sighed, shaking his head—“someone is going to call you on your actions and not even the double A’s will be able to pull your ass out of the flames.”

“Probably,” Steph said as Eric turned and walked away. “But not today, Raze. Not today. If I’m lucky some bandit will take me out first anyway.”

“You ain’t that lucky, Steph. You’re immortal. We all are,” Eric said over his shoulder, his tone wry.

“Even the ones who are already gone?” Steph called after him.

“Especially the ones who are already gone.”