Homeworld (Odyssey One) (61 page)

On the
Odyssey
, everyone wanted to have some idea of what the Captain
thought
he was doing. They’d have been happy with a hint, really. Just a slight concept would have been fine, but Eric Weston was just sitting in his station with a bit of a smile on his face.

That was the only thing that was keeping down the feelings of panic among those who’d seen the numbers. When the Captain was smiling before or during a battle, it generally meant that he knew the punch line to a joke that the enemy wasn’t going to appreciate. Still, it was always nicer if you were in on the joke.

Below decks, which actually tended to mean the decks aft of the bridge, the atmosphere was both more and less relaxed than among the command staff. There was no comforting smile for people to notice and accept as a sign that the captain knew what he was doing, but at the same time, no one off the bridge had access to the full numbers of enemy ships coming their way.

So for most of the crew, things were nothing more than business as usual for a time when they knew action was upcoming. Mostly, at least. They were aware that the situation was different this time. They had their back to Earth for one. There
would be no running from this battle if things got bad, but when was the last time the
Odyssey
ran from
anything
with lives at stake?

The only real grumpiness was, ironically, among the ground troops and the Archangels…two groups legendary for never agreeing on
anything
.

Stephen “Stephanos” Michaels was in a foul mood.

He was in his Ready One position along with the rest of the very shorthanded fighter wing, waiting for the order to launch and wondering if it was going to come. For whatever reason, the Captain seemed less and less willing to let them off the leash lately, and that was starting to ride on his nerves.

The Archangels were the best at what they did, shorthanded or not, and leaving them cooped up in the hangar bays of the
Odyssey
felt like a thinly veiled insult. He’d have taken it as such already if it weren’t for who was giving the orders.

Eric “Raziel” Weston wasn’t ever going to say a bad word about the Angels, he was sure of that, so Steph swallowed his ire and sat impatiently in the open cockpit of the fighter while the general quarters alarms sounded.

“You think we need to get ready?” Cardsharp asked from her own cockpit, eyes closed as her helmet floated near her head.

“No,” Burner answered, sounding bored. “That’s just making sure everyone has their stations in order. We’re hours out from action still, assuming the captain lets us in on this one.”

Steph winced at that little comment, and as he expected, it started a blast of general annoyance and grievances from the rest.

He listened for a short time before his own temper boiled over, this time at his squadron mates instead of his CO.

“Listen to the lot of you,” he growled loud enough to shut them up. “Captain keeps us in the pen for
one
battle, just the one I might add, and you’re behaving like spoiled children. Keep it together before I come over there and grow you up the hard way.”

He tried, rather unsuccessfully, to push back the knowledge that he himself had been mentally whining along the same lines just a few minutes earlier. There were some things that the rank and file didn’t need to know.

The Drasin signals had cleared up now, and the first light-speed data was being collated by their computers. The situation was even worse than Eric had expected, though honestly not quite as bad as he’d feared.

He’d expected enough ships to devastate the entire solar system, no matter
what
level of defense the Earth was able to mount in the time they had. He’d
feared
the entire force of enemy ships that the Dyson construct had to have been housing. While his fears hadn’t been met, he was quite sure, sadly, that his expectations had been

I’ve always wondered what I would do if faced with an Alamo of my own,
Eric thought as he gazed at the numbers.

Just over two
thousand
enemy ships, with the tally still climbing.

Eric hadn’t lost his smile, but now there was a definite trace of sadness in his expression for anyone who bothered
to look.
I never imagined it would be with my back to Earth and the entire fate of the human…sorry, Terran race in the balance.

He’d have felt a lot better if things were more balanced, but there was no way that the small task force under his nominal command could hold this fleet at bay. It just wasn’t going to happen.

He’d always wondered what he’d do when victory wasn’t an option.

Time to find out.

“How are we looking for contact ETA?” he asked, checking the telemetry feed.

“At current rate we’ll contact the enemy in just under four hours, Captain.”

Eric checked the time, running the math in his head and shook his head. “Too soon. Signal the group to pull back at point…one light.”

“Aye, Captain. Signal sent.”

“Helm, take us back in formation.”

“Yes, sir.”

The signals from the Drasin fleet had entered the heliosphere, closing on the
Odyssey
and the other ships in the squadron, accelerating as Eric ordered the squad back. He worked out the intercept point, nodding to himself as he settled on a point near the leading Trojan point in Jupiter’s path.

That will do just fine.

The group fell back, slowly bringing their speed up to a tenth of light-speed as they retreated back past the orbit of Saturn toward the Jovian gas giant.

Their opponents were moving considerably faster, but had further to travel by far, crossing Pluto’s orbit in their sun dive and pressing forward into the territory of Sol’s giants themselves. It took hours for the Drasin ships to catch up, passing the orbits of Neptune, Uranus, and Saturn until they began to decelerate in preparation for action against their targets.

The clock ticked down slowly as the small Terran and Prim task force stared down the massive fleet across the rubble strewn space of the Trojan point.

“Signal general quarters, and run up the reactors,” Eric ordered. “Get the pulse capacitors charged.”

“Aye, aye, sir!”

The bridge energy was running high at this point. The long wait was over and they could see what they were dealing with all too well now.

Just over twenty-two hundred enemy ships staring them down now, barely one light-minute away.

Eric could feel the doubt, the excitement, the fear.

It was in him, it was in everyone on the bridge of the
Odyssey
, and he could practically feel it as well across empty space from the other ships under his temporary command. The questions were left unasked, but he knew that everyone was wondering why he’d held back so long. Why let the enemy get so close without weeding out a few of them at least with the transition weapons?

That was fine. They were about to get the answer to their questions if the timing was right.

Please God, if you’re there and listening, don’t let me have fucked up the timing.

“We’re detecting fighter separation from the enemy forces. The
Enterprise
requests permission to launch,” Winger announced.

“Denied,” Eric ordered tersely.

“Yes, sir.”

The enemy fleet now looked more like a cloud in the scanners, the red dots overlapping until it was just a blob of angry scarlet bearing down on them. Eric checked the numbers again, eyes flicking to his repeater that showed what Winger was seeing, and he blew out a breath of air as the nervous energy of the bridge began to get to him as well.

Come on, come on, where the hell are you?
he wondered, not the first time in the last few minutes.

It was to be the last time, however, as Winger stiffened at her station and let out a rather undignified squeak of surprise and shock.

“Tachyon surge! It’s right on top of us!”

“Even armor! Best deflection! Send to
Enterprise
and all ships, even armor to best deflection settings!” Eric rose up from his seat, his voice rising. “Tell the Marauders to stay back where they are. I don’t trust their armor!”

“Aye, aye, sir!”

“Ambient radiation rising. Captain, I don’t know what I’m looking at!” Winger howled. “Computer identifies the source as a
pulsar!
”

“That’s no pulsar, Lieutenant,” Eric Weston said with a grin. “That’s the
Weifang
.”