The Heart of Matter: Odyssey One (33 page)

▸THE DRASIN SHIPS were approaching one of the Crimson Systems, one that had defeated several brethren in the past, pursuing and pursued. Ahead of them, they saw the band that encompassed almost the entire life of the system, even infecting the Primary, the life-giver itself.

They knew that this system had to be destroyed.

The ships didn’t know of any other systems where a star had been infected by the band; it was inconceivable, and yet it had happened. Deep in the pure white energy of the local Primary, there was an ugly flare of crimson blood, the infection rotting away at the heart of a star.

Cutting that band out might not even be possible, but the rest of the system could be cleaned, sanitized. The star would be quarantined then; none of the horde would ever reenter this system once its outer infections were cured. That would prevent any further contamination.

Immediately, however, the problem was on a smaller scale. It was anathema to the horde to allow any to escape a cleansing, and there were many ahead who could be destroyed. In
the clutch of the Primary’s gravity, the sting of the warrior ship ahead would be deadened, and its damage would allow the horde to cleanse it quickly.

Interception had to happen well before the planet, however.

The defenses in the last system had been impressive—better than expected, even. The ships would not risk approaching the planet.

There was a brief rumble as the gravity of the Primary disrupted the drive bubbles, and the two ships flickered back into normal space, on a pursuit course for the wounded ship and its fleeing sheep.

PRIMINAE VESSEL VULK
Ranquil System

▸THE RUMBLE OF the dimensional drive cutting out shook the bridge as the screens flickered white suddenly, the energy overloading it in a flash.

“Equalizing screens.”

The screen faded back to black; then the stars flickered into place, beaming steadily out at them as the bridge crew ignored them as they milled about their work. There were more important things out there to find than the stars, and each man and woman on the deck was deeply involved in finding objects much closer.

“Two enemy cruisers directly ahead! Three-point-two light-cycles!”

Johan nodded. “Lock lasers onto them. Position of pursuing ships?”

“They’ll be entering Ranquil gravity well in…two marks.” Johan grimaced, but acknowledged the report. He’d allowed himself into a bit of a nasty situation as things stood. Pinned between the enemy ahead and the enemy behind, things were far from perfect, but the
Vulk
and its crew had a job to do. He was fully aware that sometimes the ideal action
was not one of his possible options, not when there was a planet full of people to defend and limited resources with which to defend them.

“Stay on course. Accelerate to full velocity.”

“Yes, Captain.”

The ship rumbled a little, the powerful drive systems actually making themselves felt as they wound up and began to drive the big ship down the well.

“Contact the arms section,” Johan said stiffly. “Have them break out the nuclear explosives and arm them.”

There was a brief silence, but finally, someone nodded.

“Yes, Captain.”

PRIMINAE VESSEL HERALC
Ranquil System

▸CAPT. KIERNA SENTHE stared at the projected screens with a sickly look, eyeing the enemies that were pursuing them to the end.

“Maker blasted fool,” he said under his breath as the
Vulk
flickered into the system. “He’s let them right in.”

“Ranquil has some of the best defenses now, Captain,” his young weapons officer offered weakly. Fatigue came through in that voice. “At least, since the battle…”

“I’m aware of that,” Kierna said tiredly. “But neither we, nor our transports, will reach those defenses before we’re overtaken.”

There was a silence, and into that silence Kierna issued an order.

“Take us about.”

NACS ODYSSEY
Ranquil System

▸“CAPTAIN,” WINGER CAUGHT Eric’s attention, her voice tense. “The damaged ship is making to come about.”

“What?” Eric frowned. “Send me their vectors.”

“Aye, sir.”

Eric looked down at his tactical mirror station, the slim screen repeating what the tactical and sensor stations were looking at, and frowned at the changing graphs and numbers.

The damaged ship was indeed coming about, though they were slow, and now he had to worry about their bulk coming into his line of fire.

“Give me a plot on the main screen, Lieutenant,” Eric ordered. “All players with a projected time compression of ten to one.”

“Aye, sir,” Michelle Winger said, fingers working furiously along the composite panel she was lightly working.

Modern interfaces owed a lot to their historic ancestors, but some of the major changes had required a certain flexibility in the mental attitudes of the users. The panel Michelle was working furiously on would once have been a keyboard attached to a computer that processed the information she was
gathering, but on the
Odyssey
, it was a featureless black panel of glass-like plastic that detected her commands through proximity and motion sensors buried under the sealed surface.

The interface itself was adaptive, as most of the
Odyssey
’s equipment had been designed to be, and could effect multiple layouts according to Winger’s needs of the moment. The biggest problem this sort of interface had created when they were introduced was actually quite serious, however, as most of the operators who initially used them were hospitalized for carpal tunnel syndrome in short order from trying to “punch” the commands with their fingers rather than merely brush the interface lightly.

Winger was an old hand at the system, Weston knew, and had grown up with similar models, so her fingers glided over the smooth surface, never leaving contact by more than a few fractions of a centimeter as she followed her captain’s command and sent the processed information to the main screen.

Eric looked up as the screen flickered, showing the compressed vectors he’d asked for, watching the numbers fall toward that “zero hour” when all of the players would be in effective combat range of each other.

“It’s going to be messy, Captain,” Jason Alvarez Roberts said quietly.

“Yes. Yes, it is, Commander.”

“Shall I contact the Priminae Admiralty and ask them to call off that ship?” Roberts suggested.

Eric pursed his lips, considering and weighing the risks. There were some complex issues involved and possibly no right decision. Finally, he shook his head. “No, Commander. I don’t think so. We don’t know how well the Drasin can locate and track Priminae communications, but we do know that they are pretty decent at tracking power signatures.”

Roberts nodded reluctantly. “True, sir.”

“Helm,” Weston called.

“Sir?” Daniels glanced back, waiting for his orders.

“Thrusters only. Adjust our course ten degrees above the elliptic,” Eric told him. “We need to clear our guns.”

“Aye, sir.”

PRIMINAE VESSEL VULK
Ranquil System