The Heart of Matter: Odyssey One (44 page)

▸CAPTAIN SENTHE WATCHED unhappily as the
Vulk
pulled away from his ship. He didn’t like being left out of the fight, but there was no help for it now. Maran had decided that whatever the Drasin were up to behind that damnable fighter screen of theirs was too potentially dangerous to leave them at it for long.

Kierna couldn’t really disagree, either, unfortunate as that was.

There was nothing he could do as the brother ship of his own
Heralc
began to pull away, driving forward into the fighter screen, and the Drasin cruisers beyond it.

“Captain”—Serra frowned—“the
Odyssey
has altered course.”

“What? To what heading?” Senthe demanded, confused.

“I’m projecting it now, Captain.”

The new course appeared on the main projection a moment later, showing the
Odyssey
on a flattened curve rather than the more direct line he had seen earlier.

“That doesn’t go anywhere near the Drasin’s projected course.”

“No, sir.”

Kierna frowned, trying to make sense of it. The
Odyssey
was not crewed by cowards or fools, that much had already been determined, so why was it avoiding the conflict? Better still, if it was avoiding conflict, why in the Maker do so in such a way as this? It would be far simpler to just reverse course and return to Ranquil.

“Orders, Captain?”

Kierna looked up, then shook his head. “Stay on course.”

“Yes, Captain.”

He turned back to the new projections for a brief moment, then looked up again. “What is our reactor mass?”

“Three-fifths of standard gravity each.”

Kierna managed to keep from cursing, but only just. He was starting to feel the difference in the ship from the low reactor mass. He was a little lighter on his feet now, but the acceleration was beginning to pull at his arms as well. It wouldn’t be long before they would have to reverse course, or risk being trapped on a vector that would take them out of Ranquil space with no power.

NACS ODYSSEY

▸EYEING THE NUMBERS, Weston punched open a communications channel. “Archangels, this is the captain. We are approaching optimal launch. Get ready.”

“
Odyssey
Actual, this is Archangel Lead,” the cheerful voice of Commander Michaels came back a moment later. “We’re in the Ready One position and ready to fly.”

“Good,” Eric returned. “Happy hunting, Archangels.”

The channel shut automatically as Eric lifted his hand, then gestured to Commander Roberts, who was handling the timing of the maneuver.

“Killing main thrust,” Roberts announced, an eerie silence falling over the ship as the heavy thrust faded away in time to his words.

The
Odyssey
slipped onto a ballistic course then, just for a short time, running on pure momentum.

“Firing maneuvering thrusters,” Commander Roberts announced as Lieutenant Daniels executed the maneuver.

Outside the
Odyssey
, the big ship shuddered briefly, then dropped her nose even deeper toward the system elliptic as she brought the open maw of her flight deck to bear on the
projected course of the Drasin fighters. Momentum continued to sweep the
Odyssey
along on its previous course, ignorant of the ship’s current bearing, and deep within the big ship’s flight decks an order was given.

“Archangels are go,” Roberts said stonily, keying in a command.

“Go, go, go!” Stephanos yelled, slamming his thrust to full the instant he had the order.

The invisible flame from his bird’s twin reactors lit up the blast plate that had been erected behind him, turning the metal several hues of red in the first few seconds of exposure. Then the powerful fighter leapt forward and slammed him back into his seat.

With CM fields on full power, he only felt a fraction of the force that was exerted upon him, allowing the Archangel fighter to roar from the flight deck at over a hundred g’s acceleration and climbing by the time Stephanos saw open space.

Once the black had surrounded him, he forced a hand forward and keyed the command that retracted the landing gear back into the plane. It wasn’t strictly necessary for aerodynamics, of course, but the extended gear would throw off the center of balance he was used to and maybe blunt the edge of his abilities.

Besides, he didn’t want to look stupid.

Stephanos chuckled at that thought and keyed open the squadron comm channel.

“Archangels, this is Archangel Lead. Check in.”

One by one, the other eleven members of the squadron checked in by the numbers while Commander Michaels
finished his in-flight checklist and made a point to listen to the reactors.

You never knew for sure how they were working until you were in flight, he had found, and able to listen to the distinctive hum the two power plants put out. Sometimes he knew he was in trouble just by a slight shift in the background whine that rode the mechanics of the craft back up to the cockpit.

And sometimes he could just tell when everything was purring along just right.

Stephanos smiled.

This was one of those times, thankfully.

Fianlly the in-flight and the squadron checklist were complete, and Stephanos keyed open the tac channel again. “Let’s ease into diamond formations. Four-fighter teams. Staggered vertically.”

The confirmations echoed as Steph kept the throttle up, easing his plane over to slide into the tip of the diamond spear his wingman and the second team had formed. Once that was done, all that was left was the screaming.

“Repositioning
Odyssey
.”

Eric acknowledged the report while he checked the status of the ship, and the thrusters flared again, bringing the
Odyssey
’s nose back up and on course following the launch of the final Archangel fighter and signifying the closing moments of the launch maneuver.

“Igniting main thrusters.”

The familiar roar returned to the background, shaking the deck for a moment as the main power plants of the NACS
Odyssey
began throwing their particulate thrust back out into space and pushed the big ship along its intended course.

Commander Roberts turned from his post and nodded to Eric with a satisfied look on his face. “Maneuver complete, Captain. We are back on course for the retreating cruisers.”

“Thank you, Commander. Mr. Waters, status of the pulse launchers?”

“We have all but two charged to capacity again, sir,” Waters replied. “The last two should be ready by the time we’re into range.”

“Excellent. Good work, everyone. That was a textbook launch,” Eric said approvingly.

“Someone get me the numbers on the number eight tube!” PO Sharon Tate growled, pushing away from her station and turning to look at another display. “We’ve got to keep those little hell beasts on ice for another freaking hour, so let’s not fuck it up.”

The crew in the control room for the pulse torpedoes nodded in enthusiastic agreement, knowing as they did the results of fucking up, and a young crewman quickly fetched the numbers.

Sharon nodded, looking them over. “All right, we’re looking good here, people. What about tubes eleven and twelve?”

“We’ve got containment up and ready, waiting for the tokamaks to throw some anti-hydrogen our way.”

“All right, good. Who’s turn is it to supplement the magnetic containment, anyway?” Sharon asked, a half smirk in her eyes.

The other people in the room all pointed to the youngest member of the group, a male crewman by the name of Cade Harlan. He looked around nervously, not knowing what the hell they were talking about.

“Ma’am?”

“Here.” She shoved a can of spray paint into his hands and pointed him toward the sealed-off section that held the housings of the magnetic containment tubes.

“What’s this for?”

“Just something we do every time we have to charge these blasted things. Call it a tradition,” Sharon told him.

“Ma’am…?” Cade was getting really nervous by this point, but didn’t have much choice as three people shoved him toward the hugely massive door that was even then being opened for him. “I don’t know what to do, ma’am!”

“You’ll figure it out.” Tate smirked, shoving him through the door.

The crewman sailed through the door in the free fall of the weapons control room, just as the other members of the group closed it behind him. Harlan could swear they were laughing when the door shut, but he was busier catching himself from slamming into the far wall.