by Evan Currie
Only a few moments passed before the sealed hatch opened and the commodore stepped off ahead of the rest of the crew and passengers.
“Commodore,” Roberts said, standing straight as he greeted his CO. “Welcome aboard the Bellerophon.”
“Glad to be aboard, Captain,” Eric Weston said firmly before smiling. “I understand the Bell is shipshape again?”
“All repairs complete. We’re ready to go, sir.”
“Good, good.” Eric glanced around briefly. He nodded to the exit. “Walk with me, Captain. We need to talk.”
Roberts nodded automatically, but the phrasing set alarm bells ringing.
What the hell is going on?
The commodore led him out but not to the lift, instead turning and heading along the inner ring that linked the shuttle and flight decks. It wasn’t quite the most private place on the ship, but it was close.
“This is going to be one hell of a conversation, isn’t it, sir?” Roberts asked stiffly.
“More than you’re going to know for a while, Captain,” Eric said with a tired smile. “Captain . . . Jason, you’re going to be leading the squadron for a while.”
“Sir?” Roberts looked over at him sharply. “Did the admiral . . . ?”
He’d known that the admiral had visited, but it never occurred to him that Weston was in any significant trouble over the confrontation with the Imperials.
“No Captain, I’ve not been relieved.” Eric chuckled, clearly guessing where his colleague’s mind had gone.
“Then what’s going on, sir?”
“The Odysseus is going to be undergoing an extensive recertification,” Eric explained. “I can’t tell you why, just that it’s related to the reason for the ship suddenly overcharging on us during the fight.”
Roberts hesitated, thinking about that.
“Is there any risk that our ships will do the same?” he asked, thinking about the Bell and the Bo in particular.
“Can’t say for sure. We haven’t figured out what caused it on the Odysseus yet,” Eric admitted. “Not what initiated it, anyway. Still, seems highly unlikely that you’ll see anything of this nature happen on your own ship.”
“Pardon me if I’m a little relieved at that, sir.”
Eric laughed as they walked. “Completely understandable.”
“What will our mission be in the meantime?”
“That’s going to be the rub, Captain,” Eric told him seriously. “Officially we’re just stepping up our patrol schedule, commensurate with an increased ability to project force now that Earth’s Forge is about to come online.”
That, Roberts knew, was a bald-faced lie.
Certainly, Earth’s new shipyard was officially online, but it would be some time before the first hulls were ready for crews to take over from the yard rats. Additionally, with the Odysseus off the roster, they were actually short a hull and lacking in projection capability.
“We’re expecting more incursions, then,” Roberts said, not questioning the decision.
“We’re expecting more than an incursion, Captain. We’re expecting a full-on invasion force next.”
Roberts looked at him intently, eyes glittering with deep curiosity. He had known that the enemy managed to escape with intel, but he was under the impression that no one was really sure what they got.
“How certain are we of this?”
“Enough that the admiral is pulling the Big E from Home Fleet and sending her out here,” Eric said.
Roberts whistled softly.
While in many ways a brand-new ship, the Enterprise was effectively Odyssey Class, though modified somewhat to lose the old Island command and control of the original design that mimicked Blue Navy carriers to some degree. She was obsolete as far as starships went, even though she only had a few years on her hull, literally the definition of too valuable to scrap, not useful enough to sail.
“Sir, we can’t fight the Enterprise the way we currently have our squadron configured. She’ll be cut to shreds by Imperial lasers.”
Eric nodded. “I know. I’m going to work up new doctrine for her, but we’re also getting her a full complement of Vorpals and every drone they can fit on her. I’ll find a way to fight her.”
Eric knew that Roberts was too disciplined to tell his CO, “Better you than me,” but his expression didn’t leave much to interpretation.
“Yes sir.”
“I’ll worry about that, so what you need to do is take the squadron out to the edge of Priminae-controlled territory. We have a decent idea where Imperial space begins, so focus your patrol along the likely approaches they should take.”
“Yes. Orders if the enemy does make a move?”
Eric hesitated. “Harass and fall back. Do not risk your command unnecessarily. Get as much intelligence as possible. If you can bleed them out, then go ahead, but we’d rather have you and the squadron intact than otherwise. I don’t expect that they’ll risk another exploratory probe. We’ve bloodied their noses twice now. Unless they’re complete idiots, they’re either going to back off or bring their A game.”
Roberts agreed. Frankly, he’d have gone for overwhelming force a lot earlier, but then he did have the advantage of knowing the state of Earth and Priminae defenses.
“I’m assuming that you don’t believe they’ll back off?” Roberts asked, though he honestly already knew the answer.
“The Imperials aren’t the sort to back off,” Eric said. “For whatever reason, they opened their campaign with genocide, Captain. You don’t do that if you have any intentions of backing off.”
There was truth there.
“Agreed.” Roberts sighed. “Do you want me to leave you a couple of the Rogues?”
“No, take the full squadron. You’ll be down one Heroic as it is. Not going to ask you to run any lighter than you must.”
“Thank you, sir. I’ll get the squadron winding up,” Roberts said, then hesitated as he checked around them to see if anyone was in sight. They were alone. “Sir, off the record . . . what’s going on?”
Eric sighed.
He’d gone through the grinder with Roberts, more than once. The man was solid as a rock, even if some of his subordinates were known to joke that he had the personality of one too. Eric didn’t like keeping things from the man, but how did you explain something like Odysseus?
“Captain, if I told . . . you wouldn’t believe me. That’s not just me blowing smoke, I swear. The situation is possibly the strangest thing I’ve ever seen in my life, and you know how strange my life has been.”
Roberts chuckled. “Coming from anyone else, I might laugh in their face. It’s that classified?”
“It will be, assuming we ever figure out how to explain it to Command. For now it’s just that weird.”
“You know you need to step on those damn rumors, sir. If the enlisted get it in their heads that the Odysseus is a ghost ship, you’ll never be able to run up an effective crew again.”
“Easier said than done, especially when there’s a little truth to the rumors,” Eric admitted.
“Sir?”
“I’ll explain it to you sometime,” Eric said, “preferably when you have time to come aboard for a visit and see the issue yourself. For now, just look after my squadron, alright?”
“Yes sir.”
“Good. Let’s get something to eat before you ship out,” Eric said, shifting his tone to a more jocular one.
“I think I can scrounge something up, Commodore.”
PS Desay
Admiral Gracen stepped through the air seal and into the open compartment beyond, where a man was waiting for her. She smiled as she recognized Rael Tanner. The Priminae’s high admiral was a man of slight stature but carried with him an intangible aura that marked him as being in charge more than his pristine white uniform ever could.
“Admiral,” he greeted her, smiling widely, “welcome aboard the Desay.”
Gracen was glad to see Rael again. “It’s a pleasure to be h
ere, Admiral. She’s a lovely ship. I believe we scanned some differences as you approached?”
“Indeed you did, Admiral,” Tanner said cheerfully. “We have begun adapting more of your concepts to our vessels, as well as utilizing some old and new concepts of our own. The Desay is our new, what was it called . . . flagship?”
“That’s right,” Gracen said. “And please, call me Amanda.”
“Only if you call me Rael, Amanda,” he countered.
“Of course, Rael.”
“Excellent. Now, our meal will be prepared shortly, but . . .” He became more serious. “I believe we have more weighty discussions to manage first.”
“I believe we do.”
“I have prepared a secure room,” Tanner said, gesturing to the lift.
“Before we retire there,” Gracen asked, “might I impose on you for the use of your long-range transmission systems?”
“Of course.”
The admiral snapped a finger and a reader was dropped into her hand by an aide, which she handed over to Tanner. “The coordinates and message are within.”
“They will be sent immediately.” Tanner accepted the reader, only to hand it off quickly to one of his own aides with a nod. “Now, then?”
Gracen nodded and gestured casually to her aides, telling them to wait for her, before she and the admiral entered the lift. It was a short trip to the conference room the admiral had sealed off, neither of them speaking until the door was sealed and they were alone.
“Your Captain Weston has a habit of destroying expectations,” Tanner said dryly as he walked over to one of the chairs and slumped into the auto-forming furniture, letting the seat twist and wrap itself around him.
Gracen sat down much more carefully, a little twitchy as the chair beneath her shifted and twisted to provide proper support.
“I wish I could protest him belonging to me, but it seems that, for my sins, I have been afflicted with the commodore.”
“Ah yes, commodore, apologies,” Tanner said. “We do not have a similar rank.”
“We’ve occasionally lost it ourselves, over the years.” Gracen smiled weakly. “Currently, Eric is one of the very few commodores in the Earth’s Black Navy. Some nations refer to the rank as a rear or vice-admiral position.”
“Ah, yes, I suppose that might be closer to our use,” Tanner said. “He has shown you Odysseus?”
“You mean the young boy in ancient battle armor and . . .” Gracen’s expression twisted slightly. “Glitter-pink eye shadow?”
“Indeed,” Tanner said, apparently missing Gracen’s expression. “I find myself uncertain what to think of it all. In fact, I must confess, I did not entirely believe the commodore, not until I returned to my office on Ranquil.”
Gracen stiffened. “Central?”
“Precisely,” Tanner said, his expression darkening markedly as he remembered. “The moment I sealed my door, he appeared. Central was most fascinated by the existence of Odysseus. He seemed to wish that I ask the commodore to bring his ship close to Ranquil.”
“That’s not likely to happen.”
“I expected much the same,” Tanner admitted with a wry smile. “The conversation with Central, however, was very interesting.”
“I wonder why he bothered. If he could just read your mind, why show himself?”
“Ah . . .” Tanner relaxed slightly. “I believe you have not quite grasped the nature of the mental link, if you will. As I understand it, these beings do not read minds so much as experience thoughts. They cannot, for example, delve into your memories unless you are actively experiencing those memories.”
“So he showed up to prod your brain so you’d think about what he wanted to know.”
Tanner spread his arms, fingers splayed out widely, in an expression Gracen recognized as being close to a shrug for the Priminae.
“In effect,” Tanner admitted, “though one might also describe it as being close to a conversation about something that interests us. I sense no animosity there, more . . . an almost apathy, at worst?”
“I’m not certain that’s any better,” Gracen responded.
“Perhaps not, but who am I to judge the minds of immortals?”
“I’ll judge them,” Gracen growled. “It’s my job. If they’re a threat to my people, that puts them in my sights.”
“I will not argue with that, except perhaps to say that I do not believe that they can be a threat to our people. If the cap . . . sorry, commodore, is correct about them, then they really are nothing, or at least would be far lessened, without us.”
“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean they need specific groups or individuals,” Gracen countered.
“This is true,” Tanner conceded. “What will you do?”
That was a question Gracen had been asking herself over and over since she’d left the Odysseus, but it was also a question she had no real answer for.
“I suppose I’ll do my job,” she said finally. “What that is remains to be seen.”
“As will I, and as will we all,” Tanner said. “This is perhaps the most momentous discovery in the history of my people, and I find that I cannot but wish that it had come at a better time.”
The understatement of the century, Gracen thought.
They were facing an existential threat. The Empire was clearly a power that could potentially annihilate every living thing in both Priminae and human star systems. Whether they had the power to do so was still somewhat debatable, but after the Drasin incident there was no question that they had the desire and the will.
The last thing either group needed right now was the added confusion that this news could cause.
Damn near godlike beings right in our midst? The trouble this could stir up with fundamentalist groups alone could be enough to derail every step we’ve taken to prepare our defenses.
“It’s going to be interesting times,” she said finally.
Tanner smiled. “I believe that you are correct.”
Gracen looked at him, feeling a hint of something almost like pity entering her expression.
“Admiral, let me tell you about an ancient curse from Earth’s history,” she said softly.
AEV Odysseus
Steph shivered slightly as he bent over a console, working on coding tactical responses to common situations the ship might face in combat.
“Hey, Diss,” he said, not looking up.
“How do you do that?” The young voice had a petulant tone. “No one else can sense me, not even the captain.”
“Commodore, Diss,” Steph corrected him, continuing his work as the boy in armor walked around into his line of sight. “And I’d be surprised if he couldn’t, you know. Raze’s positional awareness is damn near legendary.”
“He’s the captain,” Odysseus said firmly. “One ship. One captain. There’s no commodore in that statement.”
The boy seemed to think more about what Steph had said before going on.
“And maybe you’re right. He seems surprised when I appear, sometimes, but not always,” the boy said, sounding a little more petulant.
“He has a lot more on his mind than physical fight or flight,” Steph explained, “and yes, I suppose he is the captain, but his rank is commodore. You have to learn when’s the right time to use each.”
“I do?”
“You’re the ship, which makes you crew too. So yes, you do.”
Odysseus frowned, almost pouting.
“So when do I call him commodore?”
“Well, whenever there are outsiders present, for sure. Anyone who isn’t one of us doesn’t get to think of him as the captain. He’s commodore to them. Captain is for crew only. Also, you should call him by his rank in any official recorded sessions, though I don’t expect you’ll need to worry about that for a while.”
“So when can I call him captain, then?”
“If he gives you an order in a fight,” Steph said, “it’s perfectly fine to say ‘Yes Captain’ or ‘Aye Captain.’ Some
prefer to call him ‘Skipper’ then, which also works in the moment. Commodore is fine too, though mostly that’ll be for new crewmembers who don’t know him well.”
“Protocol is weird,” Odysseus muttered, annoyed. “The books don’t say anything about that.”
“Some do, you’re just reading the official stuff too closely.” Steph finished coding the new routine and straightened up to stretch a little. “Just remember that there’s book protocol and actual protocol. The book is strict, and you’ll never be judged wrong if you fall back to the book, but actual protocol lets people feel more like part of a team, and that’s important too.”
The boy nodded seriously, then shifted his focus to the work Steph had just completed.
“You could tighten that code by almost ten percent,” the boy suggested. “Just adjust these numbers here by . . .”
Steph held up a hand, cutting him off. “I know. Though I think I could only get about eight percent, so your numbers are better than mine, but you’re missing the adaptive section, Diss. If I lock the ship into a purely efficient course in the scenario this is based on, then I’ll lose the ability to adapt to likely surprises the enemy might drop on us.”
The boy squinted slightly. “Likely surprises? Those exist?”
“Everything exists,” Steph said, laughing, “or it seems to, the way my life is going these days. A likely surprise is something that we can reasonably predict the enemy might try, but not be certain of. The Empire, for example, likes to use their own ships as potential suicide weapons. They don’t do it as their first reaction, but if we push them too hard at any point, they might just decide to kamikaze us.”
“Oh, I see.”
“A pilot doesn’t just think about perfect maneuvers, Diss,” Steph explained patiently, opening up another file to continue his work. “We have to consider everything that can go wrong with what we’re trying, and plan options for as many of those scenarios as possible. Actually flying the ship is only a small part of the job. Predicting the future is the hardest part.”
“There are too many variables to predict the future,” Odysseus said grumpily. “The math is incomplete.”
