The Heart of Matter: Odyssey One (19 page)

“I believe that our time will be cut short,” the voice said with what almost sounded like a sigh.

“Oh?” Eric asked dryly. “And why is that?”

“Admiral Tanner has noticed that my response to the land grant is coming slower than normal, and I believe that Nero is wondering why you’re staring blankly at a wall.”

Eric pursed his lips in irritation. “Gee, imagine that.”

“I may not be entirely used to having sarcasm aimed at me, Captain, but that doesn’t mean that I am unaware of it,” the voice replied dryly. “At any rate, I am not entirely satisfied
with our conversation, but the time has come to end it for now. We will speak again, Captain Weston, although it may be a while if you should happen to leave this world.”

That sounded almost like a threat
, Eric thought as he frowned at the apparition.

“No, Captain, a fact,” it told him.

“I said cut that…”

“…out!” Eric snapped, glaring at the silver polished wall.

Nero and Rael moved back away from him in surprise, eyeing him with some trepidation.

“Cut what out, Captain?” Rael asked.

Eric looked around slowly, as if waking from a dream, and finally shook his head. “Nothing, Admiral. Stray thought.”

“I see,” Rael said in the tone of someone who did not.

Eric paid him less attention than he normally would, still almost dizzy, trying to make sense of what had just happened. He looked down at his hands as he slowly opened them and then clenched them into fists, just focusing on the muscle motions while he strove to put his thoughts in order.

There was a chime then, and Nero looked down at his handheld processor. “The response is back, Admiral.”

“And how much work do we have ahead of us, Commander?” Rael asked with trepidation. A negative response from Central would require a lot more energy to drive the grant through the Council.

“Central has approved the request,” Nero said, sounding slightly surprised. “We’ve been granted a large tract of land on the eastern side of the Discor Mountain Range.”

Rael’s brow furrowed in thought. “That’s mostly desert. It will require considerable effort to install appropriate facilities, but it will cut down on damage to the available land. Good, I will present this to the Council at the next gathering.”

Weston, at least, was glad their attention was off of him. He didn’t care to imagine how very off his game he must appear, let alone how very off his game he really
was
.

NACS ODYSSEY
Ranquil Planetary Orbit

▸MAJ. WILHELM BRINKS looked around the table at his officers and senior noncoms, nodding a greeting as they finished settling into place at the table.

“Gentlemen,” he said with a smile, then tipped his head to the single woman at the table. “Lady.”

The lady in question was 2nd Lt. Tasha McGuire, who nodded in return, showing no discomfort at Brinks’s singling her out. Brinks always hazed the newbies, and she was a recent transfer to the
Odyssey
who didn’t know many of the people at the table much more than by their names.

Lieutenant Bermont was the last one in, which Brinks had come to expect. Brinks gave him a quick nod, and in response, Bermont said, “Sorry, Major, I was on the parking deck when the call came in.”

Nothing I didn’t already know
. Brinks gestured to an empty position.

“The good news,” he said without preamble, “is that we’ve been given clearance to conduct maneuvers planet-side. Captain Weston communicated the Council decision to me
an hour ago, and we’re clear to begin final preparations for the exercises.”

“And what would the bad news be, Major?” Lieutenant Savoy asked dryly.

As far as Brinks was concerned, there were two pieces of bad news. The first was that the
Odyssey
only had a few areas where any sort of training could take place, and among them, the parking deck was literally the only one in which a unit could practice any sort of tactical movement. It was a less-than-ideal solution, of course, since it was patently unlikely that they would be conducting infantry combat in zero-gravity situations. At least, the major genuinely hoped that it was unlikely, an ugly thought rearing in his mind as he tried to imagine a boarding operation with near-green troops.

But everyone at the meeting already knew that, so he wouldn’t belabor the obvious, and just move onto the news that was really news: “Well, it seems that Colonel Reed and his Green Beanies want someone to give the locals an example of what a real soldier can do…So they invited five hundred of them to the show.”

Bermont winced noticeably, and Brinks heard a slight groan from his direction.

“Problem, Sean?” he asked, knowing already what the problem was.

“Yes, sir.” Bermont nodded, then shook his head. “We’ve got a lot of green people, Major. That was one of the reasons we wanted to conduct exercises. I’d hate to fall on our face in front of the locals.”

Sometimes Bermont missed the point, Brinks thought. Messing up in front of the locals wasn’t the worst thing that could happen.

Brinks fixed Bermont with a steady stare, though his words were addressed to the entire table. “Well, it’s your job to make sure that doesn’t happen. Especially since this has been upgraded to a live-fire exercise.”

Someone hissed, but there were no more comments ventured, so Brinks tapped a command and the tabletop was lit up with the light from a floating cross section of land.

“This is the LZ, ladies and gentlemen,” Brinks said, highlighting a mountain range that made the border to the west. “The captain has decided that, under the rules of engagement for this exercise, it is to be considered hot. That means a hard entry in the shuttles, without CM aid.”

There were groans, and someone cursed, but Brinks expected that and only smiled thinly. What would a planning meeting be without complaining?

“Local engineers are in the process of setting up targets for us, but we don’t know where they’ll be or how they’ll be defended. The colonel and his boys have promised me, however, that they will be defended…So I want an assault plan for all contingencies.”

He looked around the table and nodded with satisfaction, choosing to see nothing but agreement and determination.

“All right, let’s do this.”

Amherst watched with curiousity as Comdr. Stephen Michaels accepted the data plaque from the petty officer, who saluted quickly and turned on his heel to leave. Stephen quickly read through the text he’d been given.

“What’s up, Steph?” Amherst asked after a moment.

Stephanos shrugged a little unhappily. “The Archangels are being assigned to ground support for the exercises.”

Amherst winced. It wasn’t all that bad, of course. The Archangel platform was more than capable of handling minimal ground support operations, but it wasn’t what it was best at, either. Normally, the fleet was used to secure air superiority or to execute precision strikes on targets deep within enemy territory.

Close air support was a horse of a different color, however, and even the veteran flyers on the fleet were out of practice in that area, to say the least.

“I guess they’re planning on shaking the rust off of everyone, sir,” Amherst said after a moment.

Stephen nodded, then seemed to shrug it off and looked back over their fleet. “All right, sim time! We’ll do precision flying drills and atmospheric maneuvering sims first. Let’s move it, people!”

But Amherst knew Stephen still wasn’t happy.

PLANET RANQUIL

▸ERIC WESTON WATCHED as the sun set, the deep red of the sky reminding him of a cabin he had stayed in for a few months between services back home. He hadn’t been back there in years—over a decade, actually. He would have to see if it was still available when he returned to Earth; he had a feeling that he would need the downtime by then.

The first thing he’d done after coming out of the chamber that supposedly housed “Central” had been to order the
Odyssey
to a higher orbit. The orbit would cost them more fuel, but it should be well clear of the planet’s electromagnetic field and, hopefully, far enough not to be in danger of being read by whatever “Central” was.

Central bothered him, in some ways more than even the Drasin. The Drasin were a known quantity to Eric, something he could understand, even if not completely. Central was something else entirely, a being that was obviously different from anything he’d ever imagined. If he was right, and it was a gestalt, then it was possibly the amalgam of every being on the planet.