Into the Black: Odyssey One (42 page)

“Sedated?”

“When we’re finished, Milla can fill you in. Suffice to say that the sedation was as much for their sake as for ours. We would have woken them already, but given the situation we appear to be in, I didn’t want panicked civilians adding to our problems.”

“Yes,” the Admiral nodded, “I can see that. We shall, of course, prepare a place for them immediately.”

“That would be welcome, Sir.” Weston replied, “However, we have something else to discuss, at this point. You are aware of course, of the five ships currently approaching to join the one already in system?”

“Yes Captain,” Tanner replied grimly. “We have them on our long range sensors now. It’s worse than I had hoped, but much as I’d feared.”

“Admiral, I have to be frank, Sir,” Eric leaned forward as he talked, clasping his hands in front of him. “The odds of the Odyssey mounting a successful defence against six of those cruisers are very nearly zero.”

*****

Milla held herself still as the Captain’s words came over the speakers, but her heart was in her throat at the admission. She’d known it, at least that it was likely, but to hear it put into words by Captain Weston was something else.

Was he going to leave them?

Could he justify fighting a lost cause for a world that wasn’t his own?

She didn’t know.

Words spoken with a calm assurance brought her back, as she realized that Admiral Tanner was speaking again, so she tried to focus on what he was saying.

“I expected that might be the case, Captain,” the Admiral said, sounding almost resigned. “Part of me wishes very much to ask you to stay; however, I understand that we are not your people.”

“I didn’t say, I was ready to run out on you just yet, Admiral,” Weston’s voice came back over the suit’s systems, a moment later. “I’m just giving you the odds.”

“I’m afraid that I don’t understand,” Tanner said, trying very hard not to sound confused.

“Admiral, the way I see it…, judging from reports from our ground forces, it’s not totally impossible to fight off these things on the ground,” Weston said. “I understand that your weapons aren’t as effective as you might like, however, if you were to adjust your tactics you should have the people, to take out any invasion force that might land…, assuming you do it fast enough.”

“I’m afraid that isn’t my specialty, Captain,” Tanner smiled slightly, glancing over his shoulder. “However, I can speak with our Ground Force Commander.”

“I expect you can,” Weston said. “In that case, what we might be able to do for you, is to help cut down the opposition somewhat. Every ship we can take out for you, is one less that you’ll have to deal with on the ground.”

Admiral Tanner took a deep breath, understanding entering his eyes. He nodded slowly, “I understand, and, I thank you for your help, Captain.”

There was a moment of silence from the speakers, and Captain Weston’s voice returned, its tone serious.

“It’s what we do, Admiral.”

*****

Traditions.

They mattered more than most people realized, especially in military units.

Commander Roberts knew this, and he had always felt that the best units were those that had traditions of excellence, that every member could aspire to. Few were those who both saw the birth of those traditions and who realized just what it was they were seeing.

Something told him, deep inside, that he was now among those few.

When the Captain said those words, Roberts lifted his chin a little higher on reflex, though he knew that no one was looking at him. And, around him, he could see the same effect, on the others sitting there.

The young men and women assigned to the Auxiliary Bridge weren’t the Odyssey’s primary command crew, they were a little younger, and in what was already a young man’s Navy that meant they were practically in nappies. They had joined after the war, most of them, probably out of the same ideals, misguided though they may be, that the Captain was now espousing.

They stood just a little taller, sat just a little straighter, and Roberts caught a gleam in the eyes of one of them, as he glanced over his shoulder at the Captain.

The Commander risked a look at Weston, wondering if the Captain had done it on purpose, but couldn’t tell from the other man’s stance. Weston was intent on his conversation with the Alien Admiral and wasn’t paying attention to the effect his words had.

Before the next shift was out, Roberts knew, the word would be spread across the ship. Everyone would know the gist, if not the details, of the Captain’s proclamation.

It’s what we do.

Roberts doubted that the Captain meant it the way it would be interpreted. It was just what soldiers said when they were complimented or thanked. In another time, another place, the words would be just that. Words.

Here, though, and now, they had already taken on a new meaning.

Traditions, Commander Roberts mused silently, were funny things. They started when you least expected them and endured through everything the universe could throw at them.

And the Captain had just started one hell of a tradition.

Assuming, of course, that anyone survived to pass it on.

It’s what we do.

Spoken to an Alien Admiral by a Terran Captain, in the defence of a world that wasn’t his own.

The rest of the fleet, and all those that followed would have one hell of a tradition to live up to.

Commander Jason Roberts just had to wonder, if it was a good thing or not.

*****

“Yes… well. . , .” the Admiral seemed flustered, something that didn’t look quite right on him, Weston noted. “We still owe you greatly, Captain.”

“All you have to do for the moment, Admiral, is fight,” Weston told him. “We’re willing to lend a hand, but we can’t do this for you, Sir. So fight.”

Tanner inclined his head, nodding in acceptance. “I believe that you may count on that, Captain.”

“Good,” Weston nodded.

The Admiral looked up again, “if I may know, though. How do you intend to fight six cruisers at once?”

Weston smiled, almost ferally, the effect sadly lost on the Admiral who couldn’t see it. The members of the crew around him, however, noted the smile and shivered in response.

“There is an old expression where we come from, for people in our position,” Captain Weston replied, his tone edged with a hint of dark humor. “A piece of advice from the past, you might say.”

“Really, Captain?” The Admiral had a hint of a smile as well, “Do your people, make a habit of getting into situations like this?”

Eric laughed a low chuckle, that washed across the bridge, “Not this precise situation, but close enough perhaps.”

“I see,” Tanner replied, that same hint of a smile gracing his fine features, “And what is this advice from the past?”

“Run Silent, Admiral,” Weston replied. “Run Silent, and Run Deep.”

There was a moment of silence, the Admiral looking genuinely puzzled. “I’m afraid that I don’t understand…”

“I didn’t expect you to, Admiral,” Weston replied. “So, I just hope that the enemy doesn’t understand it either.”

“I… See…”

“I’m afraid that I have duties to attend, Admiral,” Weston said. “I’ll contact you before making any moves.”

“I… Very well, Captain. Again, thank you for your help,” the Admiral said.

“Not at all, Admiral,” Weston replied. “Until the next time we speak.”

Admiral Tanner nodded, and Weston cut the connection.

“Sir,” Roberts spoke up after a moment. “Are you sure…?”

“I am,” Eric nodded, not looking back.

“Yes Sir,” Roberts nodded.

“Ensign,” the Captain said, glancing to one side.

“Sir!”

“Contact the Bridge, inform them that I’m on my way back and have them recall the senior officers.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” the Ensign replied crisply.

Weston loosened his restraints, floating up into the air and kicking off the Command Chair towards the rear door, “Commander.”

“Yes Captain.”

“You’re with me.”

“Aye Sir,” Roberts nodded simply, waving a hand to the Lieutenant at the Auxiliary Conn.

As Roberts followed Captain Weston from the Auxiliary Bridge, the Lieutenant shifted himself over to the command seat and snapped in his restraints, eyes on the screens that displayed the ‘bow wake’ of the decelerating ships, a hint of steely determination in them that had been missing an hour earlier.

Chapter 28

“The Drasin ships continue to close, Admiral.”

Tanner barely acknowledged the report, his focus instead on the young Ithan who was standing stock still in the center of his command pit, apparently not in the least tired or inclined to sit down, despite the fact that it had been quite some time, since she’d arrived.

“Are you certain you won’t take a seat, Ithan?” He asked once more, ingrained civility forcing him to do so, despite the irritation that washed over him, at the repetition.

“No, Admiral,” Milla replied. “I am fine. This armor seems to keep pressure off my feet so, in a strange way, I’m already sitting.”

“Ah,” Tanner nodded, “Very well. Ithan, tell me something…”

“Certainly, Admiral.”

“The Carlache…”

Milla winced visibly under her helm, causing Tanner to wince in sympathy, but he pressed on.

“Her Captain and I were old friends,” he told her. “I would appreciate knowing…, how it happened.”

Milla was silent for a moment, “after he ordered the evacuation, Captain Tal remained on the Bridge, controlling the defence weapons. The last I saw of him was when he ordered me to leave, Sir.”

Tanner nodded, face thoughtful.

“Yes, I see,” he said after a moment, a small smile on his face. “Oddly, I believe that it was not the worst way Tal could have imagined dying.”

Milla didn’t have anything to say to that.

*****

Work crews were hanging, literally, out of the ship as they welded new armor joints to the flight deck of the Odyssey, carefully applying patches around the powerful coils that controlled the Fighter ‘traps’. The work had been going for hours and was going to go on for a good many hours more that was until Chief Corrin stormed onto the deck in her hard suit, snapping orders.

“Rowley! Get those men out of there!” She growled. “New orders came down, we’re gonna forget the armor.”

“What?” Alistair Rowley, Machinist’s Mate First Class, looked up in confusion. “We need this deck back, Chief!”

“And we’re gonna get it back, fast.” Corrin growled, grabbing a Crewman and pointing across the deck. “We’ve got some steel plate coming down through the lock, grab a crew and bring it over here.”

“Yes Ma’am,” the Crewman nodded, clunking off instantly toward the lock.

“What’s going on, Chief?” Rowley crawled up out of the gash the enemy lasers had ripped.

“We’re gonna fill the gash with laser reflective foam, then laser weld some plates down over it. You’ve got the trap fixed, right?” She demanded.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he nodded. “But the armor…”

“We don’t have time for the armor, Rowley,” Corrin told him. “Just get the deck operational and let me and the Captain worry about the Armor.”

“You want it that way, Chief, you got it,” Rowley nodded with a shrug. “I’ll have the deck ready to use inside of…, say two hours?”

“Good man,” Corrin nodded, “I’ll be back in an hour to have a look. In the meantime, I’ve got some bad news to drop on a couple other departments.”

“What’s going on, Chief?” Rowley asked a second time, his voice tense.

“We’re going to war, Rowley. Got a problem with that?” Corrin asked her voice just slightly hard edged.

“No Ma’am,” Rowley stiffened.

“Good,” the Chief said, nodding once in her helmet. “Get your crew back to work.”

“You got it Chief!”

Corrin nodded again than turned to leave. Behind her Rowley switched over to his crew’s frequency, “All right you bums, we’ve got a deadline. Franks! Get me a couple canisters of that insulating foam from storage, we’re gonna patch this bitch the dirty way!”

*****

“Sir,” Commander Roberts hesitated, “I’m not sure this plan of yours is going to work.”

“Join the club, Commander.” Eric said wryly, as he took a seat behind his desk.

The two of them had just come from the staff meeting that Eric had called and Roberts was having severe problems with the details of the plan of engagement. Not that Eric blamed him in the slightest.

“Sir, it relies on too many unknowns.”

Weston nodded, “Agreed. But you and I both know that we can’t hope to win, in a standup fight, Jason.”

Commander Roberts paused for a moment, his mind blinking back a bit of surprise, as Weston used his first name for the first time. After a moment, he shook his head, “Even so, you’re risking a lot on our Stealth systems. We don’t know what kind of sensors the enemy has.”

Eric Weston nodded. “True. But I think that we can pretty much imitate a hole in space for anything short of an active Tachyon scan.”

“For anything using conventional frequency scans, you mean,” Roberts corrected, though he had to concede the point.

The Odyssey had been built with the Cam plates, for two reasons. The first, or rather the first reason that became important to them, was the fact that with appropriate modifications the Cam-Plate system could reflect over ninety eight percent of Laser energy away from the ship. It was, against energy weapons, the ultimate form of armor.

However, the original design wasn’t built with armor specifically in mind. The Cam-Plate technology was based on the development of Carbon Nano-tubes designed to shift reflective frequencies as an active camouflage for Main Battle Tanks. An appropriate program shunted through the armor coating would allow a tank to blend into practically any environment with a nearly perfect camouflage.

At the far end of its ability was the ‘black hole’ setting, a phase shifted armor that would absorb everything in the EM range sent its way, including RADAR, Laser, and all other conventional detection systems. The net effect was to reduce the electronic and sensor profile of any unit coated in it, to less than two percent of its normal signal.