Out of the Black (Odyssey One, Book 4) (71 page)

All that, however, didn’t mean that the
Odysseus
had the capability to do what he needed. It was close, in some ways. Her cam-plate modifications were second gen at best, maybe a touch more efficient in some ways due to Priminae tech, but he didn’t think they’d have a patch on the
Odyssey
’s later-gen design.

Her lasers should be good enough. While they were lower generation they were also massively more powerful. Power counted for something, after all, counted for a lot of things, really. He had confidence in the weapons, but what he needed was real stealth, and he wasn’t sure that the monster he was on could handle it.

If it came to fighting before it was his choice, they’d already have lost.

“Show me the stealth specs again, please,” he asked, nodding to Winger, who was in charge of the ship’s active stealth systems.

“Aye sir. On your console.”

“Thanks.”

The ships weren’t what he’d call stealthy, unfortunately. Unlike the
Odyssey,
the Heroics just couldn’t go silent. They had a distinct gravity field and a power output that was high enough to be detected in the local space-time, which was a problem.

The
Odyssey,
and the
Enterprise,
were a lot like old-school diesel submarines. They weren’t as powerful as nuclear boats, but they had a few advantages. For one, you could turn
off
the
Odyssey
’s reactors, run on electrics and bare minimal thrust. You couldn’t do that with a Heroic, the same way as you couldn’t turn off a nuclear submarine’s reactor.

That meant that the enemy would be able to track the heroics almost anywhere they went, and that was a problem. Every problem, however, had a solution.

“Susan, transmit orders to the Heroics,” he said. “Here’s what I need them to do.”

“Aye sir. I have your file. Sending.”

“Good. Steph, are we ready?” Eric asked, taking a seat as he forced a cocky smile on his face.

It was anything but the time to be cocky, but what he was about to do was risky enough. He didn’t need everyone all tied up in knots over it because the captain didn’t look like he knew what he was doing.

Fake it until you make it. That’s been my motto ever since I saw these things for the first time. Why change now?

“Yes sir, we are ready.”

“Susan, transmit to all ships,” he said. “This is Captain Weston . . . initiate shell game.”

The ship minds advanced, closing the links of their net as they approached the targeted world and ships. The approach of the new class of ships, yet another type that defied all explanation and analysis, confirmed what the swarm had hypothesized. There was another spacefaring example of the red band in this part of the galaxy, and it was far more virulent and deadly than any other in recent memory.

It
must
be destroyed.

The swarm were shocked by a momentary flash of FTL particles that erupted from the region of the third world, effectively blinding them. Their light-speed senses remained intact, of course, so the swarm wasn’t overly concerned until all but one of the enemy ships vanished from their tracking plots as the FTL spectrum cleared once more.

That was impossible.

One could not simply hide power plants as large as those ships contained. There was no way, and yet all of them save one were now gone. The swarm intensely watched the light-speed track as it slowly caught up to the disruption, only to practically reel in shock when the ships all vanished from
that
as well!

The single remaining ship was bolting from the system at an intense acceleration, and in an instant, the swarm had a hard choice. Continue on to the target world, and risk losing their last link to the dangerous species they had
been tracking . . . or risk splitting forces, but that would then risk opening their force to defeat while in a weakened state.

The decision was swift, and the swarm changed course as one being, entering into a pursuit curve for the single remaining ship.

Jennifer “Cardsharp” Samuels cackled as quietly as she could, imagining the look on the face of the pilot of the Raven stealth bomber that had narrowly missed colliding with her
Heracles
.

“That poor bastard’s probably choking in the smell from the load he just dropped in his flight suit.” She smirked almost uncontrollably.

Captain Roberts rolled his eyes. “Some decorum, if you please, Lieutenant Commander. This is hardly the place or time.”

“Yes sir.” She grimaced.

“Besides,” the Captain went on, his voice dry as the Sahara, “he’s on canned air. The smell is hardly an issue. I’d expect that he’s more bothered by the newly squishy texture of his seat.”

Jennifer snorted, nearly breaking a rib as she failed to keep her laughter in.

“Control, this is Raven Two Three,” an angry pilot growled into his radio. “Request permission to light that sucker up!”

“Negative Two Three, that’s an ally.”

“I don’t want to
shoot
him. Just let me target the bastard!”

The control officer on the other side of the comm sighed audibly. It was already a long day, week, and month, but this was getting to be ridiculous.

The five Heroics had blown their tachyon projectors out in a single massive surge intended to blind the enemy temporarily as they shifted their cam-plates to best absorption levels and bolted for the surface of the Earth in order to hide the power of their gravetic reactors.

Floating in relatively low altitudes with active camouflage on was a hell of a way to introduce yourself to the local militaries that were already buzzing around like angry wasps, but there was little to be done about it. The Confederacy at least managed to provide emergency IFF beacons to their troops, but in many parts of the world the Heroics had to adjust fast on the fly to avoid midair collisions with planes and the occasional missile.

It was quick, it was dirty but, surprisingly, it worked.