Homeworld (Odyssey One) (48 page)

The Block certainly had records of the battle as well, something that was giving high-rank brass across the Confederacy migraines. The transition cannons weren’t something they wanted outed quite so quickly, or so spectacularly, and it was only a matter of time before the Block started making diplomatic noises about the Confederacy developing “super weapons.”

Granted, that selfsame “super weapon” had just saved the entire planet, so they could rattle their sabers all they liked. It wouldn’t be able to shake the Confederacy’s position anytime soon. Eventually, if they survived the coming war—well, that might be problematic.

That was an issue for another day, however.

The Russians almost certainly had records of the battle as well, along with a half a handful of non-aligned nations and private enterprises. Then there were the British and European nations with their own birds in the skies.

No, it wasn’t a secret that anyone could keep.

So the Confederate government basically decided it was time to blow the lid completely off the entire situation.

Eric Weston grimaced when he saw the gathered members of the press corps, really wishing he’d stayed on the
Odyssey
. The last thing he needed was to deal with any of those particular vultures, but it looked like he wasn’t going to have much choice.

The
Odyssey
’s last action was even now being played on screens across the entire planet, along with recordings from her first and second missions. The danger of the Drasin wasn’t being downplayed anymore. The government was, if anything, laying it on a little thick. He just hoped that they knew what the hell they were doing. A panic wouldn’t serve anyone except for the enemy, and the enemy had enough advantages already.

Of course it wasn’t like any of it was a huge secret or ever had been, in all reality. While many details of the
Odyssey
’s previous two missions had been classified, the general gist of them had been impossible to keep under wraps given the arrival of the temporary ambassador and his team from Ranquil. Most people had an idea of what was going on out there in the black. It just hadn’t penetrated that it might be able to reach out and touch them in turn.

Eric knew he’d have to wade through the mass of reporters soon enough, but luckily no one was expecting him to give interviews just yet. After the war was over, assuming he and the Earth survived, then he’d be tossed to the dogs that were the press corps. But for now the military would shield him from that much at least.

Admiral Gracen, on the other hand, wasn’t quite so lucky.

She was at the center of the maelstrom, cool and composed as she picked out one reporter after another and either answered their questions or shut them down with a simple “no comment.”

Oh, god. There’s Lynn. God, I hate that woman.

He had to school his face to an impassive expression as he noted in the crowd the Block reporter, a woman with whom he had some personal history. She was one of the few people on Earth whom he honestly couldn’t stand and quite possibly feared just a little. He could deal with a martial threat. That sort of thing didn’t bother him, in all honesty. When it came to soldiers, they might try to kill him, but at least he had a chance to return the favor.

Lynn Mei wasn’t a soldier, but she was someone who’d damned near killed him in the past, and Eric knew she would have no compunctions whatsoever about doing it again in the future. The problem was she’d do it by releasing intelligence through her news sources, all nice and legal like.

Give me an enemy I can drop a hundred pounder on any day of the week.

He glanced to one side, eyes slipping to where Captain Kian and her small entourage were standing.

The Priminae captain had assented to putting in an appearance at the press conference, but no one thought it a great idea to let the jackals loose on her or anyone
from the colonies at this point. It had been fairly clear that there was nothing resembling the news services of Earth back on Ranquil.

It wasn’t that they didn’t have news services, it was just that from what Eric had been able to tell, they really were just pure informational dissemination services. Rather dry, pretty dull for the most part, and certainly not like the norm on Earth where “if it bleeds, it leads.”

He supposed that some things probably shouldn’t be run to make a profit, and news was one of them.

Of course, there weren’t too many people who’d run an honest news service at a loss aside from the government and, as loyal as Eric was to the Confederacy, even he could see the problems with letting the government run the news services.

It was just another example of a choice between two evils, he supposed—in this case, a corrupt sensationalist news service and a corrupt government mouthpiece. Honestly, there probably wasn’t a lot of difference between them.

Sounds like the last elections, if you ask me.

He caught Kian’s eye as she squirmed slightly under all the attention and tried to convey a sympathetic expression. Eric couldn’t be sure it worked; while some elements of body language were shared between the Priminae and Terran humans, there were a lot of things that were not. Still, she smiled weakly in his direction and seemed to settle down.

He’d take that for a win.

Captain Kian had felt more comfortable when engaged in combat against the Drasin. The stares were bad enough, but there was something in the eyes of the people carrying
those…microphones? Whatever. The gleam in their eyes was downright disturbing. She did her best to ignore it all, trying to match the calm and impassive nature she could see in Captain Weston and his crewmembers across the way from here.

They appeared to treat the situation as a mild annoyance to be endured, something that happened as a matter of the course and not to be overly worried about. She wasn’t sure that she or hers could quite pull that off, but they would do their best or she’d know why.

The whole ritual seemed a little bit excessive for what she was told it accomplished.

Certainly, she wasn’t questioning that Terran citizens needed to know what was going on, but there were dozens of people here asking questions, and even more recording devices. Wouldn’t it just be simpler to make the appropriate military reports available to the public and let those who wished to review the information seek it out on their own?

Cultural differences, the Elders said. I’ve seen cultural differences. This is a completely new level.

She decided to ask Captain Weston about it later, preferably when things were quieter, and for the moment just tried to put it all out of her mind.

If only that were as easily accomplished as spoken.

Eric sighed, mostly in relief, as he and the others filed out of the conference room. Even when all that was required was that they stand there and look like military, he still couldn’t stand press conferences. Most of his attending crew looked
about the same as he felt, which was still better than those of the
Posdan
who had attended.

Eric excused himself from the group and made his way over to where Captain Kian was standing with, what he presumed to be, her senior crew. The Priminae captain was tall, probably a little over six feet. It wasn’t extreme for a woman, but it was certainly in the high averages in his experience. He wasn’t certain how it stacked up in the Priminae colonies; the few women he’d had time to get to know there were of decidedly slighter build.

Milla Chans was the first non-terran human they’d met, having picked her up in an emergency pod almost literally in the middle of nowhere. For him that sort of made her the standard by which he viewed the rest, which probably wasn’t fair to them. Eric smiled slightly to himself as he considered that and more.

She has a similar look to Milla, though, around the eyes and cheeks. I wonder…racial link, familial?

Most of the Priminae he’d encountered were light skinned, though fairly obviously not of Caucasian descent. Their features varied from that norm, but he hadn’t yet spotted a real solid pattern in their looks that he would define as “Priminae.” He figured that their skin color just meant that they hadn’t spent the last few thousand years working out in the hot sun where they could evolve and select for a darker pigment to protect against ultraviolet radiation. Honestly, it wasn’t something he’d been bothered to look up. He was sure that someone, somewhere in the bowels of the Confederation’s research bureaucracy was interested, but it wasn’t in his purview.

Kian, for her part, had features he would normally associate with people of Asian descent, mostly around the hair
and eyes. Her chin and cheekbones looked maybe more European, but her eyes were lighter than he could recall seeing on Terrans. The rest was fairly unique, her bones a little more solid than he’d expect for her height. It gave the woman a strong appearance at odds with her stature and the refinement of her features. All in all, an attractive look.

“Captain,” she said, nodding to him as he approached.

“Captain.”

They smiled slightly, sharing the very mild humor of the moment, then Eric went on. “Thank you for attending. I know you’re not used to our news and press corps as a rule.”

“It’s certainly…different,” she acknowledged. “However, I understood that having representatives of the Priminae there could be helpful.”

“It was, I promise you,” Eric said seriously. “Right now, more than anything, we need to get everyone moving in the same direction if we want to survive what’s coming.”

Kian nodded. “Understandable. The colonies took time to move as one as well. We lost many smaller worlds before it became clear that this was not a false call.”

“We don’t have any smaller worlds to lose,” Eric said grimly, “so I’m hoping that we don’t take as long to get our act together either.”

“With the new weapon you showed in the last battle, you could certainly hold off any number of Drasin,” Kian said, confused. “What worries do you have?”

“For one, we’re pretty sure that the enemy really does have literally
any
number of ships to throw at us,” he said. “You can swamp almost any defense with enough numbers, and they’ve got them. That little show earlier almost guarantees that Earth is now a high priority target to be watched, at the very least. I’m hoping that we managed to shock a
little caution into the trigger men, but I’m not really liking our odds.”

Kian looked surprised. “You do not believe that such a display will frighten those you think are behind the attacks?”

Eric shook his head. “No. No, I don’t.”

“I confess, I’m one of those who are…unconvinced by your theory. The Drasin are too entrenched in legend for me to easily believe them controlled by others,” she said. “But I’ve seen the ships with my own scanners. I know they exist…Why do you not believe that they would be cautioned by what you accomplished?”

Eric let out a deep breath, considering his words as they walked through the corridors of Liberty Station.

“Do you know much of drone warfare, Captain?” he asked, finally.

“No. What is it?”

“It’s the use of machines to wage war,” he said. “Not weapons, but automated machines that are controlled to some degree from a distance. You don’t have to risk a soldier’s life. You just send in a robot to do the job.”