Homeworld (Odyssey One) (53 page)

“I don’t suppose either of you have any ideas here?”

“No, ma’am.” Commodore Wolfe sounded pained to admit it.

She looked over to Eric, but he didn’t respond. He was staring off into space, both literally and figuratively.

“Captain?” she prompted him. “Captain!”

Eric looked sharply in her direction. “Sorry, Admiral. What?”

“I asked if you had any ideas,” she glowered.

“Maybe,” he admitted, “but I need to talk to the Block captain in command of the
Weifang
.”

“What will that do?” she asked. “They use reasonably effective weapons, but intelligence doesn’t give them anything that will match up to the
Odyssey
’s armaments, particularly now that you have the transition cannons.”

“It’s an idea, Captain, but just that. I
need
to confirm it first.”

Gracen grimaced, but nodded. “Do it. I have to inform the Pentagon.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Eric saluted before turning and rushing from the room.

Gracen watched him go. “That man is going to give me ulcers, assuming I live long enough.”

“Admiral, I know that he isn’t exactly seen in the best light by the brass just now, all things considering,” Wolfe said quietly, his expression serious, “but there’s no one I’d rather lean on in a fight than Eric Weston.”

“Fighting has never been his weak point, Commodore.”

Eric made his way through the corridors to where the Block maintained a small embassy section on Liberty. They didn’t have a lot of people there, just as the Confederation didn’t have all that many on the Block station held in a counter-orbit. When he reached the embassy area, though, he didn’t
approach close enough to trip any surveillance red flags, or so he hoped at least.

The last thing I need is some Block security officer noting that Eric “Raziel” Weston is hanging outside their embassy.

That said, he wasn’t entirely without contacts in the Block government. After two minutes, Eric turned and left, heading for a quiet section of the station where he got a drink from the closest vendor and took a seat. It only took twenty minutes more before he was joined by a guest.

“You took a chance.”

Eric smiled. “Every time I see you, I take my life in my hands. Good to have a chance to talk again, Jei.”

Jei Fan, noted cameraman for Lynn Mei, snorted and took a seat opposite his old friend and sometimes enemy. “You ready to tell me what happened between you and Lynn yet? She’s been looking to fry your ass since Beijing.”

“Another day maybe. I need a favor.”

“Since when do you not?” Jei asked, both amused and disgusted. “What is it this time?”

“The captain of the
Weifang
,” Eric said. “I need to chat with him.”

“Ask for something I can arrange,” Jei snapped, clearly irritated. “Captain Sun is on his ship. You know the Block monitors all channels to and from their vessels.”

Eric sighed. “This isn’t for public dissemination, alright, Jei?”

The cameraman glanced around, then stared intensely at Eric for a long moment before finally nodding.

Eric hesitated slightly, considering the situation. Under some circumstances, and from many points of view, leaking information to the Block might be considered treason. Given that the Earth probably only had days left to
exist
, he was willing to take his chances.

“Our allies just received intelligence from the colonies,” he said finally. “There’s a fleet heading our way, and we’re the only thing out there as far as anyone knows, so the Earth is likely the target.”

Jei Fan wasn’t just a cameraman, any more than Eric was just a pilot. He immediately recognized both the threat of what he was being told and the risks Eric was taking to tell him, and frowned thoughtfully for a moment.

“I’ll have to inform my superiors, you know.”

Eric nodded, knowing that he wasn’t talking about the editors of his news channel. Jei was a longtime member of the Block’s Intelligence Division. “They’ll figure it out in a day or so at the latest anyway, so give them the heads up. Just don’t let it slip that it came from me.”

“I understand. Why do you want to speak with Sun?”

“I need the
Weifang
.”

Jei choked on his drink, coughing desperately to clear his airways.

“You what?” he managed to gasp out, staring incredulously at Eric.

“When we were engaging the Drasin the first time,” Eric said, “I noticed something in the drive system they use, something I knew about in theory but never saw before in practice. The
Weifang
uses the same basic system. I think we can use her to help even the odds.”

Jei shook his head. “This is too much, Eric. Maybe I can get you in contact with Captain Sun, but the Block will never allow him to take the
Weifang
out. Not in its current state, and not after the disaster he brought back on us the last time.”

“The disaster is only just starting, Jei,” Eric said gently, taking a sip of his drink. “And, while it pains me to say it, all Sun did was speed things up a little. This day was always coming.”

“Since you alerted those things of our presence, you mean.”

“No, since always.” Eric put his glass down, glowering at his friend. “Trust me on this. I don’t know who’s pulling the trigger on these things, but they clearly don’t give a damn about life or anything you and I would consider moral. It may have taken longer, but sooner or later they were going to come for us. They’re here now, so I’m going to ask you, do we hang together…or do we hang separately?”

The security man for the Block government bureaucracy scowled back for a long moment, and then made a disgusted sound.

“I can get you in touch with Sun. What you two conspire after that is on your heads,” he said as he got up and walked away, leaving his drink behind.

Eric watched him go, taking another long sip of his drink as he considered the parting words.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Sun was far from a happy man.

He was still, in title at least, the captain of the
Weifang
, but he didn’t expect that to last for much longer if, indeed, it lasted past this current summons.

He was puzzled why he would be called onto the Confederation station by the BID, but he’d been expecting such a call for some time now. He actually had expected to be summoned back to Earth directly, so the current situation was a little confusing.

He had reported in as ordered and was deposited in a secure room, nothing but bare walls and a folding chair in front of a plastic desk. So he sat there and waited, and waited,
and then waited some more. Probably close to an hour later, though he couldn’t say for sure since he didn’t have any of his personal kit and there wasn’t a clock in the room, the door finally opened.

“Ah, Captain Sun,” the man said, standing in the doorway. “I expect that you’re wondering why you’ve been brought here to Liberty?”

The man only slightly sneered at the name of the space station, which was an interesting affectation, Sun thought. That said, he simply nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Yes, well, it was a clerical error, I’m afraid,” the man said, smiling blandly. “You’re free to go.”

Sun blinked.

He must be joking.

Sun got slowly to his feet, not taking his eyes off the man, still expecting
something
to happen. He made his way to the door and the man stepped back and to the side, letting him pass. As he walked by, however, the man laid a hand on his shoulder and Sun flinched. He was loyal to his government, but the Block could be an unforgiving taskmaster during the best of times.

“While you’re here on Liberty, I really do suggest a meal on the observation deck,” the man said with a disturbing smile. “The view is spectacular, and I think you may be interested in the
company
.”

Sun paused, hearing the emphasis on the word “company” and glanced uncertainly at the man. He just got that same bland smile in return, causing him to nod slowly. “Yes, sir. Thank you for the suggestion.”

“It’s nothing. Please, accept my apologies for your inconvenience.”

Sun shook his head. “As you said, it’s nothing.”

He wasn’t going to start mouthing off to someone he was reasonably certain belonged to the state intelligence agency.
I’m in enough trouble already.

He was still somewhat surprised, however, to find himself led out of the embassy and sent on his way with little more than a proverbial pat on the back.

Or the bottom,
Sun thought with some annoyance at the patronizing nature of his “meeting.”

Outside the embassy area, he paused in the corridor, undecided as he glanced back along the route he had taken from the shuttle and then to a sign that proclaimed “you are
here
,” offering directions to wherever he might wish to go on the station.

I can hardly get myself any deeper in the pits, I suppose.

Sun sighed, making his way to the sign and taking note of the directions. The observation bubble was a few decks below the embassy, presumably to provide unrestricted views of the Earth below. He considered it for a moment, then resolutely made his way toward the elevators that would take him there.

Eric watched the Chinese captain when he walked into the large room, noting with some amusement the uncertainty in the man’s expression and body language. He knew from personal experience that Jei wasn’t likely to have told the man a damned thing about what he was here for; that wasn’t the Intelligence man’s style. It was better tradecraft to leave Sun flapping in the wind. It would keep him from being able to provide any solid testimony, should things go badly.

Jei Fan wasn’t a traitor to the Block, any more than Eric was a traitor to the Confederacy. Both men had learned a
long time earlier, however, that sometimes a little back channel into the enemy camp was useful in keeping either side from doing something incredibly stupid. Mostly it meant that they’d do small favors for each other, and sometimes even try to sneak a larger one by if the other didn’t seem to be paying attention. It was all a big game, something that Eric personally despised about the Intelligence services.

He’d done his time in the CIA, though, after his second tour in the Marines. The Company had needed a pilot for high-risk missions, and he’d needed something to do that didn’t involve sitting at home on the couch watching the world descend into the pits of hell. Eric hadn’t much liked his time with the Company, though if he were honest with himself, he had loved the work.

He’d gotten to fly an air vehicle that literally didn’t exist, according to popular belief, Pulse Jet Reconnaissance craft that put out an acceleration so powerful there were permanent imprints of his spine on the ejection seat. Another time he’d gotten to take a tour of the Pacific in a stealth craft that resembled nothing quite so perfectly as something out of a billionaire crime fighter’s personal tool box. Hell, he’d made it into the Archangel program as a direct result of his experience flying for the Company and the mission he’d run in China to “acquire” their early CM prototype.

No, he had loved the work. He just hated the company. And the Company.