by Evan Currie
The Odysseus herself might have a hard time avoiding a similar fate, but Earth couldn’t really afford to lose a single ship if it could be avoided.
“No,” he ordered. “We’re done here. Let them go.”
► Two beaten and battered groups of ships broke apart, no longer intent on fighting one another to the last but with the clear promise of more to come.
Where they had been fighting, now only expanding gasses, debris, and bodies marked their passing.
EPILOGUE
► Eric Weston’s boots crunched on the debris as he stepped over the battlefield and surveyed it with a critical eye.
“This was some heavy fighting, Captain,” he said to the Priminae captain at his side.
“It was indeed, Commodore,” Drey said tiredly. “I only wish it had not been your people who took the worst of it.”
“Don’t,” Eric said. “Just thank the fallen for their sacrifice. Wishes and could-have-beens do not win anyone—not you or them—respect.”
He paused, looking at a body with a knife driven through the center of its chest. He bent over slightly to confirm that, yes, it was actually a Marine Kanto blade.
“Huh,” he said mildly, hiding the depths of his emotions as he examined the scene. “I would have sworn that the blade would have shattered before it penetrated combat armor. Live and learn, I suppose. Oorah, Marine.”
He shrugged and stepped over the breach and onto the flight deck.
The damage was immense in scale, a level of fighting that he could barely imagine just due to the close-range nature of the conflict combined with the sheer power being tossed around. It was all rather staggering, really.
“Will you be able to repair?” he asked the Priminae captain.
Drey sighed. “We do not know. Reports are still being assembled, but I would be somewhat surprised if we can. The cores may be salvaged, of course. If they had been significantly damaged, we would not be standing here.”
Eric barked out a laugh.
There was truth there. Even if the ship was still in one piece, he’d not set foot on her if the cores were unstable. Hell, he’d not let any of his ships within ten light-seconds of it, for that matter.
“There’s the truth, Captain.”
“And your Odysseus?” Drey asked.
“I don’t know.”
“I hope we can both repair,” Drey said finally. “These ships have a history now, do they not?”
“They do, Captain, but their honors will never die. Steel rusts, ceramic degrades, but honor is inviolate.”
Drey nodded slowly. “Thank you, Commodore, for your words and your visit.”
“It was a pleasure, and an honor,” Eric said with a hint of a sad smile. “We will see one another again, I think.”
“I would like that, I believe.”
The two then stood silently as the cleanup around them continued.
► Eric was tired by the time he got back to the bridge of the Odysseus, but then he’d been tired when he left it.
“Damage reports to your station, Commodore,” Heath said as he entered.
“Thank you, Commander.”
He took a seat and called up the reports. It was a long file.
Enemy lasers had destroyed the forward armor to the point that no repair was possible while underway. There just wasn’t anything for the expanding foam to stick to. Even chunks of the superstructure had been melted away.
The cores were intact, of course, so that was something.
They’d lost almost a hundred men on the Odysseus. The task group’s losses numbered well over a thousand. The loss of the Kid alone . . .
Eric closed his eyes.
All this, and for what? The enemy still escaped with intelligence that we can’t be sure about.
Drey had provided him with the search terms the enemy had used on his database, and it wasn’t good.
They’d gone looking for information on the new laser systems, armor design, and, far more importantly in Eric’s mind, Earth.
Oh, they hadn’t known to look by name or anything of that nature. They’d been looking for information about the Priminae’s allies.
Drey had also provided him with the results of those searches, of course, and it also wasn’t good. They didn’t know how much intelligence had been transmitted—some had certainly not—but some had, and he had to assume the worst.
If they know how weak Earth is, they’ll make their move. We’re not ready. We need more time. What do we do? We can’t hide, not anymore. We can’t run . . . I guess . . .
“We fight.”
Eric’s eyes snapped open as a cry of alarm echoed around the bridge from multiple sources, drawing in the Marine guard stationed outside. Eric surged to his feet as the Marine entered his peripheral vision, pulling his sidearm and aiming it toward the front of the deck.
“Freeze!”
Eric stared with a mix of concern, confusion, and incredulity at the figure who’d caused the sudden commotion.
It was a young boy, he thought, wearing what looked like ancient Grecian or maybe Roman armor. The child’s attire consisted of a gilded skirt and bronze breastplate with greaves and bracers hidden under an equally old one-piece helmet with a vertical fringe running front to back.
The boy’s face, through the helmet, was beaten and bloodied, and he held an old leaf-bladed sword in his hand.
Eric slowly got up, holding a hand out to bring the Marine to a stop and tell him to hold.
He and the boy stared at one another for a while, Eric trying to decipher what he was seeing while the boy just seemed etched from stone.
Is that . . . pink glitter around his eyes?
More than anything, that incongruous detail flummoxed Eric, and he honestly had no clue what to make of it. He made himself focus.
“Who are you?” Eric asked with a sinking sensation as he suspected very much what the answer would be. But it was impossible. It couldn’t be what he was thinking. They were nowhere near a planet, and the only entities he’d ever seen that he could match this boy to were planet bound.
The boy looked him evenly in the eyes.
“I’m Odysseus.”
Eric slumped back into his seat, alternatively awed and horrified.
“You woke me up.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Bestselling Canadian author Evan Currie’s imagination knows no limits, and he uses his talent and passion for storytelling to take readers everywhere from ancient Rome to the dark expanses of space. Although he started out dabbling in careers such as computer science and the local lobster industry, Evan quickly determined that writing the kinds of stories he grew up loving was his true life’s calling. Beginning with the techno-thriller Thermals, Evan has expanded the universe within his mind with acclaimed series such as Warrior’s Wings, the Scourwind Legacy, the Hayden War Cycle, and Odyssey One. He delights in pushing the boundaries of technology and culture, exploring the ways in which these forces intertwine and could shape the future of humanity both on Earth and among the stars.