Into the Black: Odyssey One (2 page)

“Identify Roberts, Jason - Commander - NAC Odyssey,” Roberts waited for the computer to acknowledge and continued, “Transfer all command access rights to Captain Eric Weston.”

“Confirmed. Captain Weston, please identify and confirm.”

“Identify Weston, Eric - Captain - NAC Odyssey. Confirm Access transfer.”

“All command access rights have been transferred. Welcome aboard, Captain.”

Weston removed his thumb from the scanner and glanced over at Stephanus, who by now looked like he was about to float away, rotational gravity be damned.

“Well Commander, the ‘Angels are yours,” Weston smiled for a moment, permitting Stephanus his time in the sun, then dropped the smile and continued, “I’ll be expecting a full report on the squadron. Weapons, flight status and roster by tomorrow.”

Stephanus’ smile dropped several degrees as he realized the paperwork he had just inherited, causing Weston’s smile to break the surface for a few seconds… until he too remembered the paperwork undoubtedly awaiting his attention.

Recovering, Stephanus saluted with a smile that twisted his lips oddly and, turning on his heel, strode off to his new duties.

“I’ll be in my quarters, preparing for the ceremony, Commander. Command is yours.” Weston said, accepting the Commander’s acknowledgment before he too turned to leave.

He headed down two decks to the officers’ quarters, finally finding his after a couple wrong turns. He stripped out of his flight suit, literally having to peel the liner off his skin, and tossed the suit into a hamper that was built into the wall. A few minutes later he was in the shower, washing the last remnants of his fighter off his body and from his hair.

After an all too short shower, Weston dried off and checked his closet. He smiled when he found that all his things had preceded him to the ship, and were all perfectly laid out.

I guess there are some perks to Command after all.

He pulled his dress whites out and laid them on his bed. Forty-five minutes after he had entered his quarters, an entirely new man emerged and headed back to Odyssey Command.

*****

Flight Deck

The Shuttle rolled to a stop, shuddered as it was locked into place by the huge pylons that served to secure the large delta shaped craft in the zero gee of the hanger deck, and finally came to a rest.

A few minutes passed as the craft was secured properly, the lift built into the belly of the space bird was readied as her passengers floated easily over to it, dropped onto the steel plate and activated their magboots. Loud reverberations echoed through the air as they all locked into place on the lift, waiting for it to drop.

Machinery hummed and the lift dropped down until it came into contact with the flight deck of the big mother ship, and those same passengers found themselves staring at a pair of armed sentries. Lieutenant Sean Bermont, former member of the Canadian Joint Task Force 2, was the first to step forward, handing his identification to the Marine Sentry.

“Lieutenant Bermont, to join ship’s company.” He said, passing the traditional sheet with his orders to the Marine.

The Sentry glanced down at it, but his eyes weren’t looking at the formal orders and ID, instead they moved further down to the display in his other hand as he scanned the Lieutenant’s dog-tags.

The information came up, along with a counter signed security voucher from the ship’s computer and the Marine nodded. “Very good, Sir. Lift to the habitation decks is twenty meters behind you and you should check in with the XO, as soon as you settle in.”

Bermont nodded, and turned on his heel as well as he could in Zero Gee and moved off toward the lift.

Behind him, he could hear the next man handing over his ID to the Marine.

*****

Odyssey Command

When Commander Roberts met him at the entry to Command, Weston quickly set him at ease with a gesture and nodded around the bridge before addressing his new XO.

“Commander, I think we should finish up the publicity ceremonies as quickly as possible. We do have a mission to begin,” Eric said having decided that he simply wanted to get his new command underway and, though he had to play to the press, he didn’t have to like it.

“Yes Sir. I’ll contact the Admiral and we’ll set up the public transfer.”

Weston nodded and walked around the command chair, lowering himself slowly into it.

Huh, it is more comfortable than my fighter; still…, it just feels off, somehow.
He fidgeted a bit in the large chair, familiarizing himself with the displays available at his fingertips, checking and rechecking the emergency restraints. Finally he gave up the attempt to force a level of comfort that he didn’t yet feel, and turned his attention to work.

Weston began glancing through the massive amount of reports from the ship’s stations, noticing that there were remarkable few from the tactical stations concerning the ships’ defensive systems. All the internal diagnostics were available but there were no practical numbers, it was all theoretical. Weston was still examining the defensive systems, when Roberts returned.

“Captain, the Admiral is waiting in the conference room, for the transfer of title.”

“Good,” Weston agreed, “let’s get this over with.”

Roberts and Weston left the bridge, riding an internal lift down to one of the outer decks, to the conference room. The Admiral was surrounded by aides and several members of the National and International presses, all with their whirring cameras focused on Weston’s entrance.

“Ah Captain Weston. Come in, Come in. I understand you’re anxious to begin your new command.” Admiral Gracen was a striking woman, one who knew how well her tall aristocratic bearing allowed her to manipulate a group, as she proved while carefully guiding the press in the direction of the Captain.

“Yes Ma’am,” Eric smiled professionally, standing ramrod straight for the cameras. “I’m eager to put the new systems to the test.”

“Good. Good. Well let’s get this done. Is everybody ready?”

After everybody had voiced their readiness, the Admiral pressed a control on one of the terminals that was built into the conference table and the lights dimmed subtly. Weston knew that the ship’s recorders had just activated to record the transfer for the military archives.

The Admiral leaned down and withdrew a small gold patch from a box by her seat and turned toward Weston.

“Eric Weston, formerly Commander of the Archangel Flight Group, you have been promoted to the level of Captain of the NAC Odyssey, with all the responsibilities and privileges therein.”

The cameras whirred, focusing on the Admiral’s hand as she placed the gold patch on his left shoulder and stepped back. She extended her hand to Weston and shook his firmly.

“Congratulations, Captain.”

“Thank you Admiral, now if I may be excused I’ll…”

The Admiral smiled, “It’s not that easy Captain, you
are
the guest of honor here and there is protocol to be observed.”

Weston groaned softly as he realized that he wouldn’t be escaping after all. Still, the rest of the evening went by quickly as he was introduced to various dignitaries and members of the press. Besides, the food was good, even if the conversation was lacking. He did have trouble evading one particular reporter however.

“Captain Weston! Excuse me, Captain,”

Weston turned to the voice, knowing already who it was but was still startled when she appeared only inches away, “Miss Lynn, nice to speak with you again.”

A low smirk passed briefly across her face, “I’m sure, Captain, but I still have a couple questions to ask you.”

“Please Miss Lynn; I’ve already answered your questions to the best of my ability. Much of the Odyssey’s mission and crew remain classified, as I’m sure you understand.”

The woman gave Weston a knowing look, her vaguely oriental features expressing her confidence, or lack thereof, in Weston’s answers to her previous questions. The young reporter was a representative of the Asian Block that had lost the last World War. Weston had actually met her previously when he had been forced to scrounge through Beijing in search of materials to repair his downed fighter. She had nearly gotten him killed then, and he had the distinct impression that she was now out to finish the job.

“Captain, what are your thoughts on a military presence being the first thing we, as human beings, send to the stars? Should we really be carrying our problems with us when we break free of the solar system?”

Weston sighed, “Miss Lynn, I can’t comment on matters of philosophy. I’m sorry.” He couldn’t see it but he knew that her microphone and camera were focused on him and he had to select each word carefully.

“But Captain, what about…,” Lynn was interrupted by Commander Roberts sidling between her and Weston.

“Captain, your presence is required by the Admiral.”

Weston bowed out gratefully, “If you’ll excuse me Miss Lynn.” As they left, he whispered aside to Roberts, “thanks for getting me out of that.”

“Don’t thank me, Sir. The Admiral noticed Miss Lynn circling and thought you might need backup.”

Weston smiled. Admiral Gracen always did know how to smell trouble.

“Admiral, I understand I owe you my thanks,” Weston slipped alongside the Admiral as she took a sip of her champagne.

“Nonsense Captain, just doing my duty. The last thing the NAC needs is an Asian Block ‘exclusive’ slicing our highest profile Captain to shreds.”

“They have become better at manipulating public opinion lately, haven’t they?” Weston grimaced.

Admiral Gracen nodded, sighing. “Yes, well…, they tried by force of arms, and very nearly succeeded. I suppose it was natural that they would begin applying alternative pressure.”

Eric nodded, “Yeah, and Lynn is far too good at her job.”

“She ought to be,” Gracen let a small smile grace her stern face. “We trained her, after all.”

“Why is it that the best terrorists, the worst enemies, and the most dangerous people in the world always seem to be schooled in the North American Confederation?” Weston asked plaintively. “Just once can’t they have graduated from some obscure school in Africa or something?”

Gracen smiled again, and shrugged slightly. “Know thine enemy, I suppose. Where better for them to learn to stick it to us?”

“Do we honestly have to keep training the people doing the sticking?”

Gracen shrugged with that same smile, “Ah, but if someone else did it, we wouldn’t have such
detailed
files on them.”

Weston chuckled, nodding slightly as he conceded the point, “Touché, I suppose, Admiral. Still, in any case, I think I’ll remove myself from the chopping block and retire for the evening. I have a big day tomorrow.”

The Admiral nodded and Weston excused himself from the party, navigating the long corridors to his quarters and collapsing roughly on the bed. Diplomacy. Up until now it hadn’t been that much of a factor in his career(s), leading the Archangels had been mostly a matter of flying and firing, the same as when he was a marine aviator for the United States.

Luckily the Diplomacy would be over once he was out of communication with Earth, and that wouldn’t be much longer, now. A few moments later, the events of the day exacted their toll finally and Weston fell fast asleep.

Chapter 2

“Commander Roberts, has the ship been cleared for departure?” Captain Weston asked.

“Yes Sir, Station Liberty cleared us several minutes ago. We received final clearance from the tower during the night,” The imposing Commander said softly, his voice nonetheless carrying easily. “Commander Harris wishes you luck.”

Weston nodded in satisfaction; tower clearance had been the final official word they needed to begin. “Send him my thanks, Commander. Are we a go for thruster release?”

Roberts tapped out a command on his tablet PDA, and nodded. “Aye Sir.”

“All right then. Helm, clear the moorings and take us out. Dead slow.”

“Dead slow. Aye Sir,” Lieutenant Daniels said, tapping in a series of commands.

Weston shivered, watching him he really didn’t trust the ‘fly by keyboard’ systems much. He’d always prefer the stick and throttle in his hand, but the designers had made that type of flying a last resort backup for the Odyssey.

Daniels hadn’t notice his Captain’s discomfit and continued with his work as he slid his hands along the solid composite surface in front of him. His finger placement and motion was detected by sensors from within the hermetically sealed interface and the integrated display lit up like the proverbial Christmas tree, as he calmly brought the systems online and cleared the mooring.

The Odyssey, now free of the mooring cables that had secured her to the Construction facility, began to drift clear until Daniels opened up the ship’s reactor and sent a low rumble through her. The ship began to slowly accelerate away from the station and from Earth’s orbit, leaving behind the cluttered section of space that had given birth to her.

“Helm, as soon as we’re clear of Earth Space, power up the navigation beams and accelerate to one third of light,” Weston commanded quietly.

“Yes Sir.”

As the Odyssey cleared the section of space arbitrarily claimed by Earth, the forward field generators powered up and began sweeping the ship’s path clear of debris. Then the Odyssey’s massive engines came into play and the big ship began to steam up the huge gravity well generated by Sol.

“Approaching .05c, Captain,” Daniels announced, after a moment. “Request clearance for CM release.”

“Granted,” Weston nodded, taking a deep breath.

The Counter-Mass system was the heart of the Odyssey’s sub-light propulsion systems, a series of generators along the keel of the massive ship that threw up an energy field around the entire vessel. The math involved gave Weston a headache, though he understood it enough to comprehend what was happening, as the fields began to charge.

Around the Odyssey, a bubble began to form as one generator enforced the next, establishing an oval pocket around the ship, that slowly began to segregate the ship and its occupants’ from the ‘real universe’. Within the bubble, the effective mass of the ship began to drop, as far as the rest of the universe was concerned, rendering the massive ship uniquely less massive.