“Great fun!”

“Yeah, yeah, quiet down, Racer. All right, peel back and initiate Assault Plan Twelve. Racer, you and Reaper start waxing those fighters as we slip past. If they get smart, they’ll start nailing us with coordinated strikes. And you know what happens then…”

Stephanos’s warning was unnecessary since every pilot in the Angels knew the limits of their fighters’ laser-dispersion technology. Coordinated bursts from multiple frequency lasers would overload the system and crash the onboard software that handled the cam-plate reflection modifications. The resulting twenty-second reboot time often translated into eternity. Literally.

The fighters wheeled back into line with the Drasin ship, Angels Five and Eight flanking their brethren as their computers focused on the approaching line of enemy fighter craft. They watched the line of enemy fighters form up into a wall of defense between them and the enemy capital ship.

“Looks like we have to handle the fighters first, Angels.”

The Archangel group acknowledged Stephanos’s message, understanding it to be an order as much as a comment. The fighters split up into a group of two-fighter teams and increased speed toward the waiting line of fire.

In the Mons Systema command center, the huge threat board lit up from one side to the other. Furious battles raged all through their system now, it seemed, and the key players were still closing in on the planet.

The Drasin had the lead, but the unknown ship was closing fast on a course that would swing it around the planet and bring it in between the Drasin cruiser and its objective.

The computers were unable to predict exactly who would win the race; all they could say at this point was that it was going to be close.

Too close.

The Odyssey accelerated into the orbital plane of the nearby planet, hooking her powerful gravity field and swooping around just as the Drasin ship reached orbit, immediately aligning to bring its forward guns to bear on the target. It became obvious to everyone on the bridge of the Terran ship that the enemy cruiser had taken early notice of their intentions.

“Sensors to full sweep!” Weston ordered as the Drasin vessel slowly brought its own forward weapons to bear on the Terran vessel.

“Aye, sir.”

The Odyssey’s formidable forward sensor array went active, painting the Drasin ship with an inescapable web of electronic and tachyonic signals. The Drasin ship accelerated, vectoring to intercept the Odyssey’s position as it did.

“Ping them,” Weston said, his voice cold.

The Odyssey released a single, focused burst of tachyons and captured the reflected signals the barest slice of an instant later, locking the Drasin’s course changes into the targeting computer.

“They’re closing, Captain,” Roberts reported from examining the combat display. “No sign of a weapons lock or firing as of yet.”

They want to play a game of chicken, Weston thought. “Report on the second ship and the status of the Archangel group.”