“Captain?” Waters asked.

“Yes, Ensign?” Weston said, looking up.

“I think I’ve got the orbiters on sensors now.”

“What’s the verdict?”

Ensign Waters shrugged, looking a little confused. “They’ll…Well, they’ll fit, sir.”

“That’s good,” Weston said, frowning. “What is it, Waters?”

“Sir?”

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing, sir…it’s just…” Waters shook his head. “Here, sir, look for yourself.”

Weston watched as the information was relayed to the main screen. “Are those dimensions correct, Ensign?”

“As far as I can tell, Captain.”

“How many are coming up?”

“Four, sir.”

“How in the hell are they going to fit five hundred people on board four of those things?” Weston asked, looking at the tiny approaching craft.

They were roughly two-thirds the size of one of the Odyssey’s shuttles and looked like ugly, squat, flying bricks.

“We’re getting minimal energy readings off them, Captain. Their drive systems must be very efficient. Probably a lot smaller than our own.”

That made sense. The drive systems on the shuttles, Archangel fighters, and even the Odyssey itself made up over a third of the ship’s total mass. If they had a considerably smaller drive mass, then it was just remotely possible that they could cram five hundred people onto four of those things.

“I’d hate to try dead-sticking one of those suckers in,” Weston muttered, not realizing that he was speaking out loud.

“Excuse me, sir?” Waters asked, half turning.

“Nothing, Ensign,” Weston said. “Link me back through to Miss Chans.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Weston watched the approaching ships for another second, eyeing their ugly, completely non-aerodynamic design, and repeated his comment, mentally this time. Dead-sticking one of those things would be suicide—of that he was certain.

There was a reason why the Archangels and other craft were still designed to fly, more or less, in an atmosphere despite the abilities of the CM generators. No pilot wanted to fly something that would become a crater the first time there was a power glitch.

“I have Miss Chans now, sir.”

He turned his focus to the screen, where Admiral Tanner was already looking out at him.

“Admiral,” Weston started.

“Captain,” the admiral replied, “I trust that you have scanned the orbiters.”

“Yes, sir, and we won’t have any trouble with them,” Weston said.

“That is good.”

“Please inform your pilots that I will be launching a drone. They are to follow it into our flight deck. We’ll have the refugees waiting.”

“Thank you, Captain.” The admiral half bowed. “I’ll pass your message along.”

“Excellent. Weston out.”

Waters cut the signal automatically.

“Ensign Waters.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Full scans on the incoming craft, if you please.”

“Aye, Captain.”

It was highly unlikely that they’d be trying anything, given that the Odyssey was the only thing standing between them and the approaching alien warships, but Weston had all but grown up in one warzone after another. You didn’t take unnecessary chances with your life, or the lives of your people.

If he didn’t need to get those people off the Odyssey in the worst way, he’d have taken the time to use the ship’s own shuttles, just on principle. However, at the moment, they were not only using up his air, but they were also closing off an entire deck and taking up the time of his medical staff.