“Perhaps,” Weston said, conceding the point. “But I think that you’re forgetting something.”

“Like what?”

Weston ignored the challenging tone in his friend’s voice and responded, “You aren’t going a little underpowered, Steph. You’re down by four planes and pilots; that’s a full quarter of your flight.”

Stephanos scowled. “I’m aware of that.”

“Are you also aware that Lieutenant Samuels passed her NICS exam with a point-three-nine variance?” Weston retorted. “Or that she trained at the Angels flight camp for nine months before the war ended? Or that she was in line for a commission with the flight until the congressional decision to stop ‘antagonizing’ the Block by dangling our feathered butts in their face?”

Steph paled as the captain spoke with hard edge in his voice. “No, sir, I wasn’t aware of that.”

“Then I suggest you review her file,” Weston said.

“Aye, aye, sir.”

Weston watched as Stephen walked away. “Steph,” he said as the commander reached the corner.

Stephanos paused, glancing back. “Sir?”

“I understand your worry, but you need every able body you can get. If I had my way, I’d be out there, too.”

“I don’t think we’re quite that bad off, begging the captain’s pardon,” Steph replied, with a smirk.

“Wiseass.” Weston shook his head, turning away.

“Always, sir.”

“Captain on the bridge!”

“At ease,” Weston said, accepting his seat back from Commander Roberts. “Status report?”

“The last of the refugees will be departing in the next twenty minutes, sir.”

“All right, Mr. Daniels, have you prepared the course information I requested?”

“Aye, sir,” Lieutenant Daniels replied, tapping out a command on the navigation board. “Using nothing but thrusters will be tough on the ship, sir, but we can mount a successful intercept if we use minimal CM generation.”

“How minimal?” Weston’s voice was clipped.

“Eight percent, sir. For the first hour of the burn only.”

Weston thought about the CM technology that allowed both the heavy lift capability of the Odyssey’s shuttles and the lethal speed of the Archangels, not to mention the acceleration of the Odyssey itself. The downside of the technology was that it created a rather large sinkhole in normal space that was the equivalent of a searchlight to someone with eyes to see it.

It was also a large part of what kept the acceleration from plastering the crew over the rear bulkheads of the ship. Since their mass was reduced, along with the rest of the ship, their personal inertia was affected by the laws of the little pocket of reality that the Odyssey dragged around with her at all times.

“I’m sorry, sir, it’s the best I can do with the time restraint.”

Weston studied the data. Daniels was right. Without 8 percent, they’d never be able to intercept the ships far enough from the planet to ensure that they could prevent more landers from being dispatched.

“All right. Approved,” Weston said, signing off on the order. “Lamont?”