When it stopped, the three soldiers climbed back up to the lip of the trench and looked out over the damage.

Savoy whistled appreciatively when he saw the impact sites. The ground was burning there now, four deep craters spewing flame and smoke as the ground caved in farther, hopefully crushing anything that might be left in there.

“Nice work, Burke,” Savoy said, already accessing the carnivore drones and bringing them back around for another look with their ground-penetrating radar. “Let’s make sure we got them all.”

“What in the Maker was that?” Tanner asked incredulously as the ground stopped shaking and quaking around him.

“An explosion in the Corinth Sector, Admiral.”

Tanner cast a glance at Milla. “Your friends don’t believe in doing things lightly, now, do they?”

Milla tried to shrug, but the effect was wasted in a suit.

“Never mind.” He shook his head. “Damage?”

“That is my concern, Admiral,” Nero stated. “My people are there, and the area was evacuated. We’re trying to get confirmation on the elimination of the Drasin now. Leave it to my people.”

Tanner nodded grimly. “Very well, Nero.”

Tanner turned back to his own people. “Do we know where the Odyssey is now?”

“I’m afraid not, Admiral.”

He just sat back in his chair.

Then what good am I, I wonder?

CHAPTER 32

“KILL THE THRUSTERS.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” Daniels responded, hitting the command on cue.

The background rumble went dead and the deck seemed to tilt back to a level keel as the acceleration died off. Weston leaned back in his seat, partly to keep his head from spinning from the sudden change and partly in an attempt to think.

The Odyssey had spent the last hour at one-g subjective acceleration, meaning, with the eight percent CM field, they had been able to pull approximately fifty gravities. With the initial full burn they’d used at the start, that left its current ballistic speed at just under seventy-five thousand kilometers per second, or roughly one-quarter light-speed.

“Enemy status?” Weston asked.

“Still on course for the planet, Captain,” Waters responded. “No sign that they’ve seen us.”

Weston tried not to think about the risks he was taking or the dangers ahead. He could see from the display that they’d reach the interception point in just under an hour. Their crossing velocity would be such that the Odyssey would get one round of shots free of charge—no more.

After that, it all depended on the enemy.

And that, Weston knew, was a bad way to plan your action.

“Relief crews to the bridge,” he ordered, with no sign of his thoughts on his face.

“Aye, sir.”

“Commander, take first watch,” Weston said, standing up. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes to relieve you.”