He had to get word to the Odyssey to tell them just to run. They didn’t have to do this, to die fighting for a world not their own. Not now, when the Cerekus was here and ready to defend her people.

“Milla!” he snapped, turning abruptly.

“Admiral.” She stiffened, her armored form whining as it responded to her body’s demand.

“Contact the Major Brinks you mentioned. I wish to speak with him.”

“Yes, sir. One moment.”

“Major Brinks?” The hesitant voice came softly through the tac-net, catching Brinks’s attention as the whine-crack of his rifle died down.

He’d just sniped a stray drone that had evaded the main cleanup teams and didn’t see any more, so he relaxed a bit and swung his weapon up onto his shoulder. “Yes, Miss Chans? What is it?”

“The admiral wishes to speak with you,” she told him.

Brinks wondered briefly why the word admiral translated properly, but Milla’s rank, or whatever it was, didn’t seem to. He shrugged it off a second later as none of his concern for the moment. “Very well.”

An instant later, an image of a very grim man appeared on his HUD, a man who looked like he was fraying on the ragged edge. Man needs some bunk time in the worst way.

“Admiral,” he said. “Major Wilhelm Brinks, at your service.”

“As you have been,” the admiral replied with a weary smile. “However, just now I wish to be at the service of your Captain Weston.”

“Is there something wrong with the Odyssey?” Brinks asked, with a frown.

“Your ship is currently in combat with two Drasin warships and is sustaining damage. I’m afraid that I can’t say how badly she has been hurt. However, what disturbs me is that it is no longer needed.”

“Pardon me?” Brinks blinked. If there were two ships, at least, still out there, he didn’t see how it wasn’t needed. One ship had landed enough drones that they’d been hard-pressed to cull them back. If two more dropped ground forces, it would be all over, except for the dying.

“Our own warship, the Cerekus, is approaching the battle. If the Odyssey would drop back, she could handle the enemy,” the admiral replied. “Or, at least, they could engage together. However, the Odyssey does not see her.”

“Can you generate tachyon particles?”

The admiral blinked, frowning, and Brinks knew that the translator had muffed it. He tried again. “Can you broadcast faster-than-light particles?”

The admiral’s face cleared up and he nodded. “Yes. However, so can the Drasin. And if your captain thinks that they have reinforcements…”

“He might do something desperate,” Brinks’s lips twisted. “All right, I think I can help you out there.”

“That would be most acceptable,” the admiral said.

“Archangel Eight, bank hard to port, on my signal.”

The acknowledgment came through a moment later as the Drasin twisted in between them, looking for the sweet spot.