“What is it, Evans?” Weston asked, glancing over.

“The major reports that the alien ground forces appear to be mopped up, though he advises that the locals place a seismic network around and a decent CAP to keep an eye out for strays. Lieutenant Savoy will be filing a report shortly.”

“Thank you, Corporal.”

The young man stepped back.

“What is…CAP?” Tanner asked.

“A combat air patrol, or I suspect, in this case, anything that can fly with heat sensors,” Weston said, thinking about the reports already filed. “Those two things should give you a decent warning if they missed any of the drones.”

“I will forward the recommendations to Nero,” Tanner promised. “It will be his responsibility to organize such defenses.”

“He’ll probably have to devise new weapons as well. The reports concerning the effectiveness of your laser rifles against the drones weren’t promising.”

“Indeed not,” Tanner grimaced. “Nero has been gnashing his teeth over that very thing for some time. I believe that he even admires your own weapons, though I should not be surprised.”

“Pardon?”

“Nero is from a colony that purposely maintains its rough wilderness status. As such, survival for him is a slightly more…hands-on approach than most of my people.” Tanner permitted himself a slight smile. “It is why he was asked to join the army.”

Weston nodded, still trying to get a full picture painted of the culture he was dealing with. “I see.”

“I doubt that you do—not completely, at least.”

“Touché,” Weston smiled, raising his glass in salute. “But I do believe that I’m at least getting a general idea.”

“Perhaps, Captain. Perhaps.”

CHAPTER 39

THE SHIPBOARD REPAIRS took two days just to reach the minimum levels before Engineering was willing to certify the ship as transition ready, which Weston had used to the best of his ability while dealing with the citizens of this world they were orbiting.

While Rael Tanner seemed a rather sensible type, and the behemoth of a man in charge of the ground forces was also, the politicos were pretty much what one might expect from experience on Earth. They were a little different in motivation, perhaps, or at least in experience, but they still impeded the progress of pretty much anything they touched, like old hands.

The former UN Council would have been proud.

Of course, it was perhaps a lot to expect for them to make decisions on a forty-eight-hour window, but that was all that Weston was willing to give them. Either they give him a diplomat to take home or he and the Odyssey were weighing anchor without them.

They’d mucked around in someone else’s war long enough.

So it was perhaps no surprise that Weston’s mood was dark as the deadline approached and the planetary council still hadn’t contacted the Odyssey.

“Ensign Lamont, how are the repairs coming?”