“Recall your team. We spotted the source of the transmission, and we don’t want to risk leaving you there while we go investigate.”

“Yes, sir.” Roberts thumbed the induction set to wideband broadcast and relayed the captain’s orders. “Okay, everybody. Pack it up. We’ve got an SOS to answer and the captain doesn’t want to be late.”

The team made it back to the lock in record time, climbing out of the derelict vessel and into the shuttle. A signal from the pilot closed the floor hatch, and the small ship lifted off, leaving the portable airlock behind, still sealed tight.

“Roger, Odyssey Control, Shuttle One is clear of the alien craft and coming home. Archangels One and Two providing escort.”

The Odyssey was already accelerating away from the derelict vessel as Shuttle One and its escort glided in on a docking vector. Looking over the pilot’s shoulder, Roberts could see the distant glow of four of the Archangels as they accelerated on maximum burn toward the signal source, mock contrails forming behind them as the superheated plasma from their twin reactors swirled a few moments before vanishing into the void.

“The captain’s broken the Angels out.” Jenny pointed out the multiple points of light flitting around the ship.

Roberts glanced at the pilot. “His prerogative, I suppose. Besides, he knows better than anyone what they’re capable of.”

“You got a point there, sir. Better strap in now, this one’s gonna be bumpy,” Lieutenant Samuels said.

Roberts hurriedly locked himself back into his seat. When Lieutenant Samuels said that a flight would be bumpy, even the fighter jocks asked for a transfer. The shuttle closed in on the Odyssey’s stern, slipping in under the massive engines and aligning carefully along the lower deck of the Odyssey’s carrier section. Samuels fired the thrusters, and the shuttle drifted along the enclosed deck, its speed arrested, as the big ship’s fighter trap hooked the shuttle. Two loud clangs sounded as the magnetic grappler connected and hauled the shuttle down to the bay floor.

Wincing, Roberts unstrapped himself and rubbed his sore shoulders. “Last time I checked, it was a court-martial offense to assault a superior officer, Samuels. I don’t care if you do use the shuttle as a weapon.”

Several soldiers in similar condition laughed ruefully as they disembarked the shuttle. “You’d never get it through the courts, sir. Too many of the brass have identical bruises, and they feel that if they had to go through it, so does everybody else.”

Laughter rang in their ears as the team headed for the shuttle pod along the central pylon. Before they got halfway there, Captain Weston stepped out and started toward them.

“Sir!” The team saluted as one, coming to rigorous attention.

“As you were,” Weston told them after snapping a return salute. He turned to the pilot. “Samuels, I need you to take the shuttle out again. We’ve found what looks to be a life pod. She’s dead in the water and is going to need some help coming in from the cold.”