“Captain Weston! Excuse me, Captain.”

Weston turned, already knowing whom the voice belonged to, but still startled when she appeared only inches away.

“Miss Lynn, nice to see you again.”

A smirk crossed her face. “I’m sure, Captain. I still have a couple questions to ask you.”

“Please, Miss Lynn, I’ve already answered your questions to the best of my ability. Much of the Odyssey’s mission and crew remains classified, as I’m sure you understand.”

The woman gave Weston a knowing look, her expression making her confidence, or lack thereof, in Weston’s answers quite clear. The young reporter was a representative of the Eastern Block, including China, parts of the old Soviet Union, Korea, India, and many other countries, which had been enough of a force that the United States formed a new defense treaty with Canada and Mexico. Although both sides had avoided using nuclear weapons, the massive damage to all the nations’ infrastructures had been one of the deciding factors in the inception of the Confederation. Weston had previously met her when he had been forced to scrounge through Beijing in search of materials to repair his downed fighter. She’d nearly gotten him killed, and he had the distinct impression that she was now out to finish the job.

“Captain, what are your thoughts on a military presence being the first thing we, as human beings, send to the stars?” she probed. “Should we really be carrying our problems with us when we break free of the solar system?”

Weston sighed. “Miss Lynn, I can’t comment on matters of philosophy. I’m sorry.” He couldn’t see it, but he knew that her microphone and camera were focused on him, and he had to select each word carefully.

“But, Captain, what about—”

Commander Roberts slid between Miss Lynn and Weston.

“Captain, your presence is required by the admiral.”

Weston bowed out gratefully. “If you’ll excuse me, Miss Lynn.” As they left, he whispered aside to Roberts, “Thanks for getting me out of that.”

“Don’t thank me, sir. The admiral noticed Miss Lynn circling and thought you might need backup.”

Admiral Gracen always did know how to smell trouble.

“Admiral, I understand I owe you my thanks.” Weston slipped alongside the stern-looking admiral as she took a sip of her champagne.

Gracen looked him over seriously for a moment, her dark eyes piercing him through and through before she deigned to crook her lips and speak. “Nonsense, Captain, just doing my duty. The last thing the NAC needs is an Eastern Block ‘exclusive’ slicing our highest-profile captain to shreds.”

“They have become better at manipulating public opinion lately, haven’t they?” Weston grimaced.

“Yes, well…They tried by force of arms and very nearly succeeded,” she said. “I suppose it was natural that they would begin applying alternative pressure.”

“Yeah, and Lynn is far too good at her job.”

“She ought to be.” Gracen let a small smile grace her stern face. “We trained her, after all.”

“Why is it that the best terrorists, the worst enemies, and the most dangerous people in the world always seem to be schooled in the North American Confederation?” Weston asked. “Just once can’t they have graduated from some obscure school in Africa or something?”