“Weston to Angel Lead, we believe the target vessel has just launched fighters. Be warned they have adjusted their course again to intercept and are still not answering our hails.”

“Confirmed, Odyssey. Angel squadron has gone to combat maneuvering and is ready to provide cover.” Stephanos couldn’t help the large part of him that was eagerly waiting for this encounter. He already knew that the Archangels were best on Earth; now they were getting a chance to take on the local bully in a much bigger neighborhood.

“Odyssey, Angel Lead is requesting permission to break formation with Angels Two and Three to scout ahead.”

“Denied. Angel Lead, we’ll meet them together.” Weston’s tone was dry, but Commander Stephanos recognized the old “follow orders, you idiot” admonition hidden under the tone.

“Yes, sir,” Stephanos sighed. It was worth a shot.

Three minutes to intercept.

Behind them all, at the back of the bridge, Milla had gone pale as she watched the intertwining of graphics on the sanitized computer screens in front of her. To her mind—part of it, at least—they were already dead. The Drasin were faster than the fastest ship. No, they aren’t faster than this ship, she had to remind herself. However, the captain didn’t seem to have any intention of running.

It was insane. It was suicide. And yet, she couldn’t manage to open her mouth to object to it. Part of her wanted to do nothing more than run and hide, lest the same thing happen to her and these people as had happened to her comrades before. Another part, however, wanted to do anything, even if it were futile, to kick the Drasin in the teeth.

She shivered, knowing, of course, that it wasn’t her choice to make.

At T-minus sixty seconds, the Odyssey’s scanners began to go wild as they reported massive energy surges from the alien vessel’s general location. Before the crew could respond, the power surge had already become evident.

The Odyssey shuddered and the bridge crew stiffened in their chairs.

“Captain, we just took several direct hits. Class-one lasers, all of them,” Waters said tensely.

“Same frequency?”

“Aye, sir. Minor damage to forward armor. Estimates say the forward armor reflected over ninety-eight percent of the power away from the Odyssey.” Waters frowned. “The two percent that was left was enough to ablate away several layers of armor.”

“Fine.” Weston hated to ask stupid questions, but he knew this one had to be asked. “Any chance those were com-lasers?”

“Negative, sir. Not unless they habitually use power levels consistent with a quantum thermal explosion for communicating with other species,” Waters said, then immediately flushed as he realized that he had just joked with his captain.

Weston chuckled silently. “If they do, then it’s probably safer to have them as enemies than allies.”

A soft round of laughter circled the bridge, killing some of the tension as Weston nodded firmly and spoke aloud.

“All right, full power to the forward defense array. Inform me as soon as you have a clear lock on the target using standard sensors. And keep hailing them.”