Captain Wright, now in command of the Ninth Squadron after the retirement and virtual disappearance of her mentor, Senior Captain Jackson Wolfe, had been tasked with providing an escort for the latest diplomatic mission to the new planet that now served as neutral ground for both parties. She had tried to get out of it, once again cursing the fact that Wolfe had taken an early retirement and left her with all the responsibilities that came with being in command of the three-ship squadron. Not least among those responsibilities was lobbying Fleet to bump the construction priority for her two replacement ships, something that was practically impossible while being stuck well outside Terran space.

“New contact, Captain,” the OPS officer broke Celesta out of her reverie. “They appeared very deep within the system, on course for the same planet we are.”

“The timing is a little too close to be coincidental,” Celesta said. “Keep up full active scans and make sure our telemetry is being dumped onto the Link. Let me know as soon as you have positive identification.”

“Aye aye, ma’am.”

“You think they were out there waiting on us, ma’am?” Commander Barrett asked quietly. “That doesn’t say much about the level of trust in this new venture if they’re sitting out in space dark waiting to see what we show up with.”

“Probably just being prudent, Commander,” Celesta said. “My concern isn’t that they would begrudge us an escorting destroyer to make sure our ambassador’s ship made it safely, but that the Amsterdam might send the wrong message. There’s no mistaking her as anything other but a battleship.”

“I think we’ll have some answers when we see what they showed up with, Captain,” Barrett said. “Or … at least what they allow us to see. It seems that we’re yet again holding the short end of the stick when it comes to technology.”

Celesta didn’t reply, not wanting to engage in a conversation that would likely just devolve into base complaining when they were approaching a sensitive juncture in the mission. There were five ships total in the Terran convoy: two warships, the ambassador’s cruiser that was flying the flag, and two supply frigates. She’d understated her concern at the inclusion of the Amsterdam, a Dreadnought-class battleship, and what signal it might send, but Fleet Admiral Marcum was adamant and senior captains did not argue with the CENTCOM Chief of Staff on such matters.

“Update on the … alien … formation, ma’am,” Celesta’s OPS officer said, obviously about to use the word enemy in place of alien. It was an honest mistake, but it also indicated to her that not everyone was as enthusiastic about meeting yet another new species after such a vicious, bloody struggle against the last one that they’d yet to recover from.