Oh, intellectually he knew that they were more than that. They brought a lot to the table beyond their technical offerings, so beggars they were not. For all that, however, Roberts still felt like the charity case at the dining room table. It was a feeling he was not used to, nor was he inclined to get used to it if he had any choice in the matter.

He’d been surprised, shocked honestly, when the admiral had managed to negotiate for a half dozen ships. Granted, they’d had to give up the military technology they were guarding, but he couldn’t fault the decision given the circumstances. Technical advantages were moot when you didn’t have the muscle to employ them.

For all that, though, it was the Priminae decision that intrigued him.

Roberts was savvy enough in political affairs to know that the NAC would likely have agreed to the same deal, then stalled on the ships until its own defenses were shored up. Sure, the NAC would have paid up eventually, but not in a hurry while it was under the gun itself.

Yet here they were, getting the first six ships of a new run, six of the most powerful starships that ever existed, according to any experience or record he’d had or seen.

For an interplanetary government under threat of war, that was a decision that bordered on the insanely reckless.

Roberts looked over the bridge of his new command, eyes lingering on the people moving around the area, making last-minute checks on every station. The Achilles was almost ready for deep space trials, which for her was likely going to be combat, but there were thousands of things to check and recheck while they had the time.

He took a seat at the center console of the bridge, silently watching for a time, before calling Winger over.

“Deb,” he said, “could I talk to you for a minute?”

“Of course,” newly christened Lieutenant Commander Michelle Winger said, walking over.

“You’ve been familiarizing yourself with the guts of the control systems, I believe?”

The sensor tech nodded. “Yes, of course.”

“I want you and whoever you can find that knows the new systems to start looking for any sort of override code or hardware,” he said.

“You think that the Primmies. . .?” She trailed off.

“I would have,” he answered with a shrug.

She nodded. “I’ll get on it, sir.”

Roberts just nodded, gesturing to dismiss her. After Winger left he opened the station in front of him, logging in to the ship’s computer control. The system was based in Priminae technology, both faster than anything he’d ever seen on the Odyssey and yet, paradoxically, far more primitive.