“We’re in the lead position, Admiral,” Son answered. “I already dispatched the Achilles to aid the Bellerophon. We have trouble ahead.”

Gracen tipped her head as she settled into her position. “Very well. Tactical displays up. Ensure that all ships call to quarters.”

“Aye ma’am. Tactical displays on. Call to quarters signal already sent,” Son answered.

The walls of the bridge flickered, showing a full three hundred sixty degrees of space enhanced by computer augmented intelligence. Ahead of them a bright spot was haloed, and an overlay provided data on the ship.

Standard Drasin configuration, Gracen noted as she read the numbers and capabilities of the ship. They must have hundreds of the damned things drifting out here, thousands maybe, along likely approach routes.

She’d been suckered, but it wasn’t as bad as all that, she decided.

They’d spread themselves too far out to effectively ambush her squadron, though they could eliminate a couple of ships easily enough even in knife range. The bulk of the enemy ships were still well outside the standoff range of the waveguide cannons, and as long as that was true, then this mission was still on.

“Lock all weapons onto the Drasin ship ahead. Signal the Heracles to follow us in,” she ordered.

“Aye ma’am,” Milla Chans, their Priminae weapons specialist, answered. “Weapons are locked.”

“Heracles signals affirmative.”

“Then by all means, cease deceleration and accelerate to engage the enemy ship.”

“Aye ma’am,” Steph said from the helm, as he tapped out a command and laid his hands on the controls. “Reversing warp, increasing speed relative to Sol.”

Stephen Michaels took his hands off the controls for a moment, flexing his grip and cracking his knuckles one by one. He found that he didn’t hate flying a starship, really, though it didn’t hold a candle to an Archangel, of course. There were some nice differences, like the cup of coffee sitting beside his station at the moment, but the ship maneuvered like a pig in comparison.

A pig capable of flying faster than greased lightning, but a pig nonetheless.

The Odysseus began to increase speed as it dove toward the approaching Drasin ship, laser nodes powering up along the entire forward section. Behind them the Heracles matched her acceleration and began to power weapons as well. The two split, separating enough to keep their firing arcs apart as they closed.

Michaels locked in the NICS needles and smiled a little as the faint pain scored the back of his neck, automatically reaching into the depths of the ship he was flying and making it his.

“Cardsharp, Stephanos,” he said softly, his voice pitched low. “You with me?”

“Cardsharp,” Jennifer responded, from the Heracles. “I’m with you.”

“Let me take the lead. You play clean-up as we pass.”

“Roger that, Stephanos. I’ll back your play.”

“Never had any doubt in my mind, Cardsharp,” Steph replied. “Engaging target in . . . three minutes.”

“More bandits lighting up!”