Bermont’s face appeared on his HUD as the other soldier initiated a point-to-point video link, and he was grinning ear to ear.

“How many? Come on, Cap, you know we didn’t leave anyone behind. The whole crew is here, plus the Big E, and almost twenty thousand Priminae.”

“Twenty thou . . .” Eric trailed off. “Damn, I never would have expected their Elder Council to offer up that many people.”

“I don’t think they planned it,” Bermont chuckled. “I saw some of them after they announced that volunteers could sign on with us. They weren’t happy. Most of them, at least.”

That didn’t surprise Eric in the slightest. Though he rather respected and liked many of the Priminae, he was also well aware that they were deeply conservative at their higher levels. That wasn’t a bad thing, but it wasn’t a trait that would lend itself to them putting themselves out on a limb without some serious thought.

Ultimately, he expected that they would decide to help, but Eric suspected that the more truculent members would try to use that natural conservatism to delay the decision until it was moot. It wouldn’t have taken long to do, after all. Just a few more weeks and the Earth’s formidable defense industry would collapse, and after that it was all over but for the last few shots.

The lower echelons, however, were far more willing to take chances, and they felt a strong sense of gratitude for the help the Odyssey offered. So the worst thing that the more conservative elders could have done would be to place the decision in the hands of the people actually doing the fighting. Or perhaps it was the best thing they could have done. Eric supposed it depended very much on your point of view, but he doubted that the elders would be happy with the outcome if they ever realized just what they’d done and its full consequences.

It was an old story, Eric knew. He’d seen it on Earth often enough. The higher you went into the power structure, the less contact you maintained with the rank and file.

Eventually you could become convinced that everyone either thought the way you did, or that they should.

People, however, would always surprise you. Both for the better and for the worse. That was as true on the Priminae worlds as it was on Earth, and Eric took a fair amount of comfort in it.

“Alright, what are your orders?” Eric asked, noting the ring of familiar IFF signals now appearing on his HUD.

“We’re to provide all possible aid to local field commanders, eliminate the Drasin where feasible, evacuate people where not . . . So, field commander, you tell me . . . what are my orders?” Bermont smirked at him, clearly happier to be back under Weston’s command than Eric felt was completely sane.