No laser is perfectly focused. There are always stray photons to analyze, just as no vacuum is perfect either, and so the beams inevitably struck dust and particulates as they crossed space. The Odysseus computers took that data and used it to draw a vector map across his view, showing him where the lasers were and even where they were heading.

Granted, it was useless if the laser was actually aimed directly at him. They’d be hit before the information could reach them, but it did help to see the sweeping patterns the enemy used to try and box the Odysseus in.

He could also see the Odysseus’ lasers as they flashed outward, guided by Milla’s hand. Unlike the aliens, the Odysseus had no compunction about aiming for the kill and, as the attacker, the advantage of the initiative was also theirs.

Five more enemy ships vanished into near-perfect spherical explosions of plasma, but then they were within the swarm and it was the enemy’s turn to retaliate.

“Laser strike! Deck five, section ninety three! Damage control groups are moving to contain the damage!”

Eric didn’t bother turning around. He was more focused on the action behind the ship right then and he trusted the crew to do their jobs without his micromanagement. Right then, what he was really missing, was the antimatter weapons of the Odyssey. He understood why the Priminae might not like the technology. It made him grit his teeth sometimes as well, but with the power generation on the Odysseus and the short, close-range action they were now engaged in . . .

By God, they could ravage the enemy forces beyond all sanity.

“Second strike! We’re losing air. Deck twelve, section one one three nine,” Susan said. “They’ve got our range.”

Eric nodded. “Do something about that, would you, Commander?”

“Aye aye, sir.” Steph grinned a little too widely, suddenly through full acceleration to the space warp, dropping the ship toward the Sun like a stone.

They were headed right into a small squadron of the enemy, which would seem to be in flagrant violation of Eric’s “request,” but he didn’t flinch. At the last moment, almost literally, Steph twisted the Odysseus out and around the group, then ducked in behind them and away from the lasers of their more ardent admirers.

“Don’t shoot these guys, Milla,” Steph called over his shoulder, a gesture highlighting half a dozen of the closest drone ships. “I have a use for them.”

“As you say, Stephane,” she uttered softly. “I have many others to choose from.”