Eric winced. “In my defense, it’s not a safe galaxy out here, Admiral.”

“If it were a safe galaxy, losing a Heroic wouldn’t be such a big deal.”

“Losing? Now hold on, the Odysseus was nowhere near lost. Hull damage, minor penetration to the outer sectors of the ship. All sealed up, no loss of life. We could have handled most of it under way, but repair at the Forge is quicker.”

“What happened?”

Eric frowned pensively. “We may have found the trigger men.”

Gracen leaned back, settling into her seat as she steepled her hands and fell silent for a long moment. “You have my attention, Captain.”

“We encountered what appears to be the same group the Odyssey scanned at the Drasin hyperconstruct,” he said. “Very similar design to older Priminae ships, different materials science. They seem to be markedly better in weapons technology and drive capability as well.”

“That is not comforting,” Gracen said. “Did you manage to talk to them, either before or after your incurred damage?”

“Not with the command structure, Admiral,” Eric said. “They refused to respond to communication attempts.”

“And other than the command structure?” she asked, reading between the lines.

“We’ve captured fourteen ground troops, no rank, no intelligence as best we can tell,” he said. “However, what little we did get out of them was interesting. Secure report will follow.”

“Understood,” Gracen said. “I’ll run it up the chain. Expect contact within a few days. We have news on our side too.”

“Oh?”

“Autolycus hit pay dirt,” Gracen said. “I advise you to redirect to their location to receive details, because they pulsed the code for major event. Maybe Drasin, but they’re not calling for an all-hands strike, so I doubt it.”

“Do we have time for repairs?”

Gracen seemed to consider the question, glancing off screen for a moment before turning back. “Yes. I’m sending a fast courier your way,” she told him. “Maybe more. Wait for them to arrive. The Auto can hold on a little longer.”

“Understood. Thank you, ma’am.”

“Don’t thank me yet, Captain,” she told him with half a smirk. “There are plenty here who think you’re turning into a real bad-luck charm.”

“They’re not alone,” Eric said. “Some days, even I wonder.”

The admiral laughed. “Get your ship in order.”

“Aye ma’am.”

“Gracen out.”

Eric exhaled and leaned back in the surprisingly comfortable seat he was occupying.

“Good news?” Admiral Tanner asked, approaching now that he could see Eric was done.

Eric figured that the Priminae had recorded everything anyway—the Confederation certainly would have—but the illusion of privacy was still welcome.

“Not sure,” he said. “News. Let’s leave it at that for the moment.”

Tanner nodded, accepting that. “As you say . . . classified?”

“No, not really,” Eric lied. “Just not clear. Admiral Gracen is sending a fast courier. Hopefully that will clear things up.”

“A courier? Curious. The relays are secure,” Tanner said.