Out of the Black (Odyssey One, Book 4) (47 page)

“What the . . . damn, I’ve never seen anything like that before, have you, Captain?”

Eric glanced up from the controls of the heavy lifter, looking over at the pilot. “Seen what?”

“That,” the Colonel said, nodding out the windscreen of the cockpit.

Eric looked out and his eyes were drawn up to the dark. Streaks of fire crisscrossed from every direction to the point that he could hardly see the sky. He felt light-headed for the first time since doing negative-G drills in an Archangel, and he knew without asking that he was probably as pale and pasty as a corpse.

“What do you make of that, Captain?”

“Armageddon,” Eric croaked out. “That’s Armageddon.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“TALK TO ME!” Conner ordered as he walked into the situation room.

“Massive simultaneous launches from every ship in orbit. I think they flushed their tubes or whatever they fire those things out of,” an analyst said. “Air defenses are saturated, sir. We’re not knocking out nearly enough of them.”

Conner swore. “What the hell
happened?
”

“We don’t know, sir. They must have been set off by the arrival of Gracen’s squadron.”

“How bad is it?” he asked, mouth dry.

An air force colonel stood up. “We have major incursions on every continent, including Antarctica this time. Our air defenses are going to hammer them over the Middle East, Europe, North America, Japan, and northern Africa. The Block’s got most of Asia covered, and the Russian Federation are going to get more than their fair share of licks in . . . but southern Africa, South America, and Australia are all light on serious coverage, and no one’s got anything significant on Antarctica.”

“So we’re hammered,” the President said simply. “Great.”

“We have divisions on the move everywhere. Everyone was awake and leaning on the gas when this started, sir,” a general said, speaking up. “We’re better prepared now than we were during the first attack.”

“What’s the munitions situation?” Conner asked dryly.

Uncomfortable looks shot between his top advisors, telling him everything he needed to know about that.

“Great.” He sighed. “Alright. Tell them to do what they can, and get what munitions we can pull out of Detroit out to where they can do the most good.”

“Yes sir.”

Conner sighed. “I need a message sent to Admiral Gracen. I’ll record it in my office. Prepare what you need to send it.”

“Yes Mr. President.”

“I want everyone in their shells before we land,” Eric said as he walked back through the hold of the transport. “We have a major incursion happening as we speak, so lock and load and be ready for a fight.”

“What’s happening, sir?” Granger asked softly as he walked up beside him.

“Looks like our friends up top decided to make their move, finally, and stop playing games,” Eric answered. “We’ve got incoming tracks so thick you can’t see the sky behind them.”

“Jesus,” Granger swore. “That bad?”

“Worse, probably,” Eric muttered. “Get your men suited up and make sure they’re ready. I’m betting all hell just broke loose, and we’re sitting at the center of it.”

“Right. I’ll see to it.”

Eric nodded and continued back, making his way through the narrow spaces between crates until he found where his EXO-13 was locked down. The now-battered machine had seen a lot of action over the last few weeks, and he wanted to do one more check before taking it into combat again.

It was nothing compared to his fighter, of course, but he’d gotten attached to the awkward-looking piece of mobile armor since the President and his advisors cut it loose and sent it to New York for him. Eric pulled himself into the cockpit and fired up the computer, running onboard self-checks while he physically examined the hydraulics and power cell levels.

It was the sort of pre-battle routine that kept him calm while leading a fighter wing and, to an extent, commanding the
Odyssey
. There was a time for aggression, but that time was during the fight and not before it. He was focused tightly on what he was doing, enough so that Eric missed the approaching footsteps.

“So how bad is it?”

He looked up to see Lyssa there, eyes on him from a couple of meters below. He sighed, not really wanting to get into it, as much because he didn’t know the answer as anything else, but spoke up anyway.

“Bad,” he grunted.

Okay, so he just
barely
spoke up.

Lyssa snorted in response, rolling her eyes. “I think I caught that much myself. Are we going to make it to New Mexico?”

“We’ve got a wing of fighters covering our path,” Eric said. “We’ll make it to our destination. I’m just worried that the whole point is moot now, that’s all.”

“Why?”

“Because what good does it do to wipe out the ships in orbit with these”—he gestured to the crates of shells they were standing among—“if they’ve already dropped every last damned ground drone they have?”

She paled. “You think that’s what they did?”

Eric rubbed his face, but nodded tiredly. “Yeah. I think that’s what they did. It’s the only thing that makes sense. I can’t prove it, but that’s my bet.”

“Why would they do that? Why now?”

“Honestly? I don’t know,” Eric admitted. “There are a few possibilities. The most likely is that we now have the possibility of reinforcements, but it could also be that they’ve been testing our defenses until this point and now they know enough to launch their endgame.”

“Reinforcements?” Lyssa asked, trying to focus on hope rather than the twisted knot in her gut from his other words.

Eric nodded. “Seven starships entered the system and contacted the President. They’re of Priminae build . . . that, and the
Enterprise
.”

Her heart sank. “Seven?”

Seven ships couldn’t hope to stand against what she
knew
was up there. It was just impossible.

Eric, however, smiled.

“Yes, seven, and if they’re equipped as I’ve been informed . . . they’re about to raise all holy hell. I wouldn’t want to be in a Drasin ship right now, Lyssa . . .”

Still, he sighed. “But the Drasin could lose the battle and still win the war . . . that’s why we have to get ready for a fight, and be ready to move. We could be shipped out of New Mexico in an instant, and go anywhere on the planet. We can’t leave a
single
one of those things alive and active on this world.”

He turned back to his work on the EXO-13.

“Not a single one.”

President Conner was looking at the map of the world, a tactical display showing enemy landings, and felt quite sick. The arrival of reinforcements from outside the system had triggered an Armageddon response from the enemy force, something he supposed could have been predicted but still managed to take them all by surprise.