Out of the Black (Odyssey One, Book 4) (9 page)

CENTRAL PARK WEST

“STRIKE INBOUND.”

Eric felt like throwing up, a spectacularly bad idea while wearing powered armor (or any full face breather, frankly), but managed to hold that off. He clipped his chute pack to the back of his armor and jumped, letting the pack do a minimal slowing of his descent as he dropped behind the NYPD cop who was still sprawled on the ground.

He pushed her further down, covering her with his own armored body, much to the woman’s ire.

“Incoming!” he called, loud enough to be heard for quite some range, and was gratified when she instantly stopped fighting.

The hundred-pound guided bomb units, or GBUs, tracked the lasers down all the way and slammed into the Drasin soldier drones with a rumble that could be felt right through the ground. As close as they were, Eric was more concerned with the effects of overpressure on the cop beneath him than he was of shrapnel, but there were quite a few obstructions between them and the worst of the blast to bleed off the power of the explosion.

As the sense of destruction began to settle, Eric looked up and around and made a decision.

“Time to go, lady,” he said, hooking one arm around her waist as he gave his chute its orders and was pulled up and away from the ground in a hurry. He kept the angle low, not wanting to draw fire, and skimmed the ground until they reached an alley to drop into. He let her go as he landed, nodding to a man in SWAT uniform who was covering them with his submachine gun.

“That’s not going to cut it in this fight, son,” he told the younger man. “Get yourself something with a punch, or get yourself out of the battlefield.”

“Who the fuck are you?” the man demanded.

“Weston,” Eric said, leaning out slightly so he could survey the situation.

“Eric Weston?” the woman asked from where she was crouched, leaning against the wall.

Eric snorted. “Heard of me, I suppose?”

“Yeah. You’re the crazy bastard who flew that ship into my city,” she scowled.

“Guilty,” he admitted, “though I wasn’t exactly in full positive control of the
Odyssey
when she dug in.”

“No shit,” the woman scoffed, shaking her head. “Name’s Lyssa. Thanks for the save.”

“No problem,” Eric said, looking over what he could see of the park. “Just hold on a sec.”

He swapped over to a private comm. “Nice hit, Strykers. Targets eliminated.”

He lifted his Priminae GWIZ to his shoulder and stroked the trigger once. The crack of the weapon discharging shook the air with enough force to rattle teeth. The diamond round lashed out and slammed into the single Drasin that was still
twitching, blowing its superheated blood across the park to cool.

“What the hell is that?” Lyssa screamed at him, though he suspected it was more because she couldn’t hear herself properly than anything else.

“Priminae GWIZ,” he said, raising the volume on his speaker. “Gravity gun. Was presented to me by an admiral I know back on Ranquil.”

The GWIZ was a strange looking beast, lacking many of the features that a Terran would equate with a weapon. It didn’t have a barrel; instead there was a set of five free-floating “rail points” that flexed as needed to direct the gravity warp that propelled the projectile. These were mounted along a long rail that included a hand grip, power pack, and other bits and bobs of interior mechanics.

All in all it was the most lethal nonthreatening-looking device he’d ever held, a fact that normally amused him to no end, but for the moment he honestly couldn’t remember why. He’d picked it rather than a standard-issue assault rifle because of the fact that the GWIZ could accommodate almost any ammunition he chose to load it with. Right now he was firing diamond rounds, but in a pinch he could toss in practically anything and the gun would launch it without issue.

Lyssa was working her jaw and had a finger in her ear as she tried to get full hearing back. “What?”

Eric chuckled, turning away. “You guys have to get clear. I’m going to spot for the Strykers until the Guard gets here.”

“Oh, like hell I’m going anywhere,” Lyssa snarled. “This is
my
city, leatherneck. You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

Eric glanced at her sharply, noting the nickname she’d pinned him with. He hadn’t heard that particular appellation
for a long time. It wasn’t something in common use outside the Corps any longer. He evaluated her for a moment while his computer connected to the military networks and ran facial recognition.

Well, well, well. Melyssa Sirenne Myriano, lieutenant in the Corps. Communications specialist
. Her service record flitted by, but he mostly ignored it once he’d determined that she had no significant red flags. He could use a good comm link, actually, and someone who knew the city for that matter, but without some decent equipment she wasn’t much more than a meat target.

Eric looked her over. “Alright then, Lieutenant. You want to hang around, that’s fine with me. We’ll have to get you some proper kit, however.”

Lyssa snorted, holding up her empty hands. “Twist my arm.”

He turned back to the others in the alley, speaking to them all, but looking at the big man in SWAT gear. “Get these people out of here. Stay near the waterfront and head down toward the Lincoln Tunnel. The Guard has a command post setup at the USS
Intrepid
. They’ll have an evacuation plan and weapons for you. I’ll let them know you’re coming.”

Lyssa slapped Alex on his armored chest, nodding to the spotter’s scope he was still holding. “I’ll take that, man.”

He shrugged and nodded, dropping it into her palm. “Be careful.”

She jerked her head in Eric’s direction. “The man just face planted his whole fucking starship into New York City. I think he’s used up his bad luck for this year.”

She pointedly ignored Eric snorting in the background as he mumbled, “I wish.”

“Time to go,” Eric spoke up. “Movement converging on this area from three sides.”

“The Guard?” Lyssa asked, hopefully but not expectedly.

“No such luck. Guard transponders are still showing ten blocks south,” Eric said. “Heat signatures match Drasin.”

“Great.”

Eric pointed at the others. “The shoreline is clear. Head south to the
Intrepid
.”

“Right, come on, you lot. This way.”

Eric watched them head out, cutting down a side street that headed west to the shore. Then he turned to Lyssa. “You scared of heights?”

“Not even slightly.”

“Good.” He stepped in, hooking an arm around her waist. “Step on my toes.”

She grinned. “I’m not that bad a dancer.”

She put her feet on his, however, and Eric sent the lift command to the chute. The system whirred a little louder than normal but easily hefted the two of them straight up the side of the skyscraper to the roof. Lyssa stepped off his toes, dropping to the roof as Eric landed and cut his chute loose, sending it on overwatch recon.

“Check the southeast,” he told her. “I’ve got enemy combat drones covering the park. Call out if you spot anything.”

“Right. What are you going to do?”

Eric planted a foot on the edge of the building, looking down at the battleground they’d just left. “I’m going to see about scaring up some assets. Weston to Command, come in Command.”

“Go for Command, Captain.”

“I’m transmitting new data on enemy movements via my drones. Collate and prioritize for strikes.”

“Roger, Captain. We have your feed.”

“I’m going to need an equipment drop.”

There was a pause before the voice came back. “No can do, Captain. We are tapped out in this area.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Command.”

“Captain, every SOCOM unit is in the field and they’ve drawn every supply drone we have available to fly. Even if we had the gear to dispatch, there’s nothing to deliver it, Captain. Every piece of equipment in the Confederacy has been tagged for deployment already.”

Weston scowled, shaking his head, but there was little he could say about it. “Roger that. Weston out.”

The entity who self-identified as Gaia watched over the events transpiring, concern rising as the intruders began their invasive assault on
her
world. The intruders were beginning their multiplication process, converting elements of the Earth into more of the vile filth like themselves
.

For the moment the threat was minimal, however
.

Unlike what she had learned of her counterpart on the Priminae world, this world . . . her world, was most emphatically not unarmed and unwilling to fight
.

That said, she was well aware that hers would only be able to hold out for just so long
.

While the enemy controlled the orbitals, as well as the rest of the system, the end was already written. The only question was how long it would take to pen the final words
.

That was wholly unacceptable
.

Unfortunately, her ability to influence the physical world was limited. She could advise, should she decide to make her presence known to more people. She could coerce, but in the end it would come to the same thing
.

Death
.

Gaia seethed. Her breath was the howling wind, her anger buried deep in the Earth like the force of Quake waiting to be released. But for all that, she was impotent and she detested the sensation
.

The entity turned her focus back to the city of New York, where her chosen champion was now resting. She had a plan. No, calling it a plan would be overly generous, she supposed. She had a concept, an idea, a hint of what was to come perhaps
.

If all went well, Eric Weston would be her savior
.