Out of the Black (Odyssey One, Book 4) (26 page)

“Jack, I’ve been issuing orders all afternoon. You’re going to have to be just a little more specific.”

“Mr. . . . Mitchell, you circumvented my committee with your orders to DARPA concerning the t-cannon . . .”

“Stop right there,” President Conner said, holding up one hand. “Have you noticed what room we’re in?”

“Excuse me?”

“Despite appearances, are we in the Oval Office?” he asked slowly, as if to a child.

“No sir. This is the secure bunker . . .”

“And for us to be here, what state of government has to be declared?”

The senator’s nostrils flared as the President’s meaning became quite apparent, but he doggedly refused to give up the bone he was gnawing. “Sir, that is no reason to . . .”

“We are in a state of declared martial law,” Mitchell Connor said, “so I didn’t circumvent anything, I acted well within the limits of my powers. Mr. Bahnner, I don’t have time for political posturing at the moment, so unless you have something useful to add to the situation . . .?”

“Mr. President, when this is over . . .”

“If we’re not dead, and you think you can get away with a little political backstabbing”—Conner shrugged, smiling in a very nasty way—“then have at it, Hoss. Until then, get the hell out of my office.”

He nodded to the guards at the door and, even before the senator’s face had managed to stop gaping in unadulterated shock, they hustled the annoying man out. Conner took a deep breath and shook his head, actually feeling better than he had in hours. There was something freeing about telling the man off after so many years of having to smile to his face when he’d rather break his nose.

“Sam?”

“Sir?” The Secret Service man stepped forward.

“Find out what movement has been made on my order to DARPA and the other people involved with the t-cannon project.”

“Yes sir.”

Hopefully someone had actually been working while he had been stuck in the office dealing with the nonsense his position demanded.

FERRY POINT PARK, BRONX

THE TALL, SLIM man stopped shoulder to shoulder with the muscular redhead, the two of them looking over the scene before them before they began to walk into the park in step.

“Eric knows how to throw a party,” Alexander said with a faint air of amusement.

Janet chuckled throatily, looking around at the men and women in the gathering. Mostly the men, if she were to be asked by a particularly brave soul. “That he does, Boyo. I think this must be what coming home feels like.”

Alexander Stanislav rolled his eyes, but didn’t comment further. He and his walking companion had been friends almost as long as they’d both known their host for this particular party. They’d met during nasty street-to-street fighting in Tokyo before the Marines hammered the Block back with help from a certain man and his experimental fighter squadron.

Since then the two of them were almost always found in the same city, often the same clubs. They were known, among those few who kept track of such things, as a matched pair. They liked almost all the same things, despite how different
they were in most respects, down to having the same taste in men.

They were ignored as they walked through the armed camp, which would normally be a sign of a severe lack of security, but this time they’d forgive it. Among other things, from what they’d seen, there was little chance of infiltration this time around, not with the enemy looking like giant rock spiders with a touch of someone’s nightmare mixed in.

Still, the fact that they were able to walk right up to the captain without anyone even bothering to let him know they were coming . . . well, that was just unprofessional.

Janet was a second from castigating him for just that when Eric spoke without turning around or even looking up from what he was doing.

“Suit up. Both of you. We’re on a deadline.”

The duo glanced at each other, then back at the Captain, who still hadn’t turned around.

“How . . .” Janet blinked, but immediately cut herself off.

“You’re linked into every other suit walking around this field, aren’t you?” Alexander asked dryly.

“And you’re both late. Suit up,” Eric said, standing and turning around. “Anyone else from the old crowd in town?”

Janet shook her head. “Not as best I know.”

“Pity. We move into the city in fifteen minutes. Think you can keep up?”

The two just laughed as they split and walked around the captain, heading for the armor they could see behind him, not bothering to dignify that with a response. Eric looked around until he found Commander Granger and waved him over.

“Are we ready?”

“Almost. We move in fifteen,” Eric told him. “Six suits are open for use. Assign them at your discretion, Commander. You know your men better than I do.”

Granger nodded. “Yes sir, Captain.”

Eric looked north to the city, the smoke rising from all points, signifying just how bad the situation was. He had forty men, most of them relative rookies in powered armor, but for all that he was happier with them than with an entire battalion of tanks. In a city, maneuverability was king, and you just didn’t get more mobile than enhancing armor.

With his military codes he was able to intercept most of the intelligence being passed around by the Guard units, though he was pretty certain that some of it wasn’t on his system since the network had holes the size of the
Odyssey
all through it. Still, he had enough to begin making initial plans to clear New York of the infestation.

Beyond that, well, he’d make it up as it went along or he’d get orders from someone who hopefully had a better idea of the big picture.

Minutes flew past, and between them Eric, Granger, and the members of the “old crowd” got everyone facing the right direction. They had more men than armor, of course, but luckily there were enough guns to go around. Plus each of the assault landers had a heavy cannon mounted, so he put drivers and gunners in those, and would worry about getting them through traffic when the problem presented itself.

He would have worried, actually, since an answer announced itself before he could properly frame the problem. Eric had been walking by the loader he’d used to escape the
Odyssey
when one of the men caught his attention and jerked a thumb in its direction.

“Hey, Admiral,” the man asked, instantly getting on Eric’s bad side. “What about that?”

Eric glanced at the big machine and shrugged. It was powerful, sure, but too damn slow in an open fight to be of serious use. “What about it?”

“I used to work construction. We had a couple older models than that,” the gruff man said. “I know from experience, it can pick a car up and toss it a good distance.”

Eric froze, then nodded slowly. “Right. You certified?”

“Used to be.”

“Close enough. We’ll cover you. You clear the road for the landers and any tanks we run across. Clear?”

“Clear. This thing use standard fuel cells?”

“It should.”

“Then I’ve got my ride,” the man grinned, climbing up into the cab of the big machine.

That settled one problem. The loader would be slow, but faster than lugging all the ammo and supplies still packed into the landers if they had to haul it on foot. With that settled, they were as ready as they could be.

“Captain,” Granger said as he joined the man at the head of the rough convoy, “the men are ready.”

“Is that so?” Eric asked, checking the action on his Priminae GWIZ. “Colonel Blake?”

“They’re not up to our old standards,” the burly retired colonel grunted, “but I warrant that the ones who live through the day will come close.”

Eric’s eyes flicked quickly to make sure that Blake had been speaking on the command channel and not openly to the group, but he needn’t have bothered. It wasn’t Ronald’s first rodeo.

“Let’s try and make that number as high as possible, shall we?” he responded dryly, while mentally accepting that his old friend had a point.

“That’s the goal, son. Let’s do this.”

Eric nodded, ticking over to the general squad channel. “Ready to move out. Directions are on your HUDs.”

He tensed. “Move out, on the bounce!”

With a kick at the ground Eric was airborne in an assisted jump that took him twenty meters up and over seventy ahead. Behind him the others followed suit, most using smaller and more controllable jumps, but catching up quickly as the slower assault landers and construction loader rumbled into action and began to make their way into the city.

CHAPTER EIGHT

National Guard HQ,
Intrepid
Sea, Air, & Space Museum