Out of the Black (Odyssey One, Book 4) (70 page)

The entity listened in to the conversation between her captain and the admiral, and admired the thinking that had brought him to his point. She had not considered some of the things he did, which was normal in a way. Despite having all the thoughts of everyone within her sphere, she didn’t think like them herself. She too had been caught in the prevailing concept of fighting the war like, well, a war
.

“An army has different priorities than a disease, and must be combated differently.”

She dropped back into herself, dropping her focus on the
Odysseus
and soaking in the entirety of the planet once more. It was different, and she didn’t like doing it right now. Before the Drasin it had been like stepping into a hot bath, warmth and comfort, even with all the violence and war. Now, however, it felt like someone had opened a sewage line into the tub, and so she avoided it as much as she could
.

“That has possibly been a mistake in judgment.”

The currents of people were in disarray. Everything was out of place, but she could also feel the flowing sewage that was the Drasin as they gained strength. In places a flash of disruption would instantly clean the filth out, but leave scarred tissue behind. She normally rather disliked nuclear weapons, but for now they were a . . . medical necessity
.

Disgusted by the feeling, but now determined, Gaia stepped into the flows and began to study them. It only took instants to recognize some of the patterns and realize just how right her captain had been
.

She emerged, wishing for the metaphysical equivalent of a shower, but that would have to come later. For now she had the glimmer of an idea, and she needed help to see it through
.

“My captain is not available, so who?”

Gaia cast about, considering, then smiled
.

Of course, the answer was simple. If one could not reach the supervisor, one looked to his subordinates. Gaia slid back out into the world, her first target locked in her mind
.

Lyssa scowled as she looked over her board, trying to determine something . . .
anything
from the mess she was looking at.

Reports from every unit in the field were routing through her system, and she was trying like hell to get them the information they needed to do their jobs. But sometimes it felt like fighting ants at a picnic. The enemy barely seemed to react to the deployment of forces. Even nuclear weapons were of limited value. The aliens just rallied and seemed to redouble elsewhere.

She may as well be holding back the tide with a spoon.

She felt a shiver run down her back and looked around, but there was no one close enough to spook her.

Weird
.

She turned back to the job, eyes on the map, and prepared to issue orders to authorize the next nuclear delivery. The fact that she’d been entrusted with this kind of insanity was enough to boggle her mind, but someone had to handle the reports from the field to ensure that as many people were clear of the blast zones as possible.

“Roger that, Shiva One Two. You are clear to . . .” She trailed off, blinking. She shook her head, her eyes being dragged away from the target, the city of Cincinnati, and to a blank spot on the map. She shook her head, looking back to the city, “Say again, you are clear . . . uh . . .”

“Say again, Control. Are the friendlies clear of the target area?” the pilot in the orbiting bomber called back.

“Say again, you’re . . .” She blinked again, glaring at the screen. “Hold one. Say again, Shiva One Two, hold one.”

“Roger that, Control. Holding.”

Lyssa scowled at the screen and called up the empty space on the map that had drawn her attention, swapping over to the satellite imagery. She didn’t see much on it, but that didn’t mean anything. It was an older image from before the satellite array took such a beating.

Lyssa scowled at the screen for a bit, then blew out a breath and opened up the comm again. “Shiva One Two, Control.”

“Go for Shiva, Control.”

“Need to know, do you have a real-time intel package?” she asked.

“Roger that, Control. This baby is fully equipped. Even has AC.”

“Redirect to fifteen degrees north by northwest. I need a high-detail surveillance shot, pronto.”

There was a pause, then the pilot came back. “Roger, Control. Redirecting, north by northwest. Surveillance package is armed and broadcasting.”

“Thank you, Shiva. Stand by for orders,” she said, flipping over to the surveillance frequency, easily logging into the new signal.

The recon package on the bird was pretty standard, and actually existed on most aircraft fielded by the Confederation. It included extremely high-resolution imagery that was often sold to corporations in degraded format to help offset fuel costs for the airlines. The military and government had access to the full quality imagery as well, of course.

She slapped a map overlay on the images and ran through it until the plane slid over the target zone. She didn’t see anything at first, but a moment later she had to look closer. Zooming in she spotted something that threw up all kinds of red flags.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” she whispered, flicking through the overlays until she got the thermal.

Lyssa’s eyes widened and she let out a curse that caused the entire place to fall silent.

In an instant she was back on the communication channel. “Shiva One Two, retask. Retask. Retask. I say again, retask, retask, retask.”

“Roger, Control. Standing by for retasking coordinates,” the pilot came back. “Will need authorization for retask.”

“Coordinates sent. Stand by for authorization,” she snapped, pulling off her headset as she screamed, “General!”

Gaia turned her focus away, smugly satisfied with the results
.

Now, if her captain could just pull off the impossible one last time, they might just have a fighting chance
.

She didn’t really expect it. The end seemed to be upon her, but one thing that Gaia had picked up from her people was a certain tenacity. Death may win, but it would not take her easily, nor would it take her cleanly
.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“IS EVERYTHING READY?” Eric asked, striding onto the bridge.

He’d spent most of the last few hours making sure that these new ships would be able to pull off what he had planned. They were well equipped, certainly, and the most lethal ships in the universe . . . or he dearly hoped so at least, because if there was something else out there that could kill a ship at fourteen light-minutes faster than light itself, he didn’t want to know about it.