Out of the Black (Odyssey One, Book 4) (6 page)

“Find cover, Captain. Hell is coming.”

“No, son,” Eric said in the clear, his voice booming over his armored suit’s speakers as well as the radio, “hell is already here.”

CHAPTER ONE

Two Hundred Meters below 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, Washington, D.C.

“WE HAVE CONFIRMED landings in major cities across the planet, Mr. President.”

“Washington?” the man at the head of the table asked tightly.

“No sir. Air defense here is some of the tightest in the world. We’ve been able to take them out before they got within thirty thousand feet. So far.”

President Mitchell Conner nodded tiredly, waving for the general to continue.

“New York, however, has over a hundred confirmed landings. Los Angeles is nearly five hundred. Beijing we think has almost a thousand. Near as we can determine the aliens are specifically targeting population centers. The bigger it is, the more they land.”

Conner scowled. “How does New York only rank a hundred then?”

“It doesn’t,” the general said. “New York ranked over three hundred by our tally, maybe more.”

“Air defenses get lucky?”

“No sir, Mr. President. The
Odyssey
went down over the city,” the General said, before adding, “and she went down shooting.”

Conner sighed, running his hands through his hair. They came back wet and stinking of sweat.

“Warrior to the end,” he said finally. “Alright. What are our assets on the ground?”

“In country, sir? Not good. Most of our units are overseas. We have two carrier task forces on recall now, but we can’t risk lightening our presence
anywhere
they might land. Close counts with these things.”

That was one thing that Conner wasn’t going to cross any of his people on. He’d read the reports as clear as anyone. He knew what happened if they missed any of these things. One part of the report stuck in his mind though.

“You say they’re targeting based on population?”

“Yes sir.”

“China? India?”

China and India were the powerhouses of the Block, literally the backbone that held the whole political beast together. While they both had extensive air defenses, they’d never been as effective as Confederate systems. Those two nations also accounted for over half the population of the entire planet between them. Well over half.

“Approximately 80 percent of confirmed planetary landings are in those two nations, sir.”

“Shit.” The President cursed, automatically wincing as he realized that his uncharacteristic choice of words had, of course, been recorded for posterity.

“That about covers it, sir.”

“I want the Block ambassador in here in fifteen minutes.”

“Sir, this is a secure facility . . .” A man in a black suit stepped forward, almost out of nowhere, and made his presence known.

“Fifteen minutes.”

The general looked into the eyes of his Commander in Chief for a long moment, then over at the Secret Service Agent in Charge who had objected. There were few people in the Administration who could stare down the President. Fewer still make their point stick. The AIC for the Service was one of those few.

Not this time, however. The man nodded after about thirty seconds. “Yes Mr. President.”

The secure bunker under the White House was one of the most heavily defended places on the planet. Just getting to the scanners that were the first line of defense required an invite. Without the invite, you risked getting dead just thinking in that direction.

For obvious reasons the Block ambassador had never gotten an invite and, honestly, never expected one. The few times he’d seen the scanners he had made certain to carefully think in another direction entirely. Block intel didn’t know what was past those scanners, at least not that he could access at his level, but they did know what the United States Secret Service procedures were for anyone attempting to violate the area.

So now Shi Wan Jung found himself not only being escorted up to the scanners, but actually bypassing them through an express system that he
didn’t
know about. He was in the elevator and on his way down almost before he realized that he hadn’t even been scanned.

Not that he was hiding anything, mind you, but it still seemed just a little off.

“Don’t get any ideas.”

“Pardon me?” he asked the man in black beside him, genuinely confused.

“I said, don’t get any ideas,” the man said again. “You’re carrying a wallet, three credit cards, four hundred eighty dollars in cash, and your business cards. You have a GPS transponder in your belt, and another implanted in your lower intestine. The one in your belt has recording capability. That won’t work down here. Neither of them will, actually.”

Shi blinked, eyeing the man carefully before he spoke. “You missed my pen.”

“This pen?” the man asked, holding up the object in question.

Shi’s hand went to his jacket pocket, but it was only instinctive. He knew his own pen well enough to recognize that it wasn’t a fake he was looking at.

The Secret Service man squeezed it lightly and a four-inch blade popped out the top. He turned it over, nodding appreciatively. “Cute neurotoxin. Lethal?”

“Paralysis,” Shi corrected, somewhat annoyed.

It wasn’t that they’d taken the pen. Mind you, he’d expected that. He just didn’t like the fact that they’d lifted it without his knowing. That hurt his sense of professionalism.

“Nice. I’ll return it when you leave.”

“Keep it,” Shi snorted. “I’ll draw another from the armory.”

“Thanks, but the GPS and microbug make it a security issue.” The agent smirked.

Shi sighed. “Then destroy it. I will not take it back to my embassy after you’ve tampered with it.”

“As you like. We’re here,” the agent said, nodding as the doors slid open.

Shi stepped out of the elevator and into the holy grail of Block intelligence, eyes flitting around as he tried to remember everything he was seeing. Opportunities like this just did not come along every day.

This one had taken the beginning of the end of the world, after all.

“This way, sir.” The agent gestured. “The President is waiting to speak with you.”

President Conner eyed the other man as he took a seat across from him. They were sitting in a perfect replica of the Oval Office, right down to the tri-D “windows” that showed a real-time view of the outside of the actual office. It was mostly built as a place to broadcast from in case of emergency, giving people a sense of security that their President was calm and on the job in his office where he was supposed to be.

It was a not-so-subtle bit of propaganda and population control that was part of a system that Conner had disliked his entire life, even once he’d become part of it. Now, though, it served as a slightly more subtle bit of posturing as it reminded his guest of exactly who he was speaking with. Not really necessary, Conner supposed, but every little edge counted, and the subliminal ones were often the ones you weren’t prepared for.

Jung made a show of settling in, looking relaxed and just a little disinterested. It was classic political posturing, and it was something that the President just didn’t have time for.

“The Reagan Task Force is in the South China Sea,” he said, getting an instant sharp look from his guest, “and the Clinton
is in the Persian Gulf. They have enough firepower to flatten three countries apiece, and they are within operational strike range of every major Block population center on the planet.”