Drusilla read the report for the third time. It was the first transmission to be sent from the Odyssey and as she finished the document once again, she felt the anger rising within her.
“Lying human cunt!”
Over a month into deep space exploration on a mission she had authorised, and put into motion, to hunt down the Darla renegades, and Harry Ransome was reporting nothing of any significance. She knew that to be a lie. If they had followed the flight plan that she had given them, and that she had been tracking, then they would already have reached a settlement of the Darla. She knew it existed, but she could not be seen to be the one behind the attack. No, her vengeance must come from the darkness, behind the scenes. She would not risk her species being identified, and a Darla warship sent to her homeworld. She had kept them safe for this long, she would not take risks now.
But the time had come for action. The human admiral was not keeping to his end of the bargain. She knew as soon as she cut the tether with his mind that there was a chance he would run. This is why humanity was better off being part of an experiment, she thought. Give them free will and they fritter about the galaxy like knotweed, infesting everywhere, devastating more than they create, and then vanish onto the next target. It was part of the reason they were in the mess they were now. Earth was dying. She knew it. The humans knew it. But the denial was immense. Life was continuing on Earth almost as normal. And yet there was no accountability for what these hairless apes were doing to their own home. Typical ignorance, she feared, would lead to them trying to reach out among the stars for someone else to fix their problems. But Drusilla knew that would never happen. She had after all, made sure of it.
As the deserts enlarged and reclaimed Las Vegas, and most of Northern Africa, the tides were also rising. They had around a decade of time remaining before it really was too late. But Drusilla decided to give Ransome one more month. She knew that their current course would take them near a trading station and that at that point they would need to dock for maintenance. The human ships were strong and built to last, thanks to Drusilla’s nudges in the right direction. But being on the move for eight to ten weeks would force them to stop. This was the home of a known associate of Drusilla’s. He was a former neighbour of sorts, in that he was from a species on a neighbouring planet to her own. Being over nine hundred years old had its advantages for him. His client list was extensive, and Drusilla had last seen him when she bartered passage to Earth. She had contacted him in advance to instruct the man to introduce himself to the crew of the Odyssey. He was to tell them the story he and Drusilla had created. The story designed to lure humanity to the brink. Toward their only useful purpose.
She knew once this tale was transmitted back to Earth in the monthly report, word would spread, more ships would be built, and humanity would burst forth into the stars toward their fate. Earth was inconsequential to her. It was within her power to save it, but she had no desire to do so. It would serve as a military outpost whether it was lush and vibrant with life, or a desert moon. All she needed was humanity to vacate the lot.
One more month.
She glanced out of her window, and admired the recently completed starship Northwestern. She was a smaller vessel than the Odyssey and her peers, but was designed for speed and rescue rather than transportation of colonists. It was her backup escape plan. There was a vessel on each of the three human colonies. One month. If she had not heard the expected details from Harry Ransome within one month, then she was taking the Northwestern, and hunting him down.