War of the Worlds 2030

by Stephen B. Pearl

  Tannal surged out of the bed and backhanded her across the mouth. “I am a Darmuk; no human may speak to me so!” His eyes blazed with an insane fury.

  Ashley stared at him. “You hit me!” she whispered.

  Tannal looked down at her then comprehension penetrated the clouds in his eyes.

  “I…I…You know the hormonal balance in this form affects me sometimes. You should not have upset me so.” He held out his hand and helped Ashley to her feet.

  “Whatever you say.” There was cold fire in her as she gathered her clothing. “I have to work on the interface. Osa is expecting me.”

  “Meet me here when you are finished. We can have sex again.”

  Ashley was dressed and now stood by the door. “Tannal, you will never touch me again. No man hits me twice, ever! If you want to do things like that, find a woman who’s fool enough to put up with it. We’re through!” She stepped through the doorway and hurried from the embassy complex.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Allies

  Zane and Richard lay by the heating vent in Betty’s old room listening. The last rays of the setting sun pushed past the boards on the window to paint images on the wall.

  * * * *

  Janis dished a small portion of beans onto the cracked and chipped plates and passed them to the two men who sat side by side on her couch. Late evening sun crept in around the drawn curtains.

  “Really Janis, this is unnecessary,” objected Wendle. His tall, lanky form was dressed in a battered suit and his boyish face was marred by a brand that looked like an eyeball pierced by a sword on his left cheek. His unruly black hair was hacked short.

  “If we give up all the amenities we become as bad as the things we fight. I have the food to spare, so don’t fret.” Janis picked up her own plate.

  “Janis, you really should—”

  ”Dear heart, you’re being ungracious,” said Stanley, who sat with his thigh pressed against Wendle’s.

  Wendle smiled at the man and cupped his cheek in his palm. “My Stanley, always the one for manners.” He kissed the other man on the lips.

  “Thank you. Now that we have stopped being too polite for our own good, eat up you two then fill me in on the cell status in LA,” said Janis.

  Stanley shoveled the food into his mouth then licked the plate clean. He smiled sheepishly at Janis. “Sorry for the bad manners.”

  “Practicality has to take precedence. No use in wasting good calories.”

  “Most gracious of you. If you will give me a moment?”

  “Of course. So Wendle, how have you been?” asked Janis as the blonde closed his eyes and began breathing deeply.

  “Well enough. Stan and I had to move. The old place was found out. We have a nice little house in West Hollywood now. Good sewer access. Still has running water, since the main line services an industrial complex somewhere farther up. Frances is growing like a weed.”

  “How old is he now?”

  “Thirteen. Crack shot, can hit a Darmuk from three klicks. Kept up with his reading and writing too, though he hates math, except for trigonometry. He says that if it will help him aim a cannon, it’s worth knowing.”

  “Sound’s like quite a lad.”

  “He is. He still misses his parents, but Janis, he’s just like a son to Stan and I, couldn’t love him more.”

  “I am ready,” interrupted Stanley in an odd monotone.

  “Begin.” Janis picked up a note pad and pen.

  “Cell fourteen, Malabo sector, confirmed operations. Bombing munitions facility. Bombing rail transports. Successful depth charge attack against aquatic Darmuk brigade. Opened sea passage for supply drops. Confirmed kills forty-seven, suspected kills two-hundred, dead sixteen, captured three, recruited seven.

  “Cell thirteen,” the monotone droned on as Stanley recited the information. When he finished his memory trace broke and he smiled at Janis.”

  “Damn useful that trick,” said Janis.

  “Ashley taught it to me when I was having trouble memorizing things for exams. It’s an old mediator’s discipline. Always aced examines after that.” Stanley smiled but looked tired.

  “You okay, pooky?” asked Wendle.

  “Takes a lot out of me.”

  “Is there anything that might help?” Janis already knew what the answer would be.

  “Now that you mention it.” Stanley bit his lower lip and stared suggestively at Wendle.

  “Well…um…yes…Well…” sputtered the dark haired man.

  “Janis and Stanley laughed.

  “Gets you every time, Wendle,” remarked Janis.

  “It just seems odd in this house. Richard preferred that I be discreet. He never got over being uncomfortable, though I have to admit he tried, and I loved him for the effort.” said Wendell.

  Janis sobered. “Business before pleasure then you two can use my basement for your, ‘Nap’. How that helps clear your head I’ll never understand.”

  “Ashley said it was a serotonin and endorphin release, helps clear the fuzz from the memory trance,” explained Stanley.

  “If you say so. Personally, I just think you like showing off.

  “Onto business. I need the LA cells to do a series of major raids starting thirteen hundred two days from now. They should be enough to keep the Darmuks from redeploying troops to other sectors.”

  “Janis, that will most likely get a lot of people killed,” objected Wendle.

  “I know, but it’s necessary.”

  “Why?” asked Stan.

  “The less you know, the less you can tell.”

  “I don’t like this.” Wendle drummed his fingers against his thigh.

  “Will you do it?” asked Janis.

  “You are my cell liaison. Unless Richard or Zane countermands you, I am honor bound to obey. I just don’t see what could be worth the cost.”

  “I believe it’s worth the price.”

  Wendle nodded. “Then we will comply. A major series of strikes.”

  “Good. Stan, prepare to accept plans.”

  “Stanley, the human computer, at your service.” The small man began taking deep, slow breaths. Wendle watched him, a dopy expression on his face.

  “Wendle. I’d like you to send Frances to the mountain companies. As far inland as you can manage.”

  “Janis…”

  “Just do it. Because we’re old friends.”

  “Oh, God!” Wendle closed his eyes and went pale.

  “I am ready,” Stanley said in a monotone.

  Janis began reading deployment orders for the LA underground from her note pad. As she finished each page she tore it away and made a small stack on the table.

  When she finished Stanley looked glassy-eyed for several seconds then collapsed against Wendle who embraced him.

  “I don’t know what this is about Janis, but I hope to God it works, because the LA underground will be wiped out afterwards,” observed Wendle.

  “I know it’s risky, but we have no choice.”

  “Humans ascendant.” Wendle punched his hand into the air.

  “Humans ascendant.” Janis copied the resistance salute.

  “Dear heart,” whispered Stanley.

  “Of course.” Wendle kissed his lover and they stood, Wendle helping to support the smaller man. “Next time you see Zane tell him hello and give him a big kiss for us.”

  “The second should make him uncomfortable,” said Janis.

  “That is exactly why I’d do it.” Wendle smiled and moved with his mate to the basement stairs.

  Two hours later Richard and Zane joined Janis to huddle around a candle’s merger light in her living room.

  “I wish you could have spoken to them. Both of you, it would
have meant a lot,” said Janis.

  “Couldn’t take the risk. Even the strongest can break under the right circumstances. Though I must admit, I am surprised. I never thought that Wendle and Stan would last,” said Richard.

  “English drivers.” Zane looked disgusted. He sat on the couch with Janis cuddled under his arm.

  “I truly hate that expression!” said Richard.

  “He told me once that his first experience was in that boarding school your mother sent the two of you to,” said Janis.

  “Doesn’t surprise me. An all boy school, I don’t know what my mother expected would come of that. I’m just lucky my Father rescued me, or I might have shared Wendle’s fate.”

  “Nurture verses nature. You really believe that?” asked Janis.

  “I believe it’s a mix of both. Wendle did date women for a time. Remember Debra.”

  “She was a lesbian he was using as a cover. He pretended to like women while he was getting his agency off the ground.” Janis shrugged.

  “She. But…” sputtered Richard.

  “I always suspected. He told me when he and Stanley took command of their resistance cell. He wanted to be completely honest.”

  “No surprise. He was always a fairy princess when I knew him,” said Zane.

  “Now love. You know he had a crush on you for several years, don’t you?”

  “Me! What no! No way! I mean, I’m straight. I didn’t even like the back tickler.”

  “Oh, he was hot for you. When Richard and I split and he helped move Richard’s furniture. He came back here afterwards to talk to me. He said you were so hot it was all he could do to stop himself from grabbing you in the truck. He used to fantasize about you all the time.”

  “Um…err…”

  “You know, Zane. Driving in England isn’t that difficult,” quipped Richard.

  “Honey, let’s go upstairs,” said Zane.

  “Mission accomplished.” Janis smiled wickedly and took his hand.

  “Have fun proving yourself, Zane.” Richard blew out the candle and headed for his bed in the basement.

  * * * *

  Wendle and Stanley moved through the sewers. Above it was full night and no hint of light entered the tunnel around them. The light intensification goggles they wore cast the world in shades of green.

  “How close to the egress point?” Wendle rubbed the back of his head where the goggles strap chafed him.

  “The map says another hundred meters.”

  Wendle pulled a child’s walkie-talkie from the pocket of his jacket and pressed the code key twice. Waited the count of fifteen then pressed it twice again.

  The radio clicked twice. Paused for three seconds, clicked once, paused for six seconds then clicked twice.

  “All clear above,” whispered Wendle.

  The two men moved along the sewer.

  They crossed a side passage. Each glanced in and saw nothing. In the filthy water at the passage’s bottom something stirred. It had proven too stupid to hold even a rudimentary program. A solitary hunter that had dominated its ecological niche long before the ancestors of man had stood erect. Born of an unholy union of crocodile and human DNA, its hide and head resembled the ladder, while it was as at home on four legs as two. Long claws extended from his forelimbs and it was hungry.

  Stanley heard a click from behind and spun. “Wendle!” he shouted and pulled a nine-millimeter from his pocket. The beast charged, despite the shots that flew towards it.

  The first two lead bullets flattened against its artificially-toughened hide.

  The next two magnesium tipped hollow points made it stagger, but it kept coming.

  It roared in pain as the two steel jacketed armor piercing slugs struck it.

  It practically ignored the two Teflon cop killers that followed those.

  The final bullet flew out hitting the beast. The explosive charge detonated staggering the Darmuk.

  Stan pulled the trigger but the clip was empty.

  “Shit!”

  Wendle’s gun spoke as the creature lunged forward. It staggered with the shots then lay still in the trickle of filthy water on the tunnel’s floor.

  “Are you hurt, Love?” asked Wendle.

  “No but we better—”

  The sound of running feet came from up the passage. Light exploded in the distance and both men pulled off their goggles.

  “They heard us.” Wendle slipped a fresh clip into his gun.

  “We can’t lead them to the others!” said Stanley.

  A company of Darmuks of mixed types were racing towards them.

  “Grenades,” snapped Wendle.

  “We’ll bring the roof in on ourselves.”

  “Go. Run, I’ll hold them. Get the instructions to the others.”

  “Wendle?”

  “Go. I Love you. Go.”

  The Darmuks were closer and now shouted in delight at having spotted their prey.

  “I love you too,” Stan hastily kissed Wendle then raced up the passage.

  Wendle stood his ground as the Darmuks drew near. A shot rang past his head and he emptied his clip at the approaching beasts. He dumped the clip and loaded his third and final one. The bio-forms continued to charge, despite the fact that several now lay dying. Wendle slammed his hand against a device in his breast pocket. A microphone over his heart activated, constantly resetting a small clock.

  He emptied his final clip.

  “Clear,” sounded a voice he loved and knew he would never hear again.

  A bullet tore into his shoulder. Wendle screamed in agony, dropping to his knees. His right arm wouldn’t move. The Darmuks drew nearer. He fumbled in his pocket with his left hand and pulled out a small, round hand-grenade. His pulse hammered in his ears. Bracing it between his knees he pulled the pin.

  Another shot tore into his belly. It burned like fire. His vision blurred. He grasped the grenade and threw it. The Darmuks dove to get clear. It exploded splattering several of them against the walls and crippling others.

  Wendle looked up through the smoke. Six Darmuks still stood, having been shielded by their companions’ bodies. The passage behind them was collapsed from the blast. They snarled. A battle-ape drew a pair of throwing knives from its belt sheathe and let them fly. They drove into Wendle’s skull.

  Wendle felt his body die. His heart, too stubborn to admit defeat, beat for a few more seconds. He felt a floating sensation and stared down at the tableau from the passage’s ceiling. The Darmuks crowded around him, kicking his corpse. His heart stopped.

  One one-thousand, he thought.

  Two one-thousand, a glowing light appeared in front of him.

  Three one-thousand, he floated towards the light feeling a strange euphoria.

  Four one-thousand, A figure appeared in the light.

  “Grama,” he said.

  “Come, you’ve done all you can, Wendle.”

  Five one-thousand. An explosion tore through the sewer ripping the Darmuks to pieces as Wendle followed the grey-haired lady into the light.

  * * * *

  Stan sat silently in the back of the jeep. The other resistance members gave him his space. Tears tricked down his cheeks. He could only pray he would die in the upcoming battles. Living without his love was more than he could face.

  “Denice,” he opened. A fourteen-year-old girl with a dirty face dressed in rags and holding a rifle looked at him.

  “Yes?”

  “Tomorrow you and Franklin are to go to San Bernardino. I will have papers for you to carry.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Denice?”

  “Yes?”

  “Try not to get pregnant on the trip. You’re both too young for that.”

  �
�Sir, I…We…”

  “Be good to each other.” Stanley closed his eyes and fell back into the pit of his own despair.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Suspicions

  “How’s the unit, son?” asked General Flanders.

  “The chemical balance is more or less back to normal sir. The resiliency of the brain cells is truly impressive.” Major Joans yawned as he settled on the interface couch.

  “Not use to evening shift, major?” The general glared at his subordinate.

  “It’s just my body’s rhythm, sir. I always get sleepy around sundown before my second wind.” Joans pushed the cyber jack into place as Kate prepared the monitor feeds and IV.

  “Good. If all goes according to plan it won’t be long.”

  “No sir. Permission to get back to work.”

  “Granted.”

  Major Joans focused on the calendar. “It is March, 8th twenty-thirty-seven.” He closed his eyes and slipped into the data flow.

  * * * *

  Upload monitoring/ Richard Green /Index 22:00/ 7/9/2032

  * * * *

  “Doctor Peaterfield, it is a plant. It may have some animal DNA spliced in, but, in the final analysis, it is a plant.” Richard stood with his back to the conference table staring out a window that overlooked the celebration in the plaza. The image of the alien lander filled a screen on the end wall of the large room.

  “Impossible. A biological organism surviving re-entry.” The aging scientist scowled at the other members of the committee who sat at the table.

  “Look, Sugar, it’s like those pinecones that only open after exposure to intense heat. That shell protected it through re-entry and then it fell away.” Nancy stood demurely by the window in a burgundy grown that showed off her legs.

  “If it is a plant, what do you believe its capacities are?” demanded the admiral.

  “How the hell should I know?” Richard stared at the ant-like figures below. Somewhere down there Ashley was dancing with Tannal, it made his guts churn.

  “Doctor Green!” admonished Malcome.

  “I’m sorry.” Richard closed his eyes and sighed. “I can’t say much. Right now it’s, I guess the best phrase would be, refueling. My guess is it must store sugars to operate during flight. Right now it’s taking on nutrients from the Milorganite, storing water, building itself up.”