“Betty, grow up. I’m sick of you behaving like a spoiled brat,” snapped Janis.
* * * *
Upload monitoring/ Zane Hinkly /Index 09:05/ 9/12/2033
* * * *
“Don’t you think I want to help? She’s my daughter for Gods’ sake,” snapped Richard. He sat at his desk in the university. Zane stood leaning on the desk opposite him.
“She says she didn’t plan the raid,” said Zane.
“I know she didn’t. There’s nothing I can do until she turns herself in. The state department has been trying to get the Darmuks to calm down for weeks. Those alien bastards are demanding prosecution.”
“This is crazy. Betty may be a hot head but high treason.”
“I know. Zane, it’s politics. There may be a way to work this out though.”
“What?”
“Horse trading. The government wants to use Betty to appease the Darmuks. I’ve spoken to everyone I know. Because she’s my daughter they’re willing to take the death penalty off the table, but that still means prison time.”
“This is insane.”
“I agree. I threatened to break my oath of confidentiality if they didn’t drop charges.”
“Yeah and?” Zane stared at Richard meaningfully.
“They offered to make it quick and promised I wouldn’t feel a thing.”
“You’re kidding.”
Richard stared at Zane and there was no humor in his face.
Zane pulled up a folding chair and collapsed into it. “Janis is going crazy. Isn’t there anything we can do?”
“One thing.” Richard drummed his fingers on the desk.
“What?”
“Give them something they want more than Betty. They’ve agreed to drop all charges, except trespassing and that would be community service, scrubbing the graffiti off the Darmuk embassy. There’s one condition.”
“What?” Zane stared at Richard and felt his stomach flip flop.
“The government wants you, Zane. You’re the only human who understands the Darmuk technology that isn’t working for the state.”
“Ash?”
“Like I said.”
“Damn, no one ever tells me anything.”
“There are advantages and difficulties. I cannot force you, but for Betty’s sake I ask, beg you. Please accept this offer.”
“Not for Betty, Doc. For Janis and for you. After my folks split I didn’t have much by way of family, just Ash. You guys are both important to me in very different ways.” Zane emphasized the last part.
“Thank you. You will go for implantation tomorrow.”
“For what?” Zane stared at Richard incredulously.
Richard turned his head to the side and picked at a small mole behind his ear. It pulled away. “Your sister is brilliant; you are in line to enjoy the fruits of her labor.”
“My Gods. I didn’t know she was that advanced.”
“Now you do.”
* * * *
Upload monitoring/ Zane Hinkly /Index 15:25/ 20/7/2034
* * * *
The Human troops on the screen drove back the lines of plague-riddled battle-apes. It was a massacre and, for a moment, it seemed the humans might win. A creature that resembled a scorpion, only it was the size of a large cow, rushed onto the front lines and began tearing into the humans. Bullets bounced off its outer shell. The human advance was stalled.
“How in hell did they manage to beat the oxygen transport limit?” muttered Richard who sat to Zane’s right in a twenty seat theatre with concrete walls and a large, plasma screen at the front of the stacked twin rows of seats. He looked tired and his nose was red.
“Forget that, that damned thing’s bullet proof. It took a direct hit with a tank round to crack the shell.” Zane slumped in his chair. His khaki uniform was sweat stained and dusty.
“Is that all the footage you shot?” asked Richard.
“Damn straight. I had to get out of there with the tissue samples. Doc, if this becomes the new line type we’re toast!”
“Big bloody bugs. Okay, Zane, go to your quarters and catch some sleep.”
“Doc, um…well…”
“Candy has a brake soon. I’ll tell her you’re back.”
“Thanks Doc.”
“It’s life, Zane, it goes on.”
* * * *
Upload monitoring/ Zane Hinkly /Index 09:00/ 5/3/2035
* * * *
Zane sat up on the infirmary cot, bent the mechanical arm and watched it move. The covering resembled scar tissue.
“Your task will be to liaison with the underground units. With your. Umm…” General Flanders glanced around the infirmary that served the underground facility trying not to look at Zane.
“Appearance,” finished Zane. His voice sounded odd to him, foreign.
“Yes. Frankly, with the artificial scar tissue covering the prosthetics you look like someone the Darmuks used as a slave. You will blend in nicely. We need you to obtain as much information as you can regarding the new types of troops. In addition you will coordinate with the resistance.”
“Who’s my resistance contact?”
The general smiled. “I think you’ll like this major.”
* * * *
Upload monitoring/ Zane Hinkly /Index 21:12/ 10/3/2035
* * * *
Zane was more afraid of this meeting than any he had ever had. He waited in Janis’s living room. The furniture was worse for wear and the windows were boarded over.
Janis descended the stairs. A scar ran along her jaw from chin to ear and her hair was cropped short, otherwise she was still the woman he had known.
“Zane,” she whispered.”
“In, what’s left of, the flesh,” he shifted uncomfortably.
She sped down the stairs into his arms and held him. “Oh, Gods, I thought I lost you forever,” was all she had to say.
* * * *
Upload monitoring/ Zane Hinkly /Index 16:03/ 20/12/2035
* * * *
“Doc, you been into the lab alcohol again?” Zane examined his friend across the lab bench in the facilities main research room.
There were none of the traditional signs that he was coming down from one of his drunks.
“No. As a matter of fact, I just got my one month pin. Zane, it’s a chance. I had thought infiltrating the system would be a suicide mission. In a sense it is. We are the only ones who might pull this off. The only ones who understand the Darmuk systems well enough. The problem is for that very reason they can’t afford to lose us. This way they keep the expertise and knowledge, and we can do what has to be done.”
Zane thought for a long minute. “Will it work?” He flexed his mechanical arm.
“Dammed if I know. Does it matter? We both know we’re losing the war. It’s only a matter of time unless something drastic happens.”
“I’m in, Colonel. Gods help me, I’m in,” said Zane.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Resistance
Stan dove into the back of the battered convertible. The driver put the pedal down. A hail of gunfire and thrown debris chased them. Pulling an Uzi from under the driver’s seat he switched the clip then let out a burst of fire. The rain of bullets slowed as the acid-cored slugs tore into the vulture-like Darmuks. They scattered and dove for cover amidst the shattered houses and rubble that fronted the now burning factory.
“Yeah whoo, we got them buggers on the run now,” called the teenage male who drove the car.
“Yeah right.” Stan glanced at the four empty seats in the car. He let another burst of gunfire go at the Darmuks, but another kind, that looked roughly humanoid but had lobster-like shells, had now taken the front line. The acid slugs did nothi
ng. The car turned a corner.
“Shit!” swore the driver.
Stan jerked around. A creature, the size of a small elephant with a gorilla’s body and a head like a bobcat, loomed in the middle of the street. Stan opened fire at it. Nothing happened. He changed clips but before he finished the car rammed into the creature. Metal crunched and caved. The creature dropped to the ground. Stan flew over the driver’s seat onto the hood, breaking his nose. Somehow he managed to hold onto the Uzi and clip. He slammed the clip home.
The creature started to stand. From point blank range Stan fired into its neck, burning the clip. The beast’s head fell off. The body stood, blood spurting from its neck, for a few moments as Stanley looked on dumbfounded. Then, as if finally realizing it was dead, it toppled to one side.
“Shit, Frank do you think she’s fit to drive? Frank?” Stan turned around. The younger man was dead, his chest caved in by the steering column. “And then there was one.”
Grunting with pain Stan slid from the hood and staggered to the driver’s side door. He pulled the corpse out. Rifled the pockets, taking the gun, ammo and grenade then set a motion sensitive explosive charge under the body and climbed behind the wheel. Steam jetted from the radiator but when he turned the key the engine started. He dropped it into gear and with a horrific mix of screeching and grinding noises the convertible moved forward.
He floored it, reaching nearly fifty clicks. A battle-ape appeared and he emptied the driver’s revolver into it. With a screech he pulled into a parking garage and raced up the ramps to the open top. He looked at the carnage below. Fires burnt across LA. Resistance fighters set bombs in factories and barracks as the Darmuks prowled the streets. He glanced at the fire his team had set in a light-arms facility. A pumper-truck had pulled up in front of the building and collaborators were making inroads against the flames.
“No, no, no, that simply isn’t allowed.” Stan moved to the convertible’s trunk. A slight change in air pressure warned him just in time. He hit the dirt as a winged Darmuk swept over head, barely missing him with its sharp talons. The beast, which resembled a legendary harpy, circled for another pass. Stan pulled his gun then the Darmuk exploded into a ball of fire.
“Sweet Mary!” he swore. An F-32 fighter jet thundered overhead. He scanned the skies. Winged Darmuks engaged human jets. Missiles flew, killing beasts. A missile shot up from the ground, clipping the wing of a fighter. The F-32 spun out of control and crashed into an office tower. The munitions exploded and debris flew in all directions.
“What the!” Stan examined the surrounding streets. He spotted a centaur like creature with a gorilla’s upper body about two blocks away, hidden between two high-rises. It held a portable ground to air missile launcher and was taking aim at another jet.
“Oh no.” Stan opened the convertible’s trunk and pulled out his resistance cell’s pride and joy. He loaded the first rocket into the portable launcher, took aim and let fly. The recoil nearly knocked him off the roof but he rushed back in time to see a shower of Darmuk bits painting the street grisly shades.
“Good work, Stan. Your Pooky is making you proud Wendle, my love.” He said to himself as he loaded the second missile.
The collaborator fire crews had made inroads against the flames. Stan took careful aim, braced himself, and let fly. The rocket sped out on a trail of smoke and the fire-truck jumped into the air with the impact and became so much scrap metal.
A whoosh sound was all the warning he had. Stan felt the hairy, spider-like arms close around him. He was lifted into the air. He scrambled for his gun but a pincer closed breaking his arm at the elbow. He screamed and black dots danced before his eyes.
“Foolish humans,” hissed the voice. Stan was slowly turned so he faced what appeared to be a spider, the size of a pickup truck, with a human face. Vents ran the length of its back, and its body pulsed as it sucked air in and out of them.
The beast’s mandibles clicked. There was a whoosh, and a boom as white fog covered the roof. The spider-like Darmuk dropped Stan and collapsed as the gas turned its engineered lungs into mush. A Hawker Harrier V-18 hovered above the roof. The pilot shot Stan a thumbs-up. Stan returned it. He glanced out. Harriers now flew low and slow over the Darmuk companies.
“Fuck, what have they got planned?” He glanced at the sun. “Four thirty, fully engaged by now.”
A squadron of fighter jets appeared. These were painted midnight black and modified battle-apes could be glimpsed in the canopies. The human jets turned to engage the Darmuks and soon havoc reined in the skies. One of the black jets was shot down. The pilot ejected but an up-draught slammed his ape-like form into the side of a building.
Stan glanced at the highway. It was full of trucks carrying Darmuk troops summoned from the surrounding area to quash the rebellion.
“Whatever they’re doing in Goleta, they’re as ready as they’ll ever be.” His eyes followed another street to where a company of Darmuks had a resistance cell pinned in a cross fire.
Cradling his injured arm he climbed into the smashed convertible and started the engine. It ground to life like an angry bear. The temperature gauge was in the red. He put it in gear and sped towards the pinned down cell.
Rubble filled the streets and fires burnt everywhere. Stanley swerved around piles of concrete and ran over dead bodies. The engine screamed and the temperature gage was buried. The sounds of gunfire filled his ears. Steering with his knee he pulled out a hand-grenade hooked its pin on the corner of a gun rack mounted by the seat and jerked it out. A toss and it landed by a battle gorilla armed with a rally gun. It blew, slamming the Darmuk into the wall and twisting the gun into scrap.
The engine screamed louder. Now the gunfire was directed at him. He kept the pedal floored and aimed the car at a large group of beasts huddled behind a partially-collapsed wall. A shot struck his left shoulder, another grazed the side of his brow and his right eye filled with blood. He pulled the cord that activated his heart monitor just before the car slammed home against its targets.
The pinned humans saw their chance and rushed the Darmuks. Of ten humans, three fell in the street before they moved clear.
Stanley pushed back from the steering column. He was blinded by blood pouring from his scalp. A rough hand picked him up. He fumbled in his pocket grabbing his other grenade. Something tore at his leg and there was a nauseous feeling. Somehow he knew that in its pique the battle gorilla that had him had ripped off the limb. He brought the grenade to his mouth and bit down on the pin. He yanked and the pain of teeth being pulled from his head joined his other woes. Something gasped then there was a roar.
“Come this way, Pooky. It’s all right,” was the first/last thing he heard.
* * * *
Doug shuffled through the streets.
Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy, he thought. When I give them a map full of resistance checkpoints they’ll make me the mayor. Especially if old Zane does in that asshole Edwin.
Hill Crest drive was a residential suburb. Signs of the occupation could be seen in its generally un-kept appearance but beyond that it was little changed from before the war.
“Thirty seven,” he said then pulled out the forged travel documents that would enable him to get the jeep to his secret cache. “Mandy, you’re beautiful,” he whispered as he thought of the collaborator who worked the city hall front desk.
He glanced up the street then back down to be sure no one watched. He raced to the garage. The side door was unlocked and he stepped in to stand in front of a dusty jeep.
“Zane, I hope you die quickly. This is beautiful.” he clapped his hands and climbed in. The key was in the ignition so he turned it.
* * * *
Richard and Zane shuffled towards the embassy. The roll of carpet they were supposedly installing hid all the gear that they couldn’t fit under their coveralls.
&n
bsp; Kaboom, echoed over the town. Richard glanced in the direction and saw smoke rising.
“Too early,” he said.
“Doug,” remarked Zane.
“Well, that’s one less loose end.”
* * * *
Janis motioned for her cell to follow her along the sewer passage. They were doing the first of the Goleta raids. She knew Zane and Richard had left city hall, followed soon after by one of the mayor’s playmates. The humans were tentatively following a series of urgent transfer-orders, and a large part of the Darmuk garrison had been called away to deal with the LA uprising.
She checked her watch then nodded at the man behind her. He rushed forward and set a series of precision charges then raced back. The humans covered their ears as the charges detonated.
Evening sunlight poured into the sewer from a hole in the roof and the rubble had fallen creating a kind of ramp.
“Now,” Janis snapped and the humans charged onto the factory’s parking lot. Battle-apes rushed them, only to be mown down. Humans died riddled with bullets or taken out by ape-like strength. The charge went on.
An hour later, blood oozed from a deep gouge in Janis’s arm, but the anesthetic pack her medic had squeezed into the wound kept her functional. She huddled by an entry door, shielded by a massive control console. Above vats of liquid metal were hauled about by huge mechanical rail systems.
“I’ve placed the last of the charges,” said a balding man who looked and dressed like a construction worker.
“Have the bad guys sent reinforcements?” she demanded into a radio she wore on her belt.
“Big Momma, they’re on their way. My guess, fifty of them. Kinda faltering considering there’s only twenty of us,” replied a rough male voice from the speaker.”
“Twenty. When’d he flunk math. Fifteen left now, Mam,” said the construction worker.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here. Other targets to hit.” Janis stood and ran towards a passage leading to an auxiliary, power station that supplied the plant if the line power went down.
In minutes her cell were hiding in the long grass that filled a field outside the steel-mill’s fence.
War of the Worlds 2030 Page 21
