"Fromm," Trevor spoke quietly so his voice would not disrupt the flow of the chant. "Will you keep your promise? Will you offer Thebes a chance to leave through the runes?"
"If all you have told me is true, then when we turn our armies on the human cancer upon my planet, I will offer them passage through those runes. I will not offer twice. Should they not accept I will destroy them without mercy."
Just a week ago, Trevor Stone was the Emperor of Thebes fighting to reclaim a planet he thought belonged to mankind. He showed no mercy, offered no quarter. Then came the truth. Suddenly he was one of the invaders, and they were not faceless devils.
To his side, Nina sat quietly making eye contact with no one, the type of diminutive behavior he would have expected from the Nina Forest back home during those months before they fell in love. A quiet, shy woman despite her talents for battle.
In this case, however, Major Forest had good reason to try and pass unnoticed. While Fromm needed Trevor and seemed to believe his story of alternate worlds and deceptions, Forest could claim no such excuse, no such ignorance. She was an original member of an invading army and remained alive only as a result of Fromm's benevolence.
Trevor brought her into the conversation nonetheless.
"You fought in a big battle, seven different armies, right?"
She answered with a nod.
"What armies? What races were there?"
At first she did not understand the question, or maybe she hoped he would just let it drop. Yet Fromm and Trevor both sat and waited for an answer.
"Well, I mean, there were the Duass and the Geryons and ourselves and the Chaktaw. I think, wait, yeah, the Centaurians were there and the Witiko," she looked skyward as if maybe the answer flickered up there with the stars. "Oh, yeah, and a bunch of Malebranches."
While the slave translated for Fromm, Trevor tried to translate the races into names he knew. Of course the Duass equated to the Platypuses and he knew the Geryons. He also knew that Malebranches were what he thought of as Mutants, one of the long list of creatures from the realm of Voggoth. That left two he did not recognized.
"Centaurians? Witiko?"
Fromm spoke before the Major could answer. "I remember we were without our Behemoths and on the run. We inflicted great casualties upon our enemies before withdrawing."
"Who are the Centaurians and the Witiko?"
Fromm spoke to his translator who relayed, "The Centaurians are disciplined but arrogant and easily confused, easily tricked. They have powerful weapons and aircraft, but they do not use their aircraft for fighting, only to watch. This is but one of their many weaknesses. Before we knew their name we called them the ‘Black Eyes’ for their eyes are big and black underneath their helmets."
"Red uniforms with helmets? Guns that become more powerful as they charge?"
Fromm answered, "Gold armor, slightly taller than you. Their aircraft use water for fuel."
"Okay, so their colors are different but we called them Redcoats on our Earth. I have to remember even the invading armies are from different universes. Those hitting my Earth are from my universe; those attacking here are of this, well, reality or dimension or whatever. Point is, they are a lot alike, but still with some differences. Red armor invading my earth, gold invading yours. Still, armor and air ships. The civilizations must all be about the same level. That was probably planned, too. Anyway, who are the Witiko?"
For the first time during the conversation, Fromm looked directly at Major Forest who, for her part, looked to him as well. Trevor judged that by the way they glanced at one another—eyes a little wide, mouths a little open—the two shared an understanding of these Witiko that Trevor lacked.
"Well, who are they?"
"They are dangerous," Nina said. "They've got air power and solid infantry, and they can make animals fight for them. But more than that, they're clever. Trevor—my Trevor, that is—couldn't stand them and didn't trust them, even when we were supposed to be working together."
Fromm spoke through his translator, "They are little larger than you or I but their strength is not physical; they are sophisticated and cunning. Be weary of them."
Trevor said, "Okay then, that answers the question of who was at the big dance," he stopped and corrected for the sake of the translation. "I mean, fight. The only ones not there were the Hivvans and the Red Hands. That would make eight and we’ve got ourselves a complete set."
"We have not faced the Hivvans much here," Fromm explained. "But I know they are strong in parts of the world. Their time will come. I do not know the other name."
Trevor turned to Nina who also shrugged at the name 'Red Hands' so he described, "Kind of primitive. They paint themselves red, usually a hand. Fight with bows and pointed sticks."
Major Forest said, "Sounds like the Feranites. The Order of Feran."
Fromm nodded as he listened to the translation of Nina's answer. Trevor went on, "So there you have it. Eight different Earths, eight different races. Well, actually, nine. So we're short an Earth. The only question is…where does Voggoth fit in?"
Fromm recognized that name. His face twisted.
"Voggoth and the nightmares that come from his place. Where ever that may be, it is no doubt dark and lifeless."
Trevor considered Fromm’s observation. He also wondered about creatures like the Mutants and Wraiths and Roachbots. They were organized, they had technologies, yet he knew from the research done at Red Rock that those creatures—and many more—did not come from the same tree of life as the eight races on the eight Earths.
Trevor asked, "Tell me something, on my world before the invasion began, thousands of my people disappeared. In the years since, they've been reappearing in areas we've liberated. We call it 'riding the ark'."
Through his translator, Fromm answered, "We experienced nothing like that."
"Are you sure? We keep finding people stuck in this green stuff, sort of like a coffin but when we pull them out they're fine, they just don't remember what happened."
Again, Fromm answered, "That is a mystery unique to you."
Trevor turned to Major Forest and asked, "Do you know anything about that?"
"Sorry, no. I don't remember anything like that. One other thing, though, when you're talking about all these races that are fighting. Don't forget The Nyx."
"The…the Nyx?" Trevor remembered the oily black entity from which Nina’s people had stole the dimension-crossing building. Apparently Fromm had not heard of the Nyx, either.
Trevor asked, "How do they fit in? Do you know?"
Nina hesitated but stares from Trevor and Fromm forced her to speak.
"I don’t know, but my Trevor--the one from Sirius--I heard him joke about them. He called them something…I don’t know if it means anything…he called them the ‘umpires.’"
"The umpires?" Trevor did not so much ask a question as he did roll the idea around in his mind. Fromm remained quiet after listening to the translation.
"I think they are close to Voggoth. Maybe even under his control. I told you, Snowe set up everything to, well, to go and get you and he was in contact with Voggoth's agents."
Trevor placed his hands over his ears and gave his head a good squeeze.
"I think I’ve stuffed too much in here. I’ve learned more than I ever bargained for."
Fromm spoke slowly to his translator who said, "Until the truth of the matter is revealed, we can only play our part inside the scheme. Perhaps a day will come when we can fight against the scheme itself."
---
The early evening sun hung low in a clear sky, sending sharp streaks of brilliant gold above the mountain tops, over Trevor's position, across open grassland, and slamming into the city by the shore like laser beams.
He hid among the remains of abandoned Chaktaw cliff dwellings near the crest of the last hill in a series of hills rippling away from the coastline like protective walls. Through binoculars, he eyed the city that sat along the crescent-shaped coastline.
>
At one time, that city had belonged to the Chaktaw, but now the Geryon Reich laid claim to the place. Trevor clearly saw the differences in architecture.
The original buildings resembled something like sandcastle towers built by the ocean including grand balconies, stylish archways, terracotta roofs, patios made of rock pavers, as well as statues and fountains decorating intersections. All the signs of a beachside resort, reminding him of his own summer house along the shores of southern New Jersey.
Jorgie liked to build sandcastles.
In contrast, the Geryons added a fifteen-foot tall perimeter wall made of black and gray steel and built in stretches with each section hinged to the next. Catwalks and guard towers with both spotlights and gun emplacements were fixed to the interior side of the barrier, and Trevor spotted a dozen robotic Steel Guard Golems marching the exterior perimeter.
Inside, alien buildings rose from the ground like iron stalagmites reaching fifty to one hundred feet in the air and clustered together in large numbers akin to steel cancers on otherwise beautiful flesh.
A trio of large structures dominated the city center, two rectangular and colored gray and white with a series of antenna and towers on their roofs. The third a circular, dark building resting atop a wide pedestal and lined with both windows and what resembled loudspeakers.
Regardless of aesthetics, the invaders had turned the seaside resort into a fortress. If the walls, guns, and towers were not imposing enough, a Geryon battleship cast its shadow over the scene, floating above the central area not far from those big rectangular buildings and nearly directly above the circular one. The juggernaut was tethered to the ground by heavy iron chains affixed to massive anchors wedged into the earth below.
In addition to the formidable defenses, an attack from inland would have to traverse the open field of grass, mud, and debris that stretched between Trevor's position and the front gate. Apparently someone had tried at some point because the remnants of many battles lay in that field like broken and burned fossils.
Just like the wastelands at Thebes' northern gate.
Stone lay on his belly amidst a tangle of thickets in front of the collapsed entrance to a long-forgotten Chaktaw cliff dwelling. Fromm stood in the shadows behind him with his interpreter at his side who relayed, "There are docks on the southeastern side of the city. They are of importance to us."
Trevor raised his field glasses and scanned. He saw huge buildings along the coast to the southeast but they appeared neglected, as did the nearby, sagging docks. It stood to reason that with air ships, the Geryons held seafaring vessels in little regard.
He crawled backwards until in the shadow of the mountain and then stood next to Fromm. The Chaktaw leader spoke and his interpreter said, "Tough walls. Towers have rapid fire guns but will be no problem. The big problem is their airship. Very powerful."
"Yes," Trevor agreed as he recalled his encounter with the Geryons at this Earth’s estate. "Very powerful. But not invulnerable."
Fromm asked, "Tell me, what strategy would you employ?"
Judging by the sharp squint of Fromm's eyes, Trevor suspected he did not seek advice but, rather, wanted to understand how a human leader saw the situation. No doubt such insight would help him better fight mankind.
"That depends on what the objectives are."
Fromm first pointed toward the big rectangular buildings sitting beneath the air ship. "They must be taken whole." He then pointed at the circular building. "That one must either be destroyed or over run." Then the Chaktaw pointed his finger toward the big dock buildings on the southern stretch of the city. "I want those intact."
Trevor scratched his nose and offered Fromm his thoughts. "I’d open up with artillery on the northern end supported by air power, send a sizable force down from the north to draw their attention, and then hit them with a smaller, more mobile force from the south. Break the walls down there and then move toward the center of town taking the objectives along the way."
Fromm listened to the translation then shook his head. "Why do you always try tricks? You don’t know the Geryon, do you? They get stronger with time. While you waste effort to the north, they send that ship to blow everything up. Then the Steel Guard is waiting for you in the south where your small force is struggling to break down the wall. Too fancy, Trevor Stone."
"Okay, then, what is it you’re going to do?"
"I am going to strike at the heart of my enemy as fast and as hard as I can so as to kill him with one blow."
Stone watched as Fromm turned his hazel and green eyes toward the city. In that gaze Trevor saw more than a commander looking at the things he planned to destroy, he saw a leader contemplating a decisive blow much greater than an isolated victory over a solitary fortress.
Trevor remembered the strange room when first arriving at the Chaktaw caves. He remembered the door that opened long enough to see a mocked up control room inside.
His eyes widened and he said, "You’re going after their battleships, aren’t you?"
Fromm faced Stone again. And smiled.
---
The Earth shook. A cloud of dust stormed across the plains approaching the coastal city and the walls protecting it.
They came.
Hundreds of fearsome Behemoths galloped…charged…rumbled over the mile-long span of open terrain between the wilderness and the Geryon defenses. They moved like tanks on legs, their massive jaws swaying side to side with the motion of their bodies. Their mass blanketed that open stretch and surged forward as an unstoppable force.
Fromm's timing served his purpose; he sent his army forward with the sun still low in the sky yet just above the hilltops, meaning those laser-beam-like rays of light shooting in from the west nearly blinded the Geryon defenders and thus hid the true weight of the oncoming assault.
Geryon alarms—screeching horns and muffled shouts—sounded from behind the wall.
Both of the human 'guests' watched the battle unfold from atop a pack lizard, waiting with the second wave in the shadows of the mountainside. As he watched, Trevor felt he had never seen such a scary sight. He almost felt a twinge of sympathy for the Geryons. Almost.
As he watched the beasts approach the city, a sound stole his attention away from the sight. A roar. He wondered what other beasts fought at Fromm's command but saw that the sound belonged to a machine, not a monster.
A streak of five aircraft joined the battle. Each resembled more a flying gas tank on fire than the fighter jets of Trevor’s world. As he observed them, he felt certain they would explode on their own with no help from the enemy. Nonetheless, the rocket-planes roared forward above the mass of stampeding Jaw-Wolves.
Geryon fire rose to meet enemies on land and in the air.
A squad of the red-metal Golems stood their ground and raised the barrels on their robotic arms. Explosive shells and small missiles fired at the Behemoths. The armor-plated beasts did not so much engage the Golems as bowled them over, crushing and smashing until little more than scrap remained.
The Geryon towers came next. Heavy fire flashed from those guard posts like arrows of plasma, severing Jaw-Wolf limbs, puncturing eyes and blasting away chunks of gray armor plating. But that did not slow—not even a little—the breathing battering rams as they smashed into the main gate.
Geryon infantry dressed in leather and metal battle suits with tight-fitting helmets and ball-gag-like communicators fired futuristic crossbows and tossed hand-held explosive devices from the battlements.
In the sky, the Chaktaw’s air force rocketed directly for the dirigible. The rust-colored air ship with one central blimp and two smaller ones came to life. First, the gigantic, sharp anchors retracted into compartments on the front and rear of the battleship. Then the maneuvering propellers on its port side spooled to life and turned the nose cones of the three fuselages to face the fast-moving planes.
Those planes broke formation and scattered, turning from a flight of angry hornets into individual craft zigzaggi
ng and looping as they moved in closer to the target vessel.
Anti-air batteries onboard the battleship fired slowly and methodically, the exact opposite of what Trevor expected. However, the guns more than proved their mettle as their shells exploded in balls of crimson as if offering the grand finale of a fireworks display, creating a large kill zone and catching one of the planes with the first volley.
That rocket-plane smoked and rattled, dipped, then escaped to the west, a contrail of flame dancing from its aft quarters.
The remaining flyers attacked with nose-cone-mounted mini-guns. Bits and pieces of the battleship's protective outer layer flaked away but hull integrity held for the moment.
Trevor’s attention refocused to the ground attack as the second wave started forward. They did not march and they did not run; something in between.
Two thousand Chaktaw warriors comprised that second wave. They descended the mountainside with discipline but also with a determined enthusiasm. Ponchos morphed colors in reaction first to the dead bark of the trees then the pale green and dirty brown of the plains.
The pack animal carrying the two humans moved slow, keeping Trevor and Nina a safe distance to the rear. In contrast, Trevor spied Fromm at the head of the second wave with his rifle held high and waving his men forward.
Exactly where a leader is supposed to be.
Meanwhile, the Behemoths weathered the withering fire from the battlements and pounded at the gates with their armor-plated shoulders. A few even launched their extending jaws to batter away at the barrier.
The gate held…it held…it bent ever so slightly…the metal hinges and locks groaned from the strain…the guns in the guard towers intensified, ripping more of the attackers into bloody pieces but the monsters did not stop.
Then came the first crack in the middle of the two heavy doors. The constant smashing of the Behemoths from their bodies and their punching jaws was too much. Even as guns and grenades turned another ten of their number into gory piles, the creatures focused on the task.
Beyond Armageddon: Book 03 - Parallels Page 46
