by Bob Mayer
Neeley could see the two Sikhs finally react, exchanging a nervous glance.
Gandhi stood. “Since you choose not to speak cordially over tea, I will have to use other measures.” She nodded at a rough looking man with sergeant’s chevron’s on his uniform sleeve. Neeley recognized the type: a thug.
This wasn’t going to be subtle of good.
Edith Frobish’s download tried to intrude with unpleasant data about various torture techniques used by the Indian police under Gandhi such as the Hyderabadi goli and—Neeley shut that down.
The sergeant gestured and two men rolled a cart up. He retrieved a full-head helmet and settled it over Neeley’s head. She felt him stuffing towels along the bottom opening of it all around her neck.
She had a moment’s wondering what the purpose was, but once more, Edith’s download was unhappily helpful: to mute her screams.
Then the pain came .
The North Atlantic, 31 October 1941 A.D.
The Reuben James shuddered, slowing, as the ship’s rear screws became entangled with kraken. Several of the creatures died, but their corpses caused the transmission to seize. In the engine room, the chief engineer reacted as he’d been trained, disengaging both engines from the shafts.
Roland drew his dagger, Jager at his side. The front part of the ship was covered with writhing tentacles, several kraken half out of the water, along the flush deck of the destroyer.
Another tentacle darted into the bridge and Jager leapt up, grabbing it just behind the ‘mouth’ and using his weight to slam it down onto a section of broken glass, severing it.
The sonar man screamed as a tentacle wrapped around him and he was pulled out, his scream fading and then abruptly ending.
“Full reverse!” Captain Edwards ordered.
“Engine room!” the XO screamed into the phone. “We need power.”
Roland grabbed a fire ax, a better weapon for the current threat. He sliced a tentacle in half as it grasped for another victim. He turned to Edwards. “There’s a sub under there. We have to sink it!”
The survivors on the bridge were in a state of shock.
Edwards looked at Roland with wide eyes. “What?”
A heavy machine gun chattered somewhere on the left side of the ship. A hatch at the rear opened and an officer, half-dressed stepped in.
“Captain, what the hell is going on?” he yelled.
A tentacle came up the ladder behind him, the teeth locked onto his lower leg, and he was gone.
“They’re on board,” Jager said to Roland.
“They can come out of the water?”
“For short periods to get victims, then go back under.” Jager dodged a tentacle, leaving a long slice in it from his dagger. “We must get to the submarine.”
The machine gun suddenly ceased firing. There were screams in the night. The remaining crew on the bridge were cowering in a corner, trying to avoid the tentacles. No one was at the helm. The Reuben James was at a dead halt.
“What is this?” Edwards demanded. “What are these things?”
“Kraken,” Roland said.
Another machinegun was firing and tracers arced through the night into the sky, then swung down, into the writhing mass of tentacles covering the front half of the Reuben James . Roland estimated there were over twenty kraken assaulting the ship. Bullets tore into the creatures, but didn’t cause them to back off.
Roland swung the axe straight at a tentacle darting toward Edwards. The blade smashed teeth and went a foot into the appendage, splitting it. But the kraken still managed to clamp down and wrench the axe from his grasp before pulling its tentacle out the window.
“We can not hold here!” Roland yelled to Jager.
“The submarine is in front,” Jager said to Roland. “The beasts would not venture far from it. They are defending it.”
“Oh, crap,” Roland muttered as he saw a large form leap up onto the forward deck. “A Grendel just boarded the ship.”
No more tentacles were lashing into the interior of the bridge.
Roland grabbed Edward’s shoulder, trying to snap him out of his daze. “Can you drop your depth charges now?”
Edwards shook his head. “No. We’ll blow ourselves up too.”
The Grendel staggered as fifty caliber rounds smashed into it, knocking it overboard. Roland looked to the left, where two men at an anti-aircraft battery were manning the gun. They were snatched as a half-dozen kraken attacked their position. They were torn to pieces by so many tentacles simultaneously grabbing them.
No more guns were firing.
“They want it,” Jager said.
“Want what?” Roland asked.
“The ship. That it why the kraken aren’t attacking the bridge. We must withdraw.
“Then we have to hold the bridge,” Roland argued. “We have to—“ he wasn’t certain what exactly they had to do any more. Several more Grendels were on the forecastle. The submarine was now on the surface, tentacles randomly draped on top of its hull, several Grendels on the deck. A larger beast, an Aglaeca, was in the conning tower. There was a pair of smaller figures next to it .
“They’re intelligent?” Roland asked.
“Of course,” Jager said. “We cannot hold here. We must withdraw and determine a way to destroy both vessels.” He pulled on Roland. “Come.”
Roland grabbed Edwards’ arm. “Come with us, sir.”
“My ship,” Edwards said. “It’s my ship.”
“Forget them,” Jager said to Roland. “They are being kept alive to operate this. We must go now!”
Roland glanced at the clock.
0552.
He followed as Jager cautiously entered the passageway behind the bridge. He led the way down a ladder to the center passageway but halted. A hulking figure was at the far end, silhouetted by the combat lights. Jager darted through an open hatch and gestured for Roland to follow. It was a small wardroom. As soon as Roland was inside, Jager dogged the hatch shut.
“We must be quiet,” Jager said. “No loud noises.”
“I thought they were just beasts,” Roland said in a low voice.
“They can plan,” Jager said. “The Aglaeca. Not the Grendels. If they were all just beasts, my people would have defeated them. The Shadow gave the Aglaeca enough intelligence and much cunning. They command the Grendels and kraken. And you saw next to the Aglaeca. Humans. Whether Legion or Spartan or others. That’s the real leaders. They will split the Aglaeca and whatever eggs they already have between the submarine and this vessel. Double their deployment.”
Several shots, then a scream echoed down the passageway outside.
“This isn’t right,” Roland said. “This ship should have been sunk by now. I’ve screwed up.”
“This is worse than if they had just sunk the ship,” Jager said. “We must destroy both.”
“The depth charges,” Roland said. “Edwards said if they went off, they’d sink the ship also.”
“Where are these charges?” Jager asked.
Roland had the download but he’d also seen enough war movies. “The deck at the rear of the ship.”
Something big was moving down the passageway, heavy footfalls thudding on metal decking .
Jager put a finger to his lips. The noise stopped as the beast, whether it was an Aglaeca or Grendel, paused outside the hatch. Roland and Jager drew their Naga daggers. Jager indicated he would go high and for Roland to go low.
The wheel turned, spun free. There was a pull on the hatch, but the interior dogs kept it sealed.
Roland and Jager waited, hardly breathing. Then the heavy steps continued down the passageway.
“It will be back,” Jager whispered. “Had to be a Grendel. It will report back to an Aglaeca or the human in charge. It will know this hatch is sealed from the inside. That someone is inside. It will not let that pass. They are efficient and ruthless.”
“Happy Halloween,” Roland muttered. “It’s two hundred feet back to the depth charg
es and then up on the deck. We’ll be seen.”
The wheel on the hatch moved. Someone trying to get in. A light rap on the steel. Roland glanced at Jager. Roland didn’t wait for agreement. He un-dogged the hatch and edged it open. Captain Edwards, blood seeping down the side of his scalp, pushed past him and inside. Roland shut the hatch.
“They’re everywhere,” Edwards was babbling. “On the bridge. All over. Monsters. They’re monsters.” He grabbed Roland’s oilskin coat. “What are they? What is this?”
Roland his hands over Edwards and spoke in a calm voice. “We have to sink this ship and the submarine. Kill all of them. It’s more than just your ship. They want to kill everyone on the planet. Do you understand?”
Edwards was blinking hard, trying to comprehend, to process the unfathomable. He was a Naval Academy graduate, an Olympian, a ship’s Captain. He’d passed through crucibles few men had ever experienced. He slowly nodded. “Sink both. Okay. How?” Before Roland or Jager could respond, he had the answer. “We detonate the depth charges.”
“Wait,” Jager said. “Will blowing up the rear of this ship destroy the submarine in front of it?”
Edwards considered that. “No. Even if we drop them, and they detonate underwater at minimum depth, they might be too far to insure we sink it.”
“But it will sink this ship?” Roland asked.
“Yes,” Edwards answered .
“One thing at a time,” Roland said.
“If the Grendels are bringing eggs on board,” Jager said, “then we can go the other way. Get in the submarine.”
“One thing at a time,” Roland repeated. He turned to Edwards. “How do we get to the fantail and the depth charges? There are Grendels—monsters—patrolling everywhere.”
Edwards closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “All right. There’s a way to get to the fantail and avoid that.”
“Go,” Roland said. “We’ll follow.”
Edwards opened the hatch, glanced outside, then gestured for them to follow. He led them to a ladder up, behind the bridge, to the top of it. Roland glanced forward.
The U-Boat was just off the port bow, a single searchlight illuminating the area between its conning and the bow of the destroyer. A gangplank extended from its deck to the low main deck of the Reuben James . A line of Grendels were coming out of a forward hatch of the sub, carrying bundles up the gangplank, onto the destroyer. Several others stood guard. The deck of the U-Boat was draped in kraken tentacles. Some of the creatures were on the surface, their pizza-sized eyes glaring up. With slightly more light, Roland could see one of the people on the bridge had a German captain’s hat on. The other was dressed all in black.
Legion.
With the Reuben James ’ engines shut down, there were no lights on the destroyer. Outside of the bow, the ship was bathed in darkness. Edwards began climbing up a ladder on the forward mast to the crows nest. Jager followed, with Roland behind him.
They crowded inside the tiny space, seventy feet above the water. There was no sign of the lookout. Edwards leaned out of the opening and pointed further up, to the top of the mast. “The main antenna slopes down to the top of the after mast, just in front of aft four-incher. The main back stay cable slopes from there down to the fantail, right over the depth charges.”
Roland couldn’t see the or even see the top of the mast in the dark. “Will it hold us?”
“If we go one at a time, it should,” Edwards said. He pulled off his oilskin jacket. “Wrap this over the wire and slide down. ”
“You go first,” Roland said. “You have to destroy the ship. They’re bringing eggs on board to breed thousands of those monsters.”
Edwards shook his head. “I don’t understand what’s going on. This has to be a nightmare.”
“It’s a nightmare,” Roland agreed. “But it’s real. Trust me. Almeda will mourn but she will have a full and wonderful life.”
Edwards was startled, significant amidst this catastrophe. “How do you know my wife? How do you know that?”
“Trust me,” Roland said. “We have to do this. You can’t let these things take your ship.”
Edwards made the command decision. “I’ll do it.” He climbed out of the crows nest and disappeared into the darkness above.
“You next,” Roland said to Jager.
But the Jager was looking forward, at the circle of light where Grendels were off-loading eggs onto the Reuben James.
“Will his wife have a good life?”
“I got no clue,” Roland said. “But he went.”
“Do you think he will sink his ship?” Jager asked.
“It’s against his instinct to do so,” Roland said, “but he will.”
“How do you know?”
“I could see it in his eyes. He made the decision. He won’t let them have his ship.”
“A warrior,” Jager said. “Yes. He will do it.”
Roland climbed out, onto the top of the crows nest. Jager joined him.
Jager pointed forward. “Then we must do that.”
“How do we get on board?” Roland asked. “We can’t fight our way through the Grendels. Then there is at least one Aglaeca on top of the conning tower.”
“Likely another inside,” Jager said.
“And there’s the Legion,” Roland said. “How does a Jager fare against one of those?”
“They are deadly,” Jager non-answered.
“Then how?” Roland asked. He had the schematics of the destroyer in the download. He could see the path that Edwards had gone on aft. There was a forward stay cable at the top of the mast to the bow, but then —
A bright flash ripped apart the darkness. The shock of the explosion shuddered through the Reuben James . Then a cluster of depth charges went off and the stern of the destroyer was incinerated. The ship shattered in half the front blasted upward.
The combination of the ship being destroyed and shock wave from the explosion hit Roland at the same moment.
No Longer Wittenberg, Germany, 31 October 1517 A.D.
The Multiverse
“We’re not in Kansas any more,” Scout murmured.
Lachesis chuckled. “No. We’re not. But that was an interesting story of possible timelines, wasn’t it? One wonders how Mister Baum came up with it.”
Scout glanced at Lachesis, suspecting the Fate might have a very good idea how the Wizard of Oz author came up with the story.
This was similar to the Return from a mission and floating in the tunnel of time, but it was different. Not just because Lachesis was at her side, but because she wasn’t moving and she couldn’t see any other timelines. Everything around them was the misty gray nothingness of—
An image appeared below. It took Scout a few moments before she recognized Washington DC. Rather the remnants of a devastated American capitol. The only clues were the stub of the Washington Monument and a fragment of the Capitol Dome. Where the White House had stood was flat glazed rock.
“A possibility?” Scout asked.
“A reality for the timeline you see,” Lachesis said. “This is as it is.”
“Why are you showing me this?” Scout asked.
The ruins faded to gray nothing.
Then the planet, far, far below them. So far below that Scout could see the edges of the planet curving away in all directions. But she was confused about what she was looking at. It was North America, but it was off. The eastern part of the United States was abbreviated. Florida was gone, just ocean blue. All the cities of the eastern seaboard were drowned. The Gulf of Mexico extended far inland, up the Mississippi and what had been the Gulf Coast was gone.
On the west coast, the Gulf of California extended up past where Los Angeles would be, except Los Angeles and San Diego were under water. The Central Valley of California was now a large bay, and San Francisco a cluster of islands.
“What—“ Scout began, but the image shifted and she saw Asia, or what was left of Asia. Bangladesh was gone. The eastern part of China
was inundated all the way to Beijing. Shanghai, Hong Kong, Qingdao were all gone. Most of South Vietnam was under water.
“This is the planet after both ice caps melt,” Lachesis said.
“It’s real?” Scout asked. “Or a possibility?”
“It is as it is.”
“Did the Shadow do this?”
“They did it to themselves,” Lachesis said. “They developed fast.” Things were going grey as Scout noted that Australia had a vast inland sea. “Faster than your timeline. So they destroyed themselves faster.”
“So you’re giving me a lesson on climate change?” Scout asked. All was grey once more.
“No,” Lachesis said. “There are many ways for a timeline to destroy itself. And then, of course, there is the Shadow.”
“Why does the Shadow attack other timelines?”
“Because it destroyed its own,” Lachesis said. “Not completely. But enough to be non-sustainable. So it rapes other timelines.”
“It’s not ‘raping’ ours,” Scout said. “It’s trying to destroy it.”
“Yes.”
“Why is it trying to destroy my timeline?” Scout asked.
Lachesis turned to Scout. “The universe is large. Beyond comprehension. Do you believe there must be other life out there?”
“Sure,” Scout said.
“Why do you think Earth hasn’t been contacted by other lifeforms?”
“They’ve seen our TV transmissions,” Scout said, “and are steering clear.”
Lachesis gave a thin smile. “Cute. But there is a theory that Earth has not been contacted by intelligent life because intelligent life never really reaches intelligence.”
“What do you mean?” Scout asked.
“Truly intelligent life doesn’t destroy itself.”
The Mission Phase IV
ZERO DAY; ZERO YEAR
The back door of the van swung open and Legion entered. He wore black slacks, black turtleneck, and a black balaclava, leaving only his eyes exposed. He took in the body and Ivar zip-tied to the chair without apparent surprise.
