The Internal Security guard raised a bull horn and tried to speak but the tremble in his lips made him stop and re-focus. After a moment, he found the strength to shout, "Disperse now!"
His command cut through the evening air with plenty of volume, but despite his best effort, did not sound authoritative in any way. He sounded, in fact, scared. Shouts and jeers from the crowd that had grown into a mob that would soon be a riot easily drown his hollow order.
That Internal Security agent and his six comrades stood on the lawn outside the Maryland Governor's colonial-style mansion. In this case, 'Maryland' was more a general territory as opposed to the rigid borders of the old state of the same name. The idea of state governments remained a fluid and vague concept.
Regardless, the Governors and the territories they governed were symbols of Trevor Stone’s control over "The Empire." They stood in contrast to the districts carved and marked to elect Senators, which became symbols of the fledgling 'democracy' movement.
No one had seen Trevor Stone in nearly two months. With a flimsy cover story on one hand and, on the other, activists warning that Stone was dead and the military had taken control, the settlements and outposts and mechanisms of "The Empire" threatened to unravel.
Had he been killed outright, perhaps the people would have shown more patience. His disappearance not only fueled speculation, it fueled fear. With fear came panic. With panic came mobs. With mobs came riots, as the case at the Governor's residence in Annapolis that night.
Internal Security agents held position inside a temporary chain link fence installed after gun shots hit the Governor’s residence two days ago. The crowd numbered close to one hundred protestors.
The I.S. agents noticed boards and bats and crow bars among the crowd. Fortunately, no sign of guns, probably because if the mob carried actual firearms they could no longer be billed as 'peaceful.'
Still, it made little difference because just last week the Governor's security detail had been cut in half, despite the growing threat to the residence. That decision baffled the local commander but since it came from the 'top' he saw no recourse. Of course, in recent weeks it seemed difficult to discern exactly who or what was at the 'top'.
"Disperse now!" The I.S. man shouted again although the only people who looked ready to disperse were the Internal Security agents themselves. Even the twenty Doberman Pinchers assigned to protect the Governor appeared unnerved by the growing volume of the crowd.
Instead of jeers, this time the mob reacted with action. The mass pressed forward into the fragile fence. It bent in and then the support poles-held in place by cinderblocks and stakes-buckled and fell.
Bottles and rocks rained on the security detail who lacked both body armor and non-lethal weapons. Their only tools were ineffective bullhorns and overly effective automatic weapons. With the choice being either flee or gun down the protestors, the agents chose the former and left the K9s alone to stem the tide.
The barricades collapsed and the mass of angry people swarmed the wide lawn, trampled the hedges, and stormed toward the house. With the human agents escaping via the back yard, the dogs could only buy time.
K9 teeth tore away fingers, severed a hand, and took chunks of flesh out of legs, but they were quickly run over and beaten with boards and planks and metal bars. Barks turned to squeals. Four-legged carcasses oozed red and lay still on the grass.
The Governor and his two personal bodyguards hurried the young children of the family upstairs and prepared to shoot any who trespassed into the home.
Windows smashed, door knobs rattled. The shouts and jeers and boisterous hollers of the attackers created one big churning ball of noise like a violent thunderstorm.
Then another noise came. One that sent a vibration through the walls of the mansion.
Thump-thump-thump.
A Blackhawk helicopter arrived overhead but failed to impress. Someone threw a rock at the chopper. The act of defiance elicited a response from a fifty-caliber machine gun that tore into the crowd below. Suddenly, the mob lost its stomach for violence and vandalism.
Bodies of rioters fell alongside beaten dogs. The machine gun fired with more than the goal of dispersing the crowd, it fired in anger. Anger as real as the anger that had propelled the mob in the first place.
After several moments the gun fell silent. The moans of the dead and dying could not be heard over the oppressive drone of the rotors.
– The man with the thick glasses zipped his wool coat over a plaid shirt, stepped out onto the dark stoop, then locked the building's door behind him, the one with the placard reading, The New American Press. Philadelphia Editorial Offices.
Not so long ago, Evan Godfrey's newspaper consisted of a small office in northeastern Pennsylvania and a handful of couriers. Since the massacre at New Winnabow, more people took an interest in The New American Press’ anti-Imperial, pro-democracy message.
Godfrey had graduated to a full-time politician and handed over the day-to-day operations to his staff, including Philadelphia branch Editor Jim Huffman, who locked up after a long day at the office. Of course, in recent weeks most days felt long. With the face of Trevor Stone off center stage, his staff no longer contended with a cult of personality. Instead, they focused on Imperialism, war-mongering, and a modern-day post-Apocalyptic military/industrial complex.
Huffman paced the wide sidewalk of Broad Street. He saw no cars but he did hear a distant clop-clop-clop from horse shoes. A few-not all-of the street lights shined but the brightest light came from a torch flickering outside a small restaurant a half-block ahead.
A much closer sound grabbed his attention, the sound of footsteps approaching at a fast clip. He turned to look and but before he could identify the newcomers, Huffman went flying backwards, his jaw rattled and something-teeth? — loose in his mouth. His arms flailed and his thick glasses tumbled away. His head hit the cold concrete. Before he could even fathom what was happening, boots and shoes slammed into his ribs and chest again and again.
"The sons of Trevor Stone, mother fucker! That’s right! He’ll be back! Watch what you write, or next time we’ll kill your traitor ass!"
Huffman fell unconscious.
– The morning sun was out there, somewhere, but far removed from the conference room in the basement of the estate where gloom prevailed.
Jon and Lori Brewer, Gordon Knox, General William Hoth, and Omar Nehru sat at the conference table. A handful of aids waited in the wings.
"And that is all I can be saying," Nehru finished his report. "Other than the radiation on which you have been told already, there is no evidence of any place to which the structure has gone or to whom it might have belonged."
"That’s just great," Jon's chair squeaked as he leaned back. "All this time and you’ve got nothing? Shit, we’ve got nothing."
General Hoth said, "Army Group North has temporarily pacified the surrounding countryside, and we’ve secured Cincinnati as a result of the…," Hoth, uncharacteristically, stumbled to describe the mass vanishing in that southwestern Ohio metropolis. "…the situation there. However, I require the return of the brigades you pulled from the lines last week."
Gordon jumped in, "We need those brigades for domestic security. You’ll just have to tough it out until we can free them up."
"Let me rephrase," Hoth paused, gathered his thoughts, and then did just that. "Short of additional mass disappearances, I can not take any more of the major cities with my current manpower. My forces are barely adequate for maintaining defensive positions."
"Why are we even talking about your army?" Lori Brewer shot. "We need to be focused on Trevor. It’s now or never."
Jon explained to his wife, "General Hoth either needs those brigades back or he needs to withdraw across Ohio. Maybe even abandon Cincy. Between Plats, Roachbots, and predatory hostiles, his position is becoming untenable."
"Withdrawing now would be a sign of weakness," Gordon said. "At the same time, I think we’re going to need those brigades back here."
"I do not understand why," Hoth spent most of his time at the front where he received little information on the degenerating situation on the home front. Further, could not understand the idea of neglect of duty, therefore he did not understand why Internal Security units failed to do their job, or could not be trusted to do so. He did, however, notice that the day's meeting did not include Dante Jones.
"You want to know why?" Lori turned in her chair and grabbed a newspaper from the top of what had once been a basement bar. She read from the headlines. "Riot at Governor’s mansion turns deadly…the ‘Sons of Trevor’ strike in Philadelphia…labor guild promises wild cat strikes if elections are not held…Senate refuses to allocate funds for the military…should I go on?"
Jon ran a hand across his forehead and closed his eyes.
Omar offered, "If I may be suggesting, perhaps it is time for us to admit to tell the people of what has happened."
"No," Gordon nearly shouted. "We need to assert military control and publicly recognize Jon Brewer as the acting head of state. We have to follow a military hierarchy."
"And why is that being?" Omar asked.
"Because this is a war," Knox answered "Now is not the time for politics. We have to be tough on this. If we’re tough I know we can assert control over the situation."
"It is a question of legitimacy," Hoth’s voice sounded soft but seemed more an explosion to the ears in the room. The man commanded an entire Army Group of loyal soldiers. If he broke from the rest of the military, things could actually get worse in a hurry.
However, before anyone could react to Hoth, the basement door opened and Dante Jones descended the stairs and stood next to the conference table.
Jones did not look at Brewer as he said, "Jon, there's a call for you on line one. You need to take it."
"Who is it?" Lori somehow beat Knox to the question.
"Evan Godfrey. I think you should talk to him."
Every eye in the room focused on a lonely phone sitting atop the conference table. On that phone blinked a solitary red light.
Lori placed a hand on her husband's shoulder as Jon reached for the receiver. His index finger extended and-trembling-pushed the blinking red button, activating the speaker.
Evan Godfrey's voice came across calm and self-assured. "Good morning, Jon. I assume the usual cast is present. You know why I am calling. Things have reached a critical juncture. Jon? Are you listening?"
Brewer licked his lips, swallowed, and answered, "I’m here."
"Good. As of this moment, Washington D.C. is an independent city. That is to say, the Senate has taken direct control of administering this city. Notice I did not say Imperial Senate. "
"You can’t do that, Evan," Jon protested in a stumbling voice.
"That’s where you are wrong. The D.C. garrison and the majority of senators support this position. However, this is a temporary move. One that will certainly be matched by more cities and voting districts across what used to be The Empire."
"Used…to…be?"
Lori Brewer said, "You’re going to destroy everything Trevor worked to build!"
"Where is Trevor Stone? He is not on a secret mission, Jon. Maybe he was, but he’s gone now. I have been patient so far but it is obvious that he is not coming back. I told you, there will be no new Emperor. The people loved him and followed him but he is gone."
"Are you so sure?" Brewer did not so much confront Evan as confront his own fear of Trevor's disappearance. His way, perhaps, of finally admitting that Trevor was gone for good.
"It is time for our society to make the transition to democracy. I’m sorry but I don’t trust you, Shepherd, and the likes of Gordon Knox to run this nation. Neither do the people."
Dante Jones implored the assembled, "Listen to him. I know you don’t like him. I know you’ve had disagreements. Trevor always put those aside to do what was right. Now you have to do that, Jon. Now you have to do what is right for the greater good."
Knox eyed Jones with a hawkish glare while Jon Brewer remained fixed on that red light.
Evan continued, "We're getting things organized here in D.C. We’ve written a charter for a new governing structure. Of course, each of you will play an important part in the transition. And each of you is welcome to run for office. But Jon, we’re not staying in Washington forever. This is about our entire country and all the people. You have a few days or so. Then we’ll be coming up there to see you. We’re going to march on the estate. It will be a peaceful protest. I expect you to show restraint but just incase, there will be several members of the military marching with us. Some officers, some rank and file, as well as Internal Security, representatives of the labor guild and many more. So you wait up there in your bunker and think things through. In a few days, I’ll be coming to see you."
– Trevor closed his eyes.
So this is how it ends? Maybe it won’t be so bad…
A sound. No, a voice. A Chaktaw voice from the crowd of surrounding Fromm. The human slave translated as if on instinct, "Wait."
Trevor saw movement among the assembled witnesses. A child squeezed to the front. She wore her hair in braids along the scalp and watched the world through hazel eyes that stood apart among the green eyes of her people.
"Wait. Father. Stop," the girl’s pleas translated.
Trevor recognized the expression on Fromm's face. He saw that unique combination of annoyance and concern blended with the unmistakable love of a father for his child. The Chaktaw leader stooped to speak with his daughter who pleaded with him in their native language. The translator did not share the discussion but Trevor did not need to understand the words to see that the daughter's urgings caused her father no small measure of confusion.
Trevor saw something more there, too. The girl's ranting not only puzzled her father, but the way Fromm's mouth hung open and how he squinted-as if searching his daughter's eyes-suggested he stood in awe of her the way Trevor often found himself in awe of Jorgie.
The human captives waited on their knees with gun barrels pressed to their heads. Finally the discussion came to an end with the girl doing what so many stubborn children do: she crossed her arms and showed her dad a stiff upper lip.
Fromm threw his arms in the air.
Her victory complete, the little girl stepped to Trevor and grinned.
"You are funny looking."
It took Trevor a moment to realize that the girl, not the translator, spoke the words. Her understanding of the human language not only surprised Trevor, but caused grumbles in the Chaktaw audience.
As a result, the slave switched roles and translated Trevor's conversation with Fromm's daughter into the Chaktaw language.
"Yes. Yes I am. What is your name?"
"My name is Alenna."
"That’s a very pretty name. My name is-"
"I know who you are," she said. "I know you don’t belong here. I have told my father he should listen to you. He does not want to. He wants to kill you."
"I don’t blame him."
"That’s how it has to be, you know," she said quite seriously. "But you do not belong here and I think you can help us. That’s why you risked meeting my father."
"I want to go home," he then nodded at Major Forest. "She wants to go home, too."
Alenna's expression narrowed. She did not like Nina. She did not like Nina at all. Trevor could see that. He feared what the little girl-or Fromm-might suggest and acted preemptively.
"She goes home, too."
"My father does not feel you should be telling him what to do. He may still kill you."
"I know. But what I offer is worth much more than my death, or hers. It may be the key to saving your people…to saving your Earth."
"You do look funny," she said again.
Fromm stepped forward and spoke in his native tongue. The human slave turned those unrecognizable syllables and sounds into Trevor’s language. "For my daughter, I will listen. She is exceptional and sees things others miss. For her, I will listen but I will not listen long."
Trevor quickly accepted the opening saying, "I have a son. He is much like your daughter. Very smart. Very special."
With hands held aloft, Trevor slowly rose to his feet.
"That’s not all we have in common," he told the Chaktaw leader. "On my Earth, I have a key around my neck, too. A key no one else can see."
Fromm absently stroked two fingers against his chest. Stone found he missed the feel of that key. It had disappeared since coming to this parallel universe.
"I know you were chased from your lake side estate early in the war, but some how you managed to survive."
Fromm sounded impatient as he spoke and then his translator relayed, "You know much but none of that is helpful to me. What is it you plan to do to help my people?
Trevor smiled at Alenna. She smiled back and nodded, as if granting permission to share a secret.
"What I plan to do? I plan to break the rules."
– The Chaktaw caravan stopped once in the middle of the night for a three hour rest period. During that time sentries disposed of a band of Mutants.
Trevor and Nina spent that time on open ground between tents with their hands tied and guarded by soldiers who seemed to relish an escape attempt. Ironically, the more time Trevor spent with the Chaktaw the more he recognized them as kin to his people on his Earth.
After the brief break, the Chaktaw went on the move again with an endurance that far outpaced Trevor or any man he had met. It did not take long for he and Major Forest to fall behind, at which point the Chaktaw's desire for a fast pace outweighed their desire to make the humans suffer the indignity of a forced march. Fromm moved them atop one of the pack lizards. The creature wobbled side to side and occasionally grunted a snort.
Eventually, dawn warmed the landscape of mountains and forests as the convoy followed both large and small roads weaving through the wilderness. Just before mid day, a trio of Stone Soldiers assaulted the earthlings who responded with portable rocket launchers that blasted the attackers into chalky pieces.
A couple of hours later, Trevor spotted a flying machine resembling a rocket with wings. At first he feared a bombing run, but when he spied Fromm looking to the sky and speaking into a communications device, he realized the Chaktaw possessed an air force.
Not long after, the caravan entered a deep, tight valley and began dispersing into smaller groups heading off in different directions. As they reached a plain between mountain cliffs, the Chaktaw motioned for them to dismount and wait while the caravan unloaded.
Trevor walked in a tight circle on the muddy grass to exercise away the soreness in his upper legs and his ass; the back of the pack lizard provided a rather bumpy ride. As he took in the sights, the rocky cliffs to either side grabbed his interest, like a fuzzy picture slowly coming in to focus.
He first noticed dirt paths climbing those mountain walls, paths hidden behind boulders and climbing in a haphazard design. It took some effort, but he managed to track one of those paths to its destination: a hole in the rock face. Small and surrounded by dead brush, that hole was, in fact, a cave opening. Then he saw next to the cave entrance a Chaktaw guard, well-camouflaged in his color-changing poncho that had turned a mixture of brown and tan to match the mountain's terrain.
Trevor gasped aloud as his eyes adjusted to the entire picture before him; a network of paths servicing dozens of cave openings, each nearly invisible.
"We're here," he said to Nina who stood nearby with her hands also tied. "Look," he nodded toward the ridge. Like Trevor, it took a moment for her to realize that they were surrounded by some kind of Chaktaw city. "This isn't another break; we're at Fromm's base."
She said, "I didn't even notice."
"Amazing. There's a ton of entrances but you can't see them unless you're at the doorstep. And look at the paths through the mountain, they're all random and shit so they won't draw attention from aerial recon."
Something stole Nina's attention from the caves. Her eyes first narrowed and then widened.
"Trevor…look," her voice included a distinct tremble.
He followed her gaze across the gently sloping field. Something moved out there. A whole herd of somethings. The size of vans, the big creatures stampeded forward on four muscular legs. Trevor spied patches of gray armor plates with tufts of brown fir sprouting between. Yet it was the front of the creatures that made him shiver.
The approaching horde sported huge jaws each holding a circular array of teeth with eyes set just above those monstrous maws.
Jaw-Wolves.
A whole pack of them thundered across the muddy grass directly for the caravan.
Directly for Trevor and Nina.
30. The Chaktaw
Trevor watched the pack of armor-plated Jaw-Wolves as they galloped toward him and Major Forest. He felt frozen into inaction from a combination of his bound hands and from the expectation that the Chaktaw soldiers would spring to action and gun the creatures down.
Twenty yards…fifteen yards…
Trevor lost his nerve and screamed, "Christ! Look out!"
The Jaw-Wolves threatened to crash into them. Certainly the pack would cut apart Trevor, Nina, and the Chaktaw workers unpacking the lizards.
With no means of defending himself, Trevor felt entirely helpless. His eyes locked onto the lead wolf and its massive round orifice of ivory-white teeth.
Fromm finally took notice of the approaching danger and shouted a stern command. The Jaw-Wolves stopped their charge as surely as if they had smacked into an invisible wall. The line of hideous creatures halted close to the humans-to the intruders-and waited. Their bellies heaved as puffs of breath-exhales-shot from the sides of their gums like tiny geysers of air.
One gigantic set of teeth hovered less than a meter from Trevor’s face. The beast's small eyes looked at the human, to Fromm, and back to the human.
Trevor shivered from head to toe, his heart threatened to pound right out from his chest. He had seen Jaw-Wolves swallow men whole and knew them to be one of the most dangerous predators to come to his Earth.
As he lifted his bound hands to wipe his forehead, he noticed Fromm wore an expression one part smug and one part laugh, no doubt savoring Trevor's fear.
"What are these things?" Nina asked in a shaky voice.
Trevor glanced from Fromm to the Jaw-Wolves and answered, "Grenadiers."
"What?"
"Don’t worry, they won’t attack. Not without Fromm’s orders."
Still unsure of the situation, Nina stood still save for a shiver in her bones, her eyes focused on the magnificent killing machines that resembled something like biological tanks; tanks with a permanent, evil smile similar to a pair of novelty walking teeth.
Trevor stepped directly to one of the huge mouths. His smile could not match the Jaw-Wolf’s natural grin, but he tried nonetheless.
The Emperor from the other world, the one who commanded dogs to help defend his planet, raised his bound wrists, held one finger up, and said to the Jaw-Wolf, "Sit. Stay."
– The hidden entrances in the mountain side concealed far more than simple caves. A labyrinth of tunnels as well as both natural and artificial caverns comprised the Chaktaw hideaway. Some of the passages felt as primitive as a mine shaft lit by torches and lamps. However, most of the halls were lined with gray and blue panels constructed of a material resembling Polyvinyl Chloride (PVC) pipe.
Lighting came mainly from rectangular, frosted panels but some rooms made use of the same type of hour-glass fixtures he had spied at the lakeside mansion.
In any case, the buried complex buzzed with activity. Chaktaw warriors marched in squads along corridors. Civilians, even children, ran about carrying boxes and bags.
Trevor overheard urgent conversations and barked orders. Subordinates scurried around at the direction of officers and wheeled carts hauled parts and ordnance to and fro.
The humans remained bound as they were escorted through the facility. With every hall they traversed and every room they passed, the eyes of the Chaktaw people found them and stared. The civilians tended to gaze upon the two in wonder. The children gasped and turned to the nearest adult for sanctuary. The soldiers and officers sneered; their desire to do harm came across clear with no need of translation.
As strange a sight as he and Nina seemed to these people, they were not enough of a distraction to keep the Chaktaw from their duties. Trevor sensed energy in the air and it had nothing to do with him.
Along the way, he saw the Chaktaw equivalent of cots and sleeping bags spilling out from rooms into halls, giving him the distinct impression of overcrowding, also evidenced by the gangs of children racing around the corridors, some pursued by angry adults.
They passed a set of doors marked with bold red and yellow letters. Those doors swung open and a technician walked out, affording Trevor a quick glance inside. He noted two sets of controls, a couple of high-backed chairs, and work stations circling the room, some of which appeared phony like stage props. The entire set up gave him the impression of the bridge of a ship, which did not make sense given the environment.
Nina, who also caught a glance before the door swung shut, started to say, "They seem busy-" but one of the escorting soldiers slapped her and shouted what certainly meant ‘shut up.’
They crossed through a large, spherical cavern with a high, domed roof. This area obviously served as a community gathering place and, given the spiraling ramps ascending and descending to either side as well as the sheer number of passages connecting there, probably served as the central hub of the complex.
Easily two hundred Chaktaw men, women, and children sat about eating and talking. One section of the huge burrow resembled a sort of cafeteria complete with kiosks carved in rock offering food and other goods. Lamps and light panels lit the area, most with exposed wiring.
Although on a much larger scale, the place reminded Trevor of the church basement near the estate back home.
Few noticed the humans as they shuffled through then out a side corridor. The new path was less lit than the other tunnels and the walls grew rougher, less refined.
They finally arrived at their destination; a round cave with jagged walls of dark stone with what appeared to be a seam of coal running around one side. Two Chaktaw soldiers sat at a console just inside the entrance, and banks of security cameras-round orbs with shiny lenses-hung from metal tracks, focused on a round pit dug ten feet into the rock floor.
A metal ramp extended into the pit. The guards directed Trevor and Nina-still dressed in their battle armor and jackets but sans all other supplies-to descend into the pit. One guard followed them and then cut their binds when they reached the bottom.
When the guard left, so did the metal ramp. Next, a series of metal spikes rose along the rim of the cavity, marked also by the start of a heavy humming that gave Trevor the distinct impression that the two-foot tall stakes were not only sharp, but also electrified.
"This is our new home I guess."
Nina fidgeted and grumbled, "You don’t seem too worried. I mean, they might just kill us, you know?"
Trevor drifted around the chamber gazing at the spikes above, more curious about the nature of the security devices than contemplating means of escape.
"Yes. You’re right. They might just kill us."
She wrung her hands and paced, saying, "How can you be so calm?"
"I’m not calm, I’m resigned."
She visibly shook as she shot, "What does that mean?"
He stopped his inspection, walked to her, and placed his hands on her shoulders.
"He’s trying to figure out what to do. He’s not happy about this. I mean, about us. We’re a variable he wasn’t counting on. He’s got to start adjusting his plans."
She cocked her head to the side. "Plans? What plans? What are you talking about?"
"Nina, look around this place. It's overcrowded, everyone is running around, and I know I spotted some training drills on the way over here. They’re planning for something. Then we show up and throw a monkey wrench into the whole thing."
"Monkey…wrench..?"
"We messed it up," Trevor clarified. "How long had they been nibbling away at Thebes? I remember Snowe saying the Chaktaw had been hitting the Geryons, too."
"So? So what?"
"So look around this place. You saw the Jaw-Wolves. He could’ve sent a stronger force against Thebes any time, but he didn’t. Why? Because he’s been planning for a big offensive. A…a spring offensive. Damn."
Trevor turned away from her and closed his eyes.
"Just like I had been planning at Thebes. First securing the drilling sight, then hitting the Chaktaw staging area, then the Duass at Erie Coast. Recon, planning, and preparation all toward one big offensive that would change the course of the war. Or at least I hoped so."
Trevor stared up and out of the pen. He could nearly sense Fromm somewhere in the complex above sitting with his Generals and his maps and his scouting reports.
"What are you up to?"
– Trevor and Nina remained in their holding pen unmolested for what felt like hours. At one point, a couple of guards distributed a collection of food including a few rations remaining from their confiscated survival gear as well as mushrooms and a type of hard boiled egg from Chaktaw stores. Too hungry to refuse, Trevor ate the unfamiliar elements as fast as possible to avoid any unpleasant taste, but he found the sparkling fresh water provided by their 'hosts' incredibly refreshing. Certainly the water came from a natural spring inside the base.
With the exception of the embarrassment of utilizing an open trench to relieve themselves, their stay remained uneventful until much later when Fromm visited.
The Chaktaw leader stood on the ridge of the prison hole looking down at the humans. Jaff hovered by his side and played the role of translator.
"You told my daughter that there is a structure to the north where I will find an artifact that will shut down the gateways bringing aliens to Earth."
Trevor listened to Jaff's translation and focused on Fromm as he answered, "Yes. That is the gift I offer."
He wanted to say 'and you know I'm not lying because by now you've talked to your version of the Old Man and he's told you I'm telling the truth.' However, he decided the less said the better.
"I accept your gift. Any signs of deception and you will be killed. In horrible ways."
Trevor nodded, "I understand."
Fromm paced the rim of the ditch. Trevor and Nina turned in place, keeping their eyes on the Chaktaw leader as he circled above. Fromm's expression changed. Not exactly softened, but Trevor thought he saw curiosity creeping into his mood, probably the result of whatever conversation he had had with his Old Man. If Fromm's benefactor was anything like Trevor's, he might offer a few cryptic answers but at the expense of many more questions.
"I am to believe that you live on a planet the same as this. I am to believe that you come from that world. Do all the humans invading my Earth come from your world?"
"No," Trevor answered. "I am the only one. The humans invading your home come from a planet in this universe from a star you can see in your skies at night. I come from a different universe. A universe where my people-my humans-occupy the planet Earth and where Chaktaw are among the invaders."
Jaff translated. Fromm did not like the answer.
"Do you dare say that Earth does not belong to my people?"
Trevor replied fast, "In this universe, it does belong to you. The animals and armies that are attacking your environment must be defeated. This is your home."
This time the Chaktaw leader accepted the answer more readily.
"And in your universe, the Chaktaw there come from a planet other than Earth? And they are invading your world?"
"The Chaktaw and many others. The Hivvans, the Duass…so many I have lost count."
"And on your world, your people have retreated to caves? To the wilderness?"
Trevor hesitated, unsure how to answer. His hesitation caused Fromm to cock his head in a manner that suggested suspicion.
"No. On my Earth my people hid at the place along the lake until our strength was mustered. We have struck out and taken back much of what was once ours. Every day we take back more. The invaders are on the run."
Fromm listened. Trevor feared that his words might translate as boasting, but that did not appear to be the case.
"I understand, Trevor Stone. I was not that fortunate. In the early days, my enemies found our place of hiding. Found it long before we could gather our strength. Only the Behemoths kept the evil at bay long enough for us to make our escape."
Trevor mumbled to himself, "The Behemoths?" Then he realized. Jaw-Wolves.
"Of course," he said. "I saw…I saw the remains of your…your Behemoths. At first I believed them to be the attackers who drove you away. Now I see they serve you much as the dogs of my world serve me."
As soon as he sensed that Jaff completed that translation, Trevor added, "I was given three gifts from…from a benefactor," he considered that word might be too difficult for Jaff. Trevor tried again, "I received three gifts from a guardian. I see you received three gifts as well."
After hearing Trevor’s words in his native language, Fromm responded, "Yes. Three gifts. You knew about my key. You know what that key gives me, I believe. You had your own version of Behemoths. That is curious."
"Yes, but it makes perfect sense, Fromm."
The Chaktaw leader repeated part of the story Trevor previously shared. "You say that you know of eight universes. You believe there is an Earth in each of them with a different race living on this planet. Now you suggest that the leader of each of those Earths has been given three similar gifts. But can you see why?"
The demeanor of the conversation shifted from an interrogation to a discussion, albeit with a healthy dose of distrust.
Trevor said, "Eight races of people all based on the same basic type of DNA."
The last word puzzled Jaff. Trevor struggled to help. "Um…genetic structure… genes…molecules…um…cells. Look, just the basic stuff that makes us who we are. I’ve got to believe you have your own word for DNA. Right?"
Jaff did his best to translate.
Apparently Fromm understood. "Our bodies…similar in many ways. This I concede."
"And our gifts. One to help us survive the early days of the invasion. The second, much of the knowledge of our races, so that we could fight on behalf of our entire species. Perhaps with a few extras thrown in to give us a chance against the invaders."
Fromm nodded his head as the translation came through then added to Trevor’s observation, "For you, 'dogs,’ for me our Behemoths. This is a fight about more than our people; it is also about our environments. We were each given a helper from those environments."
Trevor listened to the long translation and then agreed.
"Now we know what…we even have an idea of how. The question is…why?"
"Yes, Trevor Stone, why? If what you suggest is true, that each of our races come from planets other than Earth, why transport us to Earth one after another? Why here and not our home worlds?"
"Everything is equal," Trevor hypothesized. "Our species and the higher life forms, all transplanted here. Like one big…one big arena."
"Whatever power could do such a thing must control space and time."
Trevor remembered that his Old Man often told him that time was irrelevant.
"This is true. That power also limited our weapons as well as those of our attackers."
Trevor turned to Nina and asked, "Back on Sirius, did you have atomic weapons? Biological weapons? Chemical weapons?"
She overcame her surprise at suddenly being included in the conversation and answered, "Yes. During the civil wars a few City-States used them. Primarily long-range artillery shells that caused a thermonuclear explosion that could destroy a dozen square miles or so."
"Why didn’t you bring them with you here?" He asked.
"We tried to," she explained. "They didn’t come through the gateway with us. For some reason, they just didn’t come through."
"What about inoculations? Against diseases here?"
"We were told that the gateway would balance our biology to the new environment. To be honest, no one gave it much thought."
Jaff translated as much of Trevor and Nina’s conversation as possible for his leader. Fromm stopped pacing and listened. Finally, Trevor returned his attention to his counterpart
"The odds were made even. Basic weapons. The best our civilizations could muster without being too powerful."
Jaff’s voice translated Fromm's response, "Equal conditions. Equal opportunity to survive or fall."
Trevor remembered another of the clues the Old Man once offered and shared, "It’s not about killing us off; it’s about subjugating us. If it were only about killing us, the invaders would have their weapons of mass destruction. Instead, it’s about beating our races down. Forcing us to surrender…to give up."
"My people will never surrender," Fromm reacted.
"Nor mine," Trevor echoed. "But it makes me wonder…someone… some thing has a reason for wanting survivors."
Fromm’s eyes moved off of Trevor and to the Major.
"And what of her?"
"She is human, but she and the people of her city are from a planet in this universe. They used gateways that were not of their own design to come here and attack your Earth."
Fromm eyed Major Forest for several long seconds and then spoke to Trevor again.
"You say that there is a device in the Ring of Ice at the roof of my world that can end this invasion? That can stop the aliens from arriving?"
Trevor replied, "You have consulted with your own guardian. You know I speak the truth. And you know that the runes here can do for your world what they did for mine; change the balance of power."
"I have been told that you have risked much by telling me this. That you have placed my world in peril because you have broken one of the sacred rules that govern this invasion."
Trevor corrected, "I have given you an opportunity to take back your planet. Of course there is risk. I believe you are like me, in that you will take risks for great gain. However, we must hurry. It is important that I look at your maps and we compare…" he struggled with how best to phrase it. "I must translate the coordinates I know with your maps."
Stone remembered the latitude and longitude coordinates the Old Man had provided to lead John Brewer to the runes, but he needed to find a way to translate them into Chaktaw navigation.
"This we will do immediately," Fromm announced.
"Have you agreed to my terms?"
Nina watched anxiously as Trevor attempted to close the deal.
Fromm answered then walked away. Jaff translated, "If all is as you say, then you and the woman will be allowed through the runes. We will offer the humans at the city a chance to leave through the runes. If they decline, they will be slaughtered."
Jaff followed his leader out of the cave.
Nina spoke with a hint of her soldier’s pride, "Slaughtered? Yeah, right, we were holding them off easy."
Trevor shook his head.
"No, Major. They’ve been playing with you to buy time."
"Buy time for what?"
"I think he’s going to show us that, real soon."
– They did not allow Major Forest to leave the holding pen but Trevor-under escort-spent several hours at a work station examining maps and grasping the fundamentals of Chaktaw topography. Once he understood they used scaled hexagons as their basic building block for mapping, he managed to work out the rest.
With the help of a pair of female Chaktaw scientists and Jaff as a translator, Trevor pinpointed the location of the runes, at least according to their coordinates on his home world. He considered the possibility that the runes might be hidden somewhere else on this Earth, but decided not to waste energy worrying about that.
During his time with Chaktaw, Stone learned a little about this world’s ingenious species. The biggest difference between his people and Fromm’s was that the latter had a better grasp of sub-atomic theory and nuclear reactions. Much of their power came from low-temperature fusion, a technology that, on Trevor’s world, had been relegated to science fiction.
Trevor also found out why he had not seen the Jaw-Wolves-or, rather, the Behemoths-on the battlefield sooner. Fromm explained that before the invasion the Behemoths served as herders, used mostly by farmers to control flocks of Huskers. The Behemoths were docile primarily because they had almost no appetite; their metabolism worked incredibly slow. Indeed, a Behemoth could survive for a month on a single Husker carcass.
This fit with the Chaktaw environment, one dominated by large animals such as the giant Rhino they encountered at the city, Rat-things, and truck-sized Armadillo-like creatures.
Why had a huge wall protected the Chaktaw city in the valley? Why were their towns and cities hidden in valleys or deep woods or built into mountainsides like caves? Because the Chaktaw were small in size compared to the wild animals of their environment. While the dominant sentient life in their ecosystem, they were not as dominant physically, hence a greater emphasis on community concealment and defense.
Trevor could only imagine how humanity might have developed differently if cows were the size of elephants, rats the size of cars, and wolves the size of vans.
According to Fromm, the Behemoths changed when the invasion came. Their appetites grew as did their ferocity and, of course, Fromm discovered he could control them.
On Trevor's Earth, however, hungry invading Jaw-Wolves found few large animals to satiate their appetites. A white-tailed deer or an entire family of human beings would provide maybe a tenth of the nourishment of a huge Husker. Therefore, the Jaw-Wolves/Behemoths remained perpetually on the hunt on Trevor's world, even if their metabolisms remained relatively slow.
In any case, Fromm's Behemoths had one Achilles’ heal; slow reproduction. One bitch delivered one offspring with each pregnancy and those pregnancies lasted nearly a full year (the Chaktaw’s calendar was also based on revolutions around the sun).
According to Fromm, Geryons attacked his estate early in the invasion. Behemoths had bought time for his people to escape at the expense of being slaughtered by the Steel Guard.
Trevor surmised the rest. With such long reproductive rates, Fromm hid away his Behemoths while they repopulated.
Despite the sharing of information and somewhat pleasant conversations, Trevor understood that his life depended on guiding Fromm to the runes. He also understood that Fromm already had a plan in store for his enemies.
– Trevor and Nina spent the night curled together on the dirt and rock floor of the prison pit under thin blankets provided by their captors. Having not bathed in days, the smell in the morning coming from the prisoners nearly matched the stench of the piss trench. In an act of either pity or self-interest, Chaktaw aids cleaned the human battle suits. They also returned all their other gear except, of course, weapons.
As they slipped back in to their apparel, a young, pleasant voice called in human words from above, "My father has summoned you. It is time for you to go."
Trevor and Nina gathered their gear and ascended the ramp. Two poncho-wearing soldiers provided an escort as Alenna led them from the detention area and through the corridors of the mountain base. The halls bustled with activity.
"Today’s the day, huh?"
Alenna answered, "You are very perceptive. Much like my father."
The group passed a scene of fond farewells. A Chaktaw officer held his child and whispered words in the young one’s ear. No doubt words of consolation and a promise to return home. The type of words many of Trevor’s soldiers had whispered to their children in the years since Armageddon.
Alenna appeared particularly interested in the tender moment. She strained her neck to watch the interaction between parent and child even as she led them further along.
Trevor said, "Your father and I are alike in many ways."
"Yes," she agreed after forcing her eyes forward again.
Alenna led them across the central cavern that served as a kind of community gathering place, but few people loitered there and most of the kiosks were shuttered.
"My father and you are alike, and so are our people, are they not? Are we so different?"
Trevor found her tone curious. She spoke as if she grappled with a complex equation and had reached an answer that she hoped would prove correct, but could not be sure.
He replied, "I don’t think we are that different."
Alenna halted the procession at an intersection of sorts. Several passages led away into the bowels of the complex. One led up, ascending toward what appeared to be sun light. A cool, fresh breeze blew down from there.
The little Chaktaw girl turned and faced Trevor. She studied him, her head tilting side to side as she tried to see what lived behind his eyes. Perhaps she wondered if a soul lived there. A question Trevor often wondered himself.
She said, "It seems a shame then, doesn’t it? A shame that we fight like this."
He wondered if by 'this' she meant her Earth, or the larger picture of multiple Earths across multiple universes, each occupied by one race only to be invaded by all the others.
Alenna said, "You have a son?"
"Yes. I’d say he’s exactly your age."
She smiled at his remark and replied, "I’d say you’re right, Trevor Stone. Tell me, what will you tell your son when you get back to your Earth?"
Trevor knelt to her level.
"I’ll tell him about the marvelous little girl I met over here. I’ll tell him about the brave and resourceful Chaktaw people, who have earned my respect."
"Hmm," she wondered. "Then you will fight the Chaktaw who have come to your home. You will kill them if you can."
He did not know how to answer.
Alenna said, "It is rather silly, isn’t it? All this fighting. Sometimes I wonder if it serves any purpose. And if it does, exactly whose purpose does it serve in the end?"
"It's all I've known," he said. "I can't even remember what my life was like before the war began. I've spent the last few years fighting, and not much else."
"My father has lost much for this war. My mother is dead. He had a life before this, you know. He helped people plan for their future. Helped people get ready for-what do you call it? — ready for their‘re-tire-ment’. Yes. He helped them so they could live comfortably. Then the war came and the only future my people can plan for now is a future of fighting."
This time Trevor-still kneeling to face her eye to eye-studied her, and he believed without a doubt that, yes, a soul lived inside Alenna.
Alenna went on in a voice laced with sadness at not only what had happened, but what was to come: "All of our people had to run and hide. But that time is over. We have gathered again."
She pointed to the passage leading toward the light. Trevor stood and followed her outstretched finger. He and Nina ascended the rock tunnel. The light at the end of the passage grew wider and brighter. The air smelled fresh and clean.
The passage opened to a stone balcony high on the mountainside offering a marvelous view of endless mountains rolling off into the distance like ocean waves in a painting.
Fromm stood on the balcony joined by both the human female slave who served as his translator and the Chaktaw guard holding her leash.
Trevor first glanced at Fromm then looked down on the long, wide stretch of grassland below. There gathered an army; Fromm's army.
Thousands of poncho-wearing Chaktaw infantry lined in columns, a thousand Jaw-Wolves standing as still as statues like armored vehicles parked on a parade ground. Pack lizards hauling catapult-like artillery batteries, three-wheeled motor bikes, flat trucks carrying rocket-planes, and hundreds of carts piled high with supplies.
As he witnessed the gathered power of the Chaktaw, Trevor pieced Fromm's story together, taking the parts he already knew and tying them together into one narrative. After the defeat at the lakeside estate, the Chaktaw had separated and hid in dozens of redoubts to survive until the time to fight came again.
They gathered resources and prepared while sending smaller forces-like the army that had consistently attacked Thebes-to keep watch on their enemies, to probe their defenses, and to sap their resources.
Now the scattered tribes of Chaktaw regrouped with the ranks of the Behemoths replenished. Now the war machine mustered to be unleashed upon the invaders who had dared come to this world.
Fromm glanced at the two humans before speaking briefly, stoically, to the slave translator. As the Chaktaw savior turned and disappeared down the tunnel, the woman offered the simple translation.
"We march."