Beyond Armageddon: Book 03 - Parallels (67 page)

"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 zigzagging 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.

Trevor recognized that blind determination, that blind loyalty. He often witnessed it in his army of K9s back home.

Finally, both doors of the gate gave way, one falling flat to the ground with a heavy impact, the other swinging open.

The mass of smiling Behemoths—some stacked on top of one another in their hunger to punch through the wall—hovered at the open portal for a moment. The streets of the city lay ahead; streets of dirt and gravel running between the obsidian peaks of the Geryon buildings and the sad remnants of Chaktaw architecture.

Across from them waited the last line of defense before anarchy: one hundred Golems of the Steel Guard in tight formation with their camera-eyes glowing. Yet somehow those beaked robotic skulls did not look so horrid in the face of Fromm’s pets.

Overhead, the massive solitary propeller at the rear of the three-pronged Geryon air ship revolved, the big blades turning slowly and providing the vehicle forward momentum.

The Chaktaw rocket planes made another series of runs, each from a different direction. Despite their speed, the attackers suffered another casualty from the battleship's anti-air batteries. A damaged fighter careened into a flat spin like an out of control bottle rocket before falling to the city in a gold and black fireball.

Below, the Chaktaw infantry advanced to support the Behemoths as the latter rushed the Steel Guard. Those machines opened fire with missiles and heavy shells, shattering several circular maws and ripping away armor plating. Two…five…a dozen Behemoths fell by the time the horde reached the defenders…and smashed their line under a sea of armor and teeth.

Behind that vanguard of Jaw-Wolves, Chaktaw rifles found targets along the walls and short-range artillery hit Geryon infantry forming for a counter-attack.