Beyond Armageddon: Book 03 - Parallels (68 page)

Trevor expected the Jaw-Wolves and the Chaktaw soldiers to fan out once they breached the wall. Instead, the column of Behemoths and the following infantry stayed tightly formed and advanced along the main street, bulling through any opposition.

Suddenly, a burst of light caused Trevor to avert his eyes, as if he had accidentally gazed into the sun. It seemed the battleship had brought its main gun to bear, sweeping a stream of energy into the lead elements of the assault. In an instant, a score of Behemoths disintegrated leaving behind charred, lifeless shells.

Despite this show of power, the advance did not falter. More Jaw-Wolves took the place of their fallen comrades with no hesitation. Behind those monsters came row upon row of determined Chaktaw soldiers.

Overhead, the fighter planes did their best to draw off the blimp. Their guns rained across the surface of the battleship even as its anti-air batteries responded with methodical shelling.

Another of the flyers exploded in mid air.

Two planes remained. Small odds against the lumbering juggernaut yet those planes did not panic, did not shy off. Instead, they accelerated and whizzed over and under the dirigible at speeds approaching supersonic.

Nonetheless, another stream of energy hammered down from above, cutting a swath across the main thoroughfare. Not only were Behemoths and infantry melted alive, but many of the black buildings along the street crumpled and fell creating a chaotic mass of flames and dust.

One of the Chaktaw rockets strafed the bow of the giant air ship. Sparks flew from the dish-shaped energy weapon and it fell dark, obviously knocked out of commission, at least temporarily.

Fromm led his men forward through the crater lined with glass that had been his vanguard moments before. The number of Behemoth carcasses scattered in front of the city wall and along the center road began to pile up, but Fromm still counted dozens of the creatures in the attack's spearhead and hundreds more in reserve hidden behind the mountains to the west.

Trevor and Nina, on back of a pack animal and in the midst of another column of infantry, entered the city. Their ride wobbled around bodies and bones of Jaw-Wolves and stamped over the broken pale and black Geryon defenders as well as the metallic remains of the vaunted Steel Guard.

Far ahead at the tip of the spear, the battering ram of an army finally did disperse. Three distinct groups moved in three different directions. Two groups each headed for one of the big, rectangular structures.

The main group—with Fromm at the lead—aimed for the dark building that sat atop a wide pedestal, apparently the heart of the Geryon garrison.

A pair of Golems and two squads of infantry blocked his path taking cover in the ruins of an old Chaktaw market and behind a pair of armored, tracked vehicles that played the role of Geryon tanks.

Fromm met those defenses with a dozen Behemoths and three times that number in infantry, some armed with portable rocket launchers.

A fierce firefight ensued. The Golems stopped two of the giant beasts with well-placed missiles. The tanks opened fire with smaller versions of the dirigibles’ main energy weapon, frying another Behemoth and forcing much of the approaching infantry into cover.

For a moment, the Geryon infantry cheered. The buzz of electronic chatter from their ball gag like communicators sounded akin to a futuristic football team celebrating one good play. It would be the only good play of the day for the Geryons.

The wave of attackers once again poured forward. Portable rocket launchers hit and disabled both of the tracked vehicles. Chaktaw guns found their marks in the leather and metal uniforms of the defenders.

Then the Jaw-Wolves moved in for the final kill. The remaining enemy troops actually ran—not retreated—but
ran.
One was gobbled whole from behind as an extending jaw clamped over his screaming body.

The Golems held their ground only to be overwhelmed by small arms fire, grenades, and missiles.

Fromm moved his shock troops to the Geryon command center. A pair of his soldiers approached the heavy black and silver door at the base of the large pedestal. They attached round devices resembling thick gears. A moment later those gears whirred to life and spun—drilled—into the surface of the door. Sparks and smoke billowed from their rapid movement; metal flaked away from the door.

The devices buried themselves into the door, stopped, and then they exploded. The surface of the bulkhead rippled as if liquefied, then fell into pieces like shattered glass leaving only a thick cloud.

A torrent of enemy fire shot out from the confines of the building.

Two Chaktaw wearing tube-like back packs attached to hoses took position to either side of the open door frame and waited. Fromm rolled a round device between his men into the cloud. A second later a brilliant flash and sparks erupted, followed by the garbled cries of Geryon defenders.

The two back-pack-wearing soldiers fired a wide stream of gushing acid swaying that stream side to side like firemen dousing flames.

More screams and a sickening sizzling sound.

While the Behemoths could not fit into the tight confines of the building, Fromm sent his troops rushing inside. They met a handful of disorientated and injured Geryons still trying to protect a spiral stair case in the center of a round chamber. That last band of pitiful protectors was brushed aside and fell next to the melted remains of their comrades caught in the acid bath.

As Fromm’s force climbed those stairs, the floating Geryon battleship’s defenses scored another critical hit on one of the flying attackers. The fourth of the original five fighter planes was swatted from the sky. Its thin frame broke into two pieces—one burning—and fluttered to the ground.

Trevor and Major Forest on lizard-back moved toward the center of town where the battle seemed to enter its final stages. Trevor did not have to see the fights at the front lines to know that things went well for the Chaktaw; he could practically smell their victory among the stench of burning metal carried on a crisp ocean breeze from plumes of dark smoke rising around the city. Birds similar to seagulls circled overhead in vast flocks, waiting to dine on dead flesh.

He saw something even more interesting than birds up there. Trevor narrowed his eyes and focused on the dirigible hanging in the evening air over the city. Its main gun had been quiet for several minutes, ever since a fighter plane riddled its firing mechanism with bullets.

Now a metal catwalk extended from the blimp’s command module to provide access to the gun. A trio of pale-skinned Geryon technicians worked vigorously on the array.

He was not the only one to spot the repairers. The last remaining rocket-jet finished a sweep over the city skyline and made an almost suicidal lunge toward the bow of the juggernaut. Its nose-cone gun fired, causing sparks along the length of the undercarriage.

The plane never finished its run. An anti-air battery scored a perfect hit. The fighter died in a bright burst of flame and smoke, its pulverized pieces drifted in the wind like confetti.

At that point, the dirigible’s energy weapon returned to service. A fresh stream of plasma pummeled the city below firing so hurriedly and haphazardly that most of its destructive power was wasted on buildings, not invading troops.

Nonetheless, that beam ended the lives of a dozen more Chaktaw soldiers only a few yards ahead of Trevor and Nina. He felt the urge to dismount and find cover but guessed their escort would not allow it.

As the battleship recharged its weapon, Trevor saw that Geryons might yet turn the tide of the battle, and it caused a lump in his throat.

The roof of one of the large rectangular buildings retracted. It appeared that these buildings were, in fact, hangers. A second Geryon zeppelin ascended to the sky, the blimps to either side of the main fuselage inflating and expanding as it gained altitude. The rear propeller chugged to life.

Both of the zeppelins fired their main weapons at the same time.

The first’s slammed to the surface again, causing a brilliant light and ripping apart walls and melting roofs all while obliterating Chaktaw infantry. Before it could do even more damage, the second dirigible's main gun slammed into the first battleship, slicing across the air and skewer the lead ship. The thick line of plasma entered through the first’s rear propeller, cut across the main balloon, and continued off toward the horizon where at some distant point the beam lost cohesion and dissipated.

The same could be described of the stricken air ship. It fell to pieces from the inside out. No secondary explosions; the energy weapon claimed all the destructive glory for itself.

Unlike the battleship he destroyed at the lake, this one died nearly in an instant with little wreckage, the energy weapon evaporating all but the most stubborn bulkheads, struts, and supports.

Before he could fully appreciate that victory, the sound of additional destruction pulled his eyes in another direction. From his vantage point, he saw the circular top of the Geryon’s main building. Flashes came from inside that structure, then the walls blasted out destroying the Geryon command center and leaving behind an inferno.

The city by the sea belonged to the Chaktaw once more.

---

            Sporadic fighting continued through the night because the Geryons had nowhere to retreat and the Chaktaw accepted no surrender.

            Fromm established his command post on the southern end of town inside one of the sagging, crumbling, but gigantic dock halls. Trevor and Nina spent the night under casual guard in a corner there, listening to the scattered sounds of gun fire and explosions. Still, the gentle sound of the lapping ocean waters outside their quarters—some kind of office—managed to create a small sense of serenity.

            In the morning, Jaff escorted them to Fromm at his post in the main chamber of the massive building. The ceiling reached two hundred feet high but neglect led to cracks allowing bits of morning sun to streak in. A huge door on one end of the chamber stood closed but, when open, allowed access to the sea and Trevor saw why.

Gently swaying in a pool of water inside the hall waited a magnificent vehicle. Trevor thought it one part clipper and one part ark with vertical tubes rising from the brown hull, probably housing retracted sails.

Judging by its size, Trevor guessed it required a crew of dozens while a hundred or more men or beasts could travel in its belly. He did not know if it served more the purpose of transport or as a Man-O-War, but he figured it could probably act in either role.

            It was, however, in a bad state. Some boards along the hull had warped and sprung loose and the superstructure—a series of compartments with sharp edges and a wide, sweeping bridge—showed signs of damage from both battle and time.

Fortunately, despite a long occupation the Geryons never bothered to dispose of the relic. Perhaps—again—because they did not give proper consideration to water craft. Whatever the case, the Geryons or another of the invading races would some day rue the occupiers' failure to sink the thing. Trevor saw Chaktaw engineers already hard at work on this boat and he knew there to be six more huge dock halls potentially housing similar ships.

            Trevor turned his attention to the trappings of Fromm’s makeshift command post. He saw desks and tables, computer terminals that resembled 1990s vintage PCs, and communications gear, as well as portable generators, all arranged along the inside wall atop a stretch of cracked concrete floor.

           
Bangs
and
clangs
from repairmen tools competed with the chirps of computing machines, the crackle of radio traffic, and the murmur of conversations for Trevor's ear. The huge space inside the dock hall gave each of those noises its own echo.

            Jaff separated Trevor from Major Forest and led him to a table around which stood Fromm and his lieutenants, their battle ponchos discarded for simple tunics with little or no markings of rank.

            As Trevor joined the gathering, he saw a map on the table and recognized what on his world would have been the northeast coast line of North America as evident by the curl of Cape Cod and the unmistakable stretch of Long Island.

He waited patiently and in silence as the Chaktaw commanders pointed, discussed, waved their arms, and shook fists at unseen enemies. After much debate, Fromm stopped the cross talk and spoke in firm, determined words.

            Trevor could not decipher the language and Jaff did not translate, but he understood that Fromm issued orders to his most trusted officers the way Trevor gave direction to Brewer, Stonewall, and Shepherd.

           
Reverend Johnny?

            As the Chaktaw leader spoke, he moved his gaze from comrade to comrade, finding their eyes and giving some of his strength to them in a glance.

            It boggled his mind to realize that across parallel universes similar leaders gave similar orders to what remained of their resistance movements. On his world that leader was himself, a human. Here it was Fromm of the Chaktaw. Somewhere else a Centaurian, a Feranite, a Hivvan, and more. Eight universes in all with eight different Earths hosting eight different civilizations under siege.

Fromm finished his orders and dismissed his commanders and spoke to Trevor Stone with Jaff translating. The somewhat friendly, less guarded tone of recent days disappeared, replaced with a threatening tone.