War of the Worlds

by Adam J. Whitlatch

  The shape in the water grew larger, becoming more distinct to the sentries stationed at the statue’s base. A massive, elongated machine over fifteen hundred feet wide broke the surface. Water cascaded down its surface as it rose into the air. The craft had no legs, but instead rose of it own unseen power and hovered like a great pair of disembodied wings from some terrible alien bird.

  At the front of the machine was a giant red eye, flanked by two smaller ones. The giant Martian wing stared down Lady Liberty as if answering her silent challenge.

  *****

  A smile tugged at the corner of Kushnirov’s lips. The expression made his muscles ache. The general couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt joy. For fifteen years, he had lived with the guilt of failing at St. Petersburg… for failing his Tsar… and his beloved family.

  “It is done, Katya,” he murmured. “It is done.”

  “General!” the radar technician called out.

  Kushnirov turned.

  “I’m picking up a large magnetic signature seven miles south by southeast of our current position,” she said.

  Kushnirov looked at the screen. Erratic shapes blinked on the scope.

  “Sir,” the helmsman called. “There’s something emerging from the bay!”

  Kushnirov crossed the deck to the helm and lifted his binoculars. He focused the lenses, and the fuzzy shape resolved itself into a large, blade-shaped object that dwarfed the Statue of Liberty.

  “What the devil?” he said.

  The mammoth craft glided forward and collided with Lady Liberty. The statue bent back on its base. Kushnirov’s fingers squeezed, and the lenses cracked as the monument toppled into the bay.

  *****

  The wave created by the Martian craft’s ascent rolled toward the Thunder Child II. The wall of water filled the forward windscreen, towering over the cruiser. Captain Wodensen keyed the intercom on the wall, and his voice echoed throughout the ship.

  “All hands brace for impact!”

  Wodensen gripped a handhold beside the door and planted his feet. The wave slammed into the bow and swallowed the sailors scrambling for cover on the deck. He closed his eyes just before the swell crashed into the bridge. The vibrations traveled throughout Wodensen’s body, rattling his teeth. Cracks spread across the windscreen, but the glass held the torrent back.

  The ship pitched, and Wodensen hung in the air, suspended by the handhold that he clung to with white knuckles. The bridge crew clutched their chairs, but as the ship’s angle steepened, the radar technician lost his grip and slid across the deck. Wodensen reached for him, but he was too late, and the man slipped under him and tumbled out the door, falling down the corridor.

  Wodensen’s stomach lurched as the wave lifted the stern, and the Thunder Child II crashed back down. The ship lolled and bobbed for several seconds before Wodensen was able to find his footing. He ran to the windscreen and stared at the immense Martian craft. The wing turned slowly, putting its back to the cruiser, and glided toward A.R.E.S.

  “Mr. Foster, I want that behemoth back on the bottom of the bay where it came from,” Wodensen said.

  “Aye, sir!” Foster climbed back into his chair and relayed the order over his headset.

  Wodensen watched the silent craft. It was big and slow; it would make an easy target.

  “On your orders, Captain,” Foster said.

  “Fire!”

  *****

  The Martian commander clicked his tongue with glee. Through the diffused red lens, he saw the enemy stronghold on the shore, broken but not quite lifeless. He would soon change that.

  Target the enemy base.

  A green targeting overlay appeared over the structure, and the building’s outline flashed. The commander heaved his bulk forward in his cradle. He touched an icon on the long-necked console before him, and the image zoomed.

  He opened his beak and sighed a long, low hiss.

  The ship shuddered, and the commander’s head buzzed with furious and panicked thoughts.

  Contact!

  We’re hit!

  Where did it come from?

  There!

  The commander slapped the flat, arrowhead tip of his tentacle against his console, and the image projected onto his viewing lens changed, displaying an oblong vessel in the water. Fire erupted from it, and a moment later the ship shook from a second impact, and a third. The natives were using their primitive projectile weapons!

  The commander screeched and swiped away the saliva dripping from its beak. Destroy it!

  The image flickered and disappeared from the lens, and the commander felt the vibration of the engines through his cradle. The ship swung around, giving him a panoramic view of the city. Far too many of the native structures still stood.

  He would soon change that, too.

  Finally the Earth vessel appeared in his lens again, and the targeting overlay highlighted the armaments bristling from its surface. One of the weapons flashed red and discharged. The projectile struck the ship, and the commander saw the blast. Too close.

  Fire.

  A brilliant glow filled the right side of the lens, and the commander raised a tentacle to shade his eyes. A grin curled the corner of his beak as the glow swelled. The heat ray roared as it erupted from the central lens and streaked toward the sea vessel. The beam tore through the deck, and the commander’s display lit up, confirming the strike.

  Again.

  The heat ray charged, and the commander’s tongue snaked out to lick a drop of saliva from his beak. The beam fired, striking the enemy center mass. The display highlighted several explosions as the ray penetrated the heart of the vessel.

  The commander barked out a hearty, rasping laugh. The rest of the crew echoed his jubilation as the enemy vessel broke apart and sank below the surface.

  *****

  Wells heard guns in the distance. He looked south toward A.R.E.S., but buildings blocked his view. Had something slipped past them? Were the Martians moving on the base?

  A massive green flash lit up the sky to the south. It was far too large to be from any tripod, and it was too far away to have been from a flying wing.

  Roosevelt turned. “What in heaven’s name?”

  Another flash flared over the horizon, followed by an explosion that echoed off the high rises around them. Wells jumped.

  “Captain,” Carter’s voice crackled over the radio. “What was that?”

  Wells’ shoulders slumped. “It isn’t over.”

  Chapter Twenty- Three

  The heat ray swept across the A.R.E.S. base, demolishing the gun emplacements while munitions exploded ineffectively against its hull. One of the towers collapsed, sending stone and dust raining down over the base. Kushnirov threw down the binoculars and picked up a radio receiver. When he pressed the button, his thunderous voice echoed throughout the Leviathan.

  “All hands to battle stations,” he said. “A.R.E.S. base is under attack by an enemy airship. Inform the captain of the Agamemnon, and take us up to three thousand feet. Full power to all engines. Deploy primary weapon, and divert power from all non-essential systems.”

  Kushnirov watched as a section of the zeppelin ahead of the observation deck split open, and a massive heat ray cannon rose on a hydraulic lift. Beside them, the Agamemnon deployed its own as well.

  Kushnirov saw the worry in the helmsman’s eyes.

  “We are going to stop them, Son,” Kushnirov said, laying a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “If you want to draw the beast’s attention, you must first bloody its nose.”

  The boy nodded.

  “Fire!” Kushnirov bellowed.

  The interior lights flickered all throughout the observation deck. Radar screens went dark. The heat ray fired, filling the bridge with intense orange light. The Agamemnon followed suit, and the beams struck the Martian airship’s left wing. The rays tore deep gouges in the enemy craft’s hull.

  “Hit them again!” Kushnirov ordered.

  The heat ray fired a
gain, this time striking closer to the Martian wing’s center. The craft turned slowly to face the oncoming challengers. It glided over the bay toward the city, leaving the devastated base behind. Smoke poured from the holes in its hull, and Kushnirov could see the fires burning inside. The flying colossus was not invulnerable.

  “Again,” Kushnirov said.

  The giant emitter fired again, scoring a hit on one of the Martian’s smaller eyes. The enemy ship responded in kind, and a beam struck the crown of a skyscraper between the two A.R.E.S. zeppelins. The Leviathan surged through the plume of dust and smoke, and when it emerged, the alien craft fired again.

  The heat ray struck the Agamemnon’s bow and sliced down the entire length of the airship. Hydrogen cells ignited, creating a chain of explosions that followed the beam’s path before spreading throughout the rest of the craft. Then the munitions blew, turning the long-range guns into projectiles. The heavy cannons slammed into nearby buildings and fell, creating immense craters in the street.

  “My god,” the helmsman said. “The Agamemnon!”

  The shockwave slammed into the Leviathan, and Kushnirov shielded his eyes from the blast. Foot-thick chunks of armor plating rained down into the streets until nothing remained of the battle zeppelin but a drifting cloud of black smoke. Five hundred men and women gone in a flash.

  Kushnirov’s nostrils flared. “Take us down. Four hundred feet. Now.”

  A red blur caught Kushnirov’s eye, and he saw Richthofen’s Valkyrie, flanked by two Storm Crows, come alongside the observation deck.

  The general keyed the radio. “Captain Richthofen, your weapons will be useless against their armor. Get your fighters out of here.”

  Richthofen hesitated a moment, but finally nodded and signaled to his wingmen. The fighters banked and broke off.

  The Leviathan descended below the skyline, threading its way between the skyscrapers four hundred feet above the battle-torn streets. The view of the crumbling buildings through the observation deck windows made the ordeal so much more real to the general, and he realized to his shame just how comfortable he had been watching from his lofty perch in the clouds.

  It was time to get his hands dirty.

  “We must get close to the enemy,” Kushnirov said. “Helmsman, maintain speed. Steady as she goes.”

  The Martian ship was too wide to follow the zeppelin, but it did not sit idly by and let its quarry slip away. The alien heat ray fired and cut through a high rise like a surgeon’s scalpel. Several tons of stone and steel tumbled down to the street, missing the Leviathan by mere feet.

  The helmsman flinched but maintained his course, bringing the ship harmlessly through the dust cloud.

  Kushnirov laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Courage, Lieutenant.”

  The ship dipped below the tops of the buildings once again, and Kushnirov lost sight of the enemy. The Martian heat ray fired, sweeping across the skyline, determined to bring the entire city down upon its nemesis if necessary. Debris rained down on the canopy, leaving spider-web fractures in the glass.

  The emerald beam struck the Empire State Tower. The spire toppled, along with its numerous antennae, and crashed through the canopy, ripping through the observation deck’s wooden floor. Flaming debris cascaded onto the bridge. The steeple ruptured one of the hydrogen cells below and the gas exploded.

  Kushnirov and the helmsman were thrown to the deck. The abandoned wheel spun freely, and the zeppelin listed to port. It struck the side of the tower, filling the bridge with more dust and debris. The ship pitched and shuddered, sending the crew sprawling. The helmsman slid across the floor toward the gaping hole left by the spire. As he slipped over the edge toward the inferno below, Kushnirov reached out and snatched the boy’s hand.

  “Hold on, Lieutenant!” he said.

  The ship shuddered as it grazed the building. Metal screeched as armor plating and weapons were shorn off the hull. The support beams lining the walls buckled and creaked. Kushnirov felt his hold on the helmsman’s hand slipping.

  An officer clinging to the railing above shouted, “General, you’ve got to take the helm! The ship’s going to break up!”

  The helmsman looked up, his eyes afraid but determined. “You must save the ship.”

  “No,” Kushnirov said. “Do not let go!”

  The helmsman smiled. “I love you, Father.”

  He let go of the general’s hand, and Kushnirov gasped as his son disappeared into the flames. The boy never screamed… never uttered a sound.

  “Dmitri!” Kushnirov bellowed. Tears burned his eyes and he bit back a scream, his teeth clenched tight. His fingers curled into a fist, and he pounded the deck.

  The general stood, crossed the quaking bridge, and took hold of the shuddering wheel. He fought and brought the ship back into the open air away from the buildings. The deck burned, and all around him crewmembers scrambled to extinguish the flames, but Kushnirov’s gaze was locked straight ahead though the twisted and broken frame of the canopy.

  The Leviathan emerged from behind the buildings and soared over Washington Square. Kushnirov saw the giant Martian airship gliding toward them and adjusted his heading.

  “Take us up three hundred feet!” he ordered.

  The Leviathan rose directly into the Martian ship’s path.

  As the enemy drew nearer, and the massive vessel filled his vision, the general retrieved the locket from his pocket and thumbed the latch. The cover sprang open, and Sergei Kushnirov looked on the faces of his wife and children. Dmitri stared back with bored disinterest. He had so disliked standing for the portrait, but—like his father—he had come to cherish it above all else in the world.

  The Martian wing’s central eye loomed ahead, and Kushnirov snapped the locket shut. He gripped the wheel and corrected course, aiming straight for the red, malevolent orb. The eye glowed as the heat ray charged.

  “All guns, fire!”

  The Leviathan’s heat ray fired, along with every remaining operable cannon, buffeting the enemy’s hull. The Martian beam flashed and pierced the zeppelin’s armor, igniting another of the hydrogen cells, but it was too late. There was no stopping the Leviathan. The bow punctured the flying wing’s central eye, and the zeppelin tore through the craft at top speed. Kushnirov smiled as the rest of the hydrogen ignited.

  *****

  The Leviathan collided with the Martian craft, her guns firing even as her nose disappeared inside the shattered, crimson eye. A fireball erupted from the impact point and traveled along the length of the zeppelin until nothing remained of the ship. Even from the ground, Wells could feel the intense heat radiating from the two vessels.

  Explosions tore the enemy ship apart, and pieces fell into the square like hellfire. The largest portion landed mere yards from the Washington Arch, crushing the remains of a Martian tripod and shaking the ground. The fuselage buckled as it struck, flattening the craft and throwing debris in all directions. Dust billowed from the impact site, expanding up and outward into an immense cloud that covered the square.

  Wells coughed and squinted. Grit peppered his face and caked the inside of his nostrils. Smoke billowed from the wreck, contributing to the toxic miasma assailing his lungs.

  Wells grabbed the hatch lid and prepared to descend the ladder, but movement caught his eye. A piece of tattered black cloth fluttered on the wind. It spiraled downward until it snagged on a jagged piece of debris on the ground. At the center of the fabric was a white circle and the red hourglass sigil of A.R.E.S. The wind tugged at the flag, and the fabric ripped, sending it dancing across the square until it disappeared from Wells’ sight.

  Wells keyed his radio. “The Leviathan is down.”

  *****

  “The Leviathan is down,” Wells said. “They sacrificed themselves for us.”

  Carter stared through her view port at the falling debris still dropping from the dust cloud. Behind her, O’Brien punched an instrument panel, filling the cockpit with a resounding crash. She jumped at t
he sudden sound, and tears welled.

  Shah closed his eyes and bowed his head. He muttered a prayer in his own language.

  Douglas pulled away from his targeting scope and crossed himself.

  Outside, Washington Square burned. For the first time since they’d landed, all was quiet. The Martians were defeated….

  But at what cost?

  Tears streamed down Carter’s cheeks. She wiped them away, but more flowed freely to replace them. Her vision clouded over, and she squeezed her eyes shut, sobbing into her hands.

  Epilogue

  Roosevelt stood atop the wreckage of the giant Martian wing. Behind him, the Never Again monument loomed. Although the statue was damaged and entire sections had broken away in the battle, it stood tall and proud. Its message still rang loud and clear.

  Never again!

  New York had suffered, but stood resolute. Mankind held the streets, trampling the broken, twisted remains of the invaders and their sinister war machines.

  The square teemed with survivors, both A.R.E.S. and civilian. Faces of all colors stared back at the Secretary of War; a small sampling of the humanity that still suffered under the invaders’ tyranny around the globe. Spartan and Achilles tripods stood around them like silent sentinels.

  Standing with his squad mates at the front of the throng, Sergeant Douglas held his daughter Molly on his shoulders while the baby slept in his wife’s arms. Wells looked at them wistfully. Words could not describe the relief he had felt when they found Tessa and the girls shaken but unharmed in the A.R.E.S. barracks after the dust had settled. It wasn’t just Douglas’ family; it was his as well, because Goliath’s crew was more than teammates. They were a family. Their bond had been forged in fire and blood, and no force on Earth or Mars could tear them apart.