Beyond Armageddon IV: Schism

by DeCosmo, Anthony

"As far as we can tell, yes. Um, well, as I’ve detailed before, our analysis of the genetic structure of the various hostiles collected over the years has shown, that, um…oh yes, has shown that this invasion has come from…come from…come from eight different points of origin. We have…we have come to this conclusion by finding…I mean…tracking I guess or measuring the amount of cell damage done by radiation that we think the organisms were subjected to during their travel here."

  She glanced nervously around the table, perked again, and spoke in a stronger voice, "Basically, we found that there’s eight different places these things are coming from. Maybe there’s more, we don’t know, but so far we found eight."

  Trevor led, "And seven of them…"

  "And seven of the different types of creatures, I guess, coming here share a DNA structure almost identical to our own. You could say we share the basic building blocks of life and are, um complex organisms."

  Dante said, "Hey, like that goes for both the organized armies and the animals, right?"

  "Yes," Gordon Knox answered while Anita nibbled on a finger nail. "We know that the Chaktaw and the Jaw-Wolves and Rat-Things all come from the same place. We know the Plats and Bloodhorns come from another. It’s like if we were to launch an invasion of another planet and take lions, tigers and sheep along with us for the ride."

  Trevor’s heart skipped a beat as Gordon's words hit home. On that parallel Earth mankind played invader to a world belonging to the Chaktaw. Not only had human armies come through, but also pigeons and wolves and Grizzly Bears.

  One man’s animal is another man’s monster.

  Stanton, Jon Brewer, and Dante started a round of cross talk but Anita’s suddenly firm and loud voice silenced the room.

  "Listen! I said there were eight different points of origin but only seven are like us. The others…the eighth … their cells aren’t like ours or the Hivvans’ or the Duass’. They aren’t complex organisms, and they don’t even seem to be alive! That’s Voggoth. Wraiths and Mutants come from Voggoth's place! Goat-Walkers and Deadheads. Totally…" her voice trailed. "…totally…different…"

  Dante said, "Well wait a sec'. We always called The Orders stuff bio-mechanical. Johnny said the stuff was grown, as if they were one part machine and part organic. How does something grow that isn't alive?"

  Anita snapped, "A balloon grows when you fill it with air. Is a balloon alive?"

  Knox, his hands clasped on the table top, pushed to the point, "And those are the things that are disappearing. I guess we’re just going to have to tough it out and see where this goes."

  "I like them disappearing, man," Dante Jones explained with the edge in his voice he always used when addressing Gordon Knox. "It’s them reappearing that bothers me."

  An awkward silence hung in the air for several seconds. Trevor kept his eyes on Anita Nehru who returned her attention to the coffee and the twizzle stick.

  "Jon, let’s get through this other stuff," Trevor desired to tackle the real focus of this meeting: California. He knew, however, that to get there they had to climb over other issues first.

  Jon examined one of many papers piled on the table.

  "Okay, yeah. Um…Hivvans. There are still Hivvan remnants operating in Cuba, Haiti, and a bunch of other islands down there, all the way to Trinidad."

  Knox chimed in, "They have some fuel reserves in those areas, that’s why we’re seeing the occasional Screamer raid into Florida and along the Gulf coast."

  "I didn’t think their Screamers had that kind of range," Dante said.

  Brewer explained, "They’ve developed a longer-range version. Looks to have external tanks and better fuel economy. We think they may be capable of hitting deep into our territory."

  That caught Trevor’s attention.

  "Oh. So what are we doing about it?"

  Brewer answered, "Intelligence is gathering info. After we’re done with the big stuff," everyone knew what Jon meant, "I’m thinking about sending a couple of dreadnoughts down there to finish the job."

  Gordon broke in again as he often did when Jon spoke, "But there’s more than the Hivvans to worry about. They might not even be priority number two."

  Jon huffed in a way that suggested I’m getting to that, hold on.

  Before he could, Trevor asked, "What else? What’s priority number two?"

  Jon answered, "Redcoats. Centurians. Whatever you want to call them, Intelligence indicates they’re active south of the Rio Grande."

  Trevor had heard those reports but Jon presenting them in a formal council meeting suggested the threat grew.

  "Break it down for me."

  Gordon, not Brewer, did just that.

  "We’ve been trying to map out this whole thing. It's becoming clear that the invasion was well planned. Interrogation of Hivvan prisoners suggest they were told to take most of what was the eastern United States. We haven’t got much more information than that on them."

  Lori Brewer wondered, "Why not?"

  Knox answered, "SiSPA."

  Lori cocked her head and asked, "Huh? Chutzpah?"

  Jon corrected, "SiSPA. Sentient Species Protection Act. One of Evan Godfrey’s pet projects. After he toured Red Rock a few years ago he decided to push a law through the Senate keeping us from dissecting anything with any intelligence."

  Stanton felt it important to remind every one that, "The whole thing wasn’t just the Senator’s idea. No, now wait, it would not have gone through if it didn’t have backing."

  Eyes fell on Trevor who defended, "I thought it was the right thing to do."

  "Sudden change in attitude, if I remember correctly," Gordon Knox threw out his comment and studied Trevor's reaction.

  Trevor forced himself to keep a straight face but Lori Brewer, on the other hand, nodded in understanding.

  Brewer moved the briefing forward. "The Witiko, we think, started in California probably with the hope of expanding. The war they had with the Californians, then the closing of the gateways stopped that cold."

  Omar Nehru raised the question, "I am wondering then about the Red Hands and what they were doing around here. I would think the same could be asked of the outposts of The Order that we were finding in the early years."

  Trevor presented his thoughts on those two: "I think the Feranites—the Red Hands—are basically cannon fodder. As for Voggoth, I think he does whatever he wants."

  Brewer said, "Well, the Redcoats—Centurians—came in to South America. I mean, primarily. Of course, we found a bunch of them up here back that first year."

  Remembering what he had learned on an alternate Earth, Trevor told them, "Sometimes the gateways can misfire, sending groups of invaders off-target. The Redcoats we fought at Wilkes-Barre may have been a case of that. But wait a second, let’s boil this down. Whatever is left of the Hivvans is hanging out in the Caribbean. Can they hurt us?"

  "Air raids," Brewer answered. "A few here and there. I think they’re holding on by a thread. With the gateways closed, they’re in no position to cause us serious trouble."

  "Gordon," Trevor ordered, "I want you to get people on those islands. Complete information. Jon, have your staff put together plans to hit whatever is left of the Hivvans as soon as we get the time. I also want better intel on Mexico. It sounds to me like you’ve got some guesses and hunches but that’s not good enough."

  Brewer defended, "Most of our resources have been pointed west."

  "The dreadnoughts were supposed to give us flexibility. I want to flex."

  Gordon nodded, "We’ll get it done."

  "Um, one other thing," Jon, given Trevor’s blooming bad mood, hesitated to speak but could not avoid it.

  "What?"

  "Red Hands again. You know, Feranites; whatever."

  Trevor pinched the bridge of his nose. "Go ahead, give it to me."

  "A bunch of settlers got taken out in Boulder by Red Hands last Saturday. Must’ve been a mess of them."

  Dante Jones spat, "Why am I just hearing abou
t this now?"

  Jon told him, "Because Dustin McBride’s cavalry found them."

  Trevor remembered, "Didn’t we have problems with Red Hands last fall in Colorado?"

  Gordon Knox glanced at a paper and read, "Supply train hit by Red Hands last August outside of Cheyenne Wells. Ten I.S. agents killed and the train crew. Double that number in Red Hand bodies recovered. In November the garrison at Pueblo took a beating during a night raid by Red Hands. Another dozen people killed and ten more missing, probably taken by the Feranites."

  Omar exhaled a ball of smoke and said, "I thought these aliens were of a kind to stay in one place."

  Trevor said, "You’re right, Omar."

  Omar stuck a finger in his ear, wiggled it, and begged, "Would you mind repeating that, my ears may have not heard what it is you said."

  Trevor ignored the quip. "The Hivvans are adding long-range tanks to their Screamers, the Red Hands have changed from stationary tribes to nomads. And here we are, building giant air ships. Guess it’s true, life adapts."

  "Got to be a lot them," Dante suggested. "Probably headed into the mountains last winter and are on the move again. I don’t have the manpower to--"

  Trevor cut off Dante as he turned to Jon Brewer and ordered, "Handle this. A regular military unit. Can’t have that many of those bastards running around on our territory."

  "First Cavalry is on it. Dustin will track them down. It might take a while, but he’ll do it."

  "Hey, isn’t this my area?" Dante’s reaction sounded both hurt and angry.

  Trevor answered, "That many Red Hands is a job for the military, not Internal Security. You’ve got enough to worry about, like the Tambourine line. What’s the status?"

  Dante shifted uneasily.

  Gordon Knox offered the answers Dante lacked: "Intelligence’s part of the deal is about done. We’ve finished the last stretch of sonar buoys along the Carolina coast. The stuff south and north of that, you know, has been on line for months. Now the computers are fully integrated, my people made sure of that. The last piece of the puzzle is the final batch of staffing in the control centers and the ground-based radar systems."

  Trevor’s eyes went to Dante who explained, "Man, it’s been tough finding the right people for this; tech people. Hell, I don’t even know how half this shit works."

  Omar—perhaps emboldened by Trevor having told him he had been right about something—joined the conversation, "Mr. Jones, it is not for your people to be worrying about the bolts and the nuts of this thing. If they have eyes they can see the radar sweeps and listen to the lovely little pings of the sonar."

  Brewer said, "The Tambourine line is a big part of our defense program. If that isn’t going to be on line then I don’t feel good sending the Philippan to California."

  Dante countered, "What difference does that make? The Tambourine line is an early warning system, it’s not armed."

  Gordon pointed out, "Right now the Philippan is part of a surveillance network guarding the east coast until the tambourines are on line. At that point, it can go. But if the tambourine line doesn't become operational we need to keep it here as part of that network."

  Jones' next excuse: "I don’t have enough staff for the main monitoring station in DC."

  Brewer answered, "You don’t need a main monitoring station in DC. Just keep it compartmentalized."

  "I’ve got a bunch of politicians who want it in D.C. And guess what, buddy, they control the financing for this thing."

  Knox said, "For God’s sake, tough it out man and tell those politicians where to go stick it. Who’s in charge of Internal Security? Dante Jones or Evan Godfrey?"

  Trevor held a hand aloft. When the cross talk subsided he said, "Dante, finish up your end. Quick. I need Hoth’s ship out west. I don’t care how you do it, get it done."

  Dante opened his mouth, paused, exhaled a quick burst of disgust, then shut his mouth.

  Trevor pushed things forward saying, "Okay. California. We’re going to war. At least that’s how I’d bet."

  Dante found his voice again: "That’s it, just straight to war? Did you talk to them?"

  "Yes, I talked to them. I made the same offer I made last month and the month before that. Now our troops are at their border. We’ve reached the tipping point."

  Lori used a soft, reserved voice, "They don’t want to go through the runes? They refuse?"

  Stanton ran a hand through what little hair he had left and observed, "Now wait, isn’t there a log jam on going through those? Don’t we still have Hivvan and Duass prisoners?"

  "We’ve got another three months, at least, to go before all the prisoners we have are through," Dante, told them. "We take them in small groups because I don’t have enough people to provide security for large groups. Probably another six or seven thousand sitting in prisons in Pennsylvania and Maryland."

  Trevor did not want to get bogged down by talk of the runes. Everyone at the table knew the two mystical pillars had been retrieved from the Arctic Circle by Jon Brewer almost five years ago, an action that had shut down the alien gateways while the runes themselves still offered a one-way ticket home for those same aliens.

  The runes were not the issue. The Cooperative was.

  "The people in charge over there have their heads so far up the Witiko’s asses they can’t see daylight. There’s no choice. I’ll issue an ultimatum and then we invade. Jon, break it down, what are we facing. The big picture, not the details."

  "We’ll be facing a combination of human and Witiko forces. The human groups have Witiko advisors and officers. We’re thinking about thirty combat-ready air superiority fighters and one small company of helicopter gunships, mainly Super Cobras."

  "On the ground?"

  "Between twenty and twenty-five thousand troops broken up between garrisons and rapid deployment forces. The Cooperative’s ground forces have a strong center core of law enforcement and National Guard troops but they also have a nice chunk of raw recruits."

  Lori said, "A lot like us."

  Jon defended, "Yeah, well, we’ve been fighting for ten years now, we’ve got two academies, and good training programs. The ground troops in California haven’t been well trained and their equipment is getting old."

  "Of course," Trevor told them. "The Witiko don’t want the human armies becoming too strong. The fewer, the better. Less of a threat. Might just bite them in the ass now, though."

  Brewer continued, "They don’t have a lot of heavy weapons or armor. Most of that was wiped out when they were fighting the Witiko. Bottom line is that the ground forces aren’t going to be a big deal. First Corp by itself could probably do the deal on the ground. Throw in Prescott’s Second Corp coming in from Arizona and we’ll be able to overwhelm them."

  Jon’s words spoke of an easy victory. His eyes told a different story as he glanced at Knox. The Director of Intelligence grasped another page in a stack of papers, coughed, and began his report.

  "The Witiko have a dozen Stingray cruisers in their arsenal. We believe two of these are non-operational and are being farmed for spare parts. On the ground, the Witiko have small infantry units integrated into human battalions. They also get a kind of close air support from their Skytroops."

  He glanced around the room as if to ensure everyone heeded his next words.

  "Skytroops are individual soldiers who use jet back packs. It sounds funny, but you won’t think it so when they launch an anti-tank or anti-air missile at you or drop a grenade on your head before disappearing behind a building. Most Skytroops are officers, are heavily armed and capable. There are reports of individual Skytroopers taking out Blackhawks and even attack choppers during the California war."

  Although Trevor already knew most of the details, he told Knox to, "Go on."

  "The Witiko don’t need a lot of troops because they have a neat trick for recruiting."

  Jon Brewer took the proverbial ball and ran with it: "When I think about it, Trevor, it reminds me of the Redcoat battle
for Wilkes-Barre way back when. The Witiko can get animals to fight for them. Except, well, they’re a little more direct about it."

  As Jon spoke, Gordon slid a photograph across the table to Trevor. It showed a metal glove long enough to extend to the elbow of the wearer. A compartment—much like a miniature computer—had been built into the forearm while a silver sphere about the size of a golf ball rested on the back. Two small metal prongs projected outward from that sphere.

  "We don’t know how," Gordon said, "but my sources are working on it. Once the fighting starts, I think we need to make it a priority to get a hold of one of these things because…"

  Gordon’s voice faded from Trevor’s ears as a bout of lightheadedness hit. His mind left the room…and went to a place of tall glass and steel towers in cities adorned with fantastic art and magnificent landscaping all on the rim of wastelands littered with churning volcanoes spewing clouds of thick ash. A world with small oceans so dense with salt and minerals that life only lived in the farthest depths while vast lakes high in mountain plateaus poured fresh water to the lands below in gigantic waterfalls.

  He saw herds of big but docile beasts of short fur and long necks stalked by armor-plated lions and roaches as big as dogs spitting acid to battle large, carnivorous jellyfish floating in the air.

  He saw the picture of the Witiko device in his hand…and understood.

  He must have faded out for more than a split second because Lori Brewer, Jon, and Dante hovered over him pleading to know if he were, ‘okay’ ‘all right’ and ‘get a doctor down here!’

  "Um…guess I blanked out there, huh?"

  "Yeah, man, you could say that," the fear faded from Dante’s eyes but suspicion remained. "What was that all about? You on something?"

  Trevor shot Dante an angry look. Dante defused the situation with a ‘just kidding’ smile. After a moment, Trevor smiled back…then focused on the picture of the Witiko device.