The Battle for Terra Two by Stephen Ames Berry Page B

six limbs, its two upper limbs ending in gently undulating tentacles. Bulbous red eyes shifted between the two men before it melted back into the brigadier.
    "We could use an ally of your stature, Admiral," the Fwolkes-thing said, taking a step toward them. "Return with me to ..." It stopped at the sight of the two slim 9mm Walthers pointed at its thorax.
    "I gather you accessed Earth through the object here at Maximus," said the admiral. "A gate of some sort?" The other nodded.
    "We will return to your steamy little nest, bug," said Hochmeister, "but not with you. With the gangers. Then we'll have a good look at your gate. Who knows? Maybe we can form an alliance with your enemies—assuming even that to be true."
    "You don't believe me?"
    "Produce the real Maximus staff as witnesses to your goodwill, Shalan-Actal, then I may believe you.
    "No? Well, then, shall we?" The admiral pointed downhill with his free hand. "If you'd be so kind as to lead?
    "Erich, if it even stumbles, shoot." Tight-lipped, zur Linde nodded.
    Five more S'Cotar appeared, flicking into existence beside Shalan-Actal. These were sturdier, larger insectoids, whiplike tentacles holding strange rifles. It was their mandibles, though, that held Hochmeister's attention—long, serrated, they were clicking softly. Warriors.
    Rather, I think you will accompany us back to the compound, Admiral, Captain.
    "Telepathic, telekinetic," said Hochmeister, impressed. "You're dangerous, Shalan-Actal." He fired once, a shot that became a fusillade as a ganger squad charged from the brush, minimacs blazing.
    Shalan-Actal vanished as his reinforcements died.
    "Major, you heard that?" asked the admiral, turning from the heaped insects as John stepped into the road, a squad of wide-eyed Vipers behind him. The gangers stared wide-eyed at the dead S'Cotar.
    "Enough of it, Admiral."
    "There can't be too many of them or we'd be dead," said zur Linde.
    "Do you concur with me, Major," asked Hochmeister, "that this place must be taken, now?"
    The arcflares had stopped. The darkness brought with it the same strange quiet the two Germans had experienced walking down the road. Not even a cricket chirped.
    "How long have you known what was wrong here, Admiral?" asked John, suspicious of the other's unruffled acceptance of a Vermont mountain aswarm with aliens.
    "Everything? Only just now. But we've known something was very wrong up here for some time—as you evidently have. I need your help, Major."
    "This is just reconnaissance in force," lied John. "Surely you don't expect our help, Admiral?"
    Hochmeister nodded.
    "Why should we help you?"
    "Are you familiar with the classical concept of an umphalos, Major?" asked Hochmeister, reloading his pistol and slipping it away.
    "The Greek notion of a world navel, a confluence of all the conflicting forces in the universe in one place at one time. Oedipus at Colonus. So?"
    "Exactly," said the admiral. "Are you the Committee's court Jew, Major?"
    John gave no hint.
    "Well, no matter. We are now at such a confluence, as you so well put it. Our world hangs in the balance. These creatures, these S'Cotar, may even now be swarming through their device up there. There's no time to call in regular forces. We must take them with what we have."
    "What's in it for us?" demanded Heather. Arriving with a fresh contingent of gangers, she'd been silent till now, looking at the dead S'Cotar, listening to John and Hochmeister.
    The admiral was shocked. "I should think knowing you've saved humanity from these creatures would be reward enough."
    "It isn't," she assured him. "Though it's interesting to hear a monster like you calmly invoke humanity."
    "I may be a monster by your simplistic standards," said Hochmeister, checking his watch, "but at least I am your monster. Would you prefer the bugs?
    "We are out of time. A counterattack now would catch us out here, bickering in the dark. Yes or no. Save this world or let it die. The choice is yours, MacKenzie,